#the snakes are diabolical but they are even worse

[spadesofgrass]

Obsessed with the snake/serpent/Ouroboros motifs in Drakovia's fashion. Wouldn't interpret it literally but the way it was littered in places where we require an outfit to engage with the rest of the family and the fact snakes sometimes eat their young - very “welcome to the family” vibes. Perhaps there really is no escape and the people that marry in, are doomed to a similar fate. A nest of vipers, all of them but perhaps there's some truth at the very heart of what they left behind in the dirt. You. They'll mourn you but they'll eat you first. They're really sorry about it.

[son1c]

How about Sonic's view on the situation with Tails? Like, is he avoiding him at first? How does he handle knowing he can't bear to be near someone that means so much to him?

well! "the situation with tails" is basically just "the situation in general" except, like, orders of magnitude worse. because sonic already feels. hm. not good! about being snatched, and manipulated, and beaten. "beaten" meaning, if this was a fight, starline won. and sonic... isn't used to losing.

he feels really vulnerable and is trying to mask it by acting like he usually does. like he's cool as a cucumber. like nothing is wrong. but it's not working, because he can't help but skirt his eyes around tails. his baby brother. he can't look at him without freezing up.

why? the worst part is sonic doesn't even know. from beyond the grave, starline is surely laughing at him.

sonic tries to force his way through it, but every time he looks at tails, he wants to leave. to go back to snowpoint. the longing hits him like a train, grabs his heart and squeezes so hard it's a miracle it doesn't burst right there in his chest.

but he knows now--those feelings were manufactured. and yet... the longer sonic's eyes linger, the more he remembers all the good things about snowpoint, the REAL things he experienced while he was there, and the awful, perfect, diabolical circle of "you love this place" and "this place loves you" coils around him like a snake.

sonic wrenches his gaze away and looks at the floor, the ceiling, out the window. anywhere but at tails. and he taps his foot. he wants to move but he doesn't trust himself to run and not head right back into the cage from which he just escaped from.

and tails can tell. that something is very, very wrong.

[darkmaga-returns]

The regathering of Israel that notable 18th-century Bible scholar Matthew Henry (and other post-Reformation writers) foresaw in his famous commentaries was a generation of Hebrews that would come to the saving faith in Jesus Christ, accepting Him as the Messiah that their forebears had rejected and crucified. (I diverge from the great Matthew Henry’s prophetic interpretations in Revelation Chapters 15 and 16.) The regathering of Israel that the ignoble false prophecy teacher Cyrus Scofield (1843 - 1921) described in his reference Bible was the rise of national Israel, which, according to Scofield’s disciples, was fulfilled with the creation of the Zionist state in 1948.

Tragically, the latter is the dominant view of evangelical prophecy teachings today.

I submit that if Matthew Henry had lived during the time of Scofield—and especially after the creation of Zionist Israel in 1948—he would have absolutely and positively rejected Scofield’s heresies (as did the great Charles Spurgeon, who was a contemporary of Scofield) and would have vociferously rejected the doctrine of Christian Zionism that was spawned by the notes in Scofield’s Reference Bible.

Matthew Henry never envisioned a bloodthirsty, murderous, genocidal state that would callously and without conscience annihilate hundreds of thousands—even millions—of innocent people, including many thousands of God’s New Covenant people, Christians, as being the Israel of God (Galatians 6:16). Nor could he ever have envisioned generations of his fellow Christians turning a blind eye to or even cheering on those who would commit such a horrific, heinous, inhumane slaughter of innocents.

What we are witnessing today has never been seen since the advent of Western civilization.

Obviously, there have been diabolical and demented mass killers before, but never have we seen Christian people—almost as a whole—excuse, defend, facilitate and actively support and assist the maniacal, murderous monsters.

Historically, Christians have been the most persecuted people of faith in the 2,000-year Church era. Our Christian ancestors knew the bitter taste of political, religious and civil suffering. And never did they allow themselves to indulge in the appetite for murder and aggression—even against their enemies. They were, after all, the disciples of Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6); and they boldly proclaimed the gospel of peace. (Romans 10:15; Ephesians 6:15)

This is NOT the Christianity that we see today.

The last twelve months have unveiled a racist, bloodthirsty, maniacal Israeli society that looks at people of other races as nonhuman. They are described as animals. The babies born to their mothers are called little snakes. These killers recognize no law but their own—not international law, not Natural law, not moral law, not Biblical law, not even the law of humanity. They kill at will. Defenseless women and children are slaughtered like cattle. They celebrate death and destruction. They are willing to take the world into global nuclear war to achieve their goal of complete ethnic purging of the Palestinian people. They are wholly without conscience.

Yet, in the Christian West, we find abject apathy or even exuberant excitement for this satanic behavior. Our national government protects and defends it. Worse than that: It assists and facilitates this murderous madness by providing money, weapons of mass destruction, satellite surveillance, intelligence, etc., to the Zionist zealots of death.

Make no mistake about it: The United States of America is as culpable in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocents in Palestine as are the Israelis. So, too, are those Americans—including Christians—who in their hearts support Israel’s genocide.

One must understand that the disease of racial superiority being flaunted by the Israelis does not confine its self-acclaimed preeminence over the Palestinians only. In the minds of Benjamin Netanyahu and his fellow eugenists, every goy (gentile) is nonhuman and, thus, warrants any act of racial cleansing.

[vischys]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄𝒚 whereby the irascible youth took his injunction to fly on board was inconsequential in light of the peril currently looming upon all four of them. Yet it was worth his notice that instead of responding with any ounce of aversion, – which would have been natural given their brief albeit mutually uncongenial interaction in the past – Navarro instead endorsed, vouched for it even, without any attempt to question Vergil's wisdom.Least his temper sears not his sense.

'Twas the thought that accompanied the elder devil as he acknowledged Navarro's brisk compliance with a barest nod and turned upon his heel to abscond the darkness with the younger in tow.

"Me and Rust will come and find you guys!"

He flicked a glance over his shoulder toward the ceiling whereupon Ink and her comrade stood earlier, just as he felt their presence retreated as per his behest.

Be safe, Ink. The words that did not escape his tongue earlier now echoed in his mind, an orison that granted him a semblance of succor as his feet carried him swiftly away from the rumbling of the earth behind.

As he made his flight along with the teen bomber, the Darkslayer couldn't dismiss the unremitting paranoia that had bedeviled him ever since his unexpected reunion with Ink and her comrades in this wen turned battleground: the persistent sensation that someone had been observing them, spefically him. And 'twas only their fall that obscured him from his scout's beady eyes.

Shrika, the name that he managed to browbeat from one of the vagrant underling remained in the back of his concern along with everything to do with the notorious fraction allegedly responsible for this; the Lovely Horrors.

⸻ 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟

As Navarro had sensibly advised, they were currently traversing through the dark channel in accordance with the direction of the pipes that resembled snakes under the absence of light, slithering against the walls as their guide. Vergil barely made a noise as he flitted hastily upon the ground, save for the occasional splash when his boots stepped upon a puddle. His flight had been unobstructed and swift, with only a glance either to his side or back to ascertain that Ink's second-in-command kept his pace up with his own. By no means he meant to slow himself down and take a risk solely for the youth's sake, yet evidently Ink held her comrade to a significance akin to that of a family member and consequently to lose the irascible youth would undoubtedly devastate her. Something that would be counterproductive to his personal mission in nurturing not just his demoiselle's physical well-being, but also spirit.

And 'twas the cause that motivated him to invest his time and might in Navarro's well-being. For he harbored no ill-will nor particular interest over the spiky-haired youth beyond his relationship apropos of Ink. Least for now.

It wasn't till the impromptu duo came into what seemingly to be the main channel, judging from the larger interior and more than one piping lines can be spotted converging as they stepped into the area. It was better lit, at the very least. And for the first time he was able to observe his surroundings without having to squint his eyes.The cambion's pace relented then as the tremor that followed them earlier had dwindled significantly, signaling that they were no longer in the immediate danger zone. For now, that was.

As such he deigned to make use of the light to finally acquire a proper look upon Navarro without his respiratory mask. To him, the teen appeared to be overall none the worse for wear. No injury sustained​, least none that he could perceive. Undoubtedly a testament to the inhuman endurance ​t​hat the youth's diabolic covenant had bestowed upon him just as Vergil's had enabled himself to retain an overall immaculate appearance throughout ​t​heir shared series of plights.

Exactly what machination is transpiring here? Sparda's son allowed himself to ponder over the most consequential question apropos of their predicament.

The broker, Morrison, did not mention the involvement of another party, let alone Ink's fraction of that. Nor did he inform him and his brother whether or not the so-called terrorist group, –which turned out to be the one of the fraction associated with Ink's– carried out their threat. Although judging from the devastating circumstances surrounding their vicinity and the eponine monstrosity the group had encountered, they likely had.

Which then begged for another question which had equally beset his mind ever since he first caught sight of Ink and her fraction therein.

“ What purpose led your fraction hither? ” Vergil inquired candidly, essentially addressing Navarro for the first time in the duration they have been thrusted in tandem into this predicament.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒏'𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 across the darkness as the youth took off his respirator mask, or thus he reckoned as Navarro’s figure was not much discerned beyond the red of his jacket and the faint glint of his mask. Least the boy did not disappoint him, for uncouth remarks forthwith flew from his tongue fluently abd thereby suggesting his well-being.

Keep reading

[someonestolemyshoes]

Toys Shouldn’t Move

This is a repost of an old.....frankly chaotic fic I wrote a few years ago, but as I was asked to repost some of my old Ackerbabies fics, I figured this one can see the light of day again. Whether I think it should be in the public eye again is. Debatable. 

Anyway, this is technically part of my Our House collection and I’ll archive it in there as well, but I figured since it’s, um, Different. It can have a place of it’s own too!! 

Warning: Non-graphic depictions of sex between inanimate(?) objects. 

They’re getting ready for bed when Levi brings it up, and he only thinks to mention it because Hange is wearing a slip of a nightie, the cool, thin silk see-through at the breast, riding high over her thighs. On any normal day he wouldn’t hesitate, but today he feels dirty. He freezes when her finger grazes over the skin of his chest, body rigid, and at Hange’s questioning gaze he says, “the Cookie Monster fucked Elmo.”

It all started with that fucking Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster toy.

Levi wasn’t fond of them, those fuzz-coated, boggle-eyed, shit-your-pants scary robots marketed to brats as young as his own and he can’t see the attraction, doesn’t understand the way Samson claps his hands and spits his laughs, all wide-eyed and full of joy as the fluffy little demon chuckles it’s weird, demonic laughter and rocks in time to the wriggle of Samson’s grubby, tickling fingers.

“Toys shouldn’t move,” he says one day, arms crossed and brow furrowed as Hange takes to the floor and sets the doll in motion. She rolls her eyes, and puffs a lock of hair from her face.

“Say hello to the twenty-first century, short stuff,” she says as Samson dives for the Cookie Monster with a kind of undignified gusto Levi rarely sees in him. Hange stretches to her feet, bends to press a kiss to Levi’s pouted mouth and scoops Leelu out of her chair.

“If this is the twenty-first century, I want out.”

Leelu stretches tiny, sticky fingers and grabs at the air in his direction. Levi lifts her out of Hange’s grip, and settles her on his hip, smudging a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. She points down at Samson, points at the god-forsaken toy and says, loud and clear and bossy as ever, “want one.”

Hange barks out a laugh, rests her hands on her hips and tips her chin up and guffaws, entirely at Levi’s expense, like there is anything remotely funny about the idea of having not one, but twoTickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster’s shrieking their laughter all day, every day, for the foreseeable future. Levi chucks Leelu’s cheek and scowls.

“Little traitor.”  

**

In the end, they compromise.

On the plus side, no more Cookie Monster robots, and upon hearing those words Levi is about as happy as he can be with Leelu sucking the ends of his cravat between her tiny little teeth.

Instead, though, Leelu will receive her very own Elmo Live – in short, another hairy, beastly little android.

Hange unpacks the box while Leelu watches, eyes wide behind little, round-lens glasses, while Samson pulls tiny tufts of fur from his Cookie Monster and pretends he isn’t looking, too. Levi sips a cup of strong tea, resigned to this fate.

The minute the batteries are in and the switch is flicked on, Elmo rockets to life, voice high and nasal. He throws his head back and laughs, mouth gaping, eyes bulging, and Levi stares over the rim of his tea cup in horror as Leelu beats her palms together, and giggles along with the monstrous toy. Hange is smiling, wide and victorious and yes, a little malicious, too. She casts her eyes to the side, to Levi.

“I hate it,” Levi says, stiffly, blinking at the manic red bot. “I hate it so much.”

And then the Cookie Monster is off alongside it, bending at the waist and gyrating, busting out it’s awful laughter as Samson shrieks, nudges it to set it away again. Elmo is chatting with his mouth spread as wide as it goes, an empty, black pit yawning inside and oh my god, oh my god.

Levi thinks, as Hange steps behind him to rest her chin atop his head and the diabolical sniggering continues, that things absolutely, 100% cannot possibly get any worse.

**

Levi thought wrong.

It’s when he’s packing the day away that he realises his misjudgment. He crosses the room, scooping toy cars and Barbie dolls and Lego pieces from the floor and throwing them into the toy box, and on his final leg of the room, there they are.

They stand side by side, Elmo and the Cookie Monster, bulbous white eyes watching his approach. His hands are tentative as he reaches for them, half expecting the evil little bastards to spring to life in his palms, wriggling and chuckling, but they remain still even as he closes his fingers around their fat, hairy middles.

They remain silent as he carries them across the room, don’t utter a sound as he traps Elmo beneath an arm to make some room in the toy box, stay quiet as he drops them into place.

It’s only when he steps back, and turns to survey the room one more time that it happens.

The Cookie Monster starts it. His infernal laughter rips through the room making Levi jump, twisting and staring in absolute horror as the tiny beast’s body rests where he’d placed it, curled against the back of Elmo, chortling and grumbling phrases Levi can’t even understand and this is bad enough, this is the worst, most terrible thing he has ever witnessed in his whole life, bar none.

And then Elmo joins in.

Elmo shrieks, throws his mouth open and howls and the sounds are terrible enough, but there is one thing that is even worse.

Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster has one feature that interests and amazes kids, that has Samson’s eyes bugging out of his skull whenever he turns the damn thing on, and it isn’t his laughter, it isn’t his jolly little phrases, and it isn’t his touch-of-a-hand reactions.

It’s that he moves.

TMX Cookie Monster bends at the waist in jerky little movements; three down, and three back up, lather, rinse, repeat. It’s horrifying enough, watching the fuzzy blue devil do this alone, but right now his fat little body is curling and uncurling itself pressed right up against Elmo’s back.

And Elmo is still screeching, still belting out his laughter, head knocked back and mouth agape and Jesus Christ—  

“They’re fucking,” Levi says to no one, staring at the toys where they sit in the box.

He is hasty to find the off-switch, and he drops them back in the box, shocked and speechless, before shaking his head and abandoning the room.

They’re getting ready for bed when Levi brings it up, and he only thinks to mention it because Hange is wearing a slip of a nightie, the cool, thin silk see-through at the breast, riding high over her thighs. On any normal day he wouldn’t hesitate, but today he feels dirty. He freezes when her finger grazes over the skin of his chest, body rigid, and at Hange’s questioning gaze he says, “the Cookie Monster fucked Elmo.”

Hange frowns, pulls back and settles herself against the mattress, one leg folded neatly over the other.

“If you don’t want to have sex tonight you can just tell me,” she says, a note of humour in her tone. Levi shakes his head, shucks his jeans off and scrubs his hands through his hair.

“The toys,” he says almost desperately, and at Hange’s raised brow, he elaborates. “I was packing them away and they weren’t switched off, and the way they were lying…it looked like they were boning.”

“That’s,” Hange begins, blinking owlishly, “that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Levi doubts this, knowing the kinds of things Hange reads and watches to keep herself entertained through the day, but he doesn’t argue.

“Can we just go to bed,” he says instead, and Hange nods, shaking her head and chuckling low under her breath.

Sleep is difficult, dreams wrought with red and blue and high, squawking laughter.

**

It happens again the next night, but by the time he drags Hange out of bed and down to the living room they have stopped and they sit, silent and mocking in the toy box, unseeing eyes staring into the room.

The worst part is, it never happens to Hange. Night after night she clears away, slips every used and abused toy into the box, and night after night Elmo and the Cookie Monster remain still, and silent.

Years go by; Samson and Leelu age and outgrow the toys they once loved. and Elmo and the Cookie Monster are no exception. Leelu is five when the robots are packed in cardboard and hauled up into the attic, and Levi sets the box to rest with a smile. He’s never been happier to see the back of any inanimate object in all his young life.

New toys come and go, some horrifying, some begrudgingly kind of cool, and as the kids shift from childhood to their teen years the phones come along. Cheap, at first, with thick, fat buttons and black and white screens and Snake, and as the kids grow older the phones become more complex.

They flip, they slide, they twist, they have the entire alphabet squeezed onto individual keys and then they have no keys at all, the epitome of modern technology.

Samson is sixteen, tapping away at the screen of a phone too complicated for Levi to even comprehend, when Hange suggests they clean out the attic for more storage space.

It’s a good idea, Levi thinks – though it’ll create messes he has to clean up – as he re-positions the ladder beneath the hatch for the third time. He holds it still as Samson and Leelu clamber up, and it’s only when Samson yells, “whoa, some of these are from like, ten years ago!” that Levi remembers what demons they’ve buried in boxes beneath the roof of their house.

“I’m making tea,” he says, and Hange nods.

“I’ll grab a coffee before we get started.” She angles her head up the opening and yells, “be careful up there, guys,” before smiling, pecking a kiss to Levi’s cheek, and leading him downstairs.

**

“Man, Lu-Lu, you had terrible taste in clothes as a kid, too.”

Samson dodges the smack Leelu sends his way and crumples the voluminous snot-green dress back into the box

“I, on the other hand,” he begins, brandishing an item from his own box, but his face falls into a grimace at the sight of the bright orange tee and he folds it away with a quiet, “sure glad Mum and Dad don’t dress me now.

“Hey, shit-for-brains,” Leelu says. Samson looks over. “This is all our old toys.”

“Oh, sweet! I bet mine were all better than yours, too.”

Leelu kicks at his thigh as Samson crawls the space between then and he scowls, rubs the battered limb and settles beside the box.

“Hey, look!” He laughs, pointing inside, “the Cookie Monster!”

“He’s squashing my Elmo.”

“Well, yeah,” Samson says, “Cookie Monster comes out on top every time, sis. Everyone knows CM trumps Elmo any day. God, I even picked better toys than you. Nothing’s changed, huh.”

“You know, Samson,” Leelu says, cracking her fingers one at a time. “I’d hate to ruin a perfectly good day by shoving your egocentric fucking face through the attic floor, but I’m not above doing it.”

Samson splays his hands and nods his head in surrender, and then he blinks wide, glinting eyes and reaches for the box.

“Wonder if they still work.”

It takes one touch to set the Cookie Monster flailing.

Samson prods him with a finger and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster thrashes in the box, his rhythmic bending and unfurling awakening Elmo, too. The pair of them screech and holler, decades old laughter ricocheting off the attic walls, and Samson barks, pointing a long finger and grinning from ear to ear.

“Randy little bastards,” he hoots, fishing his phone out of his back pocket and opening the camera.

Leelu stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“What the fuck,” she breathes, gazing in abject horror as her childhood crumbles before her eyes. Samson can barely hold the camera steady, shoulders shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks as the Cookie Monster—

“He’s railing him,” Samson cries, voice high and strained as he fights to get the words passed his laughter. He angles the phone to catch Leelu in the lens, body hunched and eyes bulging, as she stares in terror at their childhood playthings.

“This is the most sordid thing I’ve ever seen,” Samson wheezes.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Leelu says, quiet, monotonous, and horrified.

It takes a little longer before she thinks to switch them off, and when the idea finally springs to mind she hesitates to reach into the box. It feels dirty, touching them, and Samson wipes the tears from his face when the noise finally comes to a stop.

“I gotta show Mum,” Samson says, coughing out a few additional, choking laughs. Leelu follows him down the ladder in a daze.

**

“Mum, you’ve got to see this.”

Samson rockets into the kitchen, eyes alive, arm outstretched with his phone clutched in his hand. Levi sips his tea and raises a brow, gaze falling on Leelu as she drags her feet over the threshold and slumps into a chair. There’s something about the look in her eyes, a violated kind of shock that Levi has only seen once before, on himself, all those years ago, way back when…

Oh, no.

“Hey, Levi!” Hange laughs, setting her mug on the table. She peels Samson’s phone from his hand and turns it, tapping the screen. “Look what the kids found.”

There on the screen it plays, Elmo Live and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster in all their sleazy glory. Levi jabs a finger first at the horror unfolding on the screen, and then at Hange

“I fucking told you,” he says, sitting a little higher in his chair to take one long, dignified slurp of his tea.

“My Elmo,” Leelu says. She looks at Levi a little imploringly. He shrugs a shoulder.

“It’s a long-standing affair,” he says. Samson claps him on the shoulder while Leelu buries her face in her hands.

“Taking it right in the childhood there, Lu-Lu,” Samson says, “just like Elmo’s taking it right in the—”

“Fuck the fuck off.”

“You didn’t believe me,” Levi says, listening idly as Samson and Leelu argue beside him. Hange replays the video and stares, laughter bubbling up in her eyes. Levi folds his arms, sniffing haughtily. “I told you those things were disgusting. Can we throw them away now?”

“No!” Samson wails, voice a little choked where his neck is hooked under Leelu’s arm. “You can’t punish them for love, Dad. I thought you were better than that.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s right,” Hange says, grinning impishly, “I didn’t think you were the discriminating type.”

Levi scowls, then purses his lips.

“Can we just throw the damn things out?”

“I’ve lost all respect for you, Pops,” Samson says, and he tries to sigh, but his breath is gurgled when Leelu squeezes his neck a little tighter.

“Throw them out,” she says, “get rid of them.”

Levi kicks his way out of the chair, legs scraping over the kitchen tiles as Samson yells, strangled and desperate, “Injustice!”

Hange replays the video for a third time, tilts the screen first one way, then the other.

“It’s pretty impressive,” she says, “that they’re still working after all these years. And Elmo is way more flexible than I thought.”

Leelu tightens her headlock on Samson, choking off a snide, spit-heavy comment about stamina, and Levi drops back into his chair, tilting his head against the back rest to stare, resigned, at the ceiling. He listens to his children argue, to Leelu’s threats and Samson’s jeers, to Hange’s laughter and her half-hearted reprimands.

And to the monstrous, ungodly audio of toys fucking in his attic.

[pennie-umbra]

Game Night

I don’t really know what this is, I’m just glad I was finally able to finish a sanders sides’ fanfic for the first time. 

This fanfic was born from the last video, obviously, and the realization that the creativity twins canonically feel physical pain when their ideas are desregard or their function is “offended” let’s say, which I had to exagerate and turn int angst, of course, so enjoy!

Summary: Remus get sick so frequently that those nights have became his idea of a sleepover. 

Ship: platonic dukeceit. Or romantic. You can interpret it however you want

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders and Janus Sanders 

Warnings: swearing, kinda grapphic descriptions of pain and sickness, mentions to vomit. Also maybe some umsympathetic Virgil? I don’t see it like that, but I guess it depends on how you interpret it. 

Word Count: 1729

Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

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

If Remus was real, he would be dead. 

And if snakes could demonstrate worry, they would make exactly the same expression that Janus had after looking at the thermometer. 

"How do you manage to get so bad so quickly?" 

"What can I say, being bad is the only thing I'm good at" Remus joked, the words scratching his throat as an unwanted cough came with them. Janus rolled his eyes, trying to seem calm. And falling. 

"Any idea what was the cause this time?" Remus' focus went down to the old and familiar sheet, which he fiddled with, avoiding the question. 

"How hot am I?" He vaguely pointed to the thermometer. 

"You have a 113°F fever" 

"Well, fuck. That's a new record" he touched his own forehead, smiling almost maniacally right after "Shit. How long do you think it takes until my brain melts? 

"Bold of you to assume it hadn't already" Virgil was the one to answer, entering the room with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. 

"Wow Virgil, that was fast " Janus lied, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"I was trying to actually cook something real for once"

"Please don't tell me your burned the kitchen" the half-snake child replied, with some amount of actual fear behind the dramatic hand to his chest and horrified expression. 

"Ha ha" pause "...not on purpose" Virgil replied, looking away. 

 "Yeah, that's my job!"

"Remus, eat your soup, the grownups are talking" the embodiment of Fear interrupted jokingly, even though any of them was older then twelve. Then he turned to Janus again, already guessing what he was going to say "but... it's fine now. I took care of it" Janus made a mental note to go take a look at the damage as fast as possible. They could all be kids, but Janus knew very well he was the only responsible there. 

"I don't like it...!" Creativity replied, sounding like a child who doesn't want to eat salad. Janus sighed as his thoughts were interrupted, conjuring a bottle of perfume and poured it in the meal. 

"Now eat" and so he did. Virgil raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling, trying not to be so worried. Or at least not demonstrate it. After so many times, he should be used to it, but... well, he was Fear. It was his job to keep track of the worst case scenarios.

"Did he get better?"

"On the contrary. The fever is higher than ever"

"And I also feel like someone ripped my bones out of my skin and then put them back, but like... in the wrong way" Remus added, spilling hot soup all over the sheet and his clothes by trying to communicate with his mouth full. 

"So it's one of those nights" Virgil mumbled.

"I'm afraid so" 

Remus finished his soup smiling like there was no tomorrow, opening his arms despite how much that simple gesture hurted "Game night while I'm dying!" Janus smiled, with more sadness in his eyes than anything else. 

"I'll get the monopoly"

•••

"I won"

"No, you did fucking not" Remus immediately answered, not even looking away from his cards.

"You can see for yourself" Janus showed his game, which clearly meant a victory, indeed. Remus tossed his cards on the sheet like it was their fault. He was so fucking close!

"You cheated" Virgil said sharply, as if it was an undeniable fact. 

"Do you have any proof? Janus challenged, not losing a beat or his mischievous smile.

"Yeah. It's the only thing you know how to do" the teenager replied, his tone as cold as a lake in the winter. Janus looked down before he could help himself. Couldn't he keep it down for at least one night? The night Remus needed both of them?

The cards caught fire. It was an accident, but Remus decided to go with that, jumping out of the sheets, trying to ignore the terrible twist that movement gave to his stomach. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he threw up. At least that way these two would stop fucking fighting. 

"What the hell?!" Virgil exclaimed, tossing his game away like it was burning. Which was the case, indeed.

"Let's watch a horror movie!" Well, he got their attention. 

"Did you need to burn things before saying that?!" Virgil screamed. He was standing and seemed even more distressed.This was a mistake, Janus realized. It was foolish to think they could ignore their differences for the sake of Remus. 

"It's more fun this way! What can it be? One of the classics? Some shitty obscure one?" He kept trying, getting out of bed and walking toward Virgil, who walked away from him. Janus immediately got up too, already anticipating the disaster that situation could turn to. A worst one. Because it was already a disaster. 

"Please, control yourselves"

"I'm controlled! I'm not the one burning things" Virgil replied, the trace of the tempestuous tongue in his voice proving that he was anything but in control. 

"Remus, please. Apologize for burning the cards"

"It's just some stupid paper!

"Now"

"It was a fucking accident"

"We all know it wasn't" Janus almost, almost told Virgil to shut up after that. But he didn't need to make things worse than they already were.

"It was a fucking accident" his voice started getting threatened, his eyes started shining with a red danger "But you know what wouldn't be a fucking accident? if I..." his vision went black, a headache that felt like someone had opened his skull being everything that existed and then not even that. 

Anxiety got out of the room immediately after his friend fainted, keeping his gaze to the ground, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand any amount of time alone with Deceit. 

•••

   Remus wished he was real, so he would be dead. 

   He felt like someone had catched his body on fire, then hit his head with an axe, then exchanged his blood for poison and his bones with knives. 

   "I knew you were stupid, but not stupid enough to try and suggest an idea for Thomas. On your own. After terrorizing him the whole night. Literally hours after recovering from your last..." Janus looked down at his friend, in one of the only moments he didn't try to hide his emotions. Fear. Somebody had to fill the vacancy now that Virgil is gone, I suppose. 

   "It was..." He coughed blood. "A good idea"

   "Oh yeah, I'm sure he thought the same" Janus rolled his eyes. Remus tried to say that he would be fine, but his throat still hurt from the acid of his stomach and the scratching of his coughs. 

   "I told you to not do anything too dangerous. We are..." he looked down to his gloves which, as he knew, covered up for the scales that apparently had decided that half of his face was not punishment enough. "In a delicate situation, now that..."

   "The emo is gone. I know" Remus completed, his voice not much more than a whisper. 

   "Oh please, no. We are better off without him haunting us all day. If he prefers to deal with them, the only thing I feel is pity" anyone else would have believed that. Remus knew it was bullshit the second those words left his mouth. But he didn't say that. Mostly because he was feeling nauseous again and he learned that, apparently, people don't like if you throw up while trying to talk to them. 

   Janus stayed in silence for a couple more seconds, then something changed in his eyes and he got up.

   "Well, if you need me, I'll be reading" said, but before he could go too far, Remus grabbed the bottom of his coat, deciding to make use of his positions of creativity, as with a snap of his fingers green words appeared in the air:

   "It's game night, not a fucking book club"

   "I don't think you're able to play games right now"

   "I've never been better in my entire fucking life"

   The words glitched as his consciousness stumbled. 

   "Remus"

   "You've been reading, studying, planning, whatever every fucking time we were together" he finally was able to find his voice again "Is it me, Virgil, or just you being a dick? 

   "You need to rest"

   "I'm gonna vomit on your shoes"

   Janus sighed, sitting again on the bed. 

   "What do you propose?"

   "Truth or dare" Janus never plays truth or dare. The two of them, Virgil and Remus, would play it at any given opportunity, on the other hand. 

   "Don't test me"

   Floating words again: "I'm gonna take it easy"

   "You never take it easy."

   Remus frowned. 

   "Ok" the half-snake man sighed "let's find a compromise: I can play Never Have I Ever" 

   Remus smiled diabolically. So they had a deal. 

•••

   "Finally! It's been so long since our last sleepover!"

   "This is anything but a sleepover" Janus replied, not looking away from his book.

   "Yes it is! We're sleeping together not in a sexual way and wearing pajamas.

   "I'm not-" Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Janus had a yellow onesie on. "...I'm not having a sleepover with you. And you're not even that bad"

   "But I'll be. And in the meantime... Please play truth or dare with me just this time please please" he said in one breath. 

   "You already know my opinion about this game"

   "I know that you like it! You would always laugh and even participate when me and Virgin played!" Janus flinched.

   "That was a long time ago"

   "Just two rounds!" 

   "I..."

   "C'mon! You're not gonna lose an arm if you play just one time. And even if you did, you would still have five perfectly good ones left"

  Janus hesitated. He knew Remus would get worse. It was obvious by the tiredness in his voice, even when he was so excited. And how pale he was. How deep his eyeshadow appeared, making him seem like a dead body. 

   He sighed. Remus smiled from ear to ear. Literally.

   "Truth or dare?!" Asked as if he was a child whose birthday had come earlier.

   "Dare, obviously" Janus said, unable to stop himself from smiling at his friend's happiness, even though they both knew it wouldn't last long. 

   But that was okay. Because they would have one another. And that was enough. It had to be.

[everything-makes-me-anxious]

My Five Favorite Chilling Tales of Holmes

Given how shocking, dreadful and unbelievable actual crime was in Victorian England, it's a testament to Conan Doyle’s desire to make a mark with Holmes that he did not fashion his stories after the horrible crimes happening around him.

No, Conan Doyle eschewed rehashing the stories of real life murderous doctors, spurned lovers poisoning wives of married men, rampaging tramps committing mass murders of families, and grudge-carrying servants in favor of mostly tame stories of crime (blackmail and theft of inheritances probably being the most common in his tales).

I say "mostly" because he did write some ghastly cases for Holmes to solve. The Hound of the Baskervilles alone would be enough to secure Conan Doyle's name as an author capable of writing great fantastical horror.

But he didn't stop there. Here's my top five favorite tales of chilling crimes that Holmes has ever had to face:

THE CARDBOARD BOX

I can barely bring myself to read this one when I reread the stories. It is not only horrifying -- an elderly woman receiving a pair of severed ears anonymously by post -- but the truth behind the crime speaks to the utter misery that humans can and do render unto others. We see Jim Browner's happily married life crumble to pieces by the connivances of an infatuated sister in law, whose introduction of another man to her sister is the beginning point of so much tragedy. Alcohol abuse, loss of love, affairs, and a terrifying chase scene and death. All because one woman hated her brother in law for not loving her. It is a fine examination of the things we're willing to do to each other out of our own misery, to make others feel as miserable, but by God is it a terrifying and vivid tale.

THE RETIRED COLOURMAN

Probably second only to The Norwood Builder when it comes to stories that feature the creepy things a spurned man will do, this story is almost too much to bear. Most of the stories in The Casebook are unbearable, but that's another matter (and an opinion for another time). For any true crime buff it may ring eerily familiar to spousal homicide cases within the past fifty years. And yet the advanced and almost ingenious double homicide took place well before the stuff Forensic Files loved to pick apart. The fact that you are not certain until the very end that the pair have been murdered (and not just locked up or escaped) is unnerving, and the way in which we find out makes it all the worse: Holmes bluntly asks Amberley, "Where are the bodies?" Everything the murderer does marks him a very cold, diabolical person who is perhaps the third most dangerous man Holmes had the displeasure of tangling with. Then there’s the thought that this man is 60 years old.. someone that old doesn’t begin his criminal career with such a huge and almost perfect crime. What other crimes has he committed?

THE DANCING MEN

Along with “The Five Orange Pips”, this is one of those tragic tales where the client is done to death before Holmes can take any action. However, the tragedy of the wife’s past -- which she so desperately tried to put behind her -- catching up to her AND her husband, leaving her shot in the damn head and widowed is just so much more horrible to me than the events of “The Five Orange Pips”. Holmes was so close to the end, too, to the point that if he had finished his work just a few hours sooner, he may have saved a life. Just because the woman was the daughter of a mob boss and attracted the affections of a thug, she is unable to start a life where all of that is put behind her. The past catches up with an innocent woman, getting her injured and her husband murdered. All because some thug refused to leave her alone. It’s creepy. It’s also plausible and has happened before (with less drama perhaps, and no ciphers).

LADY FRANCES CARFAX

My god. What about this story isn’t gruesome and terrifying? Just imagine you’re an unmarried woman vacationing in a foreign country, and a couple of criminals take a shine to you because you happen to wear an expensive necklace. Next thing you know, after being charmed and delighted by these seemingly good-natured religious folk, they kidnap you back to your home country, gassing you with chloroform all the while, steal all your valuable jewelry (which is all you have to your name) and then stuff your nearly-gassed-to-death body in a coffin, on top of an actual dead person, in order to be buried alive. Jesus Christ. The ineptitude of Scotland Yard was almost fatal this time, as the warrant didn’t come until the woman was practically in the ground, and Watson could barely resuscitate her upon getting her out. Whether in real life or the pages of these stories, I’d hate to be at the mercy of Victorian-era Scotland Yard (Abberline was an insufferable buffoon).

THE CROOKED MAN

Another one to go under the heading “tales that exhibit how shitty the human race is”. It’s another more tragic-than-chilling tale like The Dancing Men, but I find it horrifying all the same. The crooked man in question had his sweetheart and all hopes for a normal future snatched away by the most cunning, cowardly and disgusting excuse of a fellow soldier (!) who betrayed him into a trap in order to get with his sweetheart. Pretty messed up. However you feel about colonialism, this guy spent years being beaten and tortured until his body became deformed, and tried many times to escape unsuccessfully. In Victorian England, a man so deformed as to be stooped over and one who isn’t elderly enough to explain such a posture would be considered a freak and wouldn’t be able to live normally in society. And thus it was for him. He lived a quiet life far away from anyone who might recognize him, and made the only living he could with his exotic pet and snake. All this, just because he was in love and loved by a woman that a fellow soldier of his wanted for himself. And that man got her. She married him, and was married to him, ignorant of his treachery, for thirty freaking years. Imagine being married to such a scoundrel, a man you didn’t even see yourself with and honestly pining for the man you thought long-dead, for so many years and not knowing he was the reason your lover was presumed KIA. Imagine having so many years of your life wasted with a despicable creature. And imagine not being able to be with the man you did love, upon finding him alive, because of the way society was back then. This story is so horrible and tragic.

Special mentions: The Bruce Partington Plans, for the terrifying things people will do for money, and The Devil’s Foot, which at least saw some vengeance.

[askbanishedkai]

“Oh, cool. Hey, you haven’t happened to have seen a robot of some sort around, have you? Made of titanium, really polite...” Lloyd inquired.

“I’m afraid not. Maverick might know, he’s been all over the realms. He’s here for a visit right now,” the man turned to call out to someone amongst the crowd. “Yo, Maverick! We got a traveler who’d like to meet you!”

“Oh no no no! It’s fine, please don’t-!” Lloyd quickly backpedaled in a panic.

An older man surrounded by guards glared back at the two first in annoyance, then disgust, promptly ignoring them.

“Heh, he’s the high and mighty type, so don’t take it personally,” the stranger chuckled.

The blonde laughed it off politely, “It’s fine. What’s this about a shogun, though?”

“He’s our glorious leader! He’s the emperor of the Never-Realm, but he comes from somewhere far away. He’s defeated thousands of diabolical foes: a giant snake, an army made of stone, even a pair of twins who fought for control of time itself!”

“A giant snake...?” Lloyd murmured, his brows knit.

“Ah awmy oth stone?” Cole asked through a mouthful of food.

Nya balked, “A pair of...?”

Their host never faltered, “Of course! But the worst one of all was his arch enemy, the Oni Dragon King!”

As realization sank into them like wet cement, they all ceased talking.

Lloyd risked a glance behind the storyteller to spot Maverick again, their gazes locking. After a moment, the priest’s eyes practically bulged out of his head as though something had just occurred to him.

“Haha wow what a cool story, it’s been really fun but I think it’s time we go,” Lloyd laughed nervously as stood.

“Huh? But don’t you want to stay for dessert?” The man asked in confusion.

“Nope! We, uh, we just remembered we actually do have a place to stay, it’s far, far away from here! Thank you for your hospitality, though!” Nya grabbed Jay, quickly followed by Cole.

From nearby, a voice—most likely Maverick’s—rang out, “Guards, don’t let them escape! It’s the demon king and his minions!”

oh god, oh fuck.

They tried to run for it, but in a matter of seconds they were aptly surrounded. The ninja stood back-to-back as the horde of masked assailants drew closer to them.

“Don’t worry guys, we’ve dealt with worse!” Lloyd reassured the others, although it was more so for his own sake than their’s. “Let’s show them what ninja can do!”

Before anyone even throw a punch, two of them leaped onto Cole, restraining him. Jay was taken down shortly after, as was Nya, and Lloyd was slammed to the ground before he could so much as call out.

A hulking mass of a man stomped over, stone club held tightly in his hand. Lloyd squirmed, but the two lackeys gripped him in place. As the brute readied his weapon over the blond’s head Maverick bolted over.

“Stop, you idiots! We need him alive, we need them all alive!” He chided the servants around him, face contorted in annoyance.

“Restrain them with vengestone and ready the carriages, we’re leaving now!” His face changed to one of smugness as he watched the master of energy glare up at him in defiance. “The Green Ninja will be very pleased to see we brought back some ‘guests’.”

[boomstyle]

Sonic Boom: Friend or Foe

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and settings of Sonic boom. Oh, watch out for OCs!

Robot Apocalypse (Part 2)

"Woah! Woah! Relax!", I exclaimed in surprise. Okay, I know that this is going to happen but I don't expect it as soon as this.

I mean, we just entered the town and the alarm just shouts out like that. As long as I remember, the last we came to Roboken, the alarm was automatically shouted when we press a platform or anything. Must be an invisible laser but either way, these robots stepped up the game a little bit.

"These guys have been infected as well but is it possible that Lyric manipulate these robots as well. How could Lyric get into Roboken?", Tails notified me after scanning the robots.

Yep, this was indeed strange. There's no way Snake breathe would do that. He's just not capable enough. First of all, as advance as the Ancient's technology may be, Roboken still rocks the menu. These robots are out of Lyric's capability even if he's a techno bust. Secondly, Roboken is an extraterrestrial terrain untouched by any visitors. I mean I only saw Bolts and Mighton on Earth twice or triple time and that's it.

Before I got drowned in assumptions, sudden laser attacks woke my mind to reality. Okay, just think of that later! We've got robots assault right in front of us.

"We'll talk about that later! Let's run!", I instructed hurriedly when Tails attempted to talk.

"They're not fighting back! They must be afraid of our superior power and intellect.", Robot assumed we're weak but no. You asked why we should run? I mean we could have fought them but they're Roboken civilians. We can't just fight them.

Both of us run away further as armies of robots pursue and blast us with laser weapons. Eventually, we came to a dead-end though until...

"Over here!", a voice coming out of a chute directed us. That sound is familiar. It must be Bolts or Mighton.

As we run toward the direction, someone drags us down to the chute with a long arm. It must be Bolts. I know it's him. The robot closes the chute as soon as we got in.

"Mighton! Bolts!", we called.

"Glad to see you. How've you guys doin'?", I asked.

"No time for social ice cream, Blue boy! We've got a pressing situation to deal with. Lyric the Last Ancient has taken over Roboken. Projecting viral signal for miles in every direction.", Mighton replied in a serious tone.

"So that's why the robots on the ground are infected.", Tails concluded.

"Wait, that snake breath? How do you know him?", I asked.

"Long story short. The Ancients civilization used to be our allies for centuries. Sadly, we're forced to broke our alliance after Lyric abused our technology to destroy organic life all across the world. Since then, we never land on earth ever again.", Bolt said in gloom reminiscing the old times.

"Oh... Never see that coming.", I replied.

"We're safe here until we get out of the bunker.", Bolts assured.

"Well, if that's the case. Sonic and Tails reporting for duty!", Tails and I march up in stationary drill.

"Hold on with your potty language, privates! According to our intel, the leader of the enemy forces is located at the central power core", Mighton guides us to where Lyric was. Get It? Lyric is technically the one who leads the armed force.

"I'm transferring a map wirelessly right now.", Bolts said while transferring out the map of Roboken. Yikes, to be honest, the map doesn't help that much cause the buildings to look alike to each other.

"Give 'em heck, boys!", Mighton instructed the robot to salute us, and yeah they did.

On our way to the central power core, we reached a dead-end like last time. Geez, why can't they build them in different models? Seriously!!! And worse, we're approached and surrounded by armies of robots. Actually, it's not that bad if they escort us to Lyric the Ancient.

"Intruders! Get them! And take them directly to our leader's stronghold!", A robot instructed the armies.

"Okay... We'll come", Tails said hesitantly then I agree and give him a high five. Woohoo... Now, we got to take down Lyric and save the world from malware robot destruction.

Roboken Central Power Core

"Sir, the two surface dwellers loitered in section 5B.", the robot reported our location.

"Actually, we're trespassing, not loitering.", Tails said. Do you understand the term "negotiation", Pal? He got a real knack for negotiation.

"Tails, you really need to learn the art of negotiation.", I criticized him for being too childish at times. I mean, I know you're an innocent type of guy but you need to learn how to filter truths at times.

*Remember Lyric the Ancient from Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric and Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal*

"You and I have an unfinished business, Blue.", Lyric smirked in delight.

"I have no idea what you're talking about but you're going down. (spin dashes) So much for the end of world scheme, Snake breath.", I speak with confidence before he dodges my pin attack again.  

"It's been a year yet you're still predictable. How pathetic!", Lyric boasts himself after dodging my spin attack.

*Similar to this but a little bit different*

I was surprised that Lyric is indeed a tough foe. Guess what he did after dodging my spin attack with his robotic hand? He tied us in Enerbeam rope again with his new technopathy. Crut! He had a new one apparently. I remember throwing it last time. It's really amazing. I want to throw the technopathy again but that's not going to happen. Not while we're trapped inside an enerbeam though.

"Now! Stand up, my warriors! We have the world to destroy.", Lyric proclaimed while holding us captive as he stepped outside the room. As he went outside the room, the room was automatically spayed with a gas. Wow! This is new. I never knew Lyric would plan this.

"Let's see what a thousand years in a poisonous gas prison will do to you!"

"Ok, this is a little bit different but it's similar to last time.", Tails tinker with the robe until he finally dismantling it.

"Almost there and done", Tails assured me. Yeah! The Enerbeam got dispatched and now I am free.

"Woohoo! We are free but we've got to get out soon.", I reminded Tails while we covered my nose to reduce gas inhalation. We tried to escape after we're released but we're blocked by the force field.

"Ugh! The force field blocks the wall.", Tails stated.

"Now, what?", I asked.

Suddenly, I hear a conversation from robots. Their voices are familiar. Wait, they're the duplicates of us.

*Sonic refers to Team Cybonic. (look similar to Team Sonic, heh!)*

"Well. This ends up pretty terribly.", Cyborg Sonic said in a shiver. Yep, it's indeed Cyborg's version of me.

"Uh, what just happen?", Cyborg Amy didn't comprehend why Lyric suddenly captured them. What the heck? Did he make a rash decision?

"Well, let's see. We just allowed a random snake into the entrance and welcomed him as a visitor. Then, you convinced us and the older robots that he came for an apology when Migthon and Bolts clearly warned you about Lyric. Then in a blink of an eye, Lyric take control of the place and infect...", Cyborg Tails explained the situation. What? Since when Lyric pretend to be kind? I thought Lyric would just directly took over the place and done. He seemed to be straightforward and cunning at the same time. Of course, he's not so blatant to inform his diabolical scheme as Eggman did but this is just not what Lyric would do.

"Yeah, you forgot the part that this is Cyborg Sonic's fault.", Cyborg Knuckles cut Tails' explanation.

"Ugh... I was just welcoming the visitor. I mean, he seemed really friendly.", Cyborg Sonic talked back. Wait, he's just being impulsive and rather overconfident. Now, he runs headlong into trouble. Snake breath clearly has an ulterior motive. Even Mighton warned you so why are you being so stubborn? Wait, he's just like me.

"Speaking of which, I found the key code. Got it! I've just dissipated the enerbeam rope.", Cyborg Tails tinkered the enerbeam just like my buddy did. Ooo...Cyborg Tails is just as smart as my Tails.

"We're free. (punch fist and attempt to get out of the cage) Aaa... Ag... Agh... My cupcakes are miffing grandma. (collapse) ", Cyborg Knuckles delighted as they break free from Enerbeam rope but they're still stuck there. Well, he's just as simpleton as my Knuckles was. We gotta help them.

"Cyborgs, are you guys okay? This is Sonic.", I screamed as I take initiative in lending help.

"Sonic! You gotta bail us out.",  Cyborg Sonic called us for a rescue operation.

"Where are you, guys?", I asked their whereabouts.

"Right in front of you to the left.", Cyborg Amy answered. Wow, I can't believe it. It's not as far as I thought it would be. We're just too busy to handle Lyric and robot chase that we don't notice they're actually closeby.

"Sonic, I'll bail them out.", Tails said without hesitation.

"I am on you pal.", I supported him.

Well hello, guys. This is my second part of the robot apocalypse. Remember the episode Robots From The Sky part 3. Yeah, it's similar to that but the situation is a little bit different. What if Lyric the Ancient return and take control of the cityscape instead of Hypnobot? What if Lyric the Ancient got stronger because now he had an allied group and someone closeby who infiltrate the heroes group. What do you guys think will happen in the next round?

[ursuscorde]

Lost Sun

kageyama and hinata had a nasty argument and hinata found comfort in someone else.

inspiration from: "there are days when i can't find the sun even though it's right outside my window"

support it directly on ao3 here -> og work

WORD COUNT:  1373

Light filtered through the broken blinds, radiant beams stirring the cropped noiret. He squinted with a grunt, partially blinded by the morning sun. His cobalt birds gleamed from the sun’s light. The man slid his arm away from his warm torso to feel the freezing, silk sheets beside him. His lover long gone from the bed, nowhere to be seen or heard from.

Kageyama twisted to stare at the empty spot, feeling bleak. His long, thin fingers clutched the smooth fabric, formless as it fell victim to his rigid grasp. In an attempt to forget the numb feel crackling along his calloused fingers, he rolled onto his other side, fully blinded by the sun breaching his busted blinds. His eyes bore into the rays, black spots filling his vision, staying open until they throbbed and caused a thick headache.

The alarm clock on his bedside drawer blared and howled in his ears, but he felt no need to get out of bed. He had no sunshine to lure him from the warm covers, no muse to fill his thoughts with possibilities of plans. He felt nothing. His mind was a barren desert that hadn’t seen a lick of rain. Kageyama was devoid of any rationale or desire to move.

He just wanted to feel something other than misery. Every time he breathed, he felt as if his heart was being choked out by barbed wire. Stabbing into his soul, attempting to pull a cry out of him. The needle-like prick of tears forming forced him to sit up. He couldn’t cry. He refused to. He wasn’t allowed to shed tears. It was his fault in the first place.

The noiret slung his legs out of bed, sluggish and dazed. Hair stuck to his forehead and stood up every which way. Feet barely lifted off the ground as he trudged to the bathroom. That of which persisted to smell like his flame. He tried to repress his deep inhale, but the waft of Hinata’s body wash brought him to melancholic tranquillity.

The ache in Kageyama’s chest was suffocating. The lump in his throat blocked any chance of air he could try and inhale. He completed his routine as if he was on autopilot, no thoughts running through his head.

Afterwards, he picked up his cell, holding the cold device in his palm. It reminded him of his sheets. He attempted to turn it on, only to find out it was dead. So much for that. Pocketing his phone, he left his bedroom. Taking a glance at the clock on the oven, he was already late for practice. It wouldn’t matter if he was even later.

-

He hesitated to open the locker room door. He knew it would be empty, but that didn’t help calm his nerves. Finally opening the door, it was, in fact, empty. He opened his locker and slowly put his practice clothes on, attempting to stall. He dreaded facing his teammates. He was rarely ever late, he knew they were going to comment on it.

Gathering himself, he steadied his breathing before exiting the locker room. He paused as soon as the door opened, there was a practice match going on with his team. Shit.

Kageyama tore his stare away as he walked over to the coach. Feet light and nimble on the gym floor. The raised brows of his coach told it all. He just shouldn’t have shown up if he were to be late.

“Fix what you messed up.” That was all Suzaku said before sending Kageyama to warm up. He rubbed his palm over his knuckles, sighing. Kageyama had been late almost every day this week. If it continued, it’d be possible he’d lose his spot on the team. Suzaku always let his athletes come to him if they had problems, but he knew Kageyama wasn’t the type of guy to do that. The setter kept everything to himself until it all flooded out. Suzaku felt dread growing larger and larger in the pit of his stomach, like thorns in a bramble bush. The Adlers weren’t the Adlers without Kageyama, and if he didn’t shape up soon, it’d become a big issue. He massaged his temples, desperately trying to fix his attention back to the practice match.

Kageyama went rough on himself once he was switched into the match. He focused everything he had on the ball, anger racing through his veins. Not anger towards Hinata, but towards himself. The way he made Hinata cry those many nights ago, the boiling tears that pooled out of the chestnut eyes that used to light up his day like the morning sun. Kageyama forced the image out of his head, his breath worn.

His teammates had known something was up the second day Kageyama had come to practice late. He had failed to brush his hair and rub the sleep from his eyes. It was completely unlike the noiret, and he just kept looking worse. None of them wished to witness the rage of the king, even Ushijima had stayed silent. And-so they watched in silence as Kageyama internally crumbled.

After the match, during the formalities of shaking hands, Kageyama gripped onto Hinata’s to hold him in place. He needed to talk to him. It itched in his throat, his brain throbbing and screaming. Hinata reluctantly agreed before they went to a far corner of the gym. Both keeping their gazes far away from each other.

Warm coffee eyes followed the two, a brown brow raised in intrigue. After allowing the two to talk for a few minutes, Atsumu had decided to butt in and make his presence, and status, known to the noiret. His muscular forearm wrapped around Hinata’s slender waist like a thick snake curling around and suffocating its prey. The face Kageyama had made brought a sinister grin to the dyed blond’s face. Kageyama clenched his hand into a fist, forcing his manicured and filed nails to dig into his palm. Atsumu looked like a drooling beast ready to devour Hinata with any sliver of a chance he got. The way his hand slid down Hinata’s wiry side and grasped at it as if he owned it. He held Hinata like he was some trophy wife. Kageyama’s rage had begun to simmer. The sweltering burn of anger caused him to sweat as he glared knives at Atsumu’s hand.

His eyebrows furrowed harshly as he huffed a sharp amount of air out his nostrils. A shadow seemed to encompass the upper half of his face, and if looks could kill Atsumu would’ve been called to his home six feet under the ground. Kageyama had grit his teeth together to save face and not alert anybody else in the gym. He noticed that Hinata looked small next to Atsumu. As if he were a mouse right before the snake lunged.

Atsumu’s eyes held a look so ferocious it could make even the most powerful of men kneel before him in an instant. His tongue slid along his lips as they tilted into an almost diabolical smirk. The blond straightened his posture as to tower over the noiret and force him to roll over. His sinister presence shrouded over Hinata’s sunshine like a murky storm cloud marching in. The ominous feeling crawled up Kageyama’s legs up to his spine and sent shivers rushing down the bones. The instinct to stare back overcame him as he attempted to return the look with more authority. Hinata belonged in his sky. Not the blond’s.

Before Kageyama could reach out and save Hinata from the brute, he was already being swept away. Atsumu murmured words into Hinata’s ears that Kageyama couldn’t quite make out and just like that, the two were walking away.

No no no no no no no no no no no. Come back. Kageyama felt like screaming. But it wouldn’t matter even if he did. Hinata was far too down the snake’s burrow.

The noiret’s hand fell to his side in a pitiful manner and shoulders drooped like a wilted rose. His hair concealed the miserable expression on his face as he kept his gaze toward the floor. Kageyama felt pathetic and there was only one question on his mind.

Why?

[msjr0119]

Cordonian Wags

Part 14- Flashlight

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm

******

Riley drove aimlessly around a country she wasn’t used to. Whilst driving she was uncontrollably crying, the previous adrenaline rush and anger that had built up had soon disappeared. Not knowing how she was going to cope working alongside her estranged husband and father in law for all these months. Her thoughts lingered on Drake- contemplating giving up and running away, she couldn’t do that without Drake. He had become her saviour, and she had become his. She felt guilty about ‘stealing’ him away from Kiara- but she didn’t deserve a man that was so thoughtful and loving as Drake Walker.

Pulling up on the side road, she was grateful as she saw that the lights were still on. The building before her contained beautiful architecture, old stone and stained glass windows that were unique. Walking through the door, the musty scent hit her lungs- the quietness was peaceful. Heading towards the front of the aisle, there were candles already lit. Kneeling down- her eyes formed with tears that were gracefully falling down her cheeks- eventually landing on the floor.

I’m so sorry Luis. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you but I will always love you. You will always be in Mommy’s heart- I’ll never forget you.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she flinched. Turning around she noticed the man softly smile at her- the priest wore a robe that was something like a long sleeved black dress with black buttons from the neck right down to the ground.

“Are you okay my child?” She heard the soft, friendly voice- letting her know she wasn’t alone.

“No, father.”

“Do you want to talk about it? The church is always open.” Riley stood up as the priest led her to the wooden bench. Not knowing where to start with her fucked up life- it was like some diabolical movie.

*****

The three men, Olivia and Lindsey searched places where Riley might be- her phone was switched off and Lindsey could throttle her stubborn sister for pushing them all away. She quickly did a flight check seeing if there were any flights that could have previously left for the UK or US- there wasn’t, this was some sort of relief. Looking at Drake, he looked defeated and heartbroken.

“Drake, this time of year is always going to be hard for her. Months after losing Luis, she prayed at church every day. She has never truly gotten over it. But I know my sister, she wouldn’t leave you- you’re both made for each other.”

“What if she has though Linz? What if they have pushed her so far that she felt she had no choice but to leave.” Lindsey noticed his eyes form tears- she had never seen a man cry before or a man love someone so much that he was scared of losing her.

“Forget the what if’s. We are going to find her. Besides it’s training tomorrow, then her birthday and the match on Saturday- she’s very career minded. She was never the typical wag- she was young and in love with the idea of marrying a footballer, but she still got her degree and a career. She may say she’s falling for you Drake, but she has already fallen hard. She loves you- even if she won’t say those three words outright. You are good for her.”

“I hate to agree with her. But you two make a disgustingly cute couple. When your secret came out, I immediately liked how she stood up for herself. Walker you need to chill out. I don’t understand why she would love you but by the sounds of it Xavier and Connie need to die.” Shaking his head he ignored Olivia- she hated him, she always had digs at him. Turning to Lindsey he needed reassurance.

“Do you think she honestly loves me? Sex is just sex to people. Maybe she just wanted me to get over the hurt.”

“Drake she loves you. As far as I remember you both had that spark playing hide and seek as kids. I asked back then if you were boyfriend and girlfriend. I remember. I’ve been thinking and reminiscing about the past and I remember a few times that we had met in the past - but that’s a story for another time.”

Arriving at the last church in town, they had hoped she was there. Sneaking in they overheard voices. One familiar voice, Drake felt as if he could breath again- she hadn’t left him, she hadn’t left them all. The priest looked towards them all at the door, placing his finger over his lips- they all stayed in the shadows listening to the conversation.

******

My life has been a mess, I should be grateful that I still have my sister and godfather around me, supporting me. I know I sound selfish because other people are going through worse situations. When I fell in love I was young, he was a different man- I should have known though. You always see it in the papers, the scandals - the poor wives. I always said I’d never be a home wrecker but when I came here, I kissed someone’s boyfriend. I knew it was wrong the minute I did it- but he makes me feel like I can love again. I see a future with him....

Lindsey looked at Drake smiling, he just wanted to run over to her and scoop her up in his arms. Yes he was someone’s boyfriend at the time, and he agreed with Riley- he never wanted to cheat or split up a relationship. But she too was his saviour. He too could see a future, maybe not marriage or kids- he just wanted her as his.

Is it wrong that I can see a future with someone after knowing them for only nearly two weeks? He’s my flashlight, getting me through all this.

No.

But I said my vows- til death do us part. I should have been trying to fix my marriage, but it’s broken beyond repair. Is God angry for me breaking my vows? Is that why he took Luis away from me? As punishment?

God doesn’t punish good people, he will be looking after Luis for you until you reunite with your son.

But I have been punished. Did I deserve all that I’ve had happen to me? My husband is refusing to divorce me. He still loves me. He says he has changed. But a person like that will never change. I was strong in front of him before- but once I left I was an emotional wreck, all the hurt and heartbreak had returned. I don’t want to be upset anymore. I want to look forward to the future.

And you can look forward to your future. We at the church believe that people can change if they put their minds to it. God does not advocate divorce but it is allowed if the marriage has truly broken down and cannot be repaired. Your future is in your hands. If you have done my child, we have guests.

Riley stood up wiping her tears with the tissue that the priest had given her. Turning to the door, she saw her friends and Drake looking concerned. Wondering how much they heard- she was slightly pissed off, church was meant to be confidential away from prying eyes and ears. She knew for a fact who suggested where she would be- in a way she was grateful but other thoughts believed they should have given her privacy. Feeling selfish thinking that way, what had been done had been done.

“What are you all doing here?”

“We were concerned about you sis. Liam and Leo explained what had happened. We all care about you. Myself and Olivia have been debating who’s going to kill Constantine and Xavier first.” Shaking her head, she just wanted to forget about the snakes that were part of her marriage. Walking out of the church, she pulled Drake towards her, forcing a passionate kiss on his lips. Breaking the kiss, she looked at him- before singing in his ear.

I got all I need when I got you and I

I look around me, and see a sweet life

I'm stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight

You're getting me, getting me through the night

Kick start my heart when you shine it in my eyes

Can't lie, it's a sweet life

I'm stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight

You're getting me, getting me through the night

'Cause you're my flashlight

*****

The players all arrived at the stadium for training the following morning. Maxwell caught up with Bertrand, Liam, Leo and Drake- he hadn’t seen them all for a couple of days and was shocked at what he had discovered. Zeke came over to join in the conversation. He was getting frustrated with Kiara crying on the phone to Penelope constantly. Suggesting to Drake that he gains some closure with Kiara before he killed her, Drake refused- Zeke understood once Drake explained all of what happened. His eyes widened as Drake reiterated all that he had been through, Zeke didn’t know who his sister truly was- he gave Drake his full support and apologies.

The men began training on the pitch, Drake joined in much to Riley’s annoyance. She wanted him to take it slow, but he insisted he was fine to kick a ball with his other foot- but agreed to not run. Eagerly watching the men train, she was happy with them all- Bertrand agreed with her. Xavier was watching on the sidelines, but his concentration was mainly on his wife. She had avoided his gaze- but was looking at Drake Walker all the time.

Walking on to the pitch he pulled Drake over to the corner, whilst Riley was distracted talking to Bertrand.

“Walker.” Arsehole, what does my wife see in him.

“What do you want?” Great, got my girlfriends wanker husband wanting to berate me for something.

“Is that any way to speak to your manager? I wanted to talk to you like men.” You are only a footballer Walker, I am in charge of you and your future. You will only every be a fling, and I want you to know that. She is married to me.

“Go on....” This is going to be a laugh- abusive husband wanting to be civil and grown up. Talking like men? Pull the other leg Xavier.

“You do know, my wife is a gold digger. She’s not interested in you. She’s only interested in the money.” Like all the other Wags- but I am responsible for her, til death do us part. What else will make you walk away from my wife.

“Your eyes really should be green, Xavier. They would match your personality.” Harsh, but oh so true. When will he ever back off? He doesn’t deserve to be in a happy relationship.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just warning you.” Pulling Drake closer to him, he whispered in his ear so no one could hear. “She will always be mine. I’m her husband. And I intend on keeping it that way.” Til death do us part Walker, my wife not yours.

“Why won’t you just divorce her? If you loved her you’d do that! I’m not letting her go. So you’ll have to fight for her.” Not dealing with this- walk away be the bigger man. He is hated, I have people supporting me and Riley as a couple. Drake walked away holding his head high. Xavier was riled up, he wanted to carry on drilling into Drakes mind that Riley was his- frustration hit him as Drake walked away from the situation. Chasing after Drake, he launched at him - after a few blows towards him, he busted Drakes nose and lips -it was like Kiara all over again. But this time he needed to protect himself and Riley- defend the both of them.

“Did you enjoy fucking my wife? Because that will all it’ll ever be! She wouldn’t marry you- you have no future together.” Drake wiped away the blood from his nose, and lips. He wanted to remain silent, not causing anymore trouble.

“I’ve not been ‘fucking’ your wife. I’ve been making love to your soon to be ex wife. And she loved it. She loves me Xavier, maybe you should learn to keep hold of a diamond, rather than picking up rocks!”

Liam and Leo saw the commotion, running over to the two men- the two brothers dragged Xavier away from Drake. Before the espanol could react, Leo mimicked his actions he had taken towards Drake.

“That was for hurting our sister in law and nephew..... and that one was for hurting our friend. Stay the fuck away from us all ‘BRO’ “

Riley and Bertrand had finished their intense conversation- hearing the commotion and witnessing the team all scrapping- they both ran over, with cold packs. Bertrand gave one to Leo for his hand, and Riley saw to Drake. Holding him protectively, she gathered some gauze out of the first aid kit. The men explained what had happened, and that once the whole team had ‘ganged’ up on Xavier he sneaked away- not looking back at any of them. He needed support on his side. The only person who would support him was the chairman, his father.

“I’m so sorry Drake. You didn’t have to defend me. He’s an arsehole.” She said gently pressing the gauze on his lips.

“Would you marry me though? You are so beautiful it hurts thinking at how he could hurt you.” He laughed at the marriage question not expecting an answer.

“Yes, I probably would do. And it’s your nose and lips that hurt.”

“I think it’s my heart- my heart is constantly breaking for you. I’m always going to be here for you.” Her lips gently brushed his. Not innocently, like a tease but passionately. “Riley” he whispered slowly. Breaking the kiss they smiled at each other, her heart began fluttering at the sound of voice, saying her name.

“I love you.” She finally admitted, kissing his nose and lips tenderly.

“I love you too.” Maxwell wolf whistled after witnessing the affection between the two. Everyone abandoned training, leaving to go home to rest before the second match that was taking place tomorrow.

******

Later that night, there was a cool air entering my lungs, sending shivers down my spine. It’s the teams second match tomorrow afternoon, but I can’t help myself paying the chairman a little visit. Seeing the lights on, I am grateful that my journey isn’t wasted. If anyone knew where I was in this moment in time they’d ask questions. No need for questions. But there is a need for answers. Answers regarding how fucked up this whole situation is. Love affairs, divorces, secrets, trauma- what’s coming next? I dread to think.

I have always despised the man since I first met him, he always believed he was the ‘king’ of everyone. Having control over anyone, and every situation. When in reality he is just a slimy old man, that only prioritises where he’s getting his next shag from. Now his scandal about having more children has come alight, I wonder if there are anymore to come out of the woodwork.

Walking up to his office, I gulp. Am I crazy? Or am I just defending all of us. Surely he has more secrets? Does he deserve to die? Some may say yes. Some may say no. But someone needs to stand up to him and I intend on doing that.

“What are you doing here?” He asks me, looking angry but also shocked at the same time. Discreetly I smile. I ask if we can talk, like adults. He huffs at first, explaining that he is busy, but he eventually agrees. I was shocked that he didn’t have a whore hiding somewhere in his office. Falling into my trap, he asks me to pour us both a drink. Smirking, I gladly accept. Pouring us both a scotch, I wasn’t exactly fond of the drink but I had to play along- pouring the extra ingredient into his drink. It was only a matter of time, before he felt the slightest bit of hurt.

We talked for a while, about random things. Mainly about the team, and then his family life. ‘Showing’ an interest in his life, he seemed to open up a fresh new can of worms, before holding his chest and collapsing. Pouring the remainder of my drink away, I cleaned my tumbler. Laughing at him as he begged for help, he was dizzy and feeling confused. I walked away- anonymously ringing an ambulance. He won’t die - not today anyway, he will just be knocked out. One of his whores or poor Regina may find him in this vulnerable situation before the paramedics arrive. In his drunk state of mind, I managed to get him to sign something- a termination of a contract. Unknowingly he didn’t know what he had just signed.

“Goodnight Connie.” Exiting the stadium I drive home, mission complete- I said, smirking.

[shes-soparticular]

Put in Work

Description: An innocent morning at the gym takes a turn. Part of my Shawn & Alex series, taking place sometime during the European leg of the tour and thus coinciding with the timeline of Slow Burn.

Warnings: Pure, filthy, uncalled for smut.

Words: 2349

Well, he didn’t think this through. When Alex had asked to come along to the gym with him and the guys, Shawn’s ego plotted “fantastic, she’s not going to know what hit her”. What he hadn’t considered is that the ass he already couldn’t tear his eyes away from in jeans and joggers would be repackaged in the tightest spandex shorts known to man. Or that he’d have a perfect view of it on the stairclimber while he tried to focus on lifting.  As bad as it is watching her ass strain against those shorts while climbing (for WAY too long, in his opinion), it only gets worse when she finally steps off the machine. She’s turned in his direction but her eyes are on her smart watch, oblivious to his stare. Grabbing her water bottle, she tilts her head back to take a drink and he nearly drops the barbell as he sees a bead of sweat trailing down her stretched throat. Pieces of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail are stuck to her neck, her skin glistening from exertion. The place his mind goes is so filthy he makes himself blush. It doesn’t help that All Mine is blasting through his airpods, coaxing his thoughts further into focusing on the apex between her thighs.

Within those thoughts, everyone else has faded away and it’s just the two of them in an empty gym. She sets down her water bottle and approaches him, a fire in her eyes he’s never seen before. It’s as if she’s moving in slow motion, the way her breasts bounce lightly with her steps, the way her chin tilts down ever so slowly, eyes piercing him in such a way that it makes his dick twitch. Her hands reach him before her lips do, her fingertips running down his bare biceps before taking a firm grasp just above his elbows. But her lips follow seconds later, crashing into his with such a hunger that he’s almost knocked off balance. Feeling her tongue slip into his mouth, an involuntary moan is tugged from deep within his chest. His takes his time trailing his hands down her body, thumbs brushing the curves of her chest before skimming across the bare expanse of skin between her sports bra and the waistband of her shorts. Their ultimate destination, without question, is that full ass of hers, the one that’s been torturing him for weeks. Both of his hands settle there, lightly, waiting to see where she takes things next. When the presence of his hands drives her to grind her hips into his, he accepts that as permission to grab a firm hold. Squeezing until a whine transfers from her tongue to his, the sound spurs him to bring her yet closer, until she can feel his growing erection pressed to her lower stomach. She bites down on his bottom lip in acknowledgement, the dull pain only increasing his arousal. Her hands drop from his arms, traveling underneath his shirt and pushing at the hem. She’s not tall enough to get it all the way off herself, but he takes the hint and rids himself of his tank. It’s quickly replaced by her fingernails, raking from his shoulders down to the drawstrings of his gym shorts. His lips detach from hers long enough to find new territory, settling on the salty plane of her neck. If she tastes this heavenly post-work out, he can only imagine the sweet taste he’ll find between her legs. Busying himself with leaving a mark that won’t soon fade, her impatience (with which he’s come quite familiar) has taken the reins. She intertwines her fingers on top of the back of his right hand, slipping it down her stomach and into the front of her shorts. He sucks in a breath the second he realizes she’s not wearing any panties, that spandex truly being the only flimsy piece of fabric separating him from her heat. She lets go of his hand once she has it where she wants it, his fingertips grazing her folds and ghosting over her clit. It almost makes his head spin how hot and wet she already is, for him, and it only makes him harder to think about sinking more than just his fingers into her. With that thought, he slips his middle finger inside of her, thumb caressing over her clit with added pressure. An idea strikes him as he glances up momentarily and notices the mirrored wall not far from them. Backing her up gently until her back touches the glass, he somehow manages to keep his hand moving all while adding a second finger. With the mirror providing her support, she grinds herself into his hand, needing more than his fingers can give her in that moment. “Shawn, I need more.” In case he doesn’t know what she means, she pushes at his shorts until he springs free. Palming him immediately, her strokes are painfully slow as she spreads the pre-cum down his length. It’s not as though he needs to be convinced, but he has yet to truly see her and that takes momentary precedence. Bringing his free hand to the zipper on her sports bar, the one so teasingly separating her cleavage, he jerks it down with one swift movement. The second the fabric reveals her breasts to him, he can’t help but lean in to trace his tongue over one nipple. It hardens at the warmth of his mouth, her breathing quickening at the combination of his teeth grazing against her and his fingers curling inside of her. “Please, more.” He hasn’t heard her voice in that high of a pitch before and all he wants is to see how high he can get her to go. Reluctantly pulling his hand free, he peels her shorts downwards, the spandex clinging to her thighs in protest. He gives them a firmer pull until they slip down her calves and land in a pool at her feet. In quick succession, her sports bra and his shorts join them on the gym floor, skin finally pressed to skin. His hands find her hips once more and he nearly surprises himself when he turns her to face the mirror, her hands immediately pressing against the glass for support.

“God, look at you.”  He rasps into her mirror, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “Do you have even the slightest clue what you fucking do to me? Just look.” He watches as her gaze travels downwards until it’s transfixed by the sight of his cock sliding through her folds. In a perfect world, he’d spend longer teasing her but at this point, as her wetness starts coating him, he simply doesn’t have the restraint. Lifting her hips slightly so that they’re better aligned, he finally coasts forward to bury himself inside of her. He relishes the feeling of each inch disappearing into her core, watching her face contort in pleasure as she adjusts around him. Once he’s bottomed out, he stills for a second, thumbs rubbing circles on the skin of her hips. She pants for him to move, to fuck her, but he makes her wait. The way she’s been making him wait, making him pine, making him lose his damn mind over how bad he wants her. When he can no longer control the effort of her hips bucking backwards against him, he finally sets his pace. Each thrust seems to come quicker than the last, until the only sounds in the room are the slapping of skin and their collective moans, his growing lower while hers near a pitch he’s pretty sure only dogs can hear. His lips find her neck again, as she throws her head back against his chest.

“So good, baby, so -,” Her words are immediately cut off as he angles upwards to hit that elusive spot inside of her. The strangled moan that leaves her lips is music to his ears but the way she clenches around him, hard, almost makes his eyes roll back. Through some kind of inhuman fortitude, he’s able to keep going, to keep driving into her, right where she needs him. Their bodies are so slick with sweat, he’s not sure how he’s able to keep a hold of her hips as it is, but he chances it to snake one hand between her and the mirror. His fingers return to their earlier home, brushing her clit slowly at first before picking up speed.

“Come for me, honey. Don’t hold out.” His thrusts becoming more pronounced, targeted. Again, he watches as her eyes move downward to watch him plunge into her, the visual just as intoxicating for both of them. A moan bursts from her that sounds vaguely like his name, or so he decides, and when her breath seemingly catches in her throat, he feels that wonderful clench that announces her orgasm without her needing to put it to words. He slows down just slightly as she rocks through the aftershocks, her body trembling against his sending a sense of pride surging through his chest. She’s a panting mess, bit she’s his panting mess for once, and in that moment it’s all he can imagine wanting. It’s enough to send him towards the edge, but just as he’s about to spill into her, she wiggles out of his grasp. He’s so fucking bewildered, can’t fathom how she’d be this cruel to tease him at that exact moment, until he notices her falling to her knees in front of him.  There’s still a diabolical grin on her face, but she reaches up to stroke him through the final seconds. When he comes with a shuddering groan, she maneuvers so that his release lands across her collarbone and trails down her chest and between the valley of her breasts. Following the same pathway those beads of sweat had taken. He’s watching, wide eyed, as she runs a finger over the warm fluid, bringing it slowly to her lips. Her pink tongue darts out to taste it but the sound of someone snapping close to his ear steals his attention…

He’s jolted back to reality where a very clothed, very dry Alex is standing directly in front of him, eyebrow raised. “Shawn? Hellooooo? You there?” There’s a perplexed and slightly concerned look on her face, her hand busy running a towel along her neck, swiping away sweat. And only sweat. There’s no hickey on her neck, none of his remnants painted across her skin.

His voice is unexpectedly low and hoarse when he finally tries to respond to her, which he quickly attempts to cover with a cough. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I was…uh, just thinking about tonight’s show.”

“Oh, okay,” That diabolical grin he swore he saw just moments before is plastered across her face. “I guess you weren’t lying about performing being better than sex…” He’s caught off guard by her comment, until he notices that her eyes have descended southwards and are staring at the wickedly obvious outline of his erection. “It that’s what it does to you.” Her grin only grows as she continues dabbing at the sweat bordering the edges of her bra. Immediately, he yanks the towel from his hands to hold in front of his groin. All he can do is say a silent prayer that this gym is located inside of their current hotel and he won’t have to rush past a line of fans begging for selfies.

“I…I’m gonna head upstairs.” Shawn turns to take off as fast as his legs will carry him, but she catches the back of his shirt before he can make it to the door.

“You’re forgetting your water bottle.” Looking over his shoulder, he sees her bend at the waist, reaching out for the nearby bottle. She glances backwards at him, free hand sneaking behind her to place one finger under the hem of her shorts, beneath her left ass cheek. With that grin only growing more evil, she snaps the spandex against her skin. “It’s not nice to stare, you know.”

Physically, mentally, emotionally, he cannot take another second of her teasing. Not now. Not after he just mentally fucked her against a mirror. He pivots on his heel, once again headed towards the door. “Keep it.”

He hears her voice call after him, but doesn’t turn to look at her. “Enjoy your cold shower!” Oh so lovingly, he reaches behind his back to flip her off.  Alex knows exactly what she’s doing. Of course, of course, she’s not responsible for the way her body makes him feel. Even in those spandex shorts. But she is responsible for verbally torturing him about it. One thing is for certain, he will NOT forget this. Whenever they finally do break through this will they/won’t they bullshit? When he finally has her naked and writhing underneath him? He’s going to make her pay for this. What’s that saying about a pound of flesh? Unfortunately, they’re still very much in limbo and thus if hotel shower walls could talk, they’d have plenty to say about his infatuation. It’s hours later, when he’s finally shook the thought of her, when he truly is focused on getting ready for that night’s show, that he notices a text from her.

“However good it was in your imagination? It’s going to be ten times better.”

And with that, he has to abruptly excuse himself to the green room bathroom to attend to his thoughts on Alex.

What she won’t end up admitting to him for a little while longer, until she’s just collapsed on top of him in some midwestern hotel room, is that he wasn’t the only one thinking unnatural thoughts that morning. That if shower walls could in fact talk, hers would have a story to tell. About her, the handheld shower head, and her thoughts of mercilessly riding him on the bench press until her thighs shook. They really were two of a kind. Degenerates, maybe. But degenerates that belonged to one another.

[vhaven93-blog]

True spiritual transformation, like the creation of genuine Art, Music, Dance, or Poetry, requires a deep and conscious confrontation with the monster within you.

Can you enter into an honest and creation dialogue with the diabolic region of your soul? Are you willing to reach your hand into the black hood of the cloaked Devil within you, put your hand on the skull of his face, and caress it?

Most people are unable or unwilling to do this. But they do so at their own peril. For me, it's never been about having enough courage to perform this operation. Personally, I'm not necessarily "courageous", I'm just scared of the right things. I'd rather be destitute in this world, and rebuked and reviled by everyone around me, than to be at war within my own soul and conscience. By far the most enlightening irony that's ever pierced the thick wall of stupidity that is my brain, has been the realization that this internal schism between Character and Conscience can be ameliorated by clothing oneself in the horrors of all that one fears and loathes. In the story of Jesus of Nazareth, the Nazarene didn't become Christ until he died as Jesus. He couldn't go through with this operation unless he first became willing to adopt all the sins (shadow) of the World. This Dark Night of the Soul, consciously traversed, fortified Jesus's Will enough to drag his feet through the swamp of the Abyss with only his burning heart for a lantern. Thus ennobled, and armed with true compassion, the Nazarene found the strength of spirit to endure the Cross, drink the vinegar, and even forgive the maleficence of his accusers such that the phrase, "Father, fogive them! For they know not what they do".

This is a drama and myth that must play out on the stage of one's psyche, and the ordeal consciously and willingly assumed, before we can ever hope to heal that abscessed wound called Humanity. Until we face and forgive the foul beast that lurks within us, we'll forever be at the mercy of the hallucinations wrought by the fever within our souls. The cowardice of our own refusal to fight will be seen as the machinations of our supposed enemies, and even our Love will become poisonous fruit.

Sometimes, even Love can be worse than Hate. At least hatred is obvious. It walks up to you and punches you in the face. But toxic Love? That's a snake that strokes your thigh while biting your neck.

QUESTION: Where does evil live?

ANSWER: That's a wrong question.

The real question is: Why does evil live? More importantly, what does it live on? What feeds it?

Evil is unique in its ability to eat souls and shit out ideas. Then the Ego eats those ideas and feeds them also to its progeny.

What ideas drive you? What's your highest value by which you live?

Are you willing to reevaluate where your most cherished assumptions about yourself come from? What if YOU are the real enemy? What then?

[painting-wings]

Diabolic lovers |7|

Description: It’s Hoseok’s turn to have some fun 

Warnings: Slight smut? idk... , swearing

Parings: J-Hope x reader, Namjoon x reader

Tags: Vampire!au, diabolic lovers 

Masterlist 

Previous chapters - Six | Eight

A/N: Hey so how about a Halloween special? also realised at how I have neglected Hobi in this story so this is a whole chapter dedicated to Hobi with some slight Namjoon in it enjoy! also happy halloween :) also this is unedited.

| Temptation & addiction   | 7 |

It has been a week since you have came to the house and a lot has happened, in some sick way your so called ‘brothers’ are not actually your brothers but some random supernatural beings that want to drink your blood and now you're somehow owned by them. Many people would think that your crazy and made this up but you’re not crazy and you surely did not make this up.

Surprisingly you woke up naturally and without any persons to help, you thought nothing of this as you took it upon yourself to go and have a shower. Alone in peace but even if you did want it alone and in peace you sadly didn’t as you’d always have an unwelcome visitor.

Getting out of the shower you made sure that the towel was securely around you as you went to grab your clothes, wiping off the condensation off of the mirror, looking into the mirror your startled by Hoseok standing behind you with a strangely warm grin.

“Good morning Y/n” he spoke as you jumped back and just your luck you jumped back against Hobi. who was now smiling as you clutched the towel tighter.

“Ho-hoseok.. Hi” you spoke as you turned around to face him. “Can I help you with anything?” you ask but immediately regretting it as Hoseok runs a gentle hand down your cheek as his eyes look deeply into yours.

“Seeming that my brothers have had their fun, it’s my turn” he smiled again making you slightly uncomfortable. “But don’t worry I will ask you first, so Y/n can I kiss you?”

Hoseok’s question caught you off guard as he was the only ones out of the brothers that respected your space but is also asking for consent, but just thinking of him kissing you made you feel hot.

“Why did you ask me?” you squeak as he tilts his head to the side slightly.

“Well you should ask a lady before doing anything, don’t worry about my brothers they haven’t seen a woman in years so they are a little bit excited” he smiled, showing off his pearl white fangs that oddly did not go with his bright smile.

You weighed up your options and yes you was having an enteral battle with yourself  on one hand you wanted to kiss Hoseok as his lips did look appetizing but again you didn’t as ever since you got to this god damn house you have been treated like a rag doll.

“Sure” you breathed out as Hoseok now trapped you against the countertop, you still had a death grip on your towel. Hoseok however gently removed your hands from the towel and placed one on his shoulder while he laced his hand in yours as he leaned in.

You waited out of habit you meekly licked your lips that made him chuckle as he then closed the distance.

It was soft, gentle and slightly addicting. Your lips modeled to his as sweet kisses started to turn heated, your hand snaked its way up his neck and towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair as it made him groan in response. Hoseok bit your lower lip asking for entrance and for once you opened gladly, feeling his tongue play with yours as it made you gravitate towards him more.

In one swift motion Hoseok lifted you up onto the counter, as he stood in between your legs, the towel riding up on your thighs as his hands caressed the smooth skin leaving goosebumps, you moaned into the kiss as he smirked, as the kissed deepened you felt the sharp pricks of his fangs against your tongue and lips. It made you feel addicted as for once you wanted to be bitten, drank from, feel that draining sensation of your head spinning and heart thumping.

Hoseok was the first one to break the kiss, looking at your flustered state he smirked as his hand caressed your pink cheek. You nuzzled against his hand leaning into his touch. He then tilted your head to the side exposing your neck as you let out a soft whimper.

“Are you addicted Y/n?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Y-yes” you broke out as his nose ran down the nape of your neck making you arch into him more. “H-hoseok...please-ah”

“What?” he teased.

“Please bite me” you whispered, as he smiled revealing his sharp fangs.

“If that’s what the lady wants, she gets” he spoke in a deep voice that made your body tingle with excitement. Your hands gripped tightly to the back of his neck as he held you steadily, the piercing feeling entered you as the pain soon turned to pleasure.

Bringing your legs up higher to wrap around his waist, as you brought him closer to you as he could, at this point you did not care that you was in a towel. Feeling his crotch against the thin fabric of the towel and also feeling something else too only made you want him more.

When Hoseok finished feeding from you, he looked down at your needy state, as you rutted yourself against him to try and relieve any pressure. He laughed “if you wanted something else so badly you should've said, should we go somewhere..more comfortable?” he purred as it made you feel weak in the knees.

“Yes” you spoke, quickly jumping off of the counter and grabbing Hoseok by the wrist as he happily followed.

When reaching the bedroom you didn’t know what took over you but you pushed him down on the bed as you swiftly undone his jeans, pulling them down only leaving him in his underwear, as Hoseok took off his top casually. With a blush you stood at the edge of the bed, fingers playing with the hem of the towel, watching his lustful gaze. Slowly undoing the towel as is unraveled, leaving you in your all naked glory.

Hoseok eyes traveled up and down your perfect skin, taking in each curve and dip of your body and he liked it, very much. He sat up with his body resting on his elbows as he bit his lower lip.

“Come here Y/n take a seat” he purred in a low voice that made your body feel in auto pilot, straddling his lap, leaning down and kissing him full on the lips. With a swift motion Hoseok flipped you over so he was now on top of you.

“So beautiful and you submitted to me” he mumbled into your neck as you moaned at the feel of him slowly grinding onto you. Before anything else could happen an unknown voice make itself known.

“What are you doing?”

You gasped as Hoseok layed down covering your body as he growled looking at the intruder.

“What do you want Joon?” Hoseok growled at him as his eyes stayed narrowed. While Namjoon didn’t look impressed.

“She’s my toy and your about to have sex with her?” Namjoon spoke offendedly as Hoseok rolled his eyes before pulling a blanket over you.

“Well I don’t see you having sex with her?”

“Maybe I would’ve by now if my brothers didn’t interrupt every time I tried-”

“Excuse me but last time I checked not every girl wants to forcefully have sex with you Namjoon” you speak up as his now fiery gaze burns on you.

“You little shit-” Namjoon growled

“What do you want?” Hoseok asks annoyed

“Jin wants everyone in the living room he has an announcement to make” Joon spoke spitefully.

“Fine we will be down” Hoseok spoke as Joon left the room.

~ Sitting in the living room, now dressed, Joon on one side while Hoseok sat on the other side of you. As each member walked in Jimin was the first to speak.

“Well y/n you definitely don’t smell like Namjoon, have you been whoring yourself out to Hoseok?”

“That rude and no, I am not a whore” you spoke as Joon scoffed, “excuse you?” you spoke as Joon looked at you with disgust.

“I mean we didn’t really have sex because cock-blocker over here ruined it before I could get anywhere” Hoseok spoke casually.

“Out of all of us y/n who would you like to have sex with the most?” Jungkook spoke innocently,

You sat there feeling so uncomfortable as all seven boys looked at you, at this point you wish that the whole ground would swallow you up but before you could give an answer, Jin piped up.

“We should take turns in trying to seduce her and whatever one she likes best she goes with”

Grate...as if this week could get any worse you now have a bunch of horny vampires on your case.

[theresgloryforyou]

Two weeks ago a man in France was arrested for raping his daughter. She’d gone to her school counselor and then the police, but they needed “hard evidence.” So, she videotaped her next assault. Her father was eventually arrested. His attorney explained, “There was a period when he was unemployed and in the middle of a divorce. He insists that these acts did not stretch back further than three or four months. His daughter says longer. But everyone should be very careful in what they say.” Because, really, even despite her seeking help, her testimony, her bravery in setting up a webcam to film her father raping her, you really can’t believe what the girl says, can you? Everyone “knows” this. Even children. Three years ago, in fly-on-the-wall fashion of parent drivers everywhere, I listened while a 14-year-old girl in the back seat of my car described how angry she was that her parents had stopped allowing her to walk home alone just because a girl in her neighborhood “claimed she was raped.” When I asked her if there was any reason to think the girl’s story was not true, she said, “Girls lie about rape all the time.”   She didn’t know the person, she just assumed she was lying. Fast-forward three years, again in a car. This time a 13-year-old refused to believe that when the newly appointed pope was 12 he’d written a “love letter” to the girl living next door. The child insisted stubbornly that the woman, now in the news, had to be a liar because the pope, even as a boy, would not have written a love letter.   In both cases, to my children’s bottomless pool of chagrin, I pulled the car over so I could ask the girls why they were so sure that the women’s accounts were not credible. We talked about their assumptions, about who gets to be believed, double standards regarding sex, and how culture portrays women. Fun times with Mom. No one says, “You can’t trust women,” but distrust them we do. College students surveyed revealed that they think up to 50% of their female peers lie when they accuse someone of rape, despite wide-scale evidence and multi-country studies that show the incidence of false rape reports to be in the 2%-8% range, pretty much the same as false claims for other crimes. As late as 2003, people jokingly (wink, wink) referred to Philadelphia’s sex crimes unit as “the lying bitch unit.” If an 11-year-old girl told an adult that her father took out a Craigslist ad to find someone to beat and rape her while he watched, as recently actually occurred, what do you think the response would be? Would she need to provide a videotape after the fact? It goes way beyond sexual assault as well. That’s just the most likely and obvious demonstration of “women are born to lie” myths. Women’s credibility is questioned in the workplace, in courts, by law enforcement, in doctors’ offices, and in our political system. People don’t trust women to be bosses, or pilots, or employees. Pakistan’s controversial Hudood Ordinance still requires a female rape victim to procure four male witnesses to her rape or risk prosecution for adultery. In August, a survey of managers in the United States revealed that they overwhelmingly distrust women who request flextime. It’s notable, of course, that women are trusted to be mothers—the largest pool of undervalued, economically crucial labor. ***** So how exactly are we teaching children that women lie and can’t be trusted to be as competent or truthful as men? I mean, clearly, most people aren’t saying “girls and women lie, kids, that’s just the way God built them.” First, lessons about women’s untrustworthiness are in our words, pictures, art, and memory. It’s simple enough to see how we are overwhelmingly portrayed as flawed, supplemental, ornamental, or unattainably perfect. It’s also easy to find examples of girls and women routinely, entertainingly cast as liars and schemers. For example, on TV we have Pretty Little Liars, Gossip Girl, Don’t Trust The Bitch in Apartment 23, Devious Maids, and, because its serpent imagery is so basic to feminized evil, American Horror Story: Coven. The lessons start early, too. Take, for example, the popular animated kids movie Shark Tale, which featured the song “Gold Digger,” a catchy tune that describes women as scheming, thieving, greedy, and materialistic. There is no shortage of music lyrics that convey the same ideas across genres. It’s in movies, too. Consider, for example, the prevalence of untrustworthy mad women, or the manipulative women of Film Noire, and the failure of most films to even allow two women to be named or speak to one another about anything other than the male protagonists. But pop culture and art are just the cherry on the top of the icing on a huge cake. The United States is among the most religious of all countries in the industrialized world. So, while some people wring their hands over hip hop, I’m more worried about how men like Rick Santorum and Ken Cuccinelli explain to their daughters why they can’t be priests. I know that there is hip hop that exceeds the bounds of taste and is sodden with misogyny. But, people seem to think that those manifestations of hatred are outside of the mainstream when, in reality, it’s just more of the same set to great beats. Sometimes, however, there’s a bonus, synchronous two-for-one! Delilah, a renowned biblical avatar of female untrustworthiness, made it into the lyrics of JT Money’s “Somethin’ ‘Bout Pimpin’”: I got a problem with this punk ass bitch I know Ol’no good skanlezz switch out ho An untrustworthy bitch like Deliliah Only thing she good for is puttin’ dick inside her In other words: “Amongst all the savage beasts none is found so harmful as woman.” — John Chrysostom “What she cannot get, she seeks to obtain through lying and diabolical deceptions. One must be on one’s guard with every woman, as if she were a poisonous snake and the horned devil.” — St. Albertus Magnus “Women were made either to be wives or prostitutes.” — Martin Luther “I fail to see what use woman can be to man, if one excludes the function of bearing children.” — Augustine While most religious leaders aren’t going around spouting overtly denigrating opinions about women, many, through default and tradition, casually and uncritically expose children to religious texts that are fundamentally misogynistic. I have to believe that most Sunday school lessons are not concerned with deconstructing, say, the creation story, a seminal text in our culture whether you are religious or not. Religious misogyny is tied to institutional power that ends up in children and women being impoverished and dying. Ideas about women, credibility, legitimacy, authority and—notably—Catholic and Evangelical “priesthood” are important and have deep roots in religious thought and philosophy. And those ideas have contemporary expression (see links): Tertullian: “Women are the devil’s gateway.” Thomas Aquinas: “As regards the individual nature, woman is defective and misbegotten.” St. Clement of Alexandria: “Every woman should be filled with shame by the thought that she is a woman…the consciousness of their own nature must evoke feelings of shame.” St. John Chrysostom: Women are “weak and flighty…For what is a woman but an enemy of friendship, an inescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a domestic danger, delectable mischief, a fault in nature, painted with beautiful colors?” St. Jerome: “Woman is the root of all evil.” There’s Origen, one of Christianity’s greatest thinkers, a man who castrated himself and who considered women worse than animals. And, not to be left out, St. Augustine. Why focus on these musty, long dead theologians and philosophers? These thoughts are alive and well and have a super long tail outside of religion—think: domestic work, pay discrimination, and sex segregation in the workplace. Every time a young girl can’t serve at an altar, or play in a game, or dress as she pleases; every time she’s assaulted and told to prove it, it’s because she cannot, in the end, be trusted. Controlling her—her clothes, her will, her physical freedom, her reputation—is a perk. Conventional Abrahamic religious thought cannot escape the idea that we have to pay, as women, with lifelong suffering and labor and be subject to the authority of men lest our irrationality and desires result in more evil and suffering. Until religious hierarchies renounce beliefs and practices based on these theologies, these long-dead men, creatures of their time, might as well be the ones repeatedly showing up in Congress to give their massively ill-informed opinions on women’s health and lives. Especially in our political lives. Is it really surprising to anyone that a Santorum staffer said, in the run up to the last election, that women shouldn’t be President because it’s against God’s will? What about the “news commentator” who thinks women shouldn’t be allowed to vote? The Senate candidate who thinks rape is a gift from God? Or the Senator and presidential aspirant who thinks it’s just another form of conception? Or the doctor who thinks women deserve to die for having abortions? How about the nominee for lieutenant governor of Virginia who thinks fetal birth defects are punishment for parents’ (read: mothers’) sins? If women die bearing children, so what, that’s what we’re here for.   Even if we insist on not talking about the degree to which legislators’ religious beliefs inform their political actions, it is obvious that they do. An entire political party’s “social policy” agenda is being pursued under a rubric that insists women need “permission slips” and “waiting periods.” The recent shutdown? Conservatives holding the country hostage because they want to add anti-abortion “conscience clause” language to legislation. Whose consciences are we talking about? All the morally incompetent and untrustworthy men who need abortions? It’s no exaggeration to say that distrust of women is the driving force of the “social issues” agenda of the Republican Party. From food stamps and “legitimate rape,” to violence against women and immigration policy. “We need to target the mother. Call it sexist, but that’s the way nature made it,” explained the man who penned Arizona’s immigration law. “Men don’t drop anchor babies, illegal alien mothers do.” I could do this ad infinitum. The pervasive message that women are untrustworthy liars is atomized in our culture. There is no one source or manifestation. It fills every nook and cranny of our lives. I find it sad and disturbing that children learn so quickly and normatively to distrust women. Any commitment to parity means challenging the stories we tell them. It means critically assessing the comforting institutions we support out of nostalgia, habit, and tradition. It means walking out of places of worship, not buying certain movie tickets, closing some books, refusing to pay for some music, and politely disagreeing with friends and family at the dinner table. It’s not easy. But, really, what’s the alternative?

Soraya Chemly, How We Teach our Kids Women are Liars (2013)

[ambwimagines]

Skin Deep (Doyoung, Taeil, Taeyong) Part 1

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1000+

“Beauty is never skin deep……it’s always much deeper than the skin.”

Has your mouth ever been bigger than your capability, your eyes a little bit bigger than your stomach, has your skin ever cried out for a lot more than you knew you could handle. Well if it hasn’t before….it sure is about to now.

Taeil: Woah Y/N! I didn’t know you were this dirty. Taeyong: Are you sure you want this princess……all of us making you feel good Doyoung: I’m sure you could make us feel really good……. Kitten. You take care of us we take care of you.

You’ve made worse decisions in life, but getting into a group chat with Doyoung, Taeil, and Taeyong and then letting the conversation tread to subject matter this sensitive and provocative just might take the cake. The wet dream of millions of screaming, die hard, fangirls was conspiring on your phone as you spoke. They weren’t even in the room and they still made you super nervous. Swallowing thick globs of saliva, a feeble attempt to moisturize your drying throat. Your fingers locking up as you try your best to type a response. If you could take at least one thing that you ever did or said back in life it would probably be what you said a few minutes ago.  See the conversation was going good and even making you laugh a bit but then these boys just had to stroke their mammoth sized egos and brag about how good they can be in bed

Taeyong: I would be the best out of all 3 of us Taeil: Buuuuuut who got that girl last night at the fan signing and brought her home Taeyong: She was looking at me anyway Doyoung: Truthfully, she was flirting with me first…. Taeyong: Shut up Doyoung it’s not like you would have done anything with her Doyoung: You don’t know that…… Taeyong: You’re so vanilla…. the farthest you’ve gotten with a girl was her front door. Taeil: LMFAO!!!!!!!!!! Doyoung: Oh yeah………well I can get to 4th base with Y/N. Taeyong: Don’t make me laugh she won’t even give you the time of day. Y/N: You guys do know I’m in this group chat with you, all right? Taeyong: Well answer me this Y/N, would you get in bed with Doyoung? Y/N: I’d take all 3 of you honestly.

Dead silence……. not a word to be spoken or typed after your more than truthful response. Though it was never shared, it didn’t need to be. You all thought of how amazing it would be, how good it would feel. Then the stages progressed rapidly thought, imagination, planning, execution. They thought about it, imagined themselves doing it, planned on saying it, and then the one brave soul, the most Vanilla in the group Doyoung.

“I’m sure you could make us feel really good…. Kitten”

The most dangerous words he could ever say formed into one diabolical sentence. When Doyoung called you Kitten it set your body a blaze. You were never quite sure how to feel as long as you knew you wanted him. That seemed to be the only thing that mattered.

Taeyong: If I could possibly just watch, I wouldn’t really have to participate Taeil: Yeah that would kind of be hot to see you and Y/N go at it Doyoung: Well Y/N?  do you wanna give your oppas what we want or do you wanna disappoint us……I know you don’t wanna disappoint us Kitten. Y/N: No, I don’t I wanna be a good girl…. I wanna be your good girl. I wanna do everything you say as you say it while they watch me do it. I wanna make them wanna be a good girl for them. But I’m your good girl…… Doyoung: How soon can you demonstrate to me and my chingus how good of a girl you are Taeyong: Yeah Y/N How soon! Taeil: Count me in Y/N: How soon can you get over here? It seemed like seconds passed and there was an eager knock on your door, no one other than the three raunchy males that put you up to this…. Well more so you did this rather than them. Your mouth was much bigger than the rest of the holes on your body but soon enough you would realize that. “ You talk a really good game kitten…. I just wanted to see if you were for real. I figured it could get quite lonely while they just spectated so I brought along someone to help” Doyoung said as he took his place on the couch beside Taeil and Taeyong. You felt a light stroke of your hair from behind you and turned around to see none other than a tall muscular figure and a devilish smile splayed across the face of this familiar stranger. “Johnny” you asked almost in shock “Of course princess…. Doyoung asked me to help him turn that gorgeous body of yours inside out and what kind of Hyung would I be to turn him down Hmm?” He spoke softly sweeping a fair-sized piece of your hair away from your ear. His hot breath came in contact with your neck giving you the first of many goosebumps you’ll have tonight. As Johnny worked his magic on you Doyoung came up in front of you kissing you harshly and dominantly and pseudo-ripping your blouse from your body. “You should already be naked…you knew we were coming.” Doyoung spoke through clenched teeth. You whimper slightly feeling your skirt viciously ripped away from your hips. Rough calloused palms and elongated fingers kneading your ass and thighs. Another pair of rough hands kneading your full breasts making sure to toy with your clothed nipples. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ Johnny” “Already ahead of you” the taller boy spoke unclasping your bra. The thin layer of fabric being ushered, slightly encouraged off your arms. Natural instinct prompting you to cover yourself which you do.

“Don’t try and hide now Kitten you wanted this, now relax and let us do our thing.” Spoke an overly confident Doyoung. Cunning extremities hooked themselves around the ban of your black lace underwear. That blissful feeling returned unto you once again, he took his time slowly pulling them down knowing how much you loved the feeling of your panties leaving you alone excites you even more.” Oh, Doyoung Oppa” your sinful lips singing his sweet praise in betrayal of your better judgement. You don’t concave to one tremendous feeling no matter who is giving it to you. Looking down to see the black fabric pooled around your thin ankles. Feeling more fingers snake around your lower thigh right in between your sweet folds traveling deeper into your dripping center. Your juices sloshed around and your walls tightened leaving a thick clear ooze covered extremity to be pulled from your cavern.” I think she’s more than ready for you Doyoung.” Johnny spoke proceeding to leave a trail of sloppy kisses down your ear and neck. Alternating between your ear lobe and your sweet spot just below it in kisses he also gave your throbbing clit one last good rub.” Tell me how good I make you feel princess.” Johnny cooed into your ear giving you one good kiss on your neck. “So, good baby.” You moan out uncontrollably. “We’ll have our time princess…now I just really wanna get you ready for Doyoung. Get it as wet as possible so he can slip right in.” Johnny whispered as Doyoung inched nearer. Doyoung took you out of Johnny’s hands and carried you over to the kitchen counter laying you vertically to the counter. Your stomach and lower body was supported by the counter, your legs hung off of the counter. Your upper half left to chance. Locking his forearm behind your lower back made you arch your back automatically. Sliding his large girth inside of you and hearing him exhale from the tremendous feeling of your walls tightening around him for the first time. Slowly he pushed more of himself into your paradise with each agonizing and painfully slow stroke. He didn’t want to go buck wild inside you being that you haven’t had some in a long time. But one slower stroke and he probably would’ve just stopped. Suddenly your body jumped from the alarm of two hard, choppy, strokes Doyoung made into you without warning. Leaving his pelvis meshed in yours for a few moments before continuing his hasty, sloppy yet hard and saturated strokes. Making sure you could feel all of him deep inside you. Gripping your thighs, bending your legs back farther for a clearer view of him passing in and out of your heat. The sound quite intoxicating, your bare back hitting the counter from each firm stroke deeper inside of you. Your moans uncontrollable, his pleasure unbearable. It’s almost as if you could feel everything happening inside of you. The head of his dick spilling droplets of its sweet thick nectar deep inside of you. Merely seconds away from him spilling inside of you. He takes his hand presses his warm palm in the center of your slightly heated abdomen and strokes harder and faster than he ever did before. “ugh” Doyoung moans lowly not wanting to sacrifice his image of you for this feeling.” mmm so wet Jagi, feels so good inside you Jagi” his pace quickens, the sloshing sound intensifies, your eyes close, your whimpers and deep belly groans release. The strength in your thighs dissipate. Your legs now flimsy and rubbery flail and hang only to mimic the choppy movements from Doyoung’s accelerated stokes. His deep bellow lets you know he is past the edge. Riding out his sweet high stroking you further to yours in eminent success.  Your body relaxes, you gain feeling and strength in places you lost. Propping yourself on the counter to passionately kiss Doyoung after the exchange of intense passion. Washing over you like a huge tidal wave. Pleasure sings and moves freely throughout your body. Your random convulsions and bucking of your hips. Your curled toes can finally relax. Your smile completely out of your jurisdiction. Laying back allowing his slick member to slide out of your heat leaving a little of your essence mixed with his to drip on the counter.” Open your legs more Kitten, I want the hyungs to see what I’ve done to you.” Says a cocky Doyoung.  Tired and defeated with labored breathing. You hear the low voice of a seemingly turned on Taeyong.

“Don’t give out on us just yet doll……Doyoung did pretty good……But I’ll do you ten times better.”

Part 2?

~Kayla