#v: Lure of the Abyss

[silvcrignis]

Honestly Claude’s levels of anger expression are pretty easy to navigate once you get to know him:

He’s shouting/yelling: He’s literally only frustrated or irritated. You will likely survive even if your ears hurt.

He’s basically whisper-hissing everything he says but is not touching you: Your physical person is in danger. Apologise while backing away & hope for the best.

His hands are on or around your neck during the whisper-hissing: Briefly pray to whatever deity you believe in. Your life is forfeit. Your apologies will not be heard nor acknowledged. You are already dead, you just don’t know it.

#x: Creature Feature (Headcanon) #c: Claude #v: Long Live Evil #v: Teenage Dirtbags #v: Lure of the Abyss

[hdusa]

that was my first time watching a lifesteal stream in like 6 months i dont know what is going on in season 5 at all . the red sky was kinda awesome. guns were scary. i hope u kill more people soon ^_^ will be trying 2 tune in more - @renchant

I can try to summarize the entire season in like 3 paragraphs it’s going to be so terrible and long I’m so sorry watch me do it here we go

So basically… lifesteal season 5 begins…. There’s a group called the PMC that consists of MinuteTech LeoWook and ClownPierce and since they’re all big strong men they beat up every other team on the server. Eventually the PrinceZam + Pangi pirate team group up with Gucci Gang (Bacon Parrot Mapicc) to beat them up because they’re really strong and scary. Eventually Clown stops logging on so they feel the need to form a new team called the Phantoms with Vitalasy Jumper and Reddoons and they go around jumping people by staying logged out and then all logging in at the same time after someone’s lured to a location. It got them a PrinceZam kill but they failed against Mapicc and Bacon. Tons of fights happen that are just PMC vs Gucci Gang + Me or LaLa Legion (Spoke Ash Ro Planet) vs Us or whatever. Eventually new members get added, Squiddo Pentar Jepex Wemmbu. There’s a gay wedding between Parrot and Ashswag. Squiddo kills the entire server at a birthday party. I made 200 backup maxed out armor sets. Midmystic makes Pangi and I an awesome pirate base and lastly a chunk of the server lowkey stop logging on.

Because of the void left by the players that are now gone (Parrot, Vitalasy kinda, Reddoons, Poafa, Woogie, Vort3x etc) Mapicc and I have no choice but to find a way to make things awesome again. We build a void trap at spawn and try to lure Minute and Planet over, successfully killing Planet (this is ok because he’s a 20 heart monster this season btw!!) Bacon joins us and decides we need two extra members so we invite Pentar and JumperWho as well. Together we formed a team called The Abyss, a group of players that want to revive the server by destroying it. By making ourselves the big bads of the server every time people logged on their goal was to kill us so that we’d stop making our void hole at spawn bigger. They tried other things like filling the hole with water and obsidian but those all got fixed relatively fast. One of the things they did was find my secret base and steal all 200 of my armor sets. This made me really mad so I destroyed the entire PMC base. After months of constant fighting over this big dumb hole to the void at spawn eventually we come up with an end goal. We were going to turn the entirety of spawn island into void. While working on this insanely large project we get jumped and after like 5 battles where Planet just keeps dying but his teammates live, he bans himself in the void hole. Before doing so he asks what our goal is so I told him activity, and he says “well in that case I guess in a way I’ve beat you”. This was like cold asf so we immediately switch gears deciding we need to make our plan way awesomer and cooler so we add a puzzle for them to solve!! It’s super long and if they couldn’t finish it in 7 days the entirety of spawn would be turned to void. Our team immediately got to work running big bedrock break machine and cleaning out layer after layer. However, as this is all happening Wemmbu Squiddo and 4CVIT reveal that they have a massive canon that will blow up literally EVERYTHING on the server unless we give them 50 hearts. They blows up 4Cs entire beautiful base to show they’re not joking around. Minute and his group are able to find the canon and break it saving the server but for a moment the entire server was united against Wemmbu and his team. The Abyss goal was completed before our final project even began which sucked, but we kept moving forward. To get people interested Minute (temporarily) added Rekrap2 Back To The Server!!!! He was here to help them finish the puzzle and after a week of us racing to void everything while they solve our puzzles, it was over and they had won. The 5 of us now had to jump into the void but that’s when JumperWho revealed she had been a mole the whole time. For 3 months of constant work on the void hole, she was betraying us. Relaying everything to Minute and his team. Filled with rage Mapicc decided to bomb her base but ended up with Clown Leo Minute Jumper and potentially more on him. I came to help but I wasn’t ready to fight Jumper, somebody I’d been allies with for 3 months. I managed to escape but I couldn’t believe it. Afterwards Pentar also left our team leaving just Mapicc Bacon and I.

The next paragraph is basically everything that’s happened since so basically the last month or so. To fix the lack of order on the server players could now run for God! Mapicc, Minute, Squiddo and 4CVIT/Reddoons decided to run. Simultaneously Branzy was now working on a carnival which was really cool! During one of the games I rigged it so that Jumper would die which was silly revenge but then for serious revenge me and Mapicc tried jumping her. Unfortunately she got Minute to save her leading to us losing badly. Afterwards the presidential god stuff starts taking priority and to campaign we ask a bunch of people to vote for us. In the end we came 2nd place, and Pentar as well as Pangi voted against Mapicc. Pentar made sense since he never said he would vote Mapicc, but Pangi had quite literally betrayed all of our trusts by voting for Squiddo. Also Minute came dead last despite helping everyone on the server regear and also saving them from void and the canon which is hilarious. The winners were 4C and Reddoons who instead of actually running themselves chose to give their presidency to CaptainSparklez! It takes him a while to join and during that time period to fill the lack of things going on Mapicc and I start an all out war against Jumper. It started with a silly spar against MinuteTech that ended up turning into a 2v2 against Jumper as well. We got them to run the first time around but the 2nd time we just lost badly. The next day Jumper said she’d deliver stone from Vitalasys old base to Midmystic so we hid in Vitalasys base all day long. It was taking a while so I changed my discord pfp and name to match Mids and got her to log on 😭😭. Once she showed up we killed her. Minute logged on and she ended up coming back but we escaped with me on the brink of death. Because of this they were angry angry at us but we didn’t care we wanted to make them more mad. We started base hunting and found Minutes somewhat old base for the anti abyss people. While searching the base Minute showed up so Mapicc got there and we 2v1d him. During the fight we spawned a wither in the base bombing the area and revealing a third of the 200 armor sets I had stolen from me during the void arc!!! Eventually Jumper showed up so we decided to run away taking our win. But after this we had another fight where they jumped us at my base and we ended up losing after an extremely long and hard fought battle. Before this I forgot to mention but Bacon Mapicc and I brainstormed a team name as well as an end goal, SPOILERS NO LIFESTEAL MEMEBRS READ BEYOND THIS!!!!

STOP IT! DO NOT READ AHEAD LIFESTEAL MEMBERS!!!

Essentially we wanted to reset the server to how it was on day one, breaking apart every team and then resetting every area back to how it looked on day one. With this goal in mind I realized we’d need to actually be able to kill people so I needed to get past being on 9 hearts. 4C/Red made hearts literally uncraftable so I had to kill. This segment is really cool there’s a 10 or 20 minute clip of everything that happens and if I tried to explain it I wouldn’t do it any justice but I’m sure somebody will link it below. Anyway after the awesome clip moment I’m evil now so I try to kill Pangi. I lead him to our old day one base and get him to help me repair it but he is wayyy too sus of me. I eventually muster up the courage to block off the bases exits and ask him over and over why he voted Squiddo, as this was supposed to be revenge for that. However, MinuteTech logs on and arrives at the base leading to them 2v1ing me but I end up escaping. We scream at each other before I leave to set up a new base. Later that night Pentar calls with Mapicc and I to join our team. Thanks to him I’m basically able to fully regear myself after losing almost everything to all the fights we had with Minute and Jumper. I end up on 12 hearts by this point and I think that’s most the shenanigans wrapped up, all that’s left is the captain sparklez stuff which this specific asker has already seen I think. For anyone else I personally believe this should be vod watched!! Up to you of course but I’m sure someone else on here would be willing to summarize that specific event sometime.

I spent an hour writing this on my phone before bed and I can’t believe it took this long. I thought it’d be shorter. Sorry!

#hello it is me princezam #sorry for making this so damn long #I didn’t know I was evil #this was so unprompted too Lmaoo #My mistake! #actual ask hijacking

[sapient-locations-bracket]

Proto-bracket Poll 24:

Descriptions:

The Abyss (it/its, Made In Abyss): its very much a living entity as it requires sustenance to function, luring prey to enter its maw. The father you go down, the more time distorts and strange ecosystems are encountered, although you can never return back to the surface if you go too deep. It seems like it needs other sapient minds to bolster its ability. Certain sects worship it as a god.

Any Minecraft Server (Minecraft): If we take the end poem as literal (I know it's not, but it would be funny in context to the tournament. Or fun for AU potential)  "And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code" then you could possibly argue that when the player character creates a world they are so entwined with it that they *become* it even if only through their acts of creation. They are creation itself, endlessly moving forward and placing pieces of themself into existence.

The Scholomance (it/its, The Scholomace Trilogy): it’s a steampunk hell dimension of a school for teen wizards. “Protecting all the wise-gifted children of the world” is the ideal buried in the very core of the school, but there’s so many to save and more monsters keep creeping through the wards and breeding in the walls seeking that tasty tasty mana. Not everyone is going to live and sacrifices must be made. If you aren’t learning magic well enough, then you’re a liability and the school will aim all the monsters at you to distract them and save someone else. But all it really wants is to do its job, teach and protect. It spends the whole 1st and 2nd book silently manipulating the protagonist to change the system and help it do that job better.

#polls #submissions

[wanderingmarine]

Seacore Writing Prompts, Round III.

In a world where the vast seas stretch beyond the horizon, a new chapter of adventure begins... Welcome, brave souls, to a realm where pirates rule the waves, Tritons guard their watery domains, and merfolk weave enchanting tales beneath the ocean depths !

Gather 'round the hearth as we embark on a journey of high seas and mystical waters, where daring pirates seek the fabled treasures of legendary captains and Triton warriors defend their submerged kingdoms from the abyssal threats. Here, in the depths of this boundless ocean, merfolk sing their haunting melodies, revealing secrets hidden within the shimmering waves.

As the curtain rises, a myriad of quests awaits your party, each leading to uncharted territories and mysterious realms beneath the surface. Whether you wield the cutlass and stand at the helm of a pirate ship, embrace the honor and grace of the Triton warriors, or dive into the mesmerizing world of the merfolk, your fate is entwined with the mysteries of the deep.

Courageous pirates, relentless Tritons, and alluring merfolk, the choice is yours... The winds of fate beckon, and the tides of adventure await your call. So, gather your crew, harness your strength, and prepare to set sail for the most exhilarating quests that the seas have ever known. Welcome to a realm where legends are born, and the waters themselves hold the keys to boundless wonders. The adventure begins now...

I./ The Lost Treasure of Captain Blackbeard: Rumors of an ancient treasure map, said to lead to the legendary riches of the infamous pirate Captain Blackbeard, have surfaced. Your party of adventurers sets sail on a perilous quest, navigating treacherous waters and battling rival pirate crews to claim the hidden bounty. But beware, for the seas hold deadly secrets, and not all who seek the treasure have honorable intentions, not even amongst your party...

II./ The Curse of Davy Jones: A haunting melody drifts across the waves, drawing your party to a cursed island, where the ghostly captain Davy Jones and his spectral crew are doomed to roam for eternity. To lift the curse and set these lost souls free, you must find the elusive Heart of the Ocean—a gem with the power to break the curse and send Davy Jones to rest.

III./ The Call of the Siren's Song: The tranquil underwater city of the Tritons is under siege by a mysterious force that threatens to drown their kingdom in darkness. As a group of Triton warriors, your party must embark on a journey to uncover the source of this malevolence. Along the way, you'll encounter enigmatic sea creatures, face powerful sea witches, and explore the forgotten depths of the ocean in search of a way to save your homeland.

IV./ The Triton Heirloom: The legendary Trident of Poseidon, a symbol of power and rulership among the Triton royalty, has been stolen by a malevolent sea serpent. The future of the Triton civilization hangs in the balance as your party is tasked with retrieving the precious artifact from the serpent's lair, hidden deep within a treacherous abyss.

V./ The Moonlit Melody: The enchanting songs of the Moonlight Sirens have lured sailors to their demise for centuries. When the Moonlight Siren Queen unexpectedly saves your party from a treacherous storm, she reveals her kind's tragic plight. A sinister sea witch has stolen their voices and imprisoned them, threatening to plunge the world into eternal darkness. You must seek out the powerful Sea Serpent Oracle and retrieve the Voice of the Ocean to break the curse and restore the Moonlight Sirens' songs.

VI./ The Rise of the Kraken Cult: An ancient cult devoted to the worship of the mighty Kraken threatens to unleash its wrath upon the world, intent on unleashing the colossal sea creature to wreak havoc upon coastal civilizations. Your party must gather ancient artifacts scattered across the ocean depths to summon the benevolent Sea Guardians, ancient protectors of the seas, in a final battle against the Kraken Cult's dark ambitions.

You can find Round I here, and Round II here friend !

#dnd homebrew #dnd campaign #dnd oc #writing #dungeons and dragons #dnd stuff #fantasy #dnd prompt #dnd #creative writing #dnd starters #writing prompts #story ideas #prompts #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writblr

[blazewatergem]

🤡 💋 🍦? 👀✨

Oh I’ve got a few nominees for this 😂 I’m easily entertained, and through living by my “I write to have fun” rule, I’ve written some interesting conversations.

From Curse of Eden, we got the moments of Ainz v Blaze :’D like when Ainz tries to get Blaze - the gorgon - to wear a helmet! Same chapter, after admitting he told Demiurge they should take over the world, she has one sentence for him.

“...Momo, I left you alone for like fifteen minutes. What the shit.”

And there’s the part in chapter 12, where she demands kneecaps 😂 😂 honestly a few of those scenes was done with extreme sleep deprivation haha

In Friends of the Fourth Kind, I wrote Reader pranking Underfell Papyrus by putting sugar in his omelet. Turned out to be a very popular scene! Lot of folks laughed at that one. :D

Finally, in Moonlit Paths, Reader lures the trolls away via blasting Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” from her phone. This actually happened in a sense, as when I was writing the scene my playlist glitched out and put that song on - it isn’t in the playlist, so I found it hilarious.

I like em! The tension, the feelings, the emotion behind them, very enjoyable! Maybe not entire fic only dedicated to it, but I love writing first kiss scenes into my stories :3

Oooo, either Lady of the Abyss or Cloaks in the Wind.

Lady of the Abyss being that, according to many many comments, I made the MC very sweet and cuddly! Which, funny, I wasn’t actively aiming for that. I’m glad people like her though.

Cloaks in the Wind because it very much is a crack fic, solely focusing on enjoyment, shenanigans, and fluff times. This was a 3AM idea spawned and brought to life on a whim. I’m loving it though!

#talking fire

[rawdatabyp3]

Power Query Saves Christmas w/ Gus Miranda

Today’s guest, Gustavo Miranda, started his career in a research adjacent Program Evaluation position using Power Pivot Slicers in a non-Power Pivot table before he was introduced and lured by the power of the Power Platform. He shares his story of how reducing friction and creating automation introduced even non-data people to the concept that data quality matters. Most importantly, though, today you will learn the underdog story of how Power Query saved Christmas during the Kronos Hack of 2021. Get the inside scoop from crisis meeting to crisis meeting until the moment when Gus stood up to save the day. While Gus did the heavy lifting, a task force soon formed to collectively finish the project. While other multi-million-dollar companies were paralyzed, shocked, and attempting to ad-hoc calculate payroll and vacations, often incorrectly, Gus’s task force used Power Query to create an effective solution in time to prevent employees from missing Christmas with their families. Even Tom must agree that tales like this really show the power of Power Query’s ETL abilities.

Also in today’s episode, we learn the origin story of slicers in Excel, how Rob and Amir were behind their creation by seducing the Excel team, trading resources, and creating the opportunity for Microsoft to back into needing a separate application to maximize the impact of those slicers. That application? Power BI desktop. In an exciting tale of what could have been, we also hear the story of the Power BI canvas in Excel that was never meant to be as well as the lessons learned: never try to add truly new capabilities to Excel or you end up with Power View. As our friend Scott Esti used to say there are two kinds of people in the world, people who hate Power View and those who haven't used it!

All this and more on today’s episode! Be sure to leave us a review on your favorite podcast platform to help new listeners find us.

Also on this episode:

Nash Equilibrium / Prisoner's Delimma

The truth behind recycling

Program evaluation

He may only need his eyes checked ...

Calculation Groups in Power BI

Microsoft's Power View

Gilligan’s Island theme song

Zeno's paradox

Gus's P3 Blog - Using Power Query to Transform and Combine Online Statscan Data

Matt Masson - Deep Dive Into the Power From the Language

Active v Inactive Relationships

Kronos hack disrupts payroll

Live action How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Live action Cat in the Hat

Abyss - Bomb at the bottom of the sea (Don't look Tom!)

Rumble in the Jungle George Foreman - Muhammad Ali

Guns and Roses – It’s so easy

Blown Away – Tommy Lee Jones

Tommy Lee Jones Montage

Sankey (Diagram)

Fight Club - Corn Flower Blue

G Rated Fight Club

Check out this episode!

#Power BI #Business Intelligence #data #Excel #Microsoft #experts

[dragoncharming]

su xiyan lives au

doesn’t change much from shen qingqiu’s perspective until the immortal conference

su xiyan slips unconscious after ensuring luo binghe is safely away on his lil boat. she doesn’t die since the cold slows her heart rate enough, but she’s out of commission long enough to lose track of lbh. with keeping under the radar of haun hua palace and canvassing the whole riverbank, eventually she finds the fisherman who found him but they sent him off with a merchant who has a sister who wants a kid but by then he’s long gone. since she knows he’s safe, she realizes this is more of a marathon than a sprint and decides to get backup.

it’s hard not to hear the story of the entire cultivation world uniting against a horrific demon lord, so it’s very clear to her that she has very few options. she finds tianlang-jun after he’s been imprisoned for only about six months. the impression i get of su xiyan is that she’s not going to tell him everything at once, so it’s a while into the process of her getting him out that it even comes up that she was poisoned.

there are two ways she could get him out. 1) she spends months slowly unraveling the layers and layers keeping him imprisoned. maybe she trusts wu chen enough to ask for some advice. 2) she’s v familiar w bai lu and knows about the mushroom and grows both of them new bodies to give them new faces which also helps w the longer campaign. i think regardless of how she gets tianlang-jun out, we might as well say she makes herself a new face so she can operate.

to keep him distracted during this whole process, su xiyan asks tianlang-jun to start working on a piece of her longer plan: a romantic epic of their story w the serial numbers filed off. she needs to start seeding the downfall of the palace master and the tragedy of a beautiful princess who was lured away as her noble father set a trap for the man she loved. i have this image of tianlang-jun reciting his latest version and su xiyan edits a couple words while she’s directing zhuzhi-lang ‘just another step to the left. perfect.’

next step is starting her own sect. this lets her recruit people to her cause, siphon potential disciples from huan hua palace, travel around looking for promising young kids around the age lbh would be now. we know she doesn’t find him, but she definitely poaches gongyi xiao. (and if i am personally delighted by him being zhuzhi-lang’s shidi, that’s just a little treat for me.)

the first hint that sqq has that something is weird is around the immortal conference when he’s expecting to find gongyi xiao listed for huan hua palace, but instead it’s some podunk sect he’s never heard of. huan hua palace is still hosting the conference, but there’s a tone of them compensating. over a decade of sustained whisper campaigns has done damage to their reputation and they’re trying to cover by being generous~. what sqq does notice but doesn’t give any thought to is that small sect leader staring when she sees lbh. ofc. he’s the protagonist, every woman stares at him.

zhuzhi-lang still coordinates w mobei-jun to attack the conference to lure all the elders in, but su xiyan doesn’t harbor grudges against the young disciples so the monsters they bring in are specifically shock and awe that aren’t immediately lethal, creatures that trap and knock out people as well as large scary but slow creatures and her disciples protect the people too inexperienced to survive that basic threat while helping scare them more thoroughly to lure the seniors in.

this leads to a confrontation with the palace master. they’re surrounded by a crowd and in the midst of this as he’s turning around, making his case to the community at large he spots lbh, clearly now it’s not thru the crystals, and figures out who he is and tries to attack him. not sure on the specifics, but it ends up with lbh falling into the abyss and su xiyan shouting over her shoulder ‘i want his head myself when we get back!’ and jumping after him. tianlang-jun grabs palace master’s throat. ‘you heard my wife. there can’t be any doubt now about how he attacked an innocent boy. you all saw it yourself.’

shen qingqiu is So Confused. he has been mentally preparing to do something awful, going over the steps of the conference over and over in his mind and everything suddenly slipped out from under his feet. the system dings but doesn’t say anything for a second, as if it’s also confused, and that shakes him out of it. ‘No! he ended up in the abyss! that’s what the task was. you didn’t say i had to be the one who did it.’ which works.

#anna reads stuff #su xiyan lives au

[vitavitale]

Get this: Hollow V

#ooc ; #// HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #// I mean what if during Vergil's Downfall #// there's a Hollow V to torment Vergie too?? #// and maybe he didn't have to be quite so chummy with the real V while they'd known each other #// but they interacted and V would have been close enough to that little circle anyhow. #// whatever relationship they had was enough for Hell to conjure up this demonic illusion. #// so wow even this warlock guy that he vaguely knew ''betrayed'' him and wanted to drag his ass through the abyss. #// would Vergil not feel utterly attacked on all sides?? #// meanwhile Hollow V is pure nastiness and so unnerving to look at with those black eyes and veins and that phantasmal quality. #// egging Vergil on; taunting him; just you know the usual Hollow stuff but V flavored. #// AND OMG: /HOLLOW/ VERSIONS OF HIS FAMILIARS. #// SPOOKY AND GLOWY AND BLACK EYES AND BEHAVING MUCH THE SAME AS THE ORIGINALS. #// SHIT MAYBE... EACH OF THEM GOADS VERGIL INTO A CHALLENGE ONLY TO LURE HIM CLOSER TO THEIR ''MASTER.'' #// KINDA LIKE THE BOSS BATTLE WITH THEM IN DMC5 BUT THIS ONE'S FUCKED UP. #// PLUS HOLLOW V'S AMONG THEM TO TAKE DOWN VERGIL-- #// OH NO I'VE GONE TOO FAR. #// but I won't lie: I like the sound of this shit r.i.p.

[voiceofmany]

Tag Drop - Liam “Spot” Conlon

#mun: tag drop #c: spot conlon #aes: spot conlon #meme: spot conlon #headcanon: spot conlon #{spot x albert} {heartsunholy} why don't you just shut up and kiss me #{spot x charlie} {sensibiliitatem} step by step i'm letting you lead me toward the deep end #{spot x crutchie} {wickedpraycrs} your smile is the sun and my heart's made of glass #{spot x frenchie} {pulchramortis} whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same #{spot x glider} {serenitystored} let me heal the scars you took for me #{spot x gretchen} {tomorrcwsnews} the words that you whispered for just us to know #{spot x hotshot} {heartsunholy} i wanna ruin our friendship; we should be lovers instead #{spot x mateo} {tomorrcwsnews} if i close my eyes i can lie to myself about what you really feel #{spot x oscar} {tomorrcwsnews} let me hold your shattered glass heart in my bare hands #{spot x racetrack} {freedombanners} i'd sacrifice anything come what might for the sake of having you near #{spot x tammy} {serenitystored} your eyes lured me dangerously to your abyss where i lost myself #{spot x tommy boy} {serenitystored} i knew you would belong here #v: strikes ain't fun but they sure is exciting #v: you know we've got your back from way back #v: they's a joke but if they thinks we're joking #v: borough what gave me birth

[silvcrignis]

There Are WORSE Ways To Go || Claude || Open

“Oh...  I can see the CONFUSION in your eyes. You are WONDERING how you ended up in this cave with me, considering you heard no SINGING...” he trailed off with a soft chuckle, CLAWS gently SCRAPING over the black stone that made up the ground he was laying on before he looked back up at his next victim, resting his cheek against his palm.

“WHISTLING is a song my sweet... Though not EVERY Siren can lure with a whistle you just happened by one of us who CAN... Now as stimulating as this discussion has been... I am HUNGRY, how PLEASANT I make your final day on this Earth is up to you,” Claude purred, the upward quirk of his eyebrow implying exactly HOW he planned to soften the blow of their impending doom.

#Open RP #x: Open Starter #c: Claude #t: There Are WORSE Ways To Go #v: Lure of the Abyss #((I hate this wet fuckboy ISTG)) #((SIR UR ACTING LIKE UR ON A DATE UR ABOUT TO EAT SOMEONE)) #Claude: Yes... AND? #((I hate u))

[zaynsxsoul]

Tangerine | Slash x fem!reader

Summary: 55 year old Slash finds himself infatuated on nineteen year old Y/N. You become his inspiration to remember his teenage years and the first song he learned, "Tangerine" by Led Zeppelin. The only problem is that you are his son's new friend and their neighbor.

Warnings: smut (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), curse words, slight use of daddy kink, obsession, overstimulation, unprotected sex, age gap.

"Tangerine, tangerine, living reflections from a dream, I was her love, she was my queen"

ʚ♡ɞ˚

For more than Slash has tried with an impressive will to put aside the way in which his mind ends up gravitating towards you, it's a task that turns almost as impossible to avoid as it is to breath. Daydreams are frequent, no more than actual dreams, about this one particular stunning girl that has just moved in next door with her family. You.

You’re younger than he is. A lot younger .Perhaps nineteen years old. And of course it isn’t needed to be said how wrong it is to even dare look at you this particularly intriguing way.

He understands, knows it. But how undeniably exciting it is to let himself immerse inside of this world of the unknown games and tricks he’d be very much willing to share with you.

Because at the given time and place, nothing can really stop the wicked mind tricks you, and only you know how to hurdle him with.

What sparks a very specific interest in him, what’s so mysteriously luring him in, is especially that.

Being fixated doesn't really do the honor of the praise that you deserve. Your presence itself is intoxicating. It must definitely have the power of driving him mad with tenderness, but curiosity and lust too with one simple look.

Doll looking face adorned by plump glowy skin, bambi eyes gifted with naturally beautiful eyelashes that caress your eyelids with every blink, cheesy little laugh, admiration worthy hips and legs that sway just as natural as it is for you to breathe.

It is absorbing him, drowning him of yearning. Because not only it is hard by itself to be consumed by that abyss of craving and excitement, it surely turns into a feeling he likes to visit daily. A desire that has haunted him ever since your parents had had the brilliant idea of inviting the Hudsons over for dinner.

And he doesn't quite understand if the best part is that you seem to itch to be praised. Especially by him. Only by him.

His thoughts are smothered in between a thin line of right and wrong. And or as much as he's tried to dig deep down and understand what sick little devil is pushing him into this, where exactly the root of this forbidden topic comes from, it just immediately vanishes once you come to the picture.

Not even believing that others look at you the same way that he does, helps in the slightest. Not out of jealousy, but because the simple thought of someone, anyone, savoring your presence like he does, makes his blood boil in agony.

Agony that's alleviated by the ecstasy of studying you from afar, which is enough to subside the bewildering itch.

It has become embarrassingly often the amount of times he has had to snap back into reality from daydreaming. Like a wolfish human hungry for touch.

And it really does hurt his ego mostly that all you’ve ever seen him as, is his friend's dad. Just his friend's dad. If only you ever dared to look at him in any other way, he'd be able to leave this earthly world, and still be pleased by the simple act of reciprocity.

Maybe his slight obsession roots from something deeper. Perhaps, you're everything he had ever really desired to have back during his own tender years. Whatever it is, is there.

So that's exactly why and when he finds himself stuck. Uncomfortably fidgeting the pillow over his legs. Covering his poor aching bulge that protrudes against the zipper of his black Levi jeans. Like a touch starved teenager.

Some beads of sweat dance playfully around his forehead and waltz down to his chin.

The front door lock snaps, followed by the sound of the door knob being turned and opened. C, his son, walks in with a pink backpack hanging from his shoulder blade and a newly painted smile.

The light that comes through the door almost overshadows the person that's following him. And to Slash's surprise, to his wonderful luck and surprise, it's you.

You're confident. Calm. It seems relaxed the way you expertly step over the threshold and come inside of the house. And it's almost like a slow motion mirage that turns on his radar and every single nerve on his body. Your uniform, your impeccable shoes, your amicable smile, you yourself.

He wants you. He needs you. Real fucking bad.

The smell of male cologne is striking in the house. Of course it is. But somehow it's concealed immediately by your own scent.

Coconut shampoo, wild flowers and some other sweet and intoxicating aroma. How he wishes he could sink his nose down the premises of your skin and stay there for as long as he pleases.

The sight of you being there is overwhelming. And when he feels as if he were about to drop down to his knees in surrender, you give him the most precious and well hearted smile that could have melted him right there.

Something deep down the insides of his chest warms.

Eyes still mesmerized and delighted by the sight of your presence, are enconvered with a smile, accompanied by a simple greeting. Hi.

Standing next to C, you look down to the books and markers that lay in your arms right against your chest, and smile too. One that makes his heart rush. Appreciating his greeting with sweeter hi.

Your eyes are filled with curiosity, and they travel investigating his looks. From his hair to his hands. If you could just take a look a little closer.

He’s got this beautiful beaming smile that moves the deepest feelings on your insides and arouses the strange peculiarity of eagerness. It is like it calls for you to be interested.

How can he not understand what you want? The smiles, the very much intentional flirting, the hopeless nervousness, the hair twitching, the lip biting under your pearly whites. He’s a great conveyor but the most terrible at reading what you’re trying to convey yourself.

Because despite all, lies the aching of his touch. And it's so painful it has almost become a physical pain, begging, longing, to be released.

The younger of the Hudsons, oblivious to what’s easily read in the room, announces to his father that you’ll be in the living room. Apparently to work on some senior project. Right away explaining that you’d been paired together by a teacher.

His luck was indispensable.

A thumbing energy on his crotch is begging to be released. And he can’t do anything other than take care of it by himself.

• • •

The faint sound of the guitar praising the movements of his fingers is the only thing that can be heard in the main living room. It’s quiet. And he tries to numb it with his thoughts, coming up with a master plan that can lead him once more, to you. Right in the next room.

For the past hour, he’s been nothing but splendidly kind. Offering drinks, snacks and whatever he’d find appropriate for people your age. Of course It only being an excuse to inspect the endearing way in which you’re so poignantly focused on your assignment.

And it's a true shocker. Even for himself. His first name is surely not congenially welcoming. He isn’t the one to be so used to the hospitality most people are accustomed to. But it’s different with you.

There’s this deep fondness linked to you, that makes his soft side bloom somehow.

“Dad.” C’s silhouette towers over him. He looks up from the couch. “I’ll go pick up some pizzas I ordered, is it cool if Y/N stays while I go?”

He chuckles. How could he ever be upset because of you staying? The only actual genuine feeling that flares up at this thought, is agitation.

And bewilderment at the mere thought of the way you’ve got the power to make him tremble with just the mention of your name.

“Yeah, that's cool, go ahead.” He agrees, looking down over to his guitar once more.

It is obviously not the thought of not being able to control himself. Of course he can. But it is simply nerve wrecking the thought of having so many kitchen stools, and bedrooms and couches, to please you in whatever way you’d be willing to be. As many times as he desires.

With short silent steps, he approaches the room where you’re in. His hands are shaky, sweaty. And a mix of light heartedness and excitement strikes again when you come into the picture.

You look heavenly. A calming aura surrounds you. And he can’t help but smile at the unintentionally endearing sight he has. You’re sat on the floor, supported by your knees, writing something he can’t really make out on a big poster paper. There are supplies scattered all around you. Markers, glue, glitter tubes, scissors, paper and school books. It 's a hot mess.

He wishes he could be given more time to just stand there. Tower over you and admire. Cherishing the way your delicate hand doodles flowers on the paper, how your other hand keeps the poster from moving, your slight bend that’s probably going to bruise your knees. The way that your ass pokes out and white panties peek through your skirt.

Of course there’s this urge that’s calling. And he’s eager to walk back and take you right there where you’re laying. You’d already be consumed by his lust. But it is not up to him. Desires mean nothing if they’re not reciprocated.

After pouring some water on whatever glass he finds, more fixated on keeping his mind occupied than being thirsty, he decides to corner himself in the most secluded spot of the house. His own room.

He’d be nothing but an immoral hypocrite if he said being attracted to you was wrong. Nothing has to do with age, that’s not the problem. You’re almost nearly twenty years old, but it has to do with knowing that he has already walked many paths of life, and seen many moons and suns prior to your existence.

The melodic guitar that you know all too well about, almost lures you over. Like a magic spell. And a mischievous smile draws on your face. There’s glitter and some glue residues in your fingers, so you try to shake them off before following the sound.

Calloused hands play absentmindedly with the strings. There’s a certain delicacy in the way his fingers move along. Shoulder and arm muscles flex through his short sleeved white shirt, hair too long and puffy to let you admire his face.

But he’s beautiful like this. Excitement tickles in your lower belly.

"Tangerine?" You ask. Voice coming a lot sweeter than you had wanted it to.

Brown beautiful eyes look up at you from the leather couch, dumbfounded. Some hairs still stick near his cheeks. There’s a small voice telling him ‘You’ve really gone mad, dude.’ Reality and fiction are pending from a very thin thread, and he can’t deduct which one it is.

There’s a different spark that lights up your smile. It has definitely turned into something bigger. And it lies between a playful and smug grin.

"Huh?" The tone of his question strikes excitement and an honest interest. The irony is what’s most endearing of it all. The real and only reason Tangerine’s being played, is because it reminds him of you. A walking reflection of what he had ever hoped for. “You know this song?”

He loves to mentally praise you whenever you walk, and now even more because the direction you’re taking is towards him. “Yeah, I really like it.”

Now from up close, your rosy cheeks are on full display for him to admire. And there’s this sudden urge growing to pepper them with kisses.

That’s when he somehow knows and understands what you’re doing.

It’s childish and immature for him to be this tense. He’s embarrassed of being embarrassed. How do you ace so perfectly to make his body shiver, fidget and cry out of nervousness?

"Yeah, it's a damn good song. It’s the one that taught me how to play guitar." He readjusts himself on the couch. His smile is gentle, and it somehow welcomes you, begs you, to move in just a little closer.

“I think you play that ‘damn good song’ perfectly, Mr. Hudson.” You’re not oblivious to the way he moves whenever you're around.

And using that to your own sake is admirably exciting.

“Slash” He corrects, snorting graciously. “You can call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeat. He might love hearing your voice pronounce his name.

You plop gracefully next to him. And it's inevitable for his eyes not to navigate from his knees to your bare legs, them being still slightly imprisoned by that black skirt you wear so vehemently. And in that tender delicate skin he fantasizes with the way they’d look tinted by lovemarks of his own.

His body is tense. And your folds palpitate embarrassingly swollen right over your panties when his muscular body speaks louder than words. More tense than you’d have ever expected.

"Would you teach me how to play?" There’s this ambiguous tone you speak with that might as well drive him insane.

The beginning of a completely different persona overflowing with ailing encouragement that causes his dick to protest against his pants once more. Veins palpitating with exasperation the sensitive skin of his engrossed length.

“Y-you’re done with your project?”

“Does it matter?” He’s gobsmacked. A compromising shift in his husky breathing. One that you don’t go unannounced of.

Your hand tucks a single black lock of hair behind his ear brightfully. Your touch does ethereal wonders, goosebumps making their way on his skin.

And when your confusing little game makes perfect sense, the shadow of his smile fades into a wolfish grin. His shiny eyes are stern. If you want him to play along with this little game, if you want to drive him mad, and lure him in any way that you want to, then so be it.

“I finished my project.” You state with an adorable pout. His cock twitches under the sound of your whiny voice. “I’ve been a good girl, I think I can receive my prize now, don’t you think?”

Is he hearing all of this correctly? His throat produces a loud husky groan that melts every nerve in your body, and he gets comfortable on the couch before inviting you in. “Hm, then c’mere doll. Let me praise you for being such a good girl.”

After he moves the hurdling guitar away from his lap, you straddle him without actually lowering yourself just yet. Eagerly supported by your soft hands over his shoulders. His skin is warm against yours, and his smile is indescribably inhumane.

With a painfully slow rate, you lower yourself against his hips. It’s erotically torturing, and keeps a feeling that lingers to the edge of ecstasy. His hips buck and his fingers tighten around the flesh of your waist expectantly, until the harsh feeling of his protruding and palpitating boner finally gets hugged by the warmth of your cunt protected with thin fabric.

Your body weight feels nice on him. It’s a new sensation, and the gasp his throat hitches is muted by his lips brushing against the tender skin of your neck.

His left hand draws a line from your waist up to your neck, and there, he holds you still, letting the intoxicating scent that your skin emanates make his eyes roll to the back of his skull. And it suddenly turns into him sniffing longingly the fabric of your shirt and the rosy skin of your cheeks that kisses under your eyes.

“You smell so good.” He praises you under his warm minty breath, loving the way that you squirm with your eyes closed. “How the hell do you smell so fucking amazing, huh?”

You grab his own hand and place it to touch your ass, and he chuckles, almost tugging you to be closer, letting you know that he will beg for you to press yourself as rough and near as you possibly can to him, whenever you’re ready.

And when you do, he holds you firmly, his chest harsh against yours. But it’s already too late, you’re too cock drunk, too dizzy, too down the rabbit hole, for it to even hurt. His other expert hand waltzes its way down to your hips, and once they’re mirroring each other, he patronizes you to move against him.

The fabric friction creates a gruff sound, mostly harsh because of his own clothing other than your cotton ruined panties. It’s slow, agonizing and curious, faster with every second that goes by. And it only causes the paradisian feeling of your plump skin to turn into a potion.

The feeling of his tongue wets your earlobe, absentmindedly fidgeting the petite butterfly earring that rests there, in between his teeth before pulling another sticky stripe of saliva down the skin of your neck. “You drive me insane. Always have.”

“Good to know” Your voice trembles when he tugs and pulls your hair slightly to see your face.

He lets go when your pretty factions position in front of his, proximity at its maximum expression. He’s paying close attention to your reactions, to the way your body moves, to the tone of your voice.

Your reflection is almost visible on his dilated pupils surrounded by a chestnut color. He enjoys the smile you give him, smile produced at the sight of his desperate eyes begging for even more closeness.

Being able to read his body language feels honorable. Your lips, —inexperienced compared to his— approach his mouth. And it’s suddenly making you nervous. A quick innocent peck gives you a taste of how it would be, could be. You giggle.

“It’s okay” His whisper caresses your lips beautifully, and his praise is more than enough to give you confidence.

So you do. His lips are even softer and feel better than you’d ever imagined.

The agony of longing and uncertainty finally seals its closure. For him, meaning lost afternoons of daydreams and fantasies, long nights of jerking off, for you meaning to leave behind all of the small plans you had made to seduce him, to make him irrevocably lose it.

His lips are sloppy, slow paced and experienced in the exact way you need them. And his tongue debuts an intertwined dance deeply down your mouth.

“Too much?” He asks breathy when you pull away, taking him by the sides of his face, some of his hair tickling your hands.

“No.” The sweet way in which your forehead rests against his, gives him back the spark of not having fucked it up.

“Sure you want this?”

“I do.” Your smile turns into a pout, one he pecks quickly.

You love the way he looks at you, no more than his touch. Lustful eyes derive from the desire of pleasing you. And it makes you feel grateful, needed, admired.

“What’s going inside of that pretty head?”

You don’t say anything. There’s nothing to be said. Your tongue, moving up and down, caresses a line that paints his slightly open lips with a coat of warm saliva. And it peeks inside when he talks.

"Let me fuck you." A single stripe of your own spit connects your lips to his, you don’t stop.

Because it’s captivating the way he begs, the way he twitches under your body that humps and rocks in circular motions, expecting to give some release to his poor clothed cock.

“Please.” He groans. “Let me make you cum, you’ll see how good I'll make you feel.” He’s begging at this point.

“How cocky” You whisper jokingly, he grunts back. “Will you really?” Pretty eyelashes bat up and down.

“I will. I will make you feel so good, pretty girl.”

Your chest melts against his once more, and your head slides all the way down to his shoulder. The soft smush of your tits stems a new sort of longing. One that makes him switch and sit you down on the couch, kneeling before you.

“Really wanna know what’s cookin’ in here.”

His lips follow a sacred trace that he’d have promised himself to follow. It goes down from your lips, to your neck and a brief giggly pause to nibble where he thought your nipples were through your shirt.

Needing more, his ringed hands hold the folds of your button up shirt, too eager to actually undo it. And once you’re topless, he nods a ‘no’ playfully towards the black bra before unclasping it.

“You dirty girl.”

From over heavy lidded eyes, you can see the smug look on his face that admires the way your tits lay against your chest, the color of your nipples, and his tongue doesn’t bother to wait a second to shows its acclaim too with circular motions caressing that oh so very sensitive area.

You like him way too much to care about being slobbered all over, more like you had waited for it for a long time that it’s actually comforting. And now that his tongue trails down the line in between your abdomen, you can’t help but reciprocate the feeling by touching his hair.

When both of his hands slither provocatively down to your legs, his mouth follows. He expertly pulls up your skirt to let you unbuckle it, now warm cunt touching and leaking down the poor leather couch.

The sight is mesmerizing, and he can’t help but stare. Your panties are adorably white, and the color gifts him the privilege of noticing that sweet damp patch flourishing right in the middle, working like a map.

He whimpers out a "You're so wet for me baby." Before kissing your inner thigh with care and affection.

Your smile is followed by a soft little whine. And you don’t quite know for which one is it. If it’s for how unexpectedly talkative —but gratifying— he is, or how heavenly his mouth feels so dangerously close to your aching hole.

“Look at you, all readied up for me.” His fingers toy with the elastic band. “Eager little thing aren’t you?”

“Quit the teasing” His eyebrows arch, you fix it. “Please”

“Who’s being cocky now” Spoiling your little brat self is fun, and so he pulls down the fabric finally revealing all of you.

Nibbling down your soft skin, his face slowly positions itself in between your legs. Salivating hungrily at the sight of your shimmering and puffed out clit.

His crotch twitches in ecstasy begging for release when he’s able to smell the sweet scent of your pussy. His fingers toy around your pubic bone and trace a line until it drops to your sensitive spot.

“You’re such a-“ Your gasp, eyelids fluttering shut once he finally moves torturously slow circles, switching both movements and speeds, figuring out whatever works best on you.

“You like that, huh.” He coos once he’s found that perfect hand movement that’s pleasing you enough to have you whimpering and tugging gently on his hair.

"Slash. I'm-I need you." Words are hard to find in between the numbing feeling of his thumbs pushing against your sensitive area, his mouth kissing you silly and your hips jolting forward when he purposely breathes heavier than usual.

“What do you say?” To tease you might as well be his new favorite things about you.

You’re so pretty like this. Heavy breaths pushing up and down your poor slobbered chest, knees almost squishing his face in a very much failed attempt of pulling him closer, lips separated by an ‘o’, eyebrows furrowed over closed eyes.

Act that only makes him genuinely laugh at how pathetic and needy you are.

“Please! Just, please, I need you.” Your body jolts and contorts beautifully when he spits on your already wet slit, a delectable twitch up your nerves.

Impatient hands play with your doughy thighs, pulling you in closer. His proximity is intoxicating. Once his nose fidgets near your slit, his lips master to taste you whole.

“Shit” You screech.

He skillfully moves his tongue. It deserves an ovation for how stern and soft paced the movements are. Ones that get to you in ways nothing has ever done before. He tries to do the same he did before, to know and understand you, to find your own pace.

and once you’re eager, this eager, there’s nothing but to hope mercy upon himself.

His shoulders flex, and his hips thrust against nothing but air expecting to find some friction.

"I know sweet thing, I know you like it just like daddy eats you." His lips slide easily against your wet skin. “Moan for me baby, let me hear those sounds your pretty throat makes just for me, yeah?”

And you do. It’s inevitable at this point after having him like this.

Desperate needs call for desperate measures, and for him, this turns into a desperately anguishing situation.

He’s a head over heels goner. And a pillow seems to be what might work at the time. The fabric fidgets clumsily when he places it in front of his groin. Your hole works wonders on him, and he’s all of the sudden humping the squishy cloth yearning for it to be your warm little cunt.

And from time to time it does feel like it.

You keep your voice from the itching feeling of insanity, but when he’s doing this, placing your legs on his shoulders while spitting, sucking, kissing and drawing such flawless circles near your now overstimulated clit accompanied by the vibrations of sporadic groans, you can’t contain it.

"Slash, r-really." You plead again.

And when he feels the way your walls clench his tongue, his next wisest move is to unbuckle the burdensome belt that holds what’s left of his undone pants.

You’re excited at the well known sound of his clicking belt being undone, and wish you could do something else rather than shake the way you’re doing.

With a greedy smile he swifts your body down onto the impeccable clean sheets of his mattress. Body sinking down immediately below his.

This close you can admire the way that charming little sweaty drops adorn his forehead like a crown, escorted by some remaining fluids that belong to you.

“You look really pretty” He adds again, as if he hadn’t said it enough. Hands swaying up and down your things expertly positioning himself in between. “….And really cock drunk”

He can’t help but bring one of his hands down and pump his veiny cock, producing the most delightful twitch with his throat. And when it brushes your plump warm flesh that attempts to suck him in, he smiles, flattening your hair with his other hand.

You love the way his lips part, like there’s a sound lingering in the tip of his throat and bobbing Adam's apple, begging to come out. But you’re starting to get bossy, and eager and impossible.

And that’s what he likes the most.

Trying to mirror the heat of what he’s doing, your hands travel mischievously down your abdomen. It’s not hard to notice by the look on your face what you’re trying to do.

“No” he scolds “I never said anything about touching yourself”

“Are you serious? You’re the biggest-“

“Just say what you want, it’s not that hard you know?” His lips chastised a kiss on your forehead, his freshly shaved chin caressing your eyelids, lips savoring the salty taste of you rewarding sweat that glorifies what he’s done so far.

“What is it baby? say it.” Velvety low voice apprehends you.

Your mouth reaches out for his when he kisses a fine line down your nose bridge. Like this, he admires the tears that well up, the red intense color that kisses your skin, and you yourself, just adore the skin of his back against your fingertips.

“Please” His tongue caresses yours, interrupting your pleading. Head bobs just slightly when he’s sucking the slippery muscle, lips vaguely touching from time to time. “fuck me already”

That specific tone you use, does wonders.

“Look at me” His commands make your head feel fuzzy. “Look at me right now.” His repeated groan is heard when your eyes meet his.

His dick lengthens to its maximum under his hand when the remains of a whimper burn through your throat.

Everything makes him sensitive now. Every little quiver of your body, every shaky breath, every touch, sound, reaction.

“I’m the biggest what?” He asks through the echo that pends between a gasp and a whisper.

And that’s when his dick stretches your cunt vulgarly and slowly. Slipping in between sticky coats of precum and fluids. Caressing every nerve that adorns your puffy walls that welcome him in. Painfully stretching and sucking the delectable feeling.

“Holy shit.” He purrs under palpitating veins that beg for release, your eyes transpire delight, and your moans become unavoidable.

He knows what you want when your body contorts under him, hips begging for something, anything."I get it baby, I know what you fucking want."

His thrusts become infallible to his smug grunts, and his hands try to release some built up impatience by tugging the sheets that surround the sides of your head.

He fills you, it’s warm and gruff, and although not as harsh as the fabric of his Levis, probably harsher in the way that it’s bigger than his fingers and your own.

“You feel so fucking good, so good for me. Aren’t you, my sweet girl?”

The reddened puffy skin of your lip tucked under your front teeth, gets released when he moves it away with his thumb. Wet tongue nuzzling the hurt area.

The bittersweet feeling of ecstasy approaches. The sound of your sticky cunt vandalizes the silence in the room. And his stupid smug grin makes another appearance. "Sweet little Y/N, fooling around with a dude twice her age"

When your fingertips are replaced by nails, you whimpers by well produced moans and he’s finally getting to the spongy spot that kisses him with each thrust, the release feels closer than ever.

It’s the feeling of a tingling burning spasm in your belly. His groans near your ear just help it build up with fondness.

"I want to hear you, let it all out" A handful of your hair curls around his fingers. The pace grows faster, the burning sensation even more.

“I’ll, I have to-“

“Go ahead doll face, cum for me, like the little whore that you are.” Your hands wrap around his slippery neck, gaping tension and speed build up. Everything seems to mix, the way he touched you, kissed you, praised your cunt. “Let me feel that sweet cum, pretty”

With growing red cheeks and hurting frown, your closed eyes find the white spotty light and your release is finally there. Glorious orgasm accompanied by a muffled moan below his shoulder.

He’s got you seeing stars.

“Such a good girl” It’s not long after that his throat cries out and his own orgasm joins yours, warm sticky cumshots filling in every lonely corner, he’s in heaven. And your shaky body’s still getting used to such gratification.

Time seems to stop when both of your bodies are reluctant to separate. More when the idea of moving away crushes him once your arms wrap around his shoulders, soft cheek pressed against his. It’s warm and sweaty, you suppose yours is too.

“I’m sweaty” he warns softly, sweetly.

“I know” you reply with the same energy, pulling him in closer.

His heavy still twitchy breath is powerful, and sends stubborn goosebumps that react immediately against your skin. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, so he’s now gently caressing as many limbs of your body as his hand can get to. More affectionate than anything else.

You feel limp, soft, squishy. Like if you had just melted in his arms as fudgy chocolate would.

The way he wipes your legs and still-overstimulated area, warms your chest. Something deep down inside.

There’s this unexplored touch starved after taste that feels quite new. Even now that he’s kneeled in front of you, letting you support yourself with his shoulders whilst his hand ties your worn out shoe laces.

"All done, pretty."

His inform is followed by a line of wet pecks up your leg, very light stubble tickling your skin.

Onces he’s up again, your head falls to plop against his chest, and his hand, always welcoming, always sweet, strokes your head as if he were studying every single strand of hair that grows from your scalp.

You hum, pleased. Pleased as in if you stop doing that, I will die.

There’s a particular fond apprehension that lies beneath his heart. It lingers to the bottled up feelings that were released not too long ago. And he wonders, faintly, if there’s something more, maybe deeper, that lurks and yearns for you to be close.

"You know? I didn’t really finish my project." Your interrupting whisper makes him laugh.

Your slight worry of him being upset vanishes with the sound of your own laugh. One that he commends with a half hug, half squish before pulling away. And it’s hard to do so, like if it had produced the sound of velcro being forced apart.

You love it when his hands are still touching you, gently holding your shoulders. And that innocent playful smile he adores is joined by red cheeks and dreamy eyes. He knows as clearly as he’ll die, that if he’d ever become upset with you, it'll be because he’s gone completely bonkers.

"It's okay sweets, you still deserved the prize anyway."

And just like a magnet, not composing himself just yet, his same grip pulls you in close enough for a second round of heart warming, gut wrenching hugs.

And when you’re there, absentmindedly stroking his back, immersed by his cologne that still ornaments his shirt, and his hand appraising the curve of your back, your smile is honest, bright, and sets free the real meaning behind the burning warmth of his proximity.

You want him to stay for good.

ʚ♡ɞ

#guns n roses #fanfic #saul hudson #slash hudson #slash #smut #rockband #gnr x reader #gnr smut #gnr imagine #slash gnr #slash imagine #slash fanfiction #slash fic #gnr fanfic #gnr fanfiction #slash smut #classic rock #rock band #rock music

[maplecornia]

chapter 21

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.72K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: in regards to the banner above...yes tae if i also looked like you i would want to kiss myself too

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

Some people are connected.

Aren't they?

When you meet them, it’s as though something clicks. Something inside that tells you some unimaginable being has brought you together. A hidden string tying you to the other, drawing you slowly across the universe just to meet each other.

And once you’re connected…

Do you ever really let go of them?

Groaning, Taeyhung turns over in his bed for the thousandth time.

Why is this so hard?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he lies on his back, sheets and comforter scattered, as he stares up at the ceiling. Glaring up at it with his eyebrows furrowed tightly together, he purses his lip into a pout, his jaw set defiantly.

“This is your fault.” He mutters underneath his breath, before running his hand absentmindedly through the tangled locks of his hair. “I don’t know how...but all of this is your fault.”

When the ceiling doesn’t answer him, he gives it a look before rolling out of bed, not really caring if he brings the covers along with him. As they fall from the tangles around his body, and rest safely on the floor, he catches the reflection of his eyes in the full-length mirror he keeps expertly held on the sliding door which hides his clothes closet. Biting his lip, he hesitates a bit before heading over to the mirror and taking his reflection in.

He’s grown a bit taller...perhaps half an inch. Don’t worry Namjoon hyung, one day I’ll be as tall as you. Though he smirks a bit at the thought, it quickly vanishes as his gaze travels to more points in his reflection. His dark glazed eyes, his mess of curls resting on his head, his slightly pale lips. Almost despondent, he pulls aside the already halfway buttoned down shirt and presses his fingers against his stomach. He smiles back to when all that was there was a soft belly. When he didn’t care as much.

When did he start caring?

Was it when he saw everything that ARMYs felt about him? When he realized just how double sided they could be? Was it when he realized that they really did care what he showed them? That if he showed them who he really was…

They would just walk away?

He knows he probably shouldn’t have read those comments, that he shouldn't have seen what some people have said...but did they forget that he could see everything they said?

Did they forget how much he gave...how much he sacrificed for them?

And when he shows them all of him…

The good and the bad…

"Kim Taehyung seems a bit rude…

He doesn’t care at all about BTS.

You think he needs them? If he were given a chance he would just leave.

Kim Taehyung is too moody. He’s happy one moment but sad the next.

Don’t you think fame has changed him? He seems so cocky.

What’s wrong with Kim Taehyung lately? Doesn’t he seem depressed?

Honestly, if I had to put my money on it, he’d be the first one to leave.

He’s so untalented.

BTS is filled with a group of 6 very talented, beautiful, and handsome young men. And then there’s the roach called Kim Taehyung.

Why doesn’t Kim Taehyung just leave? If you’re really bored with everything by now, why don’t you just leave?

Do us a favor and stop pretending.

Just leave."

Taehyung winces at the overwhelming amount of bad memories slamming into his inner consciousness. He tries to forget them, but every time he looks in the mirror, he can see them reflected back at him. As though they were burned deep into his skin. As though the sign of hard muscle beneath his fingertips is a scar he can’t escape.

The only thing he can remember, the only thing he can think about when he sees himself, is what they have molded him into.

The beautiful, the perfect sculpture which they call V.

Defiantly, flames burning in his eyes, he meets his gaze in the mirror. Anger and hurt mixing together into one painful chaos inside his chest, his gaze darkens before he swings back his fist and rams it deep into the mirror. As the glass shatters and sharp, iridescent pieces dig maliciously into his skin, he breathes heavily and glares up at his broken reflection. Into the dull dim hue of his hazelnut haze.

Eyes which have changed from bright beautiful saucers that could only see the sky...

To a gap of emptiness which cannot be filled.

Reflecting the cold abyss he feels in his own heart.

As thick blood begins to numbingly ooze from the cuts in his skin, he hardly flinches. The iron taste playing sinisterly on his lips, he can’t help but relish in the pain. Is this what he deserves? Is this what they want now that he’s not who he was before? Now that he’s grown, changed even the slightest bit? He almost wants to push his fist deeper into the glass, deepen the pain, all to distract him from the roar in his ears.

The constant screaming inside his mind.

He did everything they wanted him to do. He smiled for them, hid the inner part of him screaming, brushed away any hateful comments, any people who hurt him, and laughed through all the pain. He became a bigger person and grew.

He did it all for them.

He did it all for the sake of BTS.

Because he loved ARMY. Because he loved his hyungs.

Because this was his dream.

He became the man they all wanted.

He became V.

So why?

Why is it the moment he starts to let go of the mask, the moment he starts to become himself in front of their eyes...

Why do they turn against him as though he had never existed in the first place?

As though they didn’t beg him to hide.

As though all his efforts…

Meant nothing after all.

The worst part of it all…

Was that he let go for them.

Because he wasn’t willing to say goodbye.

The soft ring of his alarm breaks him out of his thoughts and his hand falls to his side as he turns to the sound. Sighing, he runs his hand through his tangled mess of hair picking up a tissue on the way to his dresser, and wiping off the thin trails of blood the cuts brought forth. In the back of his mind, he scoffs at the fact that that’s the third mirror he’s broken this week. Perhaps he needs a break. Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a deep breath.

A break from myself.

Picking up the phone he quickly dismisses the alarm, and finds himself staring at the lock screen in dismay.

To this day, Taehyung still uses the Galaxy BTS phone made especially for them and ARMY. Jimin absolutely loved the thing, and Taehyung treasures it with a quiet wonder. When he finally moved everything from his old phone to this one, he used it daily, even if it wasn’t always in front of the cameras. Back then when they had to leave for a while, looking at it gave him strength to go on. To head back to them. To see ARMY again.

Looking at it now, he wonders if it’s actually real.

If the love ARMY gives them…

Isn’t all just a lie.

When the phone buzzes suddenly, Taehyung lets out a small yelp, fumbling as his phone flies halfway in the air. Luckily, he’s able to catch it before it falls. Letting out a small breath of relief, he checks the random message that has popped up on his lock screen, peering to see who it belongs to.

Eyes widening, he nearly drops his phone again.

Stumbling to catch it, he falls on top of his pile of sheets and blankets, but thankfully the phone falls in his outstretched hands securely.

It's you.

Why is it always you?

Shocked, he slowly unlocks the phone, opening your little message. As it pulls up on his screen, he softly smiles.

Good morning, Mr. Pan.

It's such a simple message. Such short, sweet words said out of consideration and kindness. You sent it as a second thought, somehow knowing that he might need a smile after the amount of trouble he must have gotten in yesterday. He doesn't know this. All he knows is that a mere mention from you has made everything all right again.

It clears his mind, allows him to focus, saves him from the darkness continuing to choke him in its hold.

He picks up his phone and presses a button, before holding it up to his ear. It rings into the dead silence for a couple of seconds, making Taehyung a bit nervous. For a moment, he doesn't know if you're going to pick up, but once he hears the familiar click and the steady sound of your breathing, he can feel a rush of relief spreading through his body and leaving nothing but happiness.

"Hello?" You nearly whisper, a bit in shock. He can hear it over the phone and, sitting up, he doesn't notice as the gorgeous smile grows.

It’s funny how he didn’t realize until he heard your voice, that his head and his mind was filled with thoughts of you.

On the other line, you smile softly, finding the same truth.

Was it only yesterday that your dream came true?

He finally did it. He spoke to you.

Things should be over right?

But you find yourselves wanting…

More.

"Good morning." He teases in response to your recent message and you have to refrain yourself from groaning in embarrassment. "Did you sleep well?"

Hearing his innocent voice and the deep lure to it so early in the morning makes you wonder if you're dreaming. Smiling on the other line, you cup your hands around your phone, pulling it close to your cheek and smile, unable to stop the happy pink hue from creeping onto your rosy cheeks.

"Yes." You reply, a bit of excitement creeping into your voice from the giddy fact that you’re talking to him. "I slept like a baby...what about you?"

You decide to keep from him the fact that you hardly slept last night. Your constant nightmares and terrors of panic scared you. They made you afraid, thinking that if you closed your eyes, you would once more be lost in a deep sleep. Trapped in the hidden corners of your mind.

He smiles on the other line a bit sadly, deciding to keep the fact that he didn't sleep half the night to himself, lost in the whirlpool of hateful comments and slurs towards him. Towards BTS. He decides to hide the truth that the only thing that was able to let him sleep that night was the sight of your phone number held tightly within his hands.

"Yeah...yeah I slept alright." He says, unable to mask the catch in his voice. Your eyes widening in concern, you open your mouth to ask if he's alright, but he quickly clears his throat and changes the topic.

“How’s your ankle?” Even though you know he asked the question to change the subject, you can't help but wince.

Your ankle hasn’t shown much improvement.

The swelling has gone down and you're able to stand on it, but every time you try to walk, numb pain still courses up your veins. It's still pretty bruised, but what is there that you can do? You've already slipped on an ice pack, wrapping it carefully around your ankle to prepare you for the day, but you know it's going to be quite the uncomfortable ride.

You hesitate, pondering whether or not to tell him this, but he continues on the other line.

“Yen?” The way he whispers your name makes you melt inside. So concerned and full of worry, you wonder if you truly deserve this small blessing. The blessing to know someone like him. “Are you okay? Does it still hurt?”

The blessing to be able to speak to him.

Smiling, you shake your head before responding, slightly struck speechless.

“Yes, I’m fine...your ice pack yesterday really helped so I’m all ready to head to work today. Don't worry, I’m fully prepared with an ice pack of my own in case the bruise starts to bother me…” You start rambling, trying to reassure him that everything will be fine, while on the other line, his eyes go wide with protective anger.

You’re doing it again.

Forcing yourself to continue, when you should be looking to take care of yourself.

Not the other way around.

“No.” He says interrupting your slight tangent, and you flinch, pausing and your grip clenching tightly around the phone. You knew this would happen. You knew that he would be upset. That’s why you shouldn’t have said anything. Somehow, this frustrates you. You know it shouldn’t, after all he’s just looking after you, but you can take care of yourself. You aren’t some damsel in distress that needs saving.

Trying hard to forget what you’d rather not remember, you sigh, massaging your temple.

“Taehyung, I’m fine. I really am--”

“I don't believe you. And even if you were telling the truth, you should at least rest it for a day at least! Do you want to worsen it because you decided to push yourself?” Shocked at his sincere and concerned tone, you really don't know what to say. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but feel that if you listen to him, if you rest easy for just today, you’ll be letting someone down.

Namjoon is waiting for you.

He doesn’t know that your ankle is bruised, nor that you could sprain or quite possibly break it if you try to come into work today. But you’ve already been late once before. Today was supposed to be your first official day on the job. He was counting on you to be there.

Hoping that he’d be able to rely on you.

You can’t help but feel that if you decide to stay...that you'd be letting him down.

You don’t want to let him down.

You can’t let him down.

Glancing down at your ankle, you grimace a bit as you bitterly smile.

This is just a minor bump in the road isn’t it? All you're doing is offering a small sacrifice so that you can be there for him. So that you can carry out your job, your obligation as his manager. He should know that you will always be there to help. Isn’t that what a manager should do? You have a duty, an obligation...a simple bruise shouldn’t get in the way of that. After all the ways you let him down yesterday, and the kind way he treated you in spite of that...isn’t that the least you can do? You can afford to give something in return...after all he’s given you already.

Yes...this is nothing…

Taehyung wouldn’t understand…

Right?

Taking a deep breath, you respond to him.

“Taehyung, I really appreciate your concern but…”

“If you say you’re fine I am going to come to your apartment and force you back into your bed.” He replies so steadily and sternly that it’s hard for you to conceal your burst of laughter. He hears, however and grows a tiny bit offended, not willing to admit that the sound of your laughter brought a little bit more light into his clouded mind.

“You think I’m joking?!” He shouts on the other line, and you can’t keep it back anymore, your laughter spilling over and melodiously carrying itself through the line and into Taehyung’s small, scattered room. He smiles at the fact that he was able to make you laugh, although it wasn’t his intention. That just like that...you were able to make everything seem alright again. It’s almost as though a mere smile from you, a simple laugh escaping from your lips…

Makes the world a little bit brighter to him.

“I-I’m sorry…!” You manage to gasp out between your small fits of giggles. “It’s just the thought of you walking over here all angry and trying to force me back in bed…” You break off at the end, your sweet melodic laugh ringing high in the air once more, and he can’t help but crack a smile, eventually laughing along with you. After a moment, once the laughter subsides, each of you glance toward the phone as though that would help you see the other's face, or at least imagine it as though you were standing right next to each other.

Taehyung smiles a bit before glancing away and closing his eyes in serenity.

“Yen?” he murmurs softly, his eyes opening a fraction of an inch as he stares into the distance, almost imagining your smiling face right in front of him. At the sound of him saying your name once more, your eyes flash towards the phone, a bit surprised. It takes you a moment, but you eventually answer, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Yes?” you respond, your hands once more finding themselves cupping around the phone almost as if you held onto it a little bit tighter he would magically stay with you just a little bit longer. Offer you this comfort for just a bit more.

Is that too much to ask?

You know it is and yet you can’t help yourself from wishing for it.

Wishing that you had...more.

“I want you to know that I’m saying this with the best interests for you in mind.” He answers, and your brow crinkles a bit, wondering what he’s going to do this time. Taking a deep breath, he ponders whether or not to say the words, but he decides to do it anyway. Your safety is the most important after all.

“Don’t come to work today. Please stay home, and take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Startled, you open your mouth to answer, to refuse the kind request, to let him know that you’re going to head to work anyway, but he’s already hung up the phone, leaving you dumbfounded. Your heart pacing a million miles per hour, his last few words lingering in your mind.

I don’t want to see you get hurt.

“Who gave you the right?” you murmur softly, your hands rising furiously to hide the growing hot blush against your cheeks against your will. The hot tears that begin to push against your eyes, threatening to escape out of the cage you have held them in for so long.

“Who told you to care so much about me?”

Taehyung, after hanging up the phone, has completely forgotten about everything else but you. He smiles a bit sheepishly at the cheesy things he’s said and stares at the empty screen where your profile pic rests, safe in his contacts. He can’t help but wonder how you do it.

How with a few simple words…

You make everything okay again.

Turning to his closet, he starts to pull out a couple of clothes to wear that day, as he dials a number on his phone. Once it starts to ring, he places it on his dresser, putting it on speaker phone so he can hear the clear annoyed voice that answers, no doubt being distracted from an important source of work.

“What is it, Taehyung?” he snaps, tired and worn-out, and Tae smiles at the familiar greeting, as he pulls off his shirt, avoiding the cracked mirror beside him.

“Nice to talk to you too, Namjoonie. How's the album coming?” He responds playfully, and Namjoon on the other line can't help but smile. He adores that nickname, and it definitely puts him in a better mood. Just like Taehyung knew it would. Turning back to the screen of the computer, Namjoon can't help but sigh. There’s a whole lot of work to be made with the album...and such little time to do it in.

“Well...it’d go a lot faster without interruptions like this. What is it Taehyung-ah? This better not be a prank call or something for a Vlive…” Namjoon begins, his tone warning and Tae can’t help but laugh. He shakes his head, pulling down his pajama pants, and deciding to replace them with plain blue jeans. They don’t really have dance practice planned today, just a bunch of meetings and preparations for the album...maybe even a photo shoot.

“You know I try to stay away from Vlive’s nowadays.” Tae replies, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failing miserably. At the comment, Namjoon can’t help but feel a stab of pity and regret. He knows that it’s a sensitive topic for Tae now...especially with what happened the last time Taehyung held a Vlive….he shouldn’t have mentioned it so soon.

“No it's not...Namjoon it’s about Yen.” Tae explains, and at the mention of your name, Namjoon sits straight in his chair, work forgotten, and mind focusing on you.

“What? Is she okay? Did something happen? Is she--” Voice heavily decorated with worry, Tae has to bite back the laugh that threatens to be released. Is this how he sounded to you? No wonder you started laughing at him. Smiling softly at how open and kind Namjoons heart is, Tae shakes his head once more, pulling on a grey hoodie.

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” Tae replies, as he pulls on his socks, and rummages for his jean jacket. Namjoon waits a bit impatiently on the other line, trying his best to be polite and wait for Taehyung to finish. Once he finds it, Tae lets out a small cry of victory before looping his arms through it and finishing his look. Picking up the phone as he grabs a plain white mask and heads for the door, Taehyung smiles slightly at his victory.

Try to refuse staying home after this, my Wendy.

Just as RM opens his mouth to demand a straight answer from him, Taehyung replies, leaving behind the mess he had made just moments before untouched and forgotten.

“Namjoon...could you do a favor for me?”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this chapter was kind of sad...

chapter 22 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

#{infinite stars} updated! #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction series #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kim taehyung #ot7 #ot7 fanfic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 fanfic #wattpad #wattpad writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #bts x reader #bts x female!reader #writer #bts fluff #bts angst #fluff #angst #series #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop

[clacy2812]

I thought of, Mecha and Firefly inviting Brute over Abyss’s place for a boys night! Brute came! was not lured with creampuffs or anything He came before Firefly and Mecha, im guessing Abyss, V and Beats are busy doing some repairs, which leaves Kin, sleeping peacefully with a confuse Brute staring at them, wondering if he should wake up Kin to know if he’s at the right place~  @bun-bunmuse 

#my art #IM TYPING AS FAST AS I CAN TO EAT- #Brute!Sans #Kin

[buns-with-a-book]

Reflections and Illusions

For Day Six of DMCWeek2020, the prompts chosen this week were Family and Belonging! They’re subjects quite close to our leading lady Cassandra. Cordelia and Anastasia (and the idea for this fic) are all from @furyeclipse

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Dante, Vergil, Nero (minor role), Kyrie (minor role), Credo (cameo) Tags: @nimnox​  @astral-space-dragon​ @harlot-of-oblivion​ @queenmuzz​ @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate

Summary: While on a mission, Cassandra hears her name and goes into a strange portal. What she finds is a world she dearly wants but cannot have.

“Jeez, all I wanted was a nice birthday-” Cassandra swiftly dodged out of the way of the demon’s attack. “And you come along to ruin it!” The demon, taking the form of a large black dog, snarled at her. “Come on, you terrible little doggie!” The demon dog let out a ferocious roar, leaping forward. She twirled out of the way, Failnaught impaling itself into the demon’s flank and ripping open a large wound. The demon hit the ground hard, turning into dust. Cassandra spun the sword-cane in her hand, sighing.

“Not how you wanted to spend your birthday?” Dante asked with a cocky grin.

“What gave you that impression?” She huffed. “This stuffy old mansion...jeez, it’s a terrible place for a birthday. Come on, let’s find Nero and Vergil and go get our pay. Maybe that local pizza place is still open at this hour-”

Cassandra…

A voice, strangely siren-like, called for her. She paused and looked around, visibly confused. She looked to Dante, who looked just as confused as she was.

“What’s the matter?”

“I...I just thought I heard someone calling for me.”

Cassandra...

Cassandra closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Maybe I should go take a look around. Just in case there’s something...you know, suspicious. You go find Vergil and Nero.” Dante nodded, silver eyes glancing around. Cassandra nodded at him before dashing off. The sound of the voice calling her was northward, she could feel it. As she dashed through the halls of the abandoned mansion, the call of her name seemed to become louder, a ringing in her head she couldn’t ignore.

Cassandra...

She dashed out the back door, looking around. The grounds were visibly overgrown from decades of neglect. Her eyes fell upon the greenhouse, windows broken and frosted from disuse. She walked over to the greenhouse, carefully opening the glass door. Planters had been thrown out, leaving nothing but a dirt floor. At the other end of the greenhouse, however, was what looked to be a mirror of some kind. It’s stone frame was covered with plants, both in motifs and actual plants. It’s reflective surface shone brilliantly, as if it was untouched by time. Cassandra slowly stepped forward, boots crushing glass and dirt underneath her. As her reflection appeared in the mirror, it seemed to...wobble? Her hand carefully rested on the glass…

And went right through it.

She yelped in surprise, pulling back her hand. She looked at her hand, noticing nothing wrong with it.

Cassandra…!

The voice was more insistent now, overwhelming her senses. Following the call, an intense ringing drowned out everything. She held her head, Failnaught clattering to the ground. The agony pounded at her skull, like a terrible awful migraine she only heard tales of from old women. She stumbled, her foot caught something, before her body fell onto the mirror’s reflective surface.

CASSANDRA!

She half-expected her body to hit the glass, piercing her skin and leaving a nasty cut. To her surprise, her body hit warm grass. She slowly opened her eyes, finding what had once been a gloomy overcast dusk was now a bright sunny day. She let out a pained groan, her head still throbbing.

“My little star!” A voice, a painfully familiar voice, made her eyes snap open. She looked up, seeing someone that should be dead staring back at her: her own mother, Stella Sagefire.

“Mother…?” She whimpered as she felt oddly cool hands help her on her feet. She looked past her, seeing Dante happily grilling like a dad (well he was an uncle, that was close enough). Nero and Kyrie were sitting at a table, happily chatting about something. Next to Nero was Cordelia, beaming at Nero like he was an older brother. Vergil was sitting next to Cordelia, but his eyes were firmly focused on Cassandra. Next to Kyrie was a man she only saw in pictures, her older brother Credo, relaxed and at ease. Her gaze returned to her mother, her hair tied up in a messy bun, strands of golden blond framing her face and clear blue eyes. It looked as if she had never been so deathly sick at all.

“Cassandra!” A second voice, another familiar voice that only made her heart ache as a more youthful woman that was near the same age as her mom stepped forward: Anastasia Faye. Her bright seafoam green eyes stared at Cassandra in worry. Her dark brown black hair went down to her mid-back. A lavender colored ribbon was tied in her hair, similar to how Cordelia put bows in her hair, but her bow was on the left side of her head compared to Cordelia keeping it centered on her head. She wore a rose gold trimmed strapless black dress that went down to her knees and brown boots to match. A necklace around her neck like V's old choker but, instead of a tooth, it was a small charm from outside the walls. She never did find out where she got it from.

“It’s your birthday, Cassandra.” Stella gently explained. “Do you not want to attend your own birthday party?”

“I...I mean...I…” Cassandra lowered her head. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her core.

"Cass sweetie, you getting overwhelmed again? You tripped over your own two feet again." Anastasia chuckled softly as she ruffled her hair. "Hmm no bumps, you're fine."

“I don’t feel fine.” She muttered. What was it that was so wrong about it? She missed her mothers so dearly, she had loved them so, but they were dead. They couldn’t be here, not in this mirror world.

You could just stay here with your mothers, in this perfect world.

That nagging feeling prodded at her, almost tugged on her insistently in her mind. She could stay, with ghosts and echoes all around her.

"You alright there, Sleeping Beauty?" Anastasia asked. She could hear the concern in her voice.

“No, this is all wrong.” She pulled away. Already, the world was starting to fade around them, mixing together like a bad watercolor painting. Despite that, Stella and Anastasia remained clear and pristine in her vision. “You’re dead. You two, you died, you can’t be here!” She didn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, she couldn’t.

Anastasia sighed softly and put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Cassandra, look up at me please." Cassandra let out a soft heaving noise, slowly looking up at Anastasia.

"I made Anastasia bend the rules a bit, again.” Stella admitted sheepishly. “I know that I promised last time I wouldn't but this time, I needed to do it for an important reason: so that your mother and I can see you free and happy, far from Eternis Brillia, happy with the azure Son of Sparda and free from that sorry excuse of a boy Draco. I'm also guessing you found Cordelia as well."  

"I'm happy that my Magpie found her way home to you." Anastasia added. “And you’ve found your self confidence again. Make sure that the azure boy knows how much you love him and how happy you are being at his side.”

"I got to finally see you again Cassandra. I'm proud that you've grown up into a confident lady."

Anastasia pulled Stella and Cassandra into a tight warm hug, kissing her head softly. “Happy Birthday Cassandra, please ever don't forget how much we love you. Before I forget, please tell my little magpie, you got her gift.”

“Her gift?” Cassandra asked tearfully. The world around them was nothing but darkness, with only her two mothers still clearly before her. Anastasia kissed the top of her head and smiled softly. Cassandra swore she felt something at her neck, arms hugging her close. “Mom...Mother...tell me, what do you mean?”

“A happy family. People who love her dearly, no matter what.” Anastasia murmured. “And it was something we wanted for you as well.”

“Cassandra, my little star, you cannot stay here.” Stella said, her voice grim. “You have to return back to the azure son, to your family, to our little magpie.” Her and Anastasia’s hand rubbed away the tears that streaked down her face. “Because we weren't strong enough to live, but you are.”

“Mom, Mother, don’t go-” Cassandra suddenly heard the sound of glass shatter before she fell backward, away from the rapidly disappearing images of her mothers. Faintly, she saw her tears fly into the dark abyss...or were they hers?

We will always love you.

She expected to hit the floor, for her arms to be cut by shattered shards of mirrors, but strong arms, Vergil’s arms, caught her and held her up. She blinked, watching as Nero and Dante stared at the remains of the mirror, weapons aloft. The mirror was now just stone and glass on the floor. Nero rushed to her side.

“Mom, are you ok?” Nero asked worriedly. Cassandra nodded, letting Vergil help her onto her feet. “What was that?”

“...a trap. It’s an illusion mirror, from Eternis Brillia. I suppose the last owner was an adherent of the Earthfaith.” Cassandra breathlessly explained. “It was still effective...I…”

“You what?”

“...I saw my mothers.” She said, trying not to cry. She had enough of that for a while, at least. Her gaze rested on the broken mirror. “It wasn’t real. They’re dead. They died years ago.” She took a deep breath, feeling Dante rub his hand against her shoulder. “That’s what the mirror does: it lures you in with what you want the most and traps you in it’s illusions.” A quiet fell between them, all eyes on the broken trap at their feet.

“Hey…” Dante broke the quiet, trying to sound easy-going, as if nothing had happened short of a job well done. “How about we get a pizza?”

“A pizza, Dante!?” Vergil growled. “That’s the last-”

“No no no, I...I’d like something stupidly greasy right now to take my mind off things.” Cassandra looked up to the trio. Dante beamed at the sound of Cassandra taking his side of things. Vergil scowled at the decision before seeming to relent. Cassandra took one last glance to the broken mirror, the damp air silent. It couldn’t be real...right?

And yet, as her hand reached up to realize that a new Rhodonite necklace now hung around her neck, she suddenly wasn’t sure if everything in the broken mirror was illusionary.

#dmcweek2020 #devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry dante #devil may cry vergil #devil may cry cast

[things2mustdo]

On July 6th 1994, twenty-six year old Troy Kell, inmate and white supremacist gang member at Utah State Prison, killed Lonnie Blackmon, a black inmate, with 67 blows from a prison shank while prison guards videotaped the attack. The deed done, Troy wiped his hands clean of the blood and walked away, proudly yelling:

“Got some white power jumpin’ off around here!”

Later, in an interview with HBO for it’s documentary Gladiator Days : Anatomy Of A Prison Murder (2002), Troy explained his reasoning behind why he killed Blackmon.

TROY

“I went into the situation that I’m gonna hafta kill the guy – I’m not gonna…jus hurt ‘em, I’m not gonna stab him two times and say ‘yeah we’re even’, you know, cause the philosophy in prison is, you know, you stab me I kill you… I just stabbed the shit outta him, you know, until he didn’t move anymore.”

“I’ve seen guys hesitate…on not thinkin’ somethin’ was serious, and it was serious, and they get themselves stabbed up. Or they get themselves fucked off…they get themselves killed.”

A brutal view on life. Yet it’s not surprising to hear from an inmate who had been imprisoned for another murder since he was eighteen. Troy’s first murder was James Kelly [real name James Thiede], a twenty-one year old Canadian man in Troy’s hometown of Las Vegas. Troy, with the assistance of Sandra Shaw (fifteen at the time) and another friend, lured Kelly into the desert and ambushed him, where Troy shot Kelly six times in the face at point blank range.

Who was Troy? Where did he come from? What was the series of events that drove him to commit two murders, both of which placed him on death row?*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xL_PlbqyLcI

One of the most startling aspects of Troy, from watching the documentary, is just how intelligent, almost proverbially All American he comes across as. Troy was not some trailer trash kid, doomed for eventual incarceration.

TROY

“I was raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, little middle class family. I’m the only child.”

“I think I was probably just an ordinary kid on the block, I wasn’t any different, or anything from anyone else that I noticed.”

“My father’s into horses, and kinda a redneck background, country boy kinda thing, and we had horses and stuff.”

“I was expected…to be successful, you know, my family, you know, they’re not losers.”

His neighbourhood was middle class, his school was middle class. Troy was thoroughly middle class. So why did he, at eighteen, kill James Kelly? For the answer to that, we have to turn to Sandra Shaw.

Sandra was three years younger then Troy. They met quite early, when they were children.

SANDY

“Troy’s been a part of our life, um, ever since I first came to Las Vegas. Um, since I was probably, like, six years old. We lived on one corner of the street and on the opposite street he lived at the other corner. And um, me and a couple of friends, two little girlfriends, were walking down the street and him and his little friends were sitting in front of their house on their bicycles and you know they were watching us googly eyed cause he’s three years older then me. So when we got all the way to the end of the street, towards the desert, you know, we turned around and said somethin’ real sassy and they chased us on their bikes and we ran and he jumped off his back and tackled me into the grass and you know it just became like a plaything. And since then he was like, ‘You’re gonna be my girlfriend’ and I was like, ‘No I don’t even like boys’.”

There was obviously some romantic tension going on between the two of them from a very young age. Though Troy and Sandy both refer to each other in a younger sister older brother dynamic, it’s clear that at least Troy felt a deep attraction to Sandy. Why shouldn’t he? After all, she was the quintessential girl next door whom eagerly spent time with him. Sandy was a cute little girl, and Troy was no slouch himself.

SANDY

“His father was really really strict, and um, I remember one time on his birthday, we were, he was turning thirteen and I believe I was ten and I rode my bike all the way to the mall and I bought him a Nike outfit and he had to sneak out in his back yard and climb up on the brick wall for me give him his gift, because he was on restriction – he was always on restriction – just, for absolutely nothing.”

That’s an almost classical scene of romance, and one wonders how many other secret rendezvous Troy and Sandy had over the years.

In many ways Sandy herself was the counterpart of Troy – the proverbial All American girl; pretty, a cheerleader, precocious and outgoing – though her family was struggling on the line between middle and lower class (Connie Shaw appears to be a single mother). By all counts, Sandy was destined for a typical middle class life herself. Perhaps even with Troy.

SANDY

“When I was thirteen years old I was spending the night at a friend’s house and her step father went into a jealous rage and shot and killed her mother and her mother’s two friends and then killed himself. It changed my life.”

That man was Alex Egyed, a budding computer entrepreneur who may have been a well recognized name today if he hadn’t gone on a rampage and left Sandy covered in blood, huddling in a bathtub with her friend. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only incident Sandy was going to have with extreme violence.

CONNIE

“Another episode happened to her; she’s walkin’ home from school, uh, sees this guy runnin’ up behind her, girl in front of her, sees the guy shoot…the girl, in the back of the head. She’s already gone through this. Now this is two. How many times – I mean, I’m forty-eight years old, I mean, I’ve never seen anyone, in my lifetime, get shot. She’s seen two.”

These episodes left Sandy a broken girl; a girl barely on the cusp of her womanhood.

SANDY

“I detached myself from my emotions, I didn’t have a sense of life or death, it’s all the same to me.”

Yet she was still a significant part of Troy’s life. And Troy really needed love in his life, since his own family had self destructed.

TROY

“My parents got divorced and I kinda bounced back and forth between them. It was kinda a struggle for me for awhile but, it’s nothin’ outta the ordinary… Any other kid goes through it.”

CONNIE

“His father must have been very tough on him, very abusive, I believe, with him. And his mother was never around. I know they were separated. But I don’t think his mother came around too much, I don’t know if it was because of the father…or what, you know, but uh, I guess he looked at me, more like a mother figure you know because he’s always sent me, even till this day, sends me a bouquet of mother’s day flowers.”

Troy and Sandy were both set adrift at a young age, both from broken homes, both experiencing severe forms of trauma – albeit Troy’s were less extreme. Because of his need for love, Troy grew ever closer to Sandy while Sandy threw herself into an abyss. Like many traumatized girls, Sandy began to slip down into degeneracy and self abuse. She began to hang around shady men and casinos while barely being a fully fledged teen, and at the age of fourteen she ran into James Kelly at the Circus Circus casino.

SANDY

“I met Cotton Kelly at Circus Circus eight months prior to this actual tragedy.”

“He ran some type of, um, adult entertainment business. He wanted me to pose nude for him.”

“He had started following me and calling my house constantly, harassing my family… And as a fifteen year old child, I made a very bad decision, a very immature request and I called upon Troy to beat the man up. To have him, leave me alone.”

A normal girl with a strong family could have resolved this situation with ease. A simple, hard talk by a good father with this James Kelly character would have spared everyone a lot of tragedy. Sandy, however, had drifted far away from being a normal girl and with nothing but a weak family at her disposal she allowed this situation to escalate and continue. Perhaps she even began to be sexual with Kelly, though she does not mention the full depth of their relationship.

In the end she turned to the one man she knew she could depend on.

TROY

“Me and a friend of mine from high school agreed to beat this guy up, because he was doin’ some things to some teenaged girls that we knew. She was a friend of mine, she was like a, a sister kind of, to me.”

“This guy, I felt, was takin’ advantage of a friend of mine, and she asked for my help… And…I…went, kinda overboard.”

Eight months. That’s how long Sandy allowed James Kelly to be a part of her life. How many nights did Sandy turn to Troy? How many nights did she cry on Troy’s shoulder, detailing the horrors that James Kelly inflicted on her – and which she allowed to be inflicted on her. How many times did Troy have to hear Connie, a powerless mother, express her grief and frustration over this older man taking advantage of her daughter? Troy loved both these women.

Troy decided to save them. He told Sandy to lure Kelly out to the desert. So one night, in 1986, Sandy did just that. She made Kelly stop the car, claiming that she needed to pee. She went out, came back, pretended to hurt her leg and when Kelly came out to help her Troy put six bullets in Kelly’s head.

TROY

“For a reason that I, uh, can’t really understand, I decided to bring a gun and shoot the man. And killed him.”

“I didn’t go to sleep that night.”

Troy Kell, eighteen, murdered a degenerate man. He did it because he loved the tragic but degenerate Sandy Shaw. Because they bragged about the murder, soon schoolmates were visiting Kelly’s body in the desert.

When asked if he thought about running Troy said; “Yeah, of course.” When asked why he didn’t, “I…I don’t know. I didn’t have anywhere to run too. I couldn’t just keep on runnin’ and runnin’.”

Troy didn’t run because everything he loved lived on the corner one street over from his house. There was nothing else in the world for him.

One of the children who visited the body in the desert told their parents, and soon the police had Troy, his accomplice and Sandy in custody. They would convict Troy.

Surprisingly, Sandy was also tried and convicted. These were the days just before peak feminism so women weren’t the infallible angels that they are treated as today but still, after hearing about her abuse and her tragic past, the jurors sent a fifteen year old girl to jail for over twenty years.

In order to survive in jail, Troy quickly joined up with the white supremacist gangs. Eventually this would lead to the second murderous ambush of his life. Troy and fellow gang member Eric Daniels attacked Lonnie Blackmon with Eric holding his legs and Troy stabbing Blackmon with a shank 67 times. For this second murder Troy himself is currently waiting to face death.

I reiterate once more; by all accounts Troy was a normal kid. There was nothing in his childhood that would have led anyone to believe that Troy one day would end up a murderer of two men while leading a white supremacist gang in prison. If he just had to weather a broken home, as far too many middle class children nowadays do, he may have had a chance to move on and become a man of worth; other men have suffered worse and managed to raise good families and live a good life. Unfortunately Troy had the tragic fate of loving a girl who also came from a broken home, and like most women from such situations Sandy did not have the inner strength struggle for normalcy. She gave herself to degenerates and came to Troy whenever she needed to use his love.

This is a theme all too familiar with young men today. Young men are struggling to find peace in their lives while having to deal with their broken female counterparts. Most men can’t help loving who they love, and far too many men pay too high a price for this once noble emotion. The tragedies surrounding Troy Kell and Sandy Shaw provide an extreme example of this – and in the case of Sandy her despair motivated self destruction is understandable – but the dynamic of good men who need love and the rotten women who use it is one of the great (and unnecessary) social plagues of the modern age. Perhaps it always has been, going back through every society since time immemorial.

It seems nowadays that there is an epidemic of men being destroyed because of single parent upbringings or broken women. Yet Troy was destroyed in 1986. Who knows how many potentially decent men in the past have been destroyed because of similar situations. Who knows how many more in the future we’ll have?

We know the symptoms – it’s time to cure the disease, or we can expect nothing but more and more unnecessary tragedies like Troy Kell’s to occur in the future. Do we really want to grow old and live in a society full of young men like that?

I end with a comment from the video’s youtube page,

Darrylizer1

“Troy Kell is one the one hand a despicable human being, a stone cold killer, a sociopath or near one and a racist. But he’s in some ways he’s likeable, even admirable: he’s articulate, intelligent and is absolutely honest with himself and for the most part unblinded by bullshit. I’m not saying that he should or shouldn’t be put to death. His circumstance is just a very sad waste of human potential.”

*As of this article’s publication, Troy is still awaiting his death sentence. He requested to be shot by a firing squad.

Read More: Sunday In The Park

Although it was written decades ago, Bel Kaufman’s Sunday in the Park remains just as relevant today, if not more so, to what it means to be a man. Her story centers on a family enjoying a Sunday afternoon at the park and is told predominantly from the wife’s perspective. Relaxing on a bench, the wife watched happily as her son Larry played in the sand box before her. Sitting next to her, while reading the ‘Times Magazine section,” was her husband Morton.

Morton. A man as nerdy as his name sounded. Who was, “So city­pale, cooped up all week inside the gray factorylike university.”

As Larry played on, she noticed another boy digging in the sand too. This boy was fatter, more aggressive than Larry. And his father, a grizzly looking man, sat on the opposite side and  “seemed to be taking up the whole bench as he held the Sunday comics close to his face.”

Suddenly the fat boy threw sand at Larry, making him upset. After hesitating a moment, the wife intervened;

‘Don’t do that, little boy,’ she said sharply, leaning forward on the bench. ‘You mustn’t throw sand!’ The man on the bench moved his mouth as if to spit again, but instead let her speak. He did not look at her, but at the boy only. ‘You go right ahead, Joe,’ he said loudly. ‘Throw all you want. This here is a public sandbox.’

She felt a sudden weakness in her knees as she glanced at Morton.

Morton was listening too. But he hid under his magazine. Seeming to hope the matter would solve it self.

It didn’t.

He put his Times down carefully on his lap and turned his fine, lean face toward the man, smiling the shy, apologetic smile he might have offered a student in pointing out an error in his thinking. When he spoke to the man, it was with his usual reasonableness. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said pleasantly, ‘but just because this is a public place….’

The other man cut him off, and an argument ensued until the large man said “Aw, shut up!” They both rose. Morton reluctantly. The wife nervously imagined the coming violence, about what she should do, how she should react.

Until…

Morton adjusted his glasses. He was very pale. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said unevenly. ‘I must ask you….’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said the man. He stood with his legs spread apart, rocking a little, looking at Morton with utter scorn. ‘You and who else?’

For a moment the two men looked at each other nakedly.

Then Morton backed down.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ He walked awkwardly, almost limping with self-consciousness to pick up his son Larry and left with his wife by his side.

At first she was relieved. There was no violence. No one was hurt. But as they left the park, she began to feel something else, something…

Inescapable. She sensed that it was more than just an unpleasant incident, more than defeat of reason by force. She felt dimly it had something to do with her and Morton, something acutely personal, familiar, and important.

While walking to their car, Morton rambled on and tried to rationalize his defeat. But the more he did, the more distant she became.

Getting pulled further away from the sandbox, Larry’s cries grew worse. But once he started dragging his feet, Morton and his wife finally had enough.

‘If you can’t discipline this child, I will,’ Morton snapped, making a move toward the boy.

But her voice stopped him. She was shocked to hear it, thin and cold and penetrating with contempt. ‘Indeed?’ she heard herself say. ‘You and who else?’

—

At first glance Bel Kaufman’s story seems simple: There’s a stronger male, Morton backs down, he’s a wimp, needs bigger balls, women hate beta males, etc…

We know that already. But there’s another point to her story that’s hidden below the surface. Because Kaufman’s story isn’t just about lacking courage, it’s about what causes that cowardice; namely, apathy.

As a man, your first reaction to the story might be that she’s saying being a big brute pays off more than being a weakling. The big guy might have shown some dominating, alpha characteristics, but to think that way is to miss Kaufman’s point entirely.

The wife didn’t care that Morton was a nerd; that’s probably why she married him. Perhaps she was one too. But it was Morton’s lack of anger, his lack of pride in himself that bothered her. That he never developed the animal-like rage proving that he was the family’s protector in the most critical of moments.

…more than defeat of reason by force. She felt dimly it had something to do with her and Morton, something acutely personal, familiar, and important.

Morton’s cowardice proved to her what she knew deep down all along, that he didn’t love his family enough the way she did.

It is critical to realize that Kaufman never gave the wife a name in the story but did for the husband. By doing this she was trying to show that the wife had given her up identity to the family, and expected Morton do the same by being a man and fulfilling his end of the bargain.

That courage isn’t so much about standing up for yourself as it is about standing up for others. But he didn’t and that was the source of her resentment. So repeating the “You and who else” remark was a way of saying, “How are you going to raise your son to be a man if you’re not even one yourself?”

The great thing about Bel Kaufman is that she came from a time where women encouraged men to be what they are and not what they should be.

[juminsmysticmc]

How about v and mc gettin’ it on after not seeing each other in a while? ❤

Jihyun x Mc gettin’ it after not seeing a long time (SMUTTY)

Part two of Jihyun’s love confession, I hope you guys don’t mind, this one is smutty I thought this could be a good reason for the two of them doing it although I don’t know if I misunderstood, lmao. Please tell me your opinion!  

Go here to part one

,,Let’s go home right away…’’ he whispered into your ear as you agreed on your marriage with him. ,,And the party….?’’ you asked him. ,,There’s no party today, Mc. We lured you and Saeyoung here for this surprise.’’ ,,What?!’’ Saeoyung and you asked at the same time as the rest of the RFA began to laugh loudly. ,,Hurry up and tell me afterwards….’’ Jaehee whispered as she hugged you. You immediately blushed, making the other members wonder what your best friend has told you. 

Jihyun took your hand and immediately entered the car. The two of you finally arrived at your house, the house he left into your care two years ago. You didn’t even have time to open the door when your fiancé began to kiss you wildly, making your heart stop to beat for a moment. He quickly opened the door and pushed you inside, slamming the door behind him. You began to shiver in excitement. You were so excited to finally be able to feel him and touch him…. While the two of you were still deeply in your kiss, he opened your dress with his free hands and you opened the pants he was wearing. ,,Woah, you want to go quickly to the issue?’’ he asked you with a sexy smirk on his lips. ,,Boy, I’ve been waiting for two years.’’ you snapped and kissed him again. He let your dress fall and noticed that you were only wearing a bra. Jiyhun stopped the kiss and looked at your body. ,,Where are your panties?’’ he asked a bit amused and curious at the same time. ,,I don’t wear panties when I wear a dress…’’ you mumbled and freed your breast from the bra which was squishing them. Your breast were now free bouncing there. Jihyun softly touched them, making you moan. You felt how wet you became. Just by his touch…,,amazing’’, you thought. 

You tried to get rid of his shirt but because of the necklaces it was way more difficult than you imagined. Jihyun helped you and got rid of the T-Shirt and his necklaces. The two of you looked at each other, your eyes seemed to fall in a deep abyss.,,You have to…..free your little boy down there…’’ you mumbled, licking your lips. ,,Really…?’’ he whispered and kissed you again, punching your ass and making you moan into his mouth while your tongues where dancing. You removed his boxer shorts and touched his throbbing dick. Now it was his turn to moan into your mouth. 

Jihyun took you into his arms, your legs crossed behind his back and your wet pussy rubbing on his stomach. His dick was hard like a rock underneath your ass. Jihyun pressed you against the wall and continued to kiss you wildly. ,,Put it in, hurry up!’’ you groaned and waited for his dick to enter your wet pussy. ,,AHGHHNN!’’ you screamed when he finally entered you. ,,Ughnnnn’’ he moaned as he felt you slippy walls around his dick. ,,You feel so good…’’ he mumbled and began to move inside you, hitting against your G-spot several times. ,,AH AH AH AH!’’ you didn’t stop to scream. Jihyun began to nipple at your breast while you scratched his back. This beautiful feeling made you feel like a goddess. Your fiancé felt your walls getting tighter around his cock, he was sure that you would cum soon - and, he was right. 

Because in the next moment you screamed his name and the both of you came together. Your juices mixed and your kiss never ended. ,,Round two in our bedroom?’’ you asked him breathless. ,,Our…our bedroom….sounds like melody in my ears.’’ he told you and licked your neck while he massaged your asshole, making you hot once again. He carried you into the room and continued his game over there. 

This time he however licked first your ass before entering the next hole. You could already feel your wetness dripping down on the sheets. ,,Hurry up and don’t make me wait aga-ghnnnnn!’’ you gnashed your teeth as he entered from behind. ,,Uh, mhhh…ahhh!!’’ the two of you moaned, moving on the bed as if the day afterwards would never come. The two of you didn’t rest that night…..

#mm smut #smut #jihyun kim #mystic messenger jihyun #jihyun x reader #mm jihyun #jihyun x mc #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfiction #rfa members #mm fanfic #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messeger headcanon #jumin han #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #saeran choi