#Fuzzed and Buzzed
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Dreams of Consciousness Podcast Episode 383 features an interview with Peter Turik and Myles Deck of Witchrot.
Watch on Youtube Listen on Youtube Music Listen on Apple Podcasts (IOS) Direct Download [right click + "Save As"]
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My thanks again to Peter and Myles for speaking with me, and to you for listening.
Music In This Episode:
"Colder Hands" "Devil in Your Eyes" taken from the album Hollow
"Spineless" "Tombstone" taken from the album Soul Cellar Witchrot on Facebook
Witchrot on Bandcamp Witchrot on IG
Soul Cellar on the Majestic Mountain Records webstore
fuzzedandbuzzed.com
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slasherscream · 8 months ago
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this isn’t really an ask but i’m just thinking about josh washington fisting his cock to the thought of you and he’s not even thinking about sex he’s just thinking about mundane things like how you brush your hair or how you press a kiss against the beauty mark on his shoulder, he’s just so madly in love with you that he can’t contain himself
getting off from thinking about someone and the thoughts aren't even sexual... *paris hilton voice* that's hot
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eurazba · 5 months ago
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The griffin Bronie Bee has been divided into it's base animal components, has science gone too far?
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autisticaradiamegido · 7 months ago
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day 316
britney, and all those cultures who incorporate hair-cutting as a grief ritual, and uhhh monks? i suppose? were correct. sometimes your mental health takes a sharp turn, and to achieve peace you MUST become more bald.
tho admittedly the vibe is a lot less jovial than last time (which. wow its been 3 fucking years since i shaved my head??? good lord)
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fuzzkaizer · 1 year ago
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SUNN - BUZZ
"a great little fuzz. FZ-1-esque but more fuzz, sustain, and cleanup."
cred: instagram.com/blackstrap_electrik
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tfc2211 · 4 months ago
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Chris Farlow And The Thunderbirds – Buzz With The Fuzz (1965)
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whoredmode · 1 year ago
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new character concept for modern day: ultor social media manager. i feel like that could be an activity character. mayhem maybe. paying you to either ruin ultor’s reputation further bc they hate their job (tho maybe this would make their job harder?) or to do something so ultor can come out looking better. maybe some iteration on the FUZZ activity but instead of doing shit for a TV show it’s for content for their account.
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Witchcraft | Grave Speaker | Waste Cult | Yama | Komatsu | Håndgemeng | Paralyzed | Slumbering Sun | Snakemother | Witchrot | Miss Lava
Direct Download [hold + "Save As"]
Music On This Mixtape:
Witchcraft: "Burning Cross" taken from the album "Idag"
Grave Speaker: "Bones and Steel" taken from the album "Rays of the Emerald Sun"
Waste Cult: "Ad Astra" taken from the album "Blame"
Yama: "Naraka" taken from the Yama / L'Ira del Baccano split "Tempus Deorum"
Komatsu: "Welcome to the Underworld" taken from the album "A Breakfast For Champions"
Håndgemeng: "Medieval Knievel" taken from the album "Satanic Panic Attack"
Paralyzed: "The Witch" taken from the album "Rumble & Roar"
Slumbering Sun: "Midsommar Night's Dream" taken from the album "Starmony"
Snakemother: "Sacrum" taken from the album "Snakemother"
Witchrot: "Throat Cutter" taken from the album "Soul Cellar"
Miss Lava: "Evil Eye Of A Witch" taken from the album "Under a Black Sun"
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nerdalmighty · 2 years ago
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Having a bit of a David Tennant crisis right now lol?
-Anntickwittee
Oh, was it obvious?
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eurazba · 4 months ago
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Happy 5 Years my darling @yourdragonsareglowing
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bunnis-monsters · 5 months ago
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🎄NSFW 🎄
warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut
Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.
You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.
“Mama, what’s Christmas?”
Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.
“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”
One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”
They all let out a collective “ooo”.
This was the beginning of the end.
The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.
“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”
“A-and I want to see Santa!”
“Mama, are we elves?”
Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.
Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.
“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”
That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.
A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”
“Oh dear…”
It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.
First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.
So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.
You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.
It was difficult not to laugh.
After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.
“Alright, let’s go home.”
Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.
And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.
The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.
Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.
They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.
The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.
They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.
“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.
Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.
When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.
And every single one of them was hard.
“My queen~!”
You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”
All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.
Your body.
Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.
And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.
You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.
“Is this okay, my queen?”
“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”
It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.
Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.
But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.
You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.
You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.
It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!
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tequilaqueen · 10 months ago
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giys
i like i need sleep
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differenteagletragedy · 2 months ago
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To me, Simon has the dumbest hair 90% of the time because he just buzzes it himself (I cannot believe that man pays money to one, do something he could theoretically do himself, and two, spend time with a stranger). The other 10% it's good -- when he first cuts it, an eighth of an inch of pale fuzz left behind, and when it just starts growing out, that's fine. But a lot of the time, especially when he's at home, he just lets it go.
And you, his next door neighbor, will never not give him shit about it.
"You look so goofy," you tell him when you see him in the hallway, one arm holding your groceries and the other fiddling with your keys. "Just cut it, Jesus Christ."
He rolls his eyes or tells you to fuck off, because you've known each other long enough for that kind of thing. He's lived in the building for years, never having seen a reason to leave, and you've been there for a few yourself. You're friends in the way that you may not call or text or schedule time to hang out, but you can scarcely think of anyone you see more often.
"Seriously," you go on, unlocking your door and speaking louder so he can hear you when you go inside. "It's just like two inches sticking straight off your head, why are you walking around like that?"
"Doesn't bother me," Simon answers, moving to lean against your doorframe and watch you as you put up your things. "Seems to bother you an awful lot though."
Your back is to him while you move around your kitchen, but you can tell he's smirking, and you scoff.
"Yeah, it bothers me. You get a face like that and you go and screw it up with the dumbest excuse for a haircut I've ever seen."
It's not the first time you've flirted with him, or even the most direct time, but it still gives him pause. He doesn't wear his mask when he's not working, most of the time anyway, because he thinks it draws too much attention and he'd prefer to just slip into the shadows wherever he goes. But you seeing him, and you letting him know that you like what you see, it does something to him, every time.
"You cut it then," he says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You're the one so torn up about it, you fix it."
You snort, finally turning back to him, saying, "I'm not a barber, stupid."
"No, you sure seem like a coward though."
A few minutes later, you're both in Simon's bathroom. He's got his shirt off, straddling the toilet so you can reach his head, and you're behind him with clippers in your hand, looking down at him. You've never seen this much of him, never even seen the place where his tattoos stop on his arm, and it's a lot to take in.
You want to take your time, commit every scar, every freckle to memory, but he turns his head, smirking again.
"Told you you were a coward."
Without a word, you turn on the clippers and get to work.
It's not hard, it's just a buzzcut. The hard part is in touching his ears, gently pushing the lobes down to trim around them. It's in sneaking glances over his shoulder to watch his chest as it rises and falls while you work. In trying not to notice the tiniest little hitch in his breath when you lean in closer and rest your hand on his back while you get the hairs on the back of his neck.
The worst part though, is the beauty mark that sits perfectly in the place where his neck meets his shoulder. Specifically, the worst part is the strong, almost uncontrollable urge to bite it.
When you're done, you turn off the clippers and set them on his bathroom counter, then dust off his shoulders for him. Just before he stands, you can't deny yourself any longer -- you won't be able to reach it when he's not sitting so perfectly like this -- and give a quick, soft kiss to the mark.
During all the time you've known Simon, he's barely responded to your flirting. To you, he doesn't seem interested, and to him, you don't seem serious. But a kiss, faint as it may have been, is different, and before you can register it, he's on his feet, turned and standing over you.
"Hair looks better," you say softly.
He grunts in response, and before you know it, his mouth is covering yours, hot and insistent. It's a heady feeling, having him so close, and before you can get used to it, his hands are on you, first on your waist, then on your hips, then on the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up and holds you against him.
He maneuvers you both out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom, where he unceremoniously tosses you on his bed. You look up at him, letting your eyes trail freely over his body now, going down when you see him place his hands on his belt.
"Not so mouthy now, are you?"
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prosypepper · 8 months ago
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this is love ft. kento nanami
a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!
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"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.
"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.
"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.
"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"
in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.
"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.
"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.
"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."
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"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.
"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.
you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.
"there you are—when did you get that?"
kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.
but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.
"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.
"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.
after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.
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"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.
"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.
"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.
"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."
"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.
after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...
and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.
kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.
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music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.
kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.
you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.
kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.
you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.
in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.
in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.
and this, is love.
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softbabybelle · 6 months ago
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make the new fic a series thank
corruption 002. 𓍯𓂃 r ֶָ֢cameron
rafe cameron x shy!reader
𝜗𝜚 summary : you've been avoiding rafe since your shared moment in his bedroom and he's been trying to reach out to you by every means possible. of course he finds you at a fucking glitter party.
𝜗𝜚 words : 2.6k
𝜗𝜚 c!w : drinking, weed, icky men, use of 'slut', violence, swearing, suggestive.
part 1, part 3.
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to say you'd been avoiding rafe cameron was putting it very, very lightly.
you hadn't uttered a word of the moment let alone the kiss you'd shared with your best friend's older brother to anybody. much less to sarah. you were sure she'd murder you both before you could finish the sentence.
but you couldn't help it, the kiss had plagued your memory.
it stung when you tried to think of anything else. you were so buzzed, a floaty feeling as your head turned to nothing but pure fuzz. rafe's hands were big and warm, fitting around your waist like a glove and his lips oh so soft. you'd never kissed anyone before him, and you were sure now that you never again wanted to kiss anyone but him.
rafe had a pretty good idea why, though was still slightly confused to your sudden detachment.
he knew you were shy, practically cowering in on yourself when any attention was directed your way. he knew he was pushing you, all but forcing your hand when offering you a blunt and not wasting a minute asking are you sure? before crashing his lips into yours.
though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't growing frustrated with the sudden radio silence.
he walked through the doors of kelce's house. he'd been here a number of times, especially for events just like the one tonight.
rafe had to hand it to him. kelce knew how to throw a house party.
despite the blaring music around him and the glitter that was swarming him, all he could think of was you. he'd tried getting a hold of you on various occasions but it was as if you'd fallen off the map. he wondered why you hadn't visited sarah until he found her in the kitchen, stating that she was off to your house.
meaning you had been avoiding him. hell, you'd been avoiding tannyhill altogether.
"man, my fucking eyes." rafe actually had to hold a hand to his eyes when he took sight of topper. kelce had been trying this new thing where he added a 'theme' to each of his houseparty's. tonight's theme was glitter.
topper's face was decorated in gold glitter, swarming through the golden locks of his hair and dripping onto his white shirt. "where's your glitter?"
an annoyed squint was all he offered. "i'm not putting that shit on me."
"kelce isn't gonna be happy. we're supposed to be supporting this whole 'theme' thing." rafe rolled his eyes as topper spoke. they moved through the house, making their way to the living room where most the party was.
kelce's house was huge and the kook's sure as hell filled it.
"dude." the sight of kelce filled his vision. he was seated on the couch, his arm strewn across the back, around some girl rafe didn't care to know the name of. "where's your glitter?"
but his words fell on deaf ears.
rafe's eyes were too busy travelling across the room, landing on you.
you weren't sitting on the couch with your friends or the chairs behind you. you were seated on the carpet, hands playing with a dainty bracelet that you often wore on your wrist. rafe wondered for a moment were you messing with it to soothe the anxiety he knew was bubbling in you. you didn't often come to things like these.
you were dressed in a white, almost silverish dress with two thin straps winding around your shoulders. he swore you never showed so much skin in public, usually a cardigan drawn over you.
pink glitter dusted your hair and he could see it faintly tracing your skin along with your eyelids and your nails painted the same glittery pink.
he was almost getting sick of the glitter everywhere, but you seemed to be changing his mind on the matter.
the chatter continued through the room and they quickly turned their attention away from rafe. you, however, couldn't seem to. you felt your cheeks heat up at the mere sight of him.
how could you ever look him in the eyes again? especially after that night. you'd been so desperate, asking him with a please to kiss you. you'd rutted your hips subconsciously against him, all doey eyed and all but begging for his lips. you'd never done such a thing, acted such a way. you were sure you could never face him ever again after it.
but rafe only took that as a challenge.
you watched as he walked towards you, plopping onto the free armchair you'd chosen to sit next to. like this, he could have fooled himself into thinking you were sitting pretty on your knees for him.
"hey, sweetheart." his tone was a soft greeting, lips playing into a quirk.
a squeaked out "hi." was his response before you whipped your head away from him, turning red in the face. the colour of your cheeks almost matched the glitter in your hair.
"leave her alone." sarah was dressed in a shimmery gold dress, almost the same shape as yours. it was apparent that you'd been matching. yet she also found a way to match with her boyfriend, same golden glitter decorating her face as his did. "she doesn't need you following her around like a dog."
rafe rolled his eyes, watching his sister blow out the smoke from a blunt and pass it off to her boyfriend. it appeared as though two blunts were going around the circle gathered in the middle of the living room. most people at the party were off doing their own thing. they wouldn't dare join.
"it's―it's okay, sarah." your meek words caused sarah's brows to furrow while rafe's face only went slack, a smirk filled with pride falling across his lips.
you didn't often speak up to sarah.
but you did, for him. perhaps it was just a quiet argument, nothing extreme. but to rafe? well he thought you ought to gain a reward.
"y/n?" your eyes snapped across the room to a boy on the couch. rafe believed his name was max, dark hair and dark eyes, shorter than himself. "you want a pull?"
a breathy giggle passed your lips as your cheeks turned pink for a reason nobody but rafe knew. "no, thank you." was your gentle response.
good girl rafe uttered in his head.
as if on cue, your eyes glanced up at him where he sat on the armchair. he gave you the smallest of nods, one not perceptible to anyone but you.
and you knew as you squirmed on your knees that you'd done the right thing.
"please." a huffed laugh fell from sarah. "y/n would have to be possessed by satan himself before she'd touch weed."
again, your eyes flickered back to rafe, this time more hesitantly.
he had this amused look on his face, as if he could read you so well. and he could. perhaps that was the scary part. these people surrounding you, they'd known you for forever. sarah was your best friend, you were closer with nobody else in the world, you told her all your filthy secrets and she shared all of hers.
but rafe... it was rafe who seemed to know you the most out of everyone in the entire room.
he was aware of your filthy little secret, not sarah.
she was completely naive to you sitting in her brothers room, atop his lap, glazed over eyes as you begged him over and over again to kiss you, a blunt being passed between you two.
a shaky breath left your lips and you stood. "'m gonna go get a drink."
"there's juice in the fridge!" kelce called after you, knowing you wouldn't actually dare drink any of the other beverages he had to offer. alcohol simply wasn't your 'scene'.
apparently weed was.
you didn't actually make it to the kitchen, though. rafe stopped you in the hallway before you could, his large hand coming to wrap around your upper arm.
skin on skin.
your head felt suddenly floaty. "shit." he let go of your arm once you were backed against the wall, swallowing thickly. "there's fuckin' glitter everywhere." wiping his hands against his jeans, coating it with pink glitter.
you frowned at his words. "'s on theme." you mumbled.
you were acutely aware of how trapped you were, between the wall and rafe's towering body. you never realised how tall he was until he was so close to you. "why are you avoiding me, huh?"
you couldn't look at him. you couldn't be this close. you couldn't. you couldn't. you couldn't.
all you could think of was his hands on your waist, his lips on your own. you could have let out a whimper at the mere flashback. "'m not."
"don't give me that shit, princess." his two fingers hooked under your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him. this is when you panicked, eyes turning wide as saucers, top lip biting your bottom, as much as he'd told you to stop beforehand. "what, you're gone all shy 'cause you knew you wanted me to fuck you, is that it?"
for the first time, words slipped so easily from you. "rafe!" hands reached up, trying to cover his mouth.
you should've known better than that, though.
his hand swiftly grabbed your wrist, pushing it downwards. you were sure it'd leave a mark by morning. in a strange way, you hoped it did. a mark of his fingers digging into your skin. like his touch would still be there by the time you woke in your bed.
"scared people'll hear, huh? scared they won't think you're the good girl you're pretendin' to be?" he tilted his head gauging your reactions. "asked you a question, angel."
his grip tightened on your wrist and you couldn't help but whimper out, "yes." aware of the many bodies surrounding you, anyone could have easily spotted you two.
perhaps that was the upside to kelce inviting every single person to have ever lived on figure eight to his house parties. they were a bunch of nobodies. they didn't know you and you didn't know them. they didn't matter. what mattered was rafe, standing right in front of you, bending down lower so his lips could reach your ear.
"worried what they think, huh? 'n 'm the only one in this whole fuckin' house who knows who you are." suddenly his fingers softened against your chin, rough hold loosening while his fingers traced gently across your cheek. "so worried about what they think of you. y'can still be my good girl, yeah?"
you swore then and there that rafe had ripped every pretty thought that had ever developed in your head.
you were totally and utterly dumb.
and all you could offer him was a haste nod.
"y/n?" rafe allowed his hands to fall away from your skin at the sound of your name being called. you blinked, trying to come back to reality after rafe had messed you up completely. you were met with the sight of max, looking dangerously between the two of you. "he bothering you?"
you looked up at rafe in confusion while the blonde boy merely made a scowl at max. "wh―no, no he's not bothering me." your voice was sickly sweet, innocence radiating off it.
you didn't understand max's intentions.
that was why you were safe with rafe, who would make sure no man ever got to act on such thoughts.
none but himself. of course.
"come outside 'n smoke a blunt with me, then, yeah?" once again, your brows furrowed at his words. you didn't really know max all that well, just that he was a newfound friend of topper's. he moved to the outerbanks not too long ago.
"dude, are you deaf?" it was rafe who responded, instinctively standing out further than you, almost as if he were shielding you from the boy. "she said no, what―five fuckin' minutes ago?"
max's eyes squinted. "listen, with all due respect, wasn't fucking talking to you."
rafe's lips quirked upwards, tongue digging into his cheek. you looked nervously between the boys. "yeah, well you're talkin' to me now. fuck off 'n find someone else to go smoke a blunt with, yeah?"
"think i'll take this one, actually." you felt the boy reach out for you, grabbing your upper arm and dragging you forward. you stumbled as he did so, his grip made from seemingly iron.
rafe's face dropped almost instantly. his eyes glared at the hand that held you. his eyes flickered up to your face, head bent, nervously biting your bottom lip while your face contorted into a kind of stinging pain. "get your fucking hands off of her."
"yeah?" max suddenly pulled you closer, hitting your back against his chest. your eyes went wide as they looked for rafe's. you wouldn't admit it aloud, but sudden white hot fear filled your chest. "or what?"
a breathy chuckle left rafe's lips as he nodded to himself. it was almost as if he were mulling a thought over. it didn't take him long to decide.
max didn't get to let out another word before rafe was throwing a punch across his face, knocking the breath out of him.
the boy stumbled backwards, shouting out a swear and clutching his face. you felt rafe's hands immediately win you back, pulling you closer to him as your breath picked up. your eyes glanced around the house, a hundred eyes suddenly all looking at you. you didn't like this. you didn't like any of this at all. and it was all your fault.
"rafe." you practically whimpered out, hand tugging at his sleeve. you could feel tears welling in your waterline. "please, let's just g―"
"take her." max was wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. "don't fucking want the slut anyw―"
it was safe to say that max didn't get to finish his sentence because before you could do anything to stop it, rafe was discarding you. he was practically on top of max within a blink of an eye.
you called out for rafe, begging him to stop.
you didn't want any of this, and it was all your fault.
panic filled you and suddenly there was too much air in your lungs. you felt wet hot tears against your cheeks and you tried getting rafe to stop but too many people were surrounding you now, enclosing in on you.
people knew you were shy. you didn't like meeting new people or talking in groups.
but it went so much deeper than that.
the people surrounding you made your head fuzzy. the loud noises of screaming and yelling, some telling him to stop, some egging him on further. it was all beginning to get too much and you couldn't feel yourself breathe.
you only allowed yourself to leave out a breath when topper and kelce came running through the crowd, pushing people apart to get to rafe. they all but pulled the blonde boy off of max, kelce holding him by his chest and telling him to relax.
you couldn't actually hear anything, you could just see lips moving.
everything was a blur.
rafe was yelling back at kelce, half explaining-half shouting past him to max.
he didn't stop until his gaze reached your watery eyes.
"rafe!" you could hear sarah yelling from beside you. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"
you wanted to stay to help the boy. oh you did dearly. he'd done so much for you already. but you were a coward and the panic in your chest, the frosty fear in your stomach. it wasn't going to simmer away while you stared at rafe, hands all bloody and knuckles split.
so you turned.
and you ran from it. from all of it. from him.
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dreamsofconsciousnessmetal · 2 months ago
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Witchrot are a Canadian doom metal band with heavy psychedelic/shoegaze influences. Their second full-length Soul Cellar will be released on May 23rd via Fuzzed and Buzzed Records.
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