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Artist Spotlight: Sex Pistols

They say that John Lyndon, nicknamed "Johnny Rotten" first came to the Sex Pistols wearing a homemade "I Hate Pink Floyd" t-shirt and had green hair, and after playing with them, he joined the band, and their career officially took off. With new clothing designed by band member Malcolm McLaren's clothing store the Sex, the band began attracting all sorts of followers, many of which who went to start their own bands.  After performing at Saint Martins College, where member John Matlock was attending school, and after that, the band began playing gigs alt other colleges and art schools. Their career was taking off.

The Sex Pistols were creating a national stir as their violence and general outrageousness creating a big stir.  One of their better known incidents was dubbed "The Grundy Incident", where the drunk Sex Pistols members went on air on  Thames Television's Today program, where their swore and bantered with the host, Bill Grundy.  The group was looked down upon by the British government and higher ups, especially the queen.  But this also marked a turning point in the band. In 1977, John Matlock left the band, and was replaced by John Beverly, nicknamed "Sid Vicious".  He had no experience with the guitar, but had a reputation in the punk scene. He brought the already anarchist, anti-christ band to a new level, with their release "God Save the Queen" in 1977. This release really pushed the Sex Pistols to fame and lead to their arrest by police during their mockery of the Queen's procession on a boat. They were dropped by their record label, A&M, and yet still continued to release songs on their own. The band went on tour soon after, and then the violent attacks against the band and punk fans began to be more widespread. Their final official album, Never Mind the Bollocks: Here Come the Sex Pistols, was released October 1977, and then they went on their final tour, the US Tour.  Rotten and the band began becoming disgsted with Vicious and his outrageous behavior. Vicious was addicted to heroin, and was being, essentially, brought to his heroin addict girlfriend, Nancy Spungen, who the band had tried to get rid of for fear of Vicious's health, but had stuck around. The band began becoming more and more distant, and after Malcolm and the band abandoned Rotten in California, who was sick, with no money or transportation, the band's break-up was announced January 18, 1978.  The band never reunited, and Sid Vicious died of a drug overdose.  

This band was very influential in the punk rock movement, and popularized the idea of independent, underground producing and music.  They paved the way for other bands, such as Black Flag, to go on the path of punk rock, and shock people beyond belief. The band also popularized punk rock lifestyle and clothing, and left a mark still evident today.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania // September 20th #TurnBlue // Artwork by Chuck Sperry

Rock Operas: Rocky Horror Show

So  "Over at the Frankenstein Place", we find Richard O'Brien, the creator of The Rocky Horror Show. This rock musical with hits including Time Warp, Sweet Transvestite, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me, and I Can Make You A Man has been a crowd favorite ever since it's first appearance as a musical in Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square, in Chelsea, London.  After only two performances, record producer Jonathan King signed the actors to make a cast recording. From then on, it had 2.960 other performances at the theatre, before branching out to have over 30 productions worldwide.  A movie rendition, called The Rocky Horror Picture Show, really gained popularity for the show, with thousands of people going to see the movie worldwide. Over 30 cast recordings of were produced, and the musical won the 1973 Evening Standard Award for Best Musical, and the 2001 Theatre World Award for Best Musical.  It was nominated for other awards, such as the 1975 Tony Award for Best Lighting Design and the 2001 for the Best Revival of a Musical.  

i do not pity israel. never have, and never will.

each night that gaza experiences is deadlier than the last, as idf soldiers record propaganda tiktoks, make rave parties and grwms and fit checks, gloat over having food and water, and film themselves deriving sadistic pleasure from torturing their hostages and victims and desecrating the dead.

Palestinians have to display their martyred before the camera for you to believe the atrocities that the zionist entity has subjected them to. they cannot even mourn in private. the apartheid entity murders them in cold blood, and you deliver the killing blow by doubting them.

babies whose families have been killed will never get to know their own name.

i can't reshare a tenth of the videos and photos that cross my timeline. i have seen more dead children in the past month than i have known death my entire life.

israeli settlers burn olive trees, bomb bakeries and fishing boats, shower white phosphorus and earthquake bombs on the captive civilians of gaza. you already know about the disastrous effects of white phosphorus, but earthquake bombs were last used during ww2 to wipe out entire cities.

how holy is the land that seeks to be built over the mass graves of thousands of children? is it holier than the miracle of a child being born in this hypocritical world?

all 11 universities in gaza have been bombed. academics should be agitating right now, especially those who call themselves "decolonial thinkers." destruction of universities is a sinisterly deliberate act to sabotage the Palestinians who will survive this great catastrophe.

the act of cleansing your hands before prayer is extremely important to muslims. no part of us can remotely comprehend the grief of the mother who refused to wash her hands from the blood of her children after losing them in a zionist airstrike over gaza. "I swear I won't wash them, I won't wash my hands, how else am I supposed to sleep near my kids."

it is only both moral and right when one side defends itself. the other side are the price of war, no better than insects and cattle and sheep left to die within the four walls of the slaughterhouse.

this situation should not be up for debate, but let me finish with one final thing : do your research about Palestine. HOWEVER. you do not need a degree in middle east studies to object to an ongoing genocide. if someone outwits you in a debate about historical details and every nuance of a subject, you were and will remain entirely correct in objecting to a genocide.

may those martyred rest in peace and be reunited again with their loved ones in heaven's eternal vastness.

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE.

glory to Palestinian resistance. from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

This album by Shapist is really good, and you should listen to it. Listen to “Cancer”.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8z2M_hpoPwk

Sex Pistols- God Save The Queen

Reblog this and money will be entering your life this week

┌─ “ ! „  SHARPSHOOTER

tw. dubcon, implied forced cheating, size kink, threesome, noncon filming, light manhandling, double penetration, creampie, voyeurism, male & female oral wordcount. 4.4k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a follower who i’m so very grateful for ♡ thank you thank you thank you for the commission!!! it was a blast getting to write two guys i normally don't get to write a ton, though oikawa makes me emo in this story jidfhygduuyf i hope you like the story my love!! thank you a million for commissioning me ♡♡♡

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader x kageyama tobio

There’s a sheen of sweat on Tooru’s forehead, gripping the bathroom table a bit too tight for your liking. Tight enough for the muscles to twitch, his knuckles white. You’re dutiful in your silence as you hang off his side, gently stroking down his back as he stares into the mirror before him lost, angry— and with his pretty chestnut brown eyes fighting a storm of defeat all of his own. You feel his shoulder blades shift before he pushes up and blows out a tense breath, and blinks through the wetness glossing his eyes. And your heart seems to go hot and cold all at once, hurting even a fraction like he is.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, Tooru,” you whisper into the pressing quiet of the fancy hotel bathroom, and swallow the tenseness down. And your perfect vision of a husband lingers, letting your arms come to his back to rub up and down in comfort. “Hey, breathe.” He looks like he’s fading just about now, coming apart at the seams— and Oikawa Tooru doesn’t falter often. In all of your years knowing the brunet, you can count on one hand the times his determination couldn’t get him past all the hurdles. Tooru fights until it cracks him; catches up to him to kick him in the face— and even then.

His eyes find yours, and he cups your cheeks in his large, calloused hands. Then he bends until your lashes brush together and his lips push against yours with a soft noise. Your hands still on his back, as he pulls you closer, kept so close to his chest it aches a little. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks when leaving your mouth, “I’m just- just—”

“I know. This was important to you…” Your hands are a bit wobbly as you reach to grab his face too, nose to nose, “but you’ll get another chance. You always do.” Your husband’s hand comes to cover yours, the warm metal of his matching your fourth finger in stride. But even though you say it with as much conviction as you can muster, an Olympic stage doesn’t come around often. You know that. And why it hurts as much as it does to stand here before him and assure him that everything will be okay. Your lip wobbles, and you close your eyes when he kisses you again. Tender, loving… desperate. “You’ll be okay,” you chant against his mouth, hoping that saying it will make it true.

+

The wind picks up enough to carry the whistles, shouts and cheers across the school grounds to your ear, as your friend pulls your arm with a pout on her pretty face. You want to indulge her, you do, but… “Come on~ there’s a bunch of hot guys sweating and playing sports in the gym, let’s go~” she pouts, giving you the kicked-puppy expression to match. “It’s Aoba Johsai playing, and you know what that means.”

“Do I?” you sigh back, grabbing her hand tighter before all her enthusiasm lets her fall face first over a pebble.

“It means Oikawa Tooru is here to gawk at.” She bites her lip with a little raise of her eyebrows, then nudges you. “I hear he’s a total hottie.” You roll your eyes, and fix your backpack on your shoulders, then let out a deep sigh. Before she can take it as a sign of defeat, you shake your head and attempt to walk into the further back of the massive Shiratorizawa schoolyard— for some much needed peace and quiet.

“I’m not going,” you breathe, and plant your feet into the ground.

You end up waving two purple pom poms around for almost three hours that afternoon, hot cheeks and baby hair sticking to your lipgloss more than once. And you can’t help but stare and shiver along with everyone else in the room when the balls bang onto the floor with a noise to kick the air out of your lungs, or cheer each time the crowd goes wild over another impossible save. The girl by your side chattering away between each break about the other school’s star setter, twirling her hair with a giggle. You can’t help but laugh along.

Only, when hazel-green eyes meet yours, that spark of joy bursts into an inferno in your chest, and you look away from the field without a second warning. You don’t like coming here anymore for a reason.

After the match you’re whisked down the stairs in a mess of classmates, arms hooked until the faux-redhead squeaks something about saying hi to Oikawa. You let her run off with joy. But you’re left standing by the gym doors for no longer than five minutes, before a warmth radiates over your back that has you turning in surprise. “You came,” the deep voice is soft but pointed, like you’re a novelty to the locals. You’re not, but the slightest bit of engagement is enough to have you floating. The tall man’s fresh out the showers, and smells so nice, it momentarily distracts you from the facts. You flush, and heat up on the inside, like someone’s shoved a hot poker down your throat as soon as he lifts his brows though.

“Not for you. My classmates wanted to see the match.” Then after a few seconds, you take your eyes off of his handsome, structured face to stare resolutely at the wall instead, willing yourself not to notice how his hand comes out to brush your hair away from your face, thinking better of it when you move back. “I’m still mad at you, Wakatoshi.”

“How much longer will you be mad for?” The dry question makes you huff, sucking air between your teeth. But you can’t be mad, not really. Not when those beautiful hazel greens find yours genuinely, as if hanging off your every word.

Your mouth snaps open, only to have you stop halfway to chewing him out. “I don’t know yet. Until you’ve learned your lesson. Until you say you’re sor—”

“I’m sorry,” he says instantly, and grabs the front of your shirt to gently coach you closer to his sturdy, perfect form. It’s infuriating too, that you’re so damn weak to it. He knows how to work your weaknesses by simply breathing. “I don’t like when we fight. Forgive me.” Ushijima goes in halfway for a hug, but lets you close the rest of the distance, and you do, easily. Too easily, probably. But when he leans in to kiss you, you back away enough to have his hand chase after your chin, trying and failing to grip it.

“Still mad,” you remind him, and pull your jersey closer around your body. And though you can tell he has something to say about the matter, a whirlwind of chatter coming from down the hall breaks your attention away. As the world would have it, none other than -what you can only assume is- the other school’s star setter walks down the hall, politely trying to maneuver through the gaggle of girls on his trail. It’s embarrassing, to say the least, to have so much sway over those poor girls with just a bright smile and a pretty face. And it is pretty, you instantly realize.

Tall, incredibly good looking, with chiseled features that could put a lesser girl to shame— you find yourself staring just long enough to catch the way he zeroes in on Wakatoshi’s face behind you. Who has gone even more uncharacteristically quiet. A tense moment passes, before Ushi breathes out a little sigh and acknowledges the other man. “Oikawa.” Some of the girls only stop chattering to look between the two of them with cautious eyes, some accusatory, some equally star-struck. But the pretty brunet barely stops walking and smiling.

The only thing that makes you aware of the tension in his face is the way his eyes are hard and sharp, not making the sudden hostility any more pressing. You feel a chill travel down your spine at the sight. “Ushi-waka.” You saw the match. Behind that ferociously determined spirit is talent and passion and years of practice, and the serves hitting the floor full force at Oikawa Tooru’s hands had been just as impressive as Wakatoshi’s in speed and power. But for some reason, the way he glares like he’d make the other drop dead on the spot scares you much more than any threat of physicality.

And Ushijima must sense something in the way you take the tiniest step back, because he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder and strokes the skin there with his thumb. It keeps your hairs from standing up, as you swallow, and go to turn away— showdown over. Only, as if just noticing you, Oikawa’s eyes slowly slide down, meeting yours. And he goes a little blank for a split second, before walking past. But you don’t miss the way he glances over his shoulder again, and makes every inch of your skin break out in goosebumps.

+

A lot has changed since your first meeting with the guy, you can’t help but muse, a little nostalgic at the thought. You tug at your dress to fix it proper, and blink at your stretched out hand to watch the golden band gleam in the warm light of the room. A room filled with athletes, some you know, some you don’t— some who tower over every ‘normal’ person around, and have to bend to get through doors. A gathering, courtesy of the Olympic village, to break any animosity or pretense of team rivalry outside of the court. It’s a sweet idea, but you can’t exactly blame Tooru for absolutely refusing to come. Ushijima isn’t a person who’ll choose to eat his words in order to spare someone’s feelings. You know that better than most.

Your brunet is holed up in your hotel room for the night, and will stay there. Still, you found it important to come, if only to keep up the pleasant facade that your husband isn’t eating himself alive. Over losing. Over being outdone. But most of all, over the creeping idea of not measuring up that still, still plagues him from time to time. Even for all the growth the man you love has gone through since highschool, no one is strong enough to stomach this. You get it. You do wish you’d attempted to find yourself anyone to talk to tonight, slowly sipping your champagne as you watch the familiar faces mingle.

But you don’t stay lonely for too long. A deep voice clears behind you. Familiar, it chants through your skull. You turn, and bite back a gasp, at having to tilt your head back even father since high school. Wakatoshi looks so grown, that’s the first thing that strikes you, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his white blazer as he wears a tiny smile. He looks good, hair a brighter brown, skin golden against the light jacket; and those pretty hazel greens pin you right in place.

He still says your name like it’s something to cherish, before giving you an up and down. One that last long enough to make shivers break out on your legs, blatant as ever. You flush, but don’t say anything when he reaches out to run a hand over your head.

A little too familiar for you not to brush it off. “Where’s the husband?” he asks after a moment of biting his tongue, making a point to look around for him.

“Tooru was practicing for hours after Monday’s match, and he’s been a bit feverish since. He’s not used to the springtime weather anymore.”

“Ah,” Wakatoshi wisely chooses to say nothing more, and glances at your face under those long lashes again. “You look- stunning.” It shouldn’t make something twirl in your belly. You’re told every day by your husband. But because of who it’s coming from… all actions and no talk, usually- it tickles a needy, nagging sense in your skull. He stands in all his tall, robust glory, sipping champagne; and your eyes instinctively go over his wide shoulders, tiny waist, thick thighs. He’s gotten even bigger. You didn’t know that was possible. And you can feel the way it churns in your brain, all messed up with memories of before, of how that body used to feel against yours, that it takes just a second longer to banish those thoughts far from your mind.

Wakatoshi doesn’t say anything if he notices the way you avert your eyes quickly after you realize, and instead makes a noise before moving. “Oh, I have someone you should meet.” He motions to another man from the group he’s mingling in to come stand to his side. “This is Kageyama Tobio, my teammate.” You’re perfectly aware of who the stranger is, of course. His black hair falls in little tufts over his brows as deep, ocean blue eyes find yours, the man before you swallowing tensely. “She’s the one I told you about,” Ushi says, then picks a fresh flute off the waiter when he passes by. “More champagne?”

You take the glass with a little smile, and shift your weight towards what you well know to be Oikawa’s junior. Despite that though, you never got to meet the guy. He’s also -handsome, go figure- with a cute, lost expression and high cheekbones, and that jawline, and body. You only really take note of the fact that you’ve been talked about when you look back at your long time acquaintance to lift a brow. “All good things,” he assures quickly, “we were looking forward to seeing you here tonight.”

Your giggle is one to smooth over whatever fondness you hear in his voice with indifference, twirling your glass. “I’m sure both of you are missing Tooru more than you’d have missed me.”

And Tobio, who at first seemed like a quiet, gentle type, shrugs to speak up. “Not really. Him not being here is… well, it definitely makes things easier.” The vague statement makes you look up, but the noiret only drops his eyes to your neck and down. Wakatoshi instead reaches out to gently wrap his hand around the wrist holding the delicate glass, and leads you a bit closer.

“I need you to know that I remember us well.” The statement’s so bold it makes you believe you must’ve heard wrong, but Wakatoshi doesn’t falter. “How good we were, how you felt on me—”

“—That is so inappropriate, Wakatoshi.”

“Oikawa’s been a pain in our asses for years, you know,” Kageyama joins in, staring you down as your face goes hot at how he leans down to get level with you. Like he expects an apology from you personally. Like you, by extension, are the same type of annoyance. You try to say anything about the ridiculousness of that, but Ushi’s grip on you remains so solid. And you don’t want to cause a scene. “We wanted to give him a present for his playing at the Olympics this year. Have to give it to him-”

“-he puts the monster in monster generation.” Ushijima almost looks pleasant when he smiles at the end of it, and then turns to face you more, making you get even closer to his sturdy chest. “Step out with me for a moment, will you?”

+

“I- I don’t-”

You’re lifted by your ass into his body, soft lips roaming wildly against yours as he melts to you, and moans into the deep, messy kisses. Tobio kisses like he’s got something to prove, tongue dominating your attempt to slow down by grabbing your face in both hands and forcing a deeper kiss onto you. “Pretty, he called you pretty,” Tobio huffs into your mouth, catching his breath while equally greedy hands roam your stomach under your dress. “Call that the understatement of the century.”

“You didn’t need any more convincing,” Ushi just says. His mouth is back on your pulse then, big, warm hands sliding down your tummy with your dress hiked up all the way to your midrif. It’s electric. And you want to cry with how desperately your body responds to their greedy touches. You feel horrible, you should fight. You should do anything except take it like this. But the locked room separates you from the other people, and from your purse and therefore phone. Tobio’s dragged out noise of enjoyment burns into your brain as you watch his eyes roll back into his head, cheeks pinker but eyes just as cold and calculating as they were earlier.

Still, he kisses you without pause, down your jaw, neck, tugging your top aside to lick down the valley of your breasts. “No, wait- s-stop. Stop touching me. Toshi—”

“You want it.” The brunet says plainly, no decorum as his hand cups your cunt over your panties. And sure, you’re not dry, but that’s only a natural reaction. “Don’t lie to yourself like this.” The cold tone makes way for a warmer hum when you squeak and reach to hold onto his large hand from touching further, but your fingers shake. “I want you too, baby. ‘Ve missed you.”

He rubs his crotch against your ass to make you feel just how much, his hard cock pressing hard against you. Big and needy. You’re letting out a surprised mewl at the touch, to which Tobio grunts. “Want to get eaten out?”

“No, no- I don’t- can’t,” you chant, and close your eyes, until a sharp pain hits your ass cheek and makes you jump. Tobio doesn’t bother to soothe the ache, kneading into the soft skin with a deadpan look.

“Do you, or do you not want to get eaten out?” he repeats. He pushes your straps off your shoulders to free your chest and pushes your bra aside, pawing at your tits as soon as they’re out. And you try to struggle, you do, but Wakatoshi’s grip on your hip is tight as he nudges your underwear aside and slick coats the digits. “You’re not getting out of this either way, you owe us this. Owe Ushijima san this for leaving him for Oikawa.”

“We were broken up, I didn’t leave anyone,” you snap, but quickly quiet when he flicks your nipples and leans to take one into his mouth. Ushi meanwhile rubs just a single of his long, thick fingers through your mess below and hums softly at the warm wetness, satisfied at your current state. He knows you get pouty and woozy when you have your pussy played with, using it to his full advantage as you bend under their touches.

“Quick, pick,” Tobio grunts, sucking on your other breast harder than before, and leaving a soft bite at the underside of your tit.

“Yes, y-yes-aw,” you jerk as he sucks harder, like he’s trying to mark you, and push his face away. There’s a tight, tense moment; before the noiret gives in and gets down to his knees. Ushi’s quick to slide your panties down your legs, taking with a thin line of slick down your leg as he drops them and Tobio grabs one thigh to put it high over his shoulder. You place a hand on his crown for stability as he dips his mouth to kiss the top of your pussy, then lower, using his tongue to spread you. One hand comes up to hold your ass and push you closer to his face, as he gets to work on the wetness that coats your bottom lips.

Meanwhile, Ushi comes to your front to watch you for a few moments, then nods and peeks his tongue out to wet those plush lips. “You look good like that. Here, let’s get you out of these.” The rest of your dress and your bra are discarded, tossed aside to make way for his large, rough hands that stroke all over your skin, down your tits, to push at your clit and make your hips buck. Tobio grunts into your pussy at that, and pushes the hand just as quick back up like it’s offensive. Instead his mouth comes to cover the sensitive but, as he sucks so hard it makes your eyes flutter. “Oh-n- fuck. Fuck, fuck.”

His tongue toying at the nub, up and down, and rocking your hips against his mouth with a hum. Ushijima grabs your face in his hands to lead you to him now, kissing you just as hard and deep as he used to. Grunts into your mouth when your hands go to grab at the front of his shirt, feeling the heat of his chest under your fingertips. You whine back, trying not to pull harder at Tobio’s hair as he buries his face into your wet cunt, or at the way Toshi lets his lips travel the expanse of your neck. “Get on my cock,” Wakatoshi suddenly breathes, taking you away from Kageyama’s face with a quick motion. You stumble off, careful not to knee the pretty noiret in the face.

Tobio’s not pleased by the way his eyes narrow at the other man, but gets up from his kneeling position to lick his lips and starts undressing too. “What he said.” He also pulls his phone out, and aims it at your face.

Something you panic over, trying and failing miserably to grab at it when he leans back. “Ah ah ah, stop that. It’s just to remember.” The phone makes a familiar ding, something that makes your skin itch. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s harmless. Unless you’d rather we open this door and fuck you like that.” No, your mind screams, fighting against Ushi’s hold harder.

“There’s people out there,” you balk, staring between them two of them like they’re crazy. “No, no, stop— I want-” Your head is floaty from the alcohol and the anxiety, but even you know that the door to the toilets won’t be enough to keep out the noise. “People will hear!” But Wakatoshi’s hands are rough as he positions you with your face towards Kageyama, and pushes between your shoulder blades until you’re clinging onto him too.

“Only if you keep being difficult,” Toshi says. You instead give the noiret a look, but he shrugs, and leans in to kiss your lips again, biting your bottom lip until it stings. “I will stretch you for it only if you’re quiet, so…” The rest of the sentence isn’t spoken aloud, but you understand the threat plenty when he presses a kiss to your throat, right where he used to love putting his hickeys. “If you don’t want Tooru to know, be good.”

Then he slips a finger into your pussy, other hand going under to support your belly. He slides his finger in and out a few times, pushing those long digits far into you, before pushing at your puffy clit. The touch makes your hips twitch, and he uses that as fuel to continue with a second finger. “You’re very wet.”

“Because she likes being treated like this,” Tobio coos a bit too smugly, puckering your lips by pushing on your cheeks with his fingers. He lords the phone right at your face, grinning from above you. “How about your use that pretty mouth, hm?” You’re pushed down even further to watch as Tobio slides his boxers down and a glossy, pretty cock almost hits you in the face. He taps the head on your lips a few times, then strokes himself against your mouth. The warmth of his cock rubbing all over your puffy lips. “Open up.”

Ushi’s quick to pop his fingers in and out of your hole to, rubbing over your clit again and again with rough but precise motions that drive you crazy. Every touch pulling the coil in your stomach a bit tighter. Each time he pulls out his fingers with a lewd pop, you feel slick run down your cunt and inner thighs, and shiver. “Wet. Still so wet for me.” He’s not wrong, and the knowledge makes your face burn like an inferno, closing your eyes as Tobio’s cock head sides past your lips. Big and heavy, he pushes it deep in with just one thrust ans makes your eyes water— so you close them.

Let him grab your face and use you, as Wakatoshi plays with your pussy and then pushes off his own pants and boxers too. You don’t need to see him to feel the way his cock twitches as he presses it against your ass and then between your legs. He’s so thick you have to widen your stance a little, and the brunet hums in agreement at the sight. “Good girl. You’re cute like this.” Tobio chuckles softly, and thrusts deep into the back of your mouth until you gag.

“Really cute, for sure.” Though you wanna glare at him through your lashes, he’s big enough to have the back of your mouth ache after just a few sucks. So you pop his cock out to take a deep breath, drool and precum on your lips and tongue, and suck his balls into your mouth instead. One at a time, until Tobio’s eyes go tighter and he bites his bottom lip. “Fuck, that’s it. You’re good at that.”

You don’t get to linger in the praise, because the brunet behind you pushes into your cunny with a low groan. So slowly you feel every inch he slides in more, more, more until he bottoms out the last bit in one sharp thrust, and knocks the air right out of your lungs. “Still my favorite pussy, so tight—shit.”

“Take my cock in your mouth again, little one, g-good, like that.” Tobio throws back his head to moan your name under his breath, then pushes you back a bit more until he’s fully fucking into your face. Until drool runs down your chin, and he pants a string of swears. “God, that’s it. How does she feel?”

“Like heaven.” Then Wakatoshi starts thrusting with a rhythm enough to make you go cross eyed, far into your soft, plushy walls. He bounces you on his cock as each pump into you hits that spot just right, and doesn’t stop rubbing your puffy nub even when you reach back to grab for him. Tobio keeps abusing your throat until tears and spit running down your face, and Ushi doesn’t stop either. The coil pulls too tight. You pull off Kageyama just quick enough as your thighs flex and shake, and white and black comes over your closed eyes hard. “Fuck— Toshi, Tobio-hg—angh. Stop, stop, ‘s too much—fu-ugh.”

“Cumming already?” Tobio chuckles, stroking his cock in his hand with a wet noise. You rest your head against his hip as you shake and shudder under your orgasm.

You’re clenching hard enough to slow the thrusts to a crawl, but only just, and as soon as he gets enough room— he starts fucking you again, just as hard into your overstimulated body. “We’re not done, doll.”

“We’re sending you back with a medal. Now, ‘aah’.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2022. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

SHINEE’s Jonghyun left us at 27.  SHAWOLS deserve a warm hug from every fandom right now.

You all know how we feel sad when our artist has the smallest bruise on their body or do not tweet for 2 days and we start missing them … imagine losing the one who gave you some hope and joy in life forever. 

Shawols, dear Shawols. beautiful Shawols who are as blue and impressive as the vast sea. As a BTS’ ARMY, I will stand by you. And as a human, I will cry with you. Even if you grieve, be proud you followed that man. I am another group’s fan but I knew all along how very respected, talented and loved he was. He also took care of BTS along with the other Shinee members. They are great and loving seniors.

He may have left this world but every artist who touches hearts lives forever. So bear him warmly is your core. And draw him smiling and happy in your memory.

Shinee is a gem that needs to keep on shining like it always did. It’s at this time that you will need to stand by them the most. Stay strong and united. 

My deepest condolences go to his family, friends, fans, and Korea as a whole that just lost one of its immeasurable voices and souls. Rest in peace Jonghyun. You were so beaming, it will never dim.

Confirmed by his company SM HERE

You can have my isolation You can have the hate that it brings You can have my absence of faith You can have my everything Help me Tear down my reason Help me It's your sex I can smell Help me You make me perfect Help me become somebody else

Closer- Nine Inch Nails

This song is from the album The Downward Spiral, which is about a man's descent into madness and ending in suicide.  This particular song is centered around how this man hates himself and escapes his insecurities through "love-making". He is obsessed with the person he is singing to, and views the person as their only connection to life. The album is full of songs with under-lying meanings and darker themes. The way Trent twists the lyrics to create these themes is amazing and improved his music all the more.