Sympathy for the Archangels Playmate

She wasn't violent. Just because she wanted desperately to tear open a man's chest from his collarbone down to the tip of his penis, so she could stick her hands between his ribs before pulling them back so she could hold his most intimate parts in her dirty hands so he couldn’t hide from her prying eyes and she could feel alive… Didn’t mean she was violent.

Even angels get lonely sometimes.

Guardian angels Dilemma

Her body waved with the ocean, the last of her strength was long gone along with her ability to breathe, to move, to speak- her fatal mistake left only her consciousness. Thank her Goddesses for that.

She laid face up, floating, even though her body was filled with so much water that her stomach, lungs and chest were overflowing with the substance. Her eyes were glued to a never ending sky. She watched her world pass her by. Time passed in inconsistent flashes even though her eyes were wide open- she saw the sky change in blinks rather than a continuous stretch of time- even that still would’ve left her confused as to how this came to be.

To watch over your parallel self live their life is a form of torture that even the devil cringes at.

Still Waiting

She heard Writer sigh, she heard the drumming of their fingertips on what she could only assume was her world’s atmosphere. Her stomach turned as she realized they would change it soon. Delection. “No…” More tapping and Aisha’s arms twitched, she bit her tongue ready to hurl. She braced herself, the tapping started again and her strings whipped wildly yanking her all which ways. Her arms spasmed moving backwards as her words were ripped from her mouth. Her body jerked unnaturally, popping joints, forcing her mouth to a stitched smile. She held her breath waiting for Writer to whip her body back to its natural state. At the speed of light she jerked back to the blocked out men. Her strings untangled themselves. Her mouth opened, her face twisted as though she had been insulted by an angel. She pointed a finger at no one, speaking with a fire imposed on her by someone who claimed to know her.
Writer spoke and so did Aisha, “I've been here since the dawn of the ends of the time before your mother’s mother breathed her first wretched breath. Cover your insolent mouth before I sew it shut.”

Love and Something Else

Love just isn't enough. Never has been. Never will be.

Sweat rolled off their bodies onto the now dirty, twisted sheets, ribbons of white hit the sheets as well. A flushed face looked up at him euphoria radiating off him in waves. Talon pulled out and laid beside Zach to catch his breath as the sensations of only moments ago rocked his body with pleasures his body craved. The satisfaction didn’t last long though. No matter how much they did, or what Talon did he never felt satisfied. He got off from the power trips, the pain he could inflect or be inflected with. 
No he doesn’t want to kill anyone or hurt anyone too much. He just wants to see the panic, feel them squirm, hold them down prevent them from reaching the top before he does then bring theirs on twice as hard. Let them know who’s in charge. Or let them teach him a lesson on dominance. Punish him for being a tease in public or starting a fight over pizza that lasts too long. The feel of a hand beating his backside until he submits to their power is something he would always crave.