#I put in my earplugs but I can still feel the vibrations

[bigdealsgoddog]

I dont know if you take requests but imagine DG with a bratty reader where he buys her anything she wants but one day hehad enough of her behaviour amd just start punishing her by fucking us roughly.Even though it had to be a punishment we still enjoyed it.I hope you can take this request if not its ok.And keep up the good work.

I Do take requests! They just sometimes take me a long ass time cause i get busy very quickly lmaO However if yall wanna see more activity there is the discord server linked in my bio 👀

Anyway I do apologize for this one taking as long as it did, I do have a bit of trouble writing for DG i've noticed But heres a fun little drabble of implied!sugardaddy DG x bratty!reader CW: Blindfolding, Deafening(Earplugs), Implied edging, Choking, punishment, overstimulation, Bondage, Toys, brat taming

You let out a moan as you felt him curl his fingers inside of you, your arms tugging at the rope that bound you to the bed. You couldn’t see anything-making it impossible to know where he was going to touch next as his hand that wrapped around your throat quickly pulled away to pinch and play with your nipples, making you let out your moans loudly.

     What was it that was getting you this treatment? You had to be a damn brat and try to cause problems. Constantly complaining he wasn’t giving you enough attention, whining to him when your outfit wasn’t the right shade you wanted, giving that fake sugary voice you put on when you wanted him to buy you something and your little tantrums you throw when he has to leave for work so he thought he’d put you in your place just like he did anyone else. Taking away your senses. He had you tied down to the bed with your ankles tied down at the ends of the bed making it impossible for you to squirm from his touch. He pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss of touch as you wiggled your hips. DG pulled away from you completely, leaving you there with nothing. You whimpered for him but you couldn’t even hear your own voice thanks to the damn earplugs he made you wear. It made it so much harder when he grabbed a vibrator, turning it on and pressing it against you. 

    A squeal was ripped from your throat as your back arched and you tugged at your binds, the sensations making your entire body shake as he slowly moved up your body, leaving kisses from your stomach up to your chest before he wrapped his hand around your throat. It was the moment as his hand squeezed around your throat he shoved the vibrator into you that you remembered his warning-his little threat. 

    “You better tell me when you’re about to cum. Cum without telling me and I won’t stop making you cum even if you’re begging and crying me not to-got it?” You could tell he was trying to get you to cum before you could even think of the words as he started to pump the toy in and out of you, squeezing your throat tight enough to cut off your oxygen. As you feel your thoughts begin to grow fuzzy, he let go of your neck and started thrusting the toy harder, making you practically scream “Fuck! Fuck DG-Dg gon-” Before you could finish you threw your head back to let out a moan as you came, your body shaking with the toy as he continued to pump it in and out of you “DG-DG-Too much! Too much!-” Your words are cut off as he squeezed your throat tightly, the message getting itself across 

   “What did I say, brat? You didn’t warn me in time. Beg all you want, I'm not stopping.”

[welcome-to-the-whumpfest]

Master’s Guest

Masterlist

________

“Now, my little angel, I figured you’d throw a tantrum if I gave you coloring books, so I’ve given you some homework to occupy your attention.” Angel’s master gleams, his green eyes twinkling with charm. Angel scrunches up his nose, obviously annoyed, but, unfortunately for him, his master loves it when he makes those adoring faces, and his grin only widens.

Creep. The black-haired boy discards in his mind. Of course, his master hears every word and raises his eyebrow. “Do I really need to punish you right before our company arrives?”

Angel takes the workbook out of his master’s hands with a huff.

“That’s better, but I’m still sensing some attitude and you haven’t responded.

Stopping his inner voice from name calling, Angel clenches his fists and replies full of self-loathing sprinkled with annoyance. Good Lord! He’s annoyed, not hatefully raging against his master. Since when did he become so accustomed and naturally okay with this treatment? “You don’t have to punish me.”

“You’ll be good?”

“Yeah.”

“Angel.” It’s a warning whenever he uses his real name.

“I’ll be good…” A slight pause as what feels like bile rises in his throat when he adds, “Master.”

“Wonderful! See, you’re getting better; I’ll have to reward you sometime.”

Angel just glares daggers at him, but something behind his fiery eyes is tired and… empty – almost submissive. There’s no point in fighting seeing as his master keeps getting what he wants one way or another. He’s conditioning Angel, and it’s working. There’s a point to the endless beatings and the even more dreaded comfort. Everything is so tedious, and there isn’t a reason for Angel to resist, unless he’s trying to slow the process down – which he’s definitely done more than a handful of times. Still, there’s something keeping his master from taking the next step. Angel isn’t sure what it is, and he’s not certain he wants to find out.

“Now, my little one, don’t move from this seat. I also have one more thing for you to help you concentrate.”

For the love! Angel growls inwardly as his master reveals earplugs. Are you serious!?!

“Yes, dearest, I am. Look to your left.”

His master doesn’t even have the decency to let Angel put them in on his own. Instead, his head was forced to one side and then the other, his master’s fingers never leaving his skin. Directly before his master covered up the last of his hearing, he whispered, “Just remember I can hear every word you’re thinking. So, be good and respectful, alright?”

And just like that, all sound dissipates, leaving Angel with a symphony of his own heartbeat.

Angel’s master leaves him on the couch as he exits to another room. Finally looking down to examine the book in his lap, Angel realizes it is a workbook of some kind. Science by the looks of it. His master had already invaded his mind and is aware of his love and passion for science back when he was younger. When he had a possible future. When he thought he could get into a university without being caught. When he thought he had a chance as a disguised Ordinary.

It didn’t take long for Angel to figure out why he was given this “generous” task. He couldn’t hear anything, and yet his master wanted him to be focused on something else too. In other words, whoever this guest was, Angel needed to be present, but not “there.”

As he filled out the first question – a chemistry equation – he felt vibrations from the floor. Glancing up, his skin instantly pales, his hands freeze around the mechanical pencil, and his eyes widen like a deer in headlights as he is greeted by a round, distinguished face with a million-dollar grin.

The Collector.

The larger man gives a friendly wave in his direction before sitting down across from him in a recliner. He looks relaxed and far too happy to be here. Angel’s master follows him, carrying two glasses of what looks like tea and placing them on the antique coffee table between the two, before settling down on the couch so close to Angel that their arms are almost touching.

The Collector’s mouth is moving, but Angel hasn’t a clue what he’s saying. The two are involved in what seems like light conversation, and the younger desperately tries to assemble what they are speaking about. A shock ravages through Angel’s being as a familiar hand grips the back of his neck in a warning pushes down firmly, yet gently, forcing him to look down at his workbook. Understanding, Angel bites his lip and works on the next equation, his mind elsewhere. What could they possibly be talking about?

Is this just another way for his master to display the progress they had made together? Is he showing off how docile his seemingly resilient angel is turning out to be? The Collector was undoubtably one of the most successful and well-known Enchanters of his time, and the fact that he is casually sitting across from him and his master only causes him to grow more distributed by the minute. Anxiety threatens to infect his stillness, but Angel tries to push it away and instead answer the next question in the workbook.

The two are probably talking about him, which only succeeds in making him feel sick about the entire ordeal. Why does he even need to be here? It must mean they’re planning on hurting him, teaching him a lesson, or something!

Suddenly, an earplug is removed, and his master’s voice rings out, “Dearest, quit your overthinking. Your nervousness is unnecessary, and frankly, it’s distracting and exhausting. Stop it.”

“If you would stop listening to my thoughts, maybe it wouldn’t be so distracting.”

Before his master can respond, the Collector lets out a belly laugh. “I knew he would still be in there! I’ve missed that feistiness. Everyone else is so boring. You sure I can’t borrow him for a couple days? We’d have so much fun together!”

“I’m afraid not, but I’ll certainly consider it in the future. For now, my little angel has earned himself a punishment for backtalking which will be given later. Not while we have guests.” Angel hates how they speak like he isn’t here. “Where have your manners gone, little one?” His master actually looks disappointed as he stuffs the earplug back in.

Angel grits his teeth in frustration at the condescending remark but pushes away anymore retorts forming on his angered lips.

The Collector and his master continued to talk for quite a while. Angel refrains from watching them and instead makes great headway in the workbook. He decides to focus on his task, seeing as trying to decipher what is being said would be futile. It isn’t until he causally glances up while turning a page that he notices the Collector’s eyes on him. There is an excited look in his eyes and an eager smile to his lips. A shiver runs up Angel’s spine, but he darts his eyes back to the book, very aware of the eyes on him.

After a brief moment, his Master wraps an arm over his shoulders, of which Angel tries to lean forward, causing the arm to fall down his back and away from him. This doesn’t stop his master from returning the touch to the back of his neck again. Angel moves forward again, in a casual show of defiance, but to no avail as the hand remains firm on his neck, gripping it slightly, but not weakly. Angel frowns down at the workbook and tries to ignore the touch. There’s no point in shaking the hand off, even as humiliating as this is.

As Angel finishes another problem, a cool, calming sensation seeps into his neck, reaches towards his shoulders, and down his arms and upper back. Its like water, flowing gently yet rapidly. Looking towards his Master, Angel’s blood freezes. Sure enough, both his Master and the Collector are staring at him – the Collector looks like a starving man staring down his next prey (ready to pounce) and his Master has an eagerness in his deep green eyes that Angel can’t help but feel trepidation sprint through his veins.

Angel jumps up from the couch and whips his head directly back at his Master, taking his earplugs out in seconds and the workbook falling onto the floor, forgotten.

“Angel.” There’s that warning tone again; Master looks disappointed.

“What are you doing?” Angel bites back, anger masking his fear.

Before he can respond, two muscular arms reach from behind, and cross over his chest, slamming his smaller body against the larger man. Without having to think, Angel’s natural instincts kick in. Immediately he starts fighting against the arms capturing him, he kicks back directly where he knows he can hurt the Collector. The gigantic man laughs behind him before lifting the younger off his feet, as if he were trying to crack his back. Because of the sudden sensation rushing through his arms, Angel finds himself unable to summon enough strength to be much of a force against the Collector.

“Get off!” Angel growls. In the back of his mind, he knows he can use his Advance to get the greasy hands off him, but it would be foolish to do so when his Master is so near.

“Angel, settle down.” His Master’s green eyes stare at him, commanding with just a look, “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Yes, little one,” The Collector chuckles directly behind his ear, “This isn’t going to hurt.”

Carefully, Angel’s Master approaches him and leans forward, kissing his sweat dampened forehead. That’s why I should be scared, isn’t it? Angel stares into his Master’s calm face.

No dear. It’s going to feel so good. Don’t worry.

“Don’t touch me.” The strength in his voice is fading.

“Hush, little one. Just breathe.” Without further warning his Master reaches out his hand and cups his angel’s cheek. Stuck between two Enchanters, Angel helplessly stares into those green eyes, apprehension and terror racing through his own crystal-like orbs. Nothing happens at first, but then a cool cleansing feeling reaches into his neck and down his spine. Unable to stop a sigh from escaping his lips, Angel starts to sag in the Collector’s arms. There’s a slight vibration behind him, assumably the man’s weak attempt at concealing his satisfied laugh.

Angel’s Master reaches out to grab both sides of his little one’s face as he slowly allows the spell to overtake the fragile and exhausted frame. “Shh, shh, my sweet one, just relax. Let it take you.”

Overwhelmed by the calming sensation, Angel slips into a blissful state, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and his body slumping against the Collector, the big arms the only thing holding him up. His Master keeps speaking in a soft and gentle manner, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud. The Collector has come to help me find a simple way to reward you. You receive so many punishments, now that you’re getting better I think it’s time you feel a sweeter sensation.”

“He’s so calm.” The Collector breathes, amorous with the feisty one’s sudden surrender. “I’ve seen this spell on others, but there’s something special about him. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“I’d agree with that. Let’s let him sit down for a moment.” Carefully the Collector helps Angel to the couch, sitting down first and bringing the smaller one onto his lap.

“You don’t mind me getting so intimate with your sweetheart?” The Collector chuckled, placing his chin over the hardly conscious one’s shoulder.

“Be my guest. There are limits, but I’m sure you know them.” There’s a hint of hostility, but it disappears with a twinkle in his eye. Angel’s Master sits next to them and grabs his little one’s hand and forearm. “Can you hear me, my little angel?”

“Yes, Master.” His voice is weak and dazed as if being hypnotized.

Perhaps a part of him is.

“Good, my dear, and tell me how you feel.”

No answer. Completely overwhelmed with his nonstop pain and aches dissipating, Angel is left confused and exhausted. He doesn’t want to speak; he wants to fall deeper into this sensation and drop down. His closed eyes wince slightly as if trying to conjure up an answer before going slack against the Collector’s chest again.

“Wow, this really took it out of him.” The Collector chuckles.

Angel’s Master just smiles as he gingerly pushes his little one’s bangs out of his face. Eyes shut and face relaxed, Angel looks younger. Hardship doesn’t weigh on him when he’s like this. It’s like he’s free, momentarily, but still, obviously comfortable.

His Master hasn’t seen him comfortable in a very long time.

Perhaps this reward is for both of them.

“My angel, you may stay this way, but first you must thank the Collector for his generosity in coming all this way and finding the spell.”

The same, emotionless and trance-like voice escapes Angel as he melts onto the Collector’s lap, “Thank you.”

“Oh course, little one. This was well worth it.” The Collector lets the sleeping angel fall back and disappear into his darkened world of bliss.

[closedafterdark]

Since you are so good at writing threesome, can you write one where Yeji is y/n girlfriend, and Ryunjin your both bestfriend and you all decide to do a sleepover at your place only to turn into a night of passionate and wild threesome sex all over the place.

Another boring Tuesday evening means being stuck at home, flipping through channels. Various sport games, news about current events, and a documentary about a baby lion in captivity are just some of the programs that whirl by your eyes that are glued to the screen.

“Where is she, it’s so boring being alone…” you said aloud as your eyes watch a wildebeest get mauled by a lion. Tapping the remote control on the armrest of the sofa, your prayers are answered as your phone screen comes alive and the all too familiar ringtone begins playing. Fumbling around in the darkness of the living room, you managed to find it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby! What are you up to right now?”

“Just bored at home, why?”

“Really? That’s great! Come over, now. I’m horny.”

You answered the call without so much as checking to see who the person on the other line was and before you could do so, it ended and your phone returned to being a dark screen. Although you felt warm and cozy in your apartment, you drove over to your girlfriend’s place as logically she could be the only person to call you at this time to come over. Ringing the doorbell, there is no response from inside until you hear the door unlock and are greeted warmly.

“Hi, baby!” a familiar voice says to you as you are swiftly pulled inside. When the door has barely closed, you feel a pair of soft lips pressed against you as you are pinned against the door. Your eyes widened as you realized who was kissing you.

“Ryu-”

Her kisses were playful, full of mischief as your lips connected to each other passionately. You slowly closed your eyes and let out a satisfied moan in her mouth as she continues.

“Hi, baby!” she repeated again. Shin Ryujin. A woman who you have gotten close to lately in more ways than one. She loved being in control whenever the two of you would get intimate. “So glad you got here so quickly. Mommy’s hungry.”

“Where’s - ahh - where’s Yeji?” you said as Ryujin sucked on your neck.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s fine. Besides…” Ryujin said as she swiftly undressed you before planting a trail of kisses down your chest and stomach. “Mommy will take good care of you.”

Ryujin licks her lips in excitement as she looks up at you and smiles, dropping down to her knees. She bites her lower lip as her soft hand grabs onto the base of your cock. You let out a soft moan as she flattens her tongue and starts from your base and moves upwards. You moan out softly as your body melts from Ryujin’s touch.

Her soft hands are cold, which makes the feeling of them on your cock and balls very satisfying. Her tongue is warm, painting you with her saliva as you look down and are greeted with pure joy and excitement in her eyes. Once you see your cock glistening with her spit, Ryujin strokes your cock at a brisk rhythm. She uses a series of counterclockwise motions and runs her thumb across the slit of your tip as her hands leave you in a weak kneed yet highly aroused state. Ryujin blows hot air on your balls before taking them inside her mouth.

“Oh fuck, mommy…” you said, releasing a loud moan. She uses both of her hands to continue stroking your cock as she gives your balls detailed attention. She sucks on your balls individually, using an intense suction technique before releasing them with a loud pop. You groaned as she used her nails to gently scratch the underside of your scrotum before proceeding to take both of your balls simultaneously into her mouth. You feel her tongue vibrate as Ryujin moans on your balls. You forget to breathe, having been so immersed in the pleasure she is providing you. Eventually she finally releases you from her mouth, both of you gasping for air.

“You like that, baby?” Ryujin asked you, wiping up saliva with the back of her hand as she smiles at you before parting her lips and taking your cock inside her mouth.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned as your cock begins to enter Ryujin’s warm and wet mouth. She flattens her tongue as much as possible as inch by inch of your shaft disappears. She takes you only halfway before slowly retreating from your cock. You whined softly at the feeling of her mouth leaving you as Ryujin leaves only your tip in her mouth. She teases you by repeating these motions several times, squeezing your thighs in order to keep your attention focused on her. She smiles through her eyes as you watched your cock disappearing into her mouth once more.

Ryujin’s lips formed an airtight seal around your cock as you savor the warmth and copious amounts of spit her mouth provides. Her tongue swirls around your tip as you travel in and out of her willing mouth. She keeps one hand on your thigh while her other one fondles your still slightly wet balls, massaging them as she works her magic between your legs. Every action she performed on you was meticulously planned, providing an overall harmony to the performance she was putting on. You let out a steady stream of satisfied moans at the purely erotic act of Ryujin giving you one of her patented blowjobs. As she begins to increase her pace and take your cock deeper inside her mouth, you cannot prevent the moans escaping from your lips from being too loud.

Her hand that was fondling your balls returns to your thigh as she sucks your cock even faster, taking you deep inside her wanton mouth. You feel her lips opening up slightly as the large amount of spit she built up begins to seep out and flood your cock and balls before dripping onto the floor. You reach down and run your fingers through the short dark blue locks of Ryujin’s hair before grabbing both sides of her head. You guided her rhythm, watching her fuck her mouth with your cock as your tip repeatedly strikes the back of her throat. Every bob of her head causes the sounds of Ryujin gagging on your cock to fill the living room. You were afraid she was taking on more than she could handle, but the angry glint in her eyes when you tried removing her head caused you to apologize as she jams your cock as far back into her throat as she was able to.

“Fuck mommy’s mouth, baby.” Ryujin said when she released your cock from her mouth. You grabbed both sides of her head once more pushing your cock into her with short, shallow thrusts in order to get her accustomed to your pace. She takes your initial thrusts well, the sound of your tip hitting her throat providing both of you a satisfied sound. You gradually increased your pace until you are soon rapidly forcing her head down. She maintained eye contact with you the entire time, staring deeply into your eyes as her throat provides a wet satisfying pleasure. The sounds of Ryujin gagging increase in volume as you fuck her mouth roughly. Her hands grip your thighs for support as her spit splashes on her chin and cheeks. You tilt your head back as you continue to push her face into your crotch. Ryujin’s nails dig into your skin as her moans are suppressed by your cock filling her pretty mouth up. You pushed her head all the way down your base, only releasing her after what you believe to be a minute later as well as Ryujin tapping on your thighs. Her mouth released its hold on your cock with another loud pop, allowing you to admire the mess her face has become because of you fucking her face. Her hair began clinging to her forehead as the lower half of her face is covered in her saliva.

Ryujin manages to give you a sweet smile as you see excess strings of spit hanging off her lips and chin. You pouted at her as the both of you began to catch your breath.

“I was about to cum, mommy.” you whined.

“I know baby, that’s why I stopped.” she teased. “You fucked my face so well. But it’s time for the main event.”

Rising to her knees, Ryujin gives you a deep kiss before turning away and booking over her shoulder towards you. Flashing you a mischievous smile, she grabs your cock and strokes you before dragging you into her bedroom. Your heart beats in excitement. This was the first time you were going to have sex with Ryujin in her own bed, most of your time together was at your place or in various hotels.

“Hope you like the surprise, baby.”

Unsure of what she means, her hand continues to stroke your cock as she opens her bedroom door with the other. Expecting her bed to be empty, your eyes widened as you see her roommate, Hwang Yeji, tied to Ryujin’s headboard naked and blindfolded. Her body was fully exposed as you heard the faint sound of a vibrator inside Yeji along with her stifled moans.

“Yeji, are you okay?” you asked.

“It’s no use, baby. Mommy has her tied up and wearing earplugs. She missed out on hearing mommy play with her favorite toy.” Ryujin said, clearly referring to your cock.

Ryujin gently pushes you onto a sofa chair near her desk as she straddles your lap. She places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards her. She grinds her crotch against yours before pushing her hair back seductively and leaning down to give you a passionate and deep kiss. Your lips reciprocate, gently biting her lower lip as Ryujin laughs at your actions. Your hands caress her muscular thighs before reaching her soft, pillowy ass and giving them a gentle squeeze. You raised your hands before giving each of her cheeks a harsh slap. Ryujin moans into your mouth as the two of you continue kissing. She wraps her arms behind your neck while still grinding on your lap. The two of you break the connection of your lips, catching your breath at the same time.

As you removed one hand from her asscheek, you grabbed your cock and slowly began to reposition Ryujin so that you could insert it inside of her. Ryujin notices what you are doing and places her hands on your neck, softly squeezing it.

“Now now, baby. Mommy isn’t that easy to fuck, you know that.”

Getting off your lap, Ryujin goes to her nightstand drawer and looks for something inside. Thinking she was going to sit on you once more, you grab onto her wide hips and pull her closer. Unfortunately, that is what Ryujin wants as in an instant, she ties your wrists together and stuffs a laced fabric into your mouth before you feel another similar fabric being tied to the back of your head.

“That is so you can’t stop mommy as I go over there and give my roommate, your new bitch, some undivided attention. You know baby, I’m really disappointed. Mommy always takes such good care of you and you go and want to find someone else. Well, I can’t have that.”

Your screams are muffled by what your mouth feels to be Ryujin’s thong as you watched her slowly climb onto the bed. She begins by kissing Yeji deeply on the lips. The action takes the older of the two by surprise before she eases into it, reciprocating. Ryujin mirrors what she did on your lap as she wraps her arms around Yeji’s neck, sitting on her lap and moaning as she feels the vibrator inside Yeji vibrate on her own clit. Their kiss is passionate and intense, yet somehow able to maintain a softness to it.

Ryujin has always had a dominant personality, even more so in the bedroom. As Yeji tries and fails to move her arms that were tied to the headboard, Ryujin bites on her lower lip as her eyes become half-lidded with pleasure. You tried to move your hands, realizing the impressive knot work Ryujin has tied you up with. Ryujin’s hands roamed Yeji’s body, wanting nothing more than to touch every single part of her. You watched as they slowly made their way down to Yeji’s ass, squeezing each cheek before giving her several harsh slaps at once. Each causes Yeji to release a loud moan, the sensations of being stimulated by multiple sources as well as the denial of her sight and hearing caused her pussy to leak profusely.

Ryujin’s continued fondling of Yeji’s ass causes Yeji’s mouth to open, releasing soundless moans. Ryujin buries her head into the crook of Yeji’s neck, kissing and sucking on it until she manages to leave a mark.

“K-Kiss, me please…” Yeji whimpers as Ryujin laughs softly and accepts the request. You had to watch in torture as their tongues dueled with each other, the pleasure coursing through Yeji’s body as Ryujin plays with her perky nipples. The two of them shower each other with kisses as Ryujin gently squeezes Yeji’s breasts. While neither of them are large by any means, the way Ryujin fondles them causes your cock to react by pulsing. Ryujin breaks the kiss and licks Yeji’s lips, causing Yeji to whine at the loss of Ryujin.

Ryujin’s impatience begins to show as she removes the vibrator inside Yeji, causing her to breathe a huge sigh of relief. It is short lived though as Ryujin takes two fingers into her mouth and coats them with her saliva before pushing them inside Yeji’s quivering lips.

“Oh fuck…!” Yeji screamed.

Ryujin’s fingertips reached the innermost part of Yeji’s pussy as she turned her head back slightly and smiled at you. You watched as Ryujin’s fingers disappeared in between Yeji’s legs. Pleasure overtakes Yeji’s facial features as Ryujin’s fingers are inserted deeper.

“Look how wet this slut is for mommy, baby.” Ryujin said. “She’s so wet for me, not you.”

Every noise that is released from Yeji’s mouth is a mixture of a scream and a moan as you watch Ryujin’s wrist twist when she adds an extra finger inside.

“She’s tight, baby. I think she’s even tighter than me.”

With only her pinky and thumb not inside Yeji, you watched as Yeji’s legs turned to jelly in the same way yours did when Ryujin gave you head. It seems as if Ryujin performing oral sex on someone has that effect. Yeji desperately tries to lay on the bed but is unable to due to her wrists being tied to the headboard.

“What’s wrong, baby? Want to lie down? Too bad mommy tied you up good.” Ryujin smirked, knowing full well Yeji could not hear a thing. You watched as Yeji’s mouth formed a perfect “O” shape as wordless sounds of pleasure continued to escape her lips.

“I can see why you wanted to fuck her, baby. This slut is so fucking tight. And she’s so drenched, too. I can only imagine how good her pussy felt on your dick.” Ryujin said to you.

You were surprised at how long it has taken for Yeji to cum, as you were sure you wouldn’t be able to if you were in her situation. Her senses are overwhelmed as you watch Yeji’s body wrack with pleasure.

“Oh fuck, baby… I… fuck…” Yeji moaned loudly. “I’m going to…”

Yeji loses control of her motor skills, only responding to Ryujin’s actions with long, passionate moans.

“You want to fuck my boyfriend, don’t you Yeji? You dirty slut. He is my cock before yours. My playtoy. Mine and only mine. Isn’t that right, baby? You only belong to mommy.”

Yeji squirms as she moans softly, wanting to surrender herself to the pleasure while simultaneously prolonging it. Ryujin turns around and smiles at you while squeezing Yeji’s breast.

“You like fucking this body, don’t you baby? Cumming inside this pussy that mommy is playing with?”

What Ryujin doesn’t know is that you have patiently been undoing the knot she has done to your wrists, not beating yourself when you fail at removing it quickly.

Yeji lets out a loud, ear deafening scream as her legs spasm as an orgasm wracks her body. Ryujin holds onto Yeji’s body for support as Yeji’s body shakes and gives in to the pleasure radiating from her legs.

Several long seconds pass as Yeji writhes in pleasure, being supported by Ryujin’s muscular arms, which rub Yeji’s arms and shoulders in comfort. Once Yeji’s orgasm subsides, her skin is visibly flushed and a rosy shade of pink as she slowly begins to regain her senses. Ryujin plans a tender kiss on her lips before removing the earplugs and mask that was covering Yeji’s vision.

As Yeji slowly opens her eyes, her eyes begin to focus on her surroundings. She feels herself tied to a bed and sees a smiling Ryujin on her lap. She gives a weak smile before turning to one side of the room and sees that you have finally freed yourself from Ryujin’s knot work. Opening her mouth to try and say something, she is interrupted as Ryujin crashes her lips against Yeji’s.

Their intimate exchange is interrupted as Ryujin is suddenly removed from Yeji’s lap and her face is pushed into the bedsheets. She turns her head and sees you have managed to free yourself from her fabric. Her eyes widen as you deliver harsh slaps on her ass.

“Mommy thinks she can tie me up and get away with it?” you said, anger in your voice as you squeezed her hips and slap both of her ass cheeks once more. Ryujin moans into the bed as Yeji watches you both intently. Not wanting to waste any time, you help Ryujin up before pushing her head in between Yeji’s legs. You then hold onto her wide hips once more and insert your cock inside her.

“Fuck…” Ryujin moaned, as her eyes opened widely at the feeling of you penetrating her pussy. Yeji bites her lips as she feels Ryujin’s head sink into her pussy. Ryujin gives Yeji slow, long licks from bottom to top as she releases long, drawn out sighs.

Your cock remains inside Ryujin as you are aroused by the two women giving and receiving pleasure. It doesn’t take very long for Yeji’s second orgasm to arrive as she arches her back and writes from head to toe as Ryujin feats upon Yeji’s scrumptious pussy. Her head bobs silently as she feels slow vertical licks on her lips. Yeji’s half-lidded eyes become fully closed as she throws her head back and lets out another soundless scream of pleasure.

The orgasm washes over Yeji’s body as she is now a sweaty, panting mess. The soft bedroom light above the three of you allows you to see the soft rose tint on her cheeks and thighs. Ryujin’s head rises from the work she has done between Yeji’s legs, showing you both her chin and lips glistening from Yeji’s juices. She wipes most of it off before kissing the inner creases of Yeji’s thighs.

“Fuck me, baby.” Ryujin said, in a loud volume that even surprised her. “Fuck mommy now.”

Your cock already inside Ryujin, you filled her to the brim as you savored the feeling of pure pleasure her tight pussy is giving you. As you withdraw your cock until only your tip is inside her, you plunge in and out of her in order to begin establishing a steady rhythm. The bed underneath you all creaks softly as you hold onto Ryujin’s hips for support.

Yeji pushes Ryujin’s head back down onto her own pussy as the three of you form a pleasure train of sorts. The sensations are almost too much for you all - the extreme softness of Ryujin’s thighs as you grip them, the moans coming from Yeji’s mouth from each thrust of yours into Ryujin’s body which pushes her head deeper into Yeji’s pussy. But the feeling that overtakes all others is the feeling of the soft, wet tight silk that is Ryujin’s pussy wrapped around your cock as you fuck her.

“Y-You like fucking her, daddy?” Yeji moaned. “You like fucking that tight pussy that squeezes your cock so tight? You like her moans for you?”

“I do, fuck…” you moaned as you slap Ryujin’s ass.

“Then keep fucking this slut, daddy.” Yeji said as she pushed Ryujin’s head deeper.

This newfound confession increases the speed and depth of your thrusts as you earn eliciting increasingly louder moans from both women. You begin to feel Ryujin push her ass against your crotch, each slam of wet skin against wet skin a symphony of erotica for the three of you to indulge on.

“Fuck!” Yeji screams as Ryujin gently bites on her clit. “Fuck that feels so good!”

Yeji is satisfied for now to watch you fuck Ryujin.

“It’s my turn…” Yeji said, holding Ryujin’s head in order for her to stop. “It’s my turn to be fucked by him. Fuck me, daddy.”

As you stop thrusting inside Ryujin and are about to pull out of her, Ryujin notices this and pushes her ass against you, filling her up once more. She gives you the deadliest glare you have ever seen on her before her eyes turn to Yeji’s.

“He will fuck you when I say he can fuck you. For now, his cock is mommy’s. Isn’t that right, baby? You love mommy’s pussy more, don’t you? Not some slut with daddy issues.”

“H-Hey! He can call me mommy too!”

“Not with this sad excuse of a pussy he won’t. Your pussy doesn’t even grip his cock properly.”

“What are you doing, baby?” Ryujin asked, her icy cold stare terrifying you slightly. “I never told you to stop fucking me.”

“Fuck… fuck me just like this. Baby, that feels so fucking good. Oh fuck!” Ryujin says as you quickly settled into another comfortable rhythm fucking her from behind. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked this slut!”

You increased your pace, your wet cock plunging in and out of Ryujin’s curvy wanton body.

It was just the beginning of a long, body fluid and pleasure-filled night for the three of you.

[tuiccim]

Hot Damn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Platonic!Reader & Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 1073

Warnings: Smut - NSFW 18+ Only!

Prompt: Oct 5 - Oct 11 - Hair Pulling

A/N: This is for HBC’s Kinktober! @the-mcu-horniest-book-club​ & @the-ss-horniest-book-club​/ Divider by @firefly-graphics​​ / Thank you to my badass beta readers @bubbabarnes​ & @fandomsaremylifeline​

“Well, hot damn, Bucks! Don’t you look fine as hell with that new haircut!” You grin at your friend when he walks into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on his face.

“You like it, then?” He ran a hand through the shorter locks.

“You look great! I mean, I loved the long hair, too, but this is hot on you.” You giggle as you run your hands through his hair. “Although, I imagine someone might miss pulling it during sexy times, but there’s still enough to get a handhold.”

Bucky chuckles, a little pink in the face, “We’ll have to see.”

“I’m sure with the poundings you deliver she has nothing to complain about. I had to put in earplugs the other night,” you smirk.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Bucky’s face is bright red at this point. 

“No worries,” you laugh, giving him a hug. 

“What’s going on here?”  Natasha entered the kitchen and eyed the two of you, your arms around Bucky and fondness in his eyes.

“I was reassuring Bucky that the new haircut looks fantastic. Don’t ya think, Nat?” You ruffle Bucky’s hair. 

“Yeah, looks good, Bucky. I’ll see you guys later.” Natasha leaves the same way she came. 

Bucky leans into your ear as she leaves, “you two still keeping it quiet?”

“Yeah, ya know,” you shrug. “I’ll see you later. You really do look good, Buck.”

“Thanks, doll,” he grins. 

You head back to your room but see a text from Nat flashing on your phone: My room. Now.

You walk into her room and smile, “Hi Natty.”

Natasha practically throws you face down on the bed and rips your pants off. 

“Nat!” You exclaim, surprised and slightly turned on by her roughness. “What are you-Oh!” Natasha’s hand landed with a loud smack on your ass. Her knee wedges between your legs, forcing them apart. You feel the hard curve of her strap on press on your ass as she leans over you, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back until she can see your face. 

“Natty?” You whimper, eyes wide. 

“I saw you flirting with Bucky,” she whispers harshly in your ear. 

“He’s just a friend, Natty. He has a girlfriend!” You exclaim. 

“Didn’t stop you from flirting with him. Talking about pulling his hair and him pounding into, well, you said his girl, but you were thinking about it being you, weren’t you?” Nat’s hips are moving against you as she speaks, rubbing the lubed strap against your ass. 

“No, I wasn’t! I swear!” 

“I’m going to fuck you with my strap so hard you won’t be able to think about anything else for days. You won’t have any thoughts of Bucky in that sweet head of yours. Won’t ever question who can pound you into the mattress just the right way. I’ll fuck you dumb. I like pulling on your hair like this, Sweet Girl.” Nat yanks a little and you moan. “And so do you.” She says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. 

“Natty, I only want you,” you whimper. 

“Good. On your hands and knees.” She says and, as you position yourself, she thrusts inside you. You cry out in surprise and pleasure, her hand weaving into your hair again and using it to bounce you on her strap.. She’s chosen one of her bigger straps and you feel an intense stretch as she fucks into you. 

“Fuck, Natty! It’s so big!”

“What’s the matter, Sweet Girl? Can’t take my fat strap?” Natasha teases.

“I can take it, Natty. It’s so good, you’re so good to me.” You whimper as she thrusts harder, pulling your hair more firmly. The coil in you is tightening with each thrust as Nat’s strap stretches you wide and her thrusts hit deep. Nat’s right hand grips your hair and her left hand suddenly descends on your ass again causing you to cry out. 

“Flirting with Bucky.” Another smack rains down. “Probably got him all turned on talking about pulling hair and poundings.” Another slap. “Is this the pounding you wanted?” 

“Yes! So good, Nat!” 

“Who fucks you so good?” Nat says, landing another smack. 

“You do, Natty! Only you.” The coil in you is so tight, “Natty, so close.”

“Cum for me, Sweet Girl. Cum all over my strap.” Nat’s thrusts never slow as the coil in you snaps and she rides out your orgasm. “Good girl. My sweet girl cumming so hard for me. That was what you needed, huh baby? Needed me to fuck you hard.”

As you recover from the intense orgasm, you watch as Natasha undresses and lays on the bed with legs spread wide. “Now, Sweet Girl, come show  me your appreciation.”

You eagerly crawl between Nat’s legs. You meet her eyes as you bring your lips to her clit and flick your tongue against it.You circle her clit and then lave over it with your tongue. You rub your hands over her thighs and mound as the ministrations of your mouth draw moans from Nat.

“Oh, It’s good, sweet girl, so good.” Nat grabs your hair and pulls you more firmly against her. She keeps a firm grip on your hair, holding you in place as you love her with your mouth. You feel Nat’s legs begin to quiver a sign that she’s getting close to her finish and as you look up at her beautiful face twisted in pleasure you can’t help but moan against her. Nat lets out a small cry and you repeat the moan causing vibrations against her clit. Her legs begin to shake with her orgasm and you press your tongue more firmly against her as she bucks against you. You don’t stop, instead sucking her clit hard and watch as her mouth falls open with a cry of pleasure. Quickly, you shove two fingers in her dripping cunt and curl them into her g spot. You fuck into her hard and fast with your fingers while never releasing the pressure from her clit. It takes only a minute for Nat to scream out her second orgasm. You lap at her clit as she comes down. Gentle kitten licks that intensify her aftershock as you watch her writhe from your attentions. 

“Fuck, Sweet Girl, that was amazing.” Nat says breathlessly.

“Maybe I should flirt with Bucky more often,” you smirk as you lean up to kiss her laughing mouth. 

Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist

Permanent: @badassbaker​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @cherthegoddess​ @buckyluvrs​ @sherlocksmanwatson​ @cap-n-stuff​ @finleyjayne​ @caplanreads​ @connie326​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​ @bugsbucky​ @chrisevanscardigan​

Kinktober: @nsfwsebbie​ @thundering-barnes​ @buckycuddlebuddy​ @jobean12-blog​ @eurynome827​ @navegandoaciegas​

The Avengers: @bubbabarnes​ @adorkably​ @chrisevansbaby​ @bluetree76​ @fandomsaremylifeline​ @nourrybirds​

[pontevoix]

# (for tsukishima and yamaguchi, or tsukishima and kuroo, or shirabu and goshiki!) (it's too early for me to make choices hale)

tsukishima

( what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone ) yamaguchi. okay so tsukishima feels very passionately about keeping his phone organized in a very specific away. as in, there are no cutesy nicknames or variations in how he adds contacts. if he has thoughts he wants to add, they go in the notes section. even if his mother is in his contacts by her name —- by her full name. yamaguchi is in tsukishima’s phone by his full name. & that’s because they’re close, because tsukishima considers yamaguchi to be a fixture in his life. people tsukishima keeps at a distance? they’re destined to have only family names in his phone. that means you, kuroo. in tsukishima’s phone, he very stubbornly only has the name kuroo. emphasis on the period! he’s got to punctuate just how annoying he knows kuroo can be, even if kuroo is someone he learns to respect & learns inspiration. in the notes section of kuroo’s contact information, tsukishima also writes unnecessarily: ‘ bad hair, good mb. ‘ good middle blocker. 

( what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone ) yamaguchi had once made a comment about the fact that tsukishima doesn’t use contact photos. tsukishima didn’t understand what the big deal was — if he’s forgotten how one of his phone contacts looks, then it’s probably time to delete them from his contact list. besides that, the photos are small. yamaguchi had proceeded to show his own phone to tsukishima, so that tsukishima could see the the horrendous contact photo yamaguchi had selected for him. tsukishima promptly set yamaguchi’s contact photo to a team group photo & said, ‘ fine. you’re somewhere in there. looks like you might be sneezing though. ‘ which was… a lie, but oh well. kuroo is damned to an eternity of being a grey avatar on tsukishima’s phone. unless tsukishima has the misfortune of letting kuroo have access to his phone. because then . . . well, maybe tsukishima is the one damned to a selfie with kuroo that kuroo locks onto his contact profile. tsukishima is too lazy to delete it. even if the picture is bad. 

( what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone ) bold of you to think tsukishima customizes ringtones. he does try to put kuroo’s number to vibrate though so he has an excuse to miss the call if he needs to. yamaguchi gets full ringtone privileges. 

( my muse’s last text to your muse ) yamaguchi. as much as i adore your landlady, she’s very nosy & has been asking me about myself & my unmarried older brother for 10 minutes the last time i came by & you weren’t home yet. i’m not coming by until you’re definitely there. kuroo. stop smirking through text. i can hear you all the way from here & it’s making me want earplugs. shirabu ( what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone ) unfortunately, shirabu has the tendency of letting people input their own contact information in his phone. it saves time, & it means he can be doing something else while information is being exchanged or social niceties are being performed. unfortunately, this also means that there is a variety of different formats littering shirabu’s contact list. when goshiki had initially typed in his information, he had punctuated his name with !!! lots !!! of exclamation marks !!! & one accidental ?  question mark ? that somehow made a lot of sense to shirabu. goshiki had also rather plugged in a couple sunglasses emojis by the name. which was sad in shirabu’s opinion, but unsurprising. two years later, shirabu showed goshiki this & laughed. & then changed the emoji to a nervous/blushing face to match the expression that goshiki made in response. so we have … goshiki!!!!!!?!!!!! 😎😎😖

( what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone )  when goshiki initially added his contact information, he also snapped a bad selfie of himself that he thought looked okay at the time. five years later, it’s still goshiki’s contact picture. shirabu often forgets about it until he doesn’t. he usually screenshots it & sends it to goshiki with a ‘ lol ‘ attached. 

( what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone ) shirabu doens’t customize ringtones, though he periodically sets goshiki to vibrate (alongside everyone else) because he doesn’t really want to deal with any phone calls. not until he’s older & suddenly everything just... flipflops. he finds himself calling people more often than texting them & leaving voice memos instead of texts. but still… he usually calls when he knows someone else won’t pick up. he’ll usually let goshiki voice to voice message & then decide if he wants to call back.

( my muse’s last text to your muse ) coming over to use your television for the game. lol. 

                     @pridewon​ | cell phone                      

[nautiscarader]

My goodness, 1.5 weeks without my two 23 inch monitors, a mouse with six extra buttons and a normal keyboard, oh how I missed basic human necessities.

Yeah, my trip to the hospital was a wee bit longer than I expected.

The good news: I finally know what's wrong with me~!

The bad news: ...I finally know what's wrong with me.

And since this is personal, I will keep it under the cut, no need for you to read more if you don't want to feel bummed, and this is a serious thing, I will not judge you for skipping it.

For all intents and purposes, I am back.

Let's rip the bandage off: I have multiple sclerosis. Which is... bad. Basically my immune system is... kinda attacking my own nerve endings, from what I can understand. For the past few months I had problems walking, which I though was purely orthopaedic problem, as I had a small accident on my grocery trip. But my knees have healed while my walking... did not. So I had to go to the neurologist, he sent me to hospital and after LOOOOOOTS of tests, I was diagnosed with MS.

Actually, they still haven't sent me ALL the data yet, but they pumped me full of antibiotics and just sent me home to wait for next instructions.

I will have to get visits from a physiotherapist, I got a brand new roller for walking, and... there is chance that this bloody thing will spread to my optical nerve and hands.

So, that's... not good.

But you know what, fuck MS, I am not gonna give up.

Especially since I still have prompts to write, so I have you guys to keep me motivated.... In fact, I may open something just for you guys to make up for the lost time. Because I'm crazy.

And now some hilarious* highlights:

(*hilarity may vary)

When they admitted me, I was lying on a half-functioning third bed in a two-people room. One of the beds got free after a day, though. Four nurses tried to make that bed work, none of them could find the bloody remote to lower the headrest. As far as I'm aware that bed is till missing the remote to this day.

the mug they gave me for tea did not have a mug ear, so it was useless until I pointed that out. actually, they did nothing with it, I had to just just manually go to the kitchen and swap it when they weren't looking.

Oh and speaking of tea, it was dreadful, 0/10 in Uncle Iroh's scale. At the very least it was liquid.... most of the time.

in fact, they gave very little cutlery during dinners and breakfasts, I had to remind them that spoons are necessary to eat soups...

I ate hummus for the first time though! And it was okay.

one of my neighbours was lying there for a week already, waiting for his results, he got released a day before me (he had to had electric needles put in his tongue AUCH AUCH AUCH)

on the other hand, I had to have a lumbar puncture to... uh, get the fluid from my spine, which sounds painful, until you learn what happens afterwards: you have to lay motionless for 24 HOURS. no lifting your head or... it explodes, or something. SRSLY. The headaches are apparently horrible. Thank gods for my headphones and books. Try imagine peeing sideways though.

then came magnetic resonance (MRI), two of them, actually, each of them took an hour. They put you in a metal tube and the only way I can describe it is: imagine the entire concept of electrodynamics from the past two centuries or so BEING ANGRY AT YOU COS IT SCREAMS AND VIBRATES AND ROARS AND DOES PLINGS AND PLUNGS AT RANDOM MOMENTS AROUND YOUR HEAD. Again, for an hour. They give you earplugs which do not fucking work, I can tell you. Oh and you cannot move as well.

When I asked for a bit of washing powder so I can clean my dirty clothes ( I under-prepared myself, my fault), all the nurses thought that I asked them for a bloody golden egg. No cleaning solutions for patients in the entire hospital, had to use one of theirs spare pajamas. Also, no extra towels, I had to use extra pillowcases, which they had shittons of, and they work exactly as you might think.

Oh and speaking of shower cabins: they did not have a cabin for shower. They had shower, but... no way to.... shield it. the water just.... was in the bathroom and it would just flow into the drain. Which is kinda problematic if you have patients with walking problems, so they might, you know, slip and break neck. Like, I did not expect a glass fancy round doors, just three fucking walls and a bit of a curtain. That was in the previous hospital I was in, and it was in a way smaller town, so they figured it out!

oh and of course they had to probe me for covid just in case... like twice.

They had a vending machine! And it had snacks in it! In case you can't read between lines, I am happy about it!

Also, apparently I am high-functioning autistic person! No official diagnosis, but I had a lovely talk with a psychiatrist who I guess had to test all my cogs if they work, and she said it was apparently bloody obvious from my mannerisms. Entrapta is best pony.

So... I guess that's it.

I am kinda in limbo right now, cos I don't know all the details myself yet. I will try to keep you informed, but... you'd just have to get used to some more random visits in hospital from me from now on. So, sorry about that.

And I will be bringing my own bloody tea next time, though.

All I want to say is... thanks for putting up with me. And for all the messages you've send me. They really mean a world to me right now. Seriously.

....

Now have some cats!

[jaeyleo]

ooh, 'touch aversion' with henrik and anybody? :3

tws: blood, sensory sensitivity

. . .

Marvin isn’t usually scared.

It’s hard for him to tell today where things are. The world feels dizzy around him, like it’s blurry and fogged up and moving all without him. It was hard to connect with Her today, hard to step on the grass and put his fingers in Her dirt to plant in his garden.

He ended up breaking a pot, falling right on top of it. Ceramic clay sticks out of his hand, and he doesn’t move, standing at the wall and holding his hand to his chest. With each drop of gold that hits the ground, he can feel the vibration shatter through him. Marvin can’t tell if his senses are up, or if the Earth is actually quaking this time.... He must be getting close to a reform.

“Marvin?”

The sun startles, breath hitching in his throat. Foggy eyes shake in their sockets, trying to read and match the voice he hears. He doesn’t recognize it today, what’s happening?

“Did you hurt yourself, friend?”

The person takes a step closer, and Marvin straightens agaisnt the wall. His hand squeezes, and blood pools at his feet. With the quaking Earth, Marvin whimpers, fearing he’ll come crashing to the floor at any moment.

“Is everything alright? Can you hear me?”

Marvin pauses, trying to recognize this strangers voice. He feels familiar.

“...... Who is it?”

“It is Henrik. I am Henrik.”

Henrik.

“I hit my hand on a pot, Henrik.”

“I thought so, yes... is something wrong today?”

“I don’t think so,” lies Marvin.

“..... May I look at your hand?”

Morus shakes his head once, rendering himself so dizzy he almost tumbles to the floor. Another few drops hit the golden puddle, and he whimpers again, feeling himself slip.

“Will you sit down for me, friend? You’re worrying me?”

Marvin feels the doctor’s hands come to his shoulders. It’s a sudden and unexpected warmth, a sudden and unexpected loud pulse coming from Henrik’s fingertips.

“Don’t, dont!” Marvin begs, finally falling to the ground. He flails slightly, trying to get Henrik’s hands away from him. “Too loud, t- too loud, Henrik, it’s too loud...!”

“O- okay, Marvin, shhh, it’s okay...”

Marvin gulps his breath down, placing his uninjured hand over his ear. The other is covered as well, but his wrist presses over it instead of his bleeding palm.

“I know you are nervous,” Henrik starts, murmuring every word, “but I need to help your hand. You can get infections, that stone is dirty.”

“I don’t want to be touched right now..”

“I will wear gloves, and I will use my tools to take pieces out. It won’t be so loud... we can even put in earplugs? Yes? Or Chase’s noise canceling headphones?”

Oh. Those are the clunky ones.

Marvin takes a shakey breath, still feeling the vibrations of his own blood hitting the floor like lightening strikes through his body. It almost hurts more than the pot in his hand.

“Do you promsie to stop if I tell you to?” asks Marvin, trying to pull himself together. He should be stronger than this, he’s learned. Humans are less forgiving of behavior than the stars.

“I do promise,” Henrik replies. And he means it, truly. Perhaps Marvin’s humans understand better what he’s going through than Marvin does.

Another shaking breath, and Morus relaxes slightly, letting his hands fall from his ears.

“May I put on the headphones before we start?”

[dakarimainink]

Neighbour - Part 1

Neighbour

Part 1

WARNING: 18+, mention of sex, cursing

Pairing: Javier Peña / f!OC

Wordcount: 930

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own. (Also sorry if the Spanish is bad, I used Google Translate)

Part 2

Masterlist

“Joder, Javi. Eso es. Si. No pares. Si. Si. Si.”

This was the fifth time this week and it was only Tuesday. It had become more frequent than last week. The constant moaning had been going on for weeks. Emilia had thought it would be a one time thing, if not just a short time period, but no, it had been going on for what felt like forever. She had tried everything from sleeping pills, music, earplugs and even changing her hours to work at night, but her neighbour was in full swing when she returned from her night shifts as well. Whenever she managed to drown away the sounds, she became fully aware of the vibration through the wall.

She had never met the guy. All she knew was his first name, which she had learned from the women constantly moaning Javi or Javier. She cursed to herself whenever the sounds begun and they could be going on for hours at a time with short breaks between.

“Oh Dios, Sofia. Me voy a correr.”

Oh, so it’s Sofia this time. Earlier it was Camila.

From the time listening and feeling the banging on the wall, he seemed to know his way around women and what they liked. He also seemed to like it rough based on the strength of the vibrations and the surprising sound of skin slapping.

Even though the thought about getting fucked was appealing to Emilia – especially considering how long it had been since last time – she found it annoying having to listen to others doing it. She had at one point considered calling the police but dropped it, as they probably would have laughed at her and then told her they had better things to do.

The banging finally stopped as they both moaned in harmony. Finally. Emilia sighed out in relief, it was only 1 AM and she could finally get some sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy as she turned in her bed and closed her eyes.

She suddenly heard female giggling from the other side of the wall. Her eyes snapped open in horror. Oh god no… The low moans begun again and slow thuds on the wall vibrated through. For fuck’s sake. She cursed within herself and sat up in bed. She fisted her hand and slammed it against the wall. More giggling followed by harder thuds. Her whole body bubbled with fury and she knocked harder on the wall using both hands. The moaning turned louder and the banging more fervent.

She wanted to tear at her hair and scream at them but opted for the second best option. She laid down in bed again, put in her earbuds, turned on music and covered her head with a pillow. The fucking didn’t end until 2.30 AM and Emilia ended up oversleeping for work.

~ ~ ~

“Más duro, Javi. Estoy a punto de venir.”

“That’s it.” Emilia growled and jumped out of bed. She threw on her black silk robe and stomped out of her apartment. She marched down to the next door and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked harder.

Still no answer.

She knocked with both fists and she didn’t stop. She was not going to give up now, she had too many nights of disturbed sleep, she was tired (literally).

The door flew open and she snapped her hands down to her side.

“What?” The man barked with furrowed brows. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and black boxers; the outline of his semi-hard dick was difficult to ignore.

Emilia cleared her throat and got eye contact with him. “Listen, I have been listening to you having sex the past few weeks. It’s constantly going on and I can’t sleep. Can you please keep it down?” She asked as politely as she could.

Javier chuckled and closed the door at her.

She stood there for a short moment gaping at the door. She knocked on it again and the door snapped open immediately.

“What do you want? I am busy.” He was annoyed with her presence, keeping him away from fucking the gorgeous woman he had in bed, but she would not let him get away with this anymore.

She was fuming with irritation. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, but I am your next-door neighbour and unfortunately it seems our bedrooms are wall to wall, which means that I hear and feel everything you do in there. It’s been keeping me up at night for the past few weeks and I must ask you to please just keep it down.”

She knew he was barely listening to her when his eyes slid down her body to her exposed thighs and legs. A smirk grew on his lips and lust filled his eyes.

She crossed her arms. “Excuse me?” She growled and waved a hand in front of his face.

He shook his head and managed to barely drag his brown eyes up to her gaze. “What?”

She was shaking with rage. “I can hear you having sex. Keep it down.” She articulated each word, dragging it out so he could hopefully understand her.

“Why don’t you join in?” He asked with a disgusting smirk as his eyes lingered back on her thighs again.

She had no words at his question. She was shocked at the fact he actually asked her. She was at the brink of pulling at her own hair when she growled out in fury. She stomped down the hallway and back into her own apartment. What a fucking unbelievable human being.

(Want to be tagged? Let me know :D)

[kingsofneon]

“Don’t cover your mouth…I like hearing you.” acebo or maybe maracebo idk they’re both great, but i can see ace being the one that gets the most frustrated about how damn QUIET sabo always tries to be. his whole goal basically being: i’m going to make you scream or just trying to coax sabo into being as vocal as possible. maybe playing with bondage and a vibrator idc adsljghk

Ace opens the door with a flushed face and a bright grin, eyes glittering with evidence of exertion. “Oh, hey!” he rocks up onto his tiptoes and steals a quick, biting kiss that leaves Marco tingling, a dopey smile flittering onto his lips.

“Hey yourself,” he says. “Good day?”

“Yeah, got heaps done around the house. You ready for dinner? I was thinking pizza, really camp out for movie night.”

Marco shrugs off his coat, slinging it over the back of the couch. “Sounds great.” Then, he cocks his head, a small frown coming to his face as a thought occurs to him. “Where’s Sabo?”

“Oh.” Ace’s grin turns into a scowl, and Marco gets ready to wince and figure out which side he’ll be playing peacekeeper for today. “No, he’s not allowed to join us today. He’s being a shithead.”

“Allowed?” Marco asks, the specific word choice giving him an inclination of where Ace’s annoyance has led Sabo tonight.

“Allowed,” Ace confirms, and then pushes Marco's chest until he reaches the couch, knees folding underneath him until he thumps onto the pillows. Ace leans down and gives him another kiss. “He was making fun of me for being loud when you guys tease me. And then he was being a dick about not making a sound even after I asked him to this morning.”

“So…?”

“So I’m just giving him a taste of what it’s like.”

At Marco’s questioning look, Ace sighs and grabs Marco’s hand, pulling him back off the couch and through the house. “It’s not anything hard,” he grumbles, and shoves open the door to their office. Marco feels like the breath has been kicked out of him.

Sabo’s not a mess; not yet, but Marco can see the faint evidence of sweat tracks along Sabo's biceps and his cheeks, his body flushed a faint pink. Ace has left Sabo the dignity - indignity, all things considered - of boxers, but they’re sharply tented and very obviously wet as he jerkily humps the air. A faint whirr gives away what has Sabo squirming, but this is almost tame compared to what they normally put him through. “Why does he find it hard?”

“No gag,” Ace says proudly, arms folded. “His fucking choice to keep being quiet.”

Sabo’s wanton expression morphs into a grimace at the sound of Ace’s voice, and he cracks his eyes open, glaring at them both. Heat stirs in the pit of Marco’s belly, and he goes to take a step forward, but Ace grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Nope, pretty bird. I want Sabo calling for me. You’ll sound so cute, won’t you Sabo? Begging for me so desperately.” The words slip out saccharine sweet and Sabo’s glare deepens, muscles straining against the ropes Ace has bound him in. Sabo bares his teeth in a feral grin.

“It’s so hard to even think about you right now, Ace baby. I’m just so invested in plotting out a few- f-few new scenes for my book.”

Ace gives Marco a foul look that practically screams see? and Marco winces on Sabo’s behalf. Their little spitfire is a spitfire for a reason. When he decides he’s been slighted-

But then again, Sabo’s never met a challenge to his pride that he didn’t immediately take, so it’s really on him for being an idiot.

Ace pulls him away, slamming the door shut and cutting out the pretty sight of Sabo bound, and Marco takes a slow, careful breath.

“How’re you going to hear him?” he says, “If we’re going to have a movie night, we’ll be in the lounge, and the door will be closed...Don’t you think you’re being a little mean, yoi?”

Ace’s expression looks torn between a pout and a scowl. “What, and he isn’t? Acting all high and mighty about not making a sound but then never letting up on me?”

Tactfully, Marco doesn’t mention that Ace is always ever so eager to beg, and loudly. (Sabo and Marco are quiet bastards, to Ace’s consternation.) He has a feeling that pointing out that particular factoid is going to get him on Ace’s shitlist.

“I guess I’m just wondering how long you want him to-?”

“Until he’s louder than the movie, how am I supposed to know he wants my attention, Marco?”

The movie? Marco can feel his cheeks pink at the thought of Sabo that loud. His desperate mewls and moans filling the house. Ace’s picked an action flick, too, and Sabo’s not going to break until he has to, the stubborn bastard. Ace grins at him and reaches up to peck his cheek.

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” Ace murmurs, and then he pulls back and saunters off to the kitchen. “Go get comfy, I’ll grab the pizza.”

“Pineapple-?” he calls, and Ace waves a careless hand.

“Yeah, yeah, Mar, I know what you like.”

The closed door teases him, the image of Sabo writhing still burned into his brain, but Marco gathers his self-control and forces his steps to take him to the lounge, flopping onto the couch. Ace is back a few minutes later, two plates heaped with slices of pizza and a can of sprite tucked under his arm. He sits and pulls Marco against his side, a soft purr of satisfaction leaving his lips as he settles.

It’s a cute noise, and Marco smiles to hear it even as Ace eagerly turns the movie on. “Koala said this was really good, okay? Sabo didn’t want to see it, but I figure since it’s just us…”

“No, it sounds fun. You know I don’t normally care.”

“I know,” Ace says, half a laugh, and he smushes his cheek against Marco’s head. “But I like checking what mood you’re in. Sometimes you just want dramas.”

“What, there’s no drama in this?” Marco says, faking an aghast tone, “I dunno Ace, how am I ever going to survive watching a bunch of attractive men take their shirts off for an hour and a half?”

Ace snickers, the sound reverberating in his chest, and Marco tucks his feet under Ace’s warm thighs, picking toppings off the slice Ace has bought him, idly nibbling as the movie continues.

It’s a fine movie; Ace is obviously invested, eagerly waiting for the climax and alternatively grinning or mocking the violence for the lack of realism, but Marco finds his thoughts drifting back to Sabo. Sabo, grinding against that hidden vibrator, sweaty and hot. A feast of bare skin open to be touched. His underwear is surely soaked by now. Even if he hadn’t made a loud enough sound, it’s been at least twenty minutes since the movie started, and he has no idea how long Ace had been teasing Sabo before that point. Sabo’s had to have cum at least once. He might even be whining now, tiny choked noise escaping him even as he tries to suffocate every hint of weakness.

Marco swallows with difficulty as a car chase begins, and he shifts, wriggling his toes under Ace’s legs. “Ace,” he starts slowly, “maybe, it would be a little easier to hear him, if he wasn’t a room away?”

Ace clicks his tongue, chancing a glance down at Marco’s expression, and sighs out through his nose. His head falls back onto the couch cushions.

“Mar,” he says, “the whole point is that it’s hard to hear him.”

Ah, that level of stubbornness tonight. Marco changes tactics, shifting on the couch so he can kiss Ace’s neck and jaw, tiny nips of his teeth making Ace shiver. “Mar,” Ace says warningly, but Marco simply presses closer, letting Ace feel his half-hard cock, teased by the image of Sabo desperate without them.

“Wasn’t he so stunning, Ace?” he says, “You’re being mean to me right now too, you know. Can’t we watch him and the show? Give him some earplugs, a blindfold, let him know we’re watching?” A jolt of longing runs through him like lightning, and Marco grins, biting down harder on Ace’s neck to hear him say ah! “Ace, I bet if you gave him earplugs he couldn’t hear shit. Wouldn’t know how loud he was being until you took them out again.”

Ace heaves a frustrated sigh and levers himself off the couch, head flopping back. Annoyingly, Marco’s realised that Ace leaving has left his side cold, but Ace’ll be back soon, and the temporary temperature shift is going to be rewarded soon enough.

“Fine,” Ace grumbles, “you want me to bring him out here? It’s only going to make him worse.”

“Just give him a fair shot, yoi.”

“I did,” Ace mumbles. “I asked and I was really nice about it. Not my fault he was a little shit.” He stomps off, but Marco catches the hint of a smile as he rounds the corner.

Ace rattles through their bedroom, and Marco reaches over to pause the movie as the car chase ends, clearing off the last slice of pizza from his plate and putting it over on the closest tea table. He can’t deny the growing swirl of excitement in his stomach, and it takes actual effort to keep his hands away from his cock, pulling himself up on the couch and pressing his legs together.

There’s the muffled murmur of words, and then Ace makes an affronted growl. A moment later, Sabo staggers into the lounge, hands tied behind him and a blindfold over his eyes. He walks on trembling legs, lower lip bitten red and spit-shiny. There’s a thin line of cum creeping down his thigh, visible before half-a-second before Sabo rubs his legs together to chase it away.

Marco rearranges himself on the couch so he can lean his head on one hand. “I told you he was a lovely view."

Ace scoffs. He isn’t gentle as he pushes Sabo in front of him, hand braced in the middle of Sabo’s back. “Do you know what he said to me, Marco? I walk in to offer him some food and some time with his boyfriend, and he says, so you finally want me to fuck you.”

“Very mean,” Marco offers, then pats his thigh, spreading his legs. “Can I-?”

“Gimmie your belt,” Ace says, and Marco sighs, taking a moment to shift before handing over his belt.

“Now?” he asks, and Ace shoves Sabo at him instead of answering. Marco catches Sabo’s hips, and Sabo flinches, head twitching at the sudden touch. He’s trembling, and Marco gently guides him to sit.

”Hey, darling,” Marco whispers, a shudder of desire running down his spine. Sabo’s soaked, wet enough that Marco can feel cum through his t-shirt. He moves to touch, but then Ace is grabbing his hand and wrapping it in his belt, binding both just above Sabo’s hips. “Ace-” he tries, and Ace tuts, guiding his hands down until Marco’s fingers slip under Sabo’s boxers and feel the base of Sabo’s plug. Marco’s eyes go wide. “Did- did you give him one of your vibrators?”

“They’re bigger,” Ace sneers. “Sabo said it was pathetic that I couldn’t take shit without crying. I figured he should know exactly what he’s mocking me for.”

They certainly are bigger; Ace loves anything with ridges, and just by feel Marco can tell that this one’s near the heaviest of his collection. He wraps his fingers around it carefully, getting a grip, but Ace’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“Now, Sabo,” Ace says, leaning in closer to whisper in Sabo’s ear, and Marco can feel every eager twitch and unstable shake. He shivers with every promise Ace makes. “Marco’s basically just here to give me another pair of hands. Do you know who you’re calling for?”

“Your dad?” Sabo mocks, voice cracking, and Ace snorts, lips curled back. He pulls roughly at Marco’s wrist before letting go. It's an easy hint and Marco pulls the toy free with a slick sound before thrusting it back in hard. Sabo’s spine goes rigid, head thrown back as a cry leaves his lips. Before he can catch his breath or think about shutting his mouth, Marco sets up a brutal pace, fighting the awkward grip of the belt. The buckle smacks Sabo’s side with each thrust, and Ace smiles.

“Good boy, Marco. At least somebody here respects me.”

Sabo lets out an angered sob, then curves forward, sinking his teeth into Marco’s shoulder. Pain flares like a fire through his skin and Marco jumps with a sharp noise.

Ace gathers Sabo’s hair in one hand, yanking him back. Sabo's teeth sink in harder and Marco moves with the pull, trying to alleviate the pain even as it makes him grind up against Sabo’s thighs. “Ace, Ace, please-”

Ace grabs Sabo’s jaw, pressing at the sides until Sabo lets go with a sharp gasp, and Ace immediately shoves his fingers in Sabo’s mouth, making him gag. “Sabo,” he snarls, forcing Sabo’s jaw wide, and Sabo thrashes, moaning in guttural breaks, trying to fight them both.

His squirming does little to allow him to escape, and he trembles as he settles, the vibrating urge to fight still so visible under his skin. Ace uses his free hand to carefully pet his hair, and this time Marco catches Sabo’s tiny whimper, the way his tongue flickers against Ace’s fingers, drool spilling between his lips.

“You gonna bite again?” Ace asks, and there’s a frozen moment before Sabo slowly shakes his head. Ace’s expression is molten heat.

“I don’t think I believe you, cruel thing,” he says, and his eyes flick to Marco. He heaves a sharp sigh. “Marco, don’t fucking touch him. Just keep his mouth open.”

Marco raises an eyebrow, pointedly indicating the belt, and Ace slips it off, tightening it around Sabo’s chest so his arms are pressed awkwardly into his back. Sabo thrashes once, like a fish on a hook as it tightens and his breath comes short. With his hands now free, Marco takes his time sliding the vibe back into Sabo, shifting his thighs up so Sabo won’t be able to go anywhere now that they’re not tied together. He runs his hands up Sabo’s heaving, sweat-slicked sides before taking over for Ace, cupping Sabo’s face in his hands and sticking his thumbs against Sabo’s bottom teeth.

“Don’t bite me again?” Marco asks, letting a soft longing into his tone, and Sabo whines through his nose, another inch of tension falling from his stiff posture.

“Stay,” Ace says, knuckles tapping Marco’s forehead, and then he’s out of the room with a soft curse.

As soon as he’s gone, Sabo shifts again, bearing down against Marco’s cock, a note of pleading in his tone. “Mar,” Sabo gurgles, gently lapping at his fingers like an apology. He probably doesn't mean it though, the little shit. Not with how a smile flickers across his face when Marco breathes in sharply. “Pretty, I heard you. Ace's being mean.”

A thin line of drool slips down Sabo's lip, and Marco shifts his fingers to wipe it away.

“From what I can tell, it seems like you may have had it coming,” he says.

Sabo tries to scoff, but then another strangled noise comes from his throat and he humps forward, a breath of relief leaving him as he grinds against Marco’s stomach. “Nuh,” he says, about to shake his head, but Marco tightens his grip, holding Sabo’s head still.

“Really?” he says, catching Ace’s eyes as he comes back into the room. He’s got a ring gag hanging from his fist, and Marco pointedly looks at it and then back up at Ace. Ace bears it like a weapon, holding both sides as he takes quiet, slow steps toward both of them. “So, Sabo, you weren’t teasing Ace about being responsive? About how much he likes being sweet to us?”

Sabo snorts, and Marco gives him a quick peck on the nose. It makes Sabo reel back, and Marco slips his thumbs free at the same time. Ace whips the gag over Sabo’s head, shoving it into his mouth before Sabo has a chance to close his mouth. He makes a startled noise, thrashing, but Marco’s already grabbed his shoulders, and Ace has clever fingers; the gag’s soon buckled up, Sabo’s mouth bared in a pretty O.

He whines, and Ace grins ferally. “There we go, baby. That’s the noise I want.”

Sabo thrashes again, but Ace just joins him on Marco’s lap, pressing Sabo forward and leaning into them with a sweet sigh. Sabo's sandwiched between them now, chest heaving as he tries to get space and combat the sensations drowning him.

Ace rolls his hips against Sabo’s hands, and Sabo makes a broken whimper, tongue pressing against the circle of the gag. Drool spills between his lips, as heavy as his sweet noises, and Ace presses his hand against Marco’s cock. Marco’s nose wrinkles as he gasps and bucks against Ace’s hand.

Ace laughs, stroking both of them with his palm. “Oh, Sabo, just imagine. If you’d been nice I woulda let Marco fuck you instead of my toy. He’s so hard, he’s been hard ever since he saw you. But I guess you’re pretty fucked out right now, huh? Do you think if I pulled it out of you, you’d gape, baby? You’re not used to anything this big.” Sabo squirms with a noise he can’t stop, and Marco watches as his cheeks slowly pink, breathless pants slipping out of him as Ace fucks against his clothed ass. It must shift the plug with every movement; at the very least it makes Sabo push against Marco, and every touch of his oversensitive cock against Marco’s abdomen makes Sabo whimper, tears slipping out from under his blindfold.

“-lease,” Sabo manages, the word almost a sob, barely intelligible, and Ace lathes kisses against his neck.

“Please what?” he hums curiously, and Sabo sobs properly now, bucking against the pressure, trying to free himself.

“You,” Sabo says, and then he throws his head back, a sharp sob breaking his throat. His cheeks are aflame. “Ah! Ace, please! Ace!”

“Good boy,” Ace murmurs, his grin razor-sharp. "I like hearing you, Sabo. I missed your voice."

Sabo sobs again, pathetic mewls and whimpers falling from his lips, and Ace gives a pleased little sigh, his eyes dancing. “How about you say that a few more times and I’ll think about letting you free.”

[aminiatureworld]

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange. 

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

[atmilliways]

On the 3rd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 15 - Crossover with your favorite holiday song

The Little Drummer Boy is not actually my favorite Christmas song, but it's my dad's least favorite for some reason so it's always held a special place in my heart. 😈

Nathan/Skwisgaar/Pickles, but most of the action is Nathan/Skwisgaar and there’s some sneaky voyeurism going on while Pickles finishes recording his drum parts. Definitely Explicit. 

~

To Lay Before the King, Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum

Before recording sessions, the Klokateers always made sure to set up whichever instruments would be needed first in the booth well in advance. Since the band had spent most of yesterday waiting for Pickles to wake up from a “little lie-down nap” and still had yet to record the last of his parts for the new album so they could be done with this shit in time for Christmas, the drum kit was already in there and ready to go by the time Nathan and Skwisgaar snuck in.

They hid beneath the window so no one would spot them from the outside. Between the two of them, they had a couple bags worth of provisions and several blankets, for padding. While they waited, backs against the wall below the window, they passed a bag of artisanal (read: full of weed) gingerbread cookies and munched in companionable silence. 

Of course, they couldn’t hear what was going on outside. Their first indication that the rest of the guys had arrived wasn’t Knubbler’s nasal voice insisting for the hundredth time that this really had to get wrapped up to-day if they were going to meet the production schedule that Charles had laid out for them, or Pickles groaning at Murderface’s complaining about how unproductive they’d been the day before because someone had selfishly decided to pass out before sharing whatever he’d taken.

“Where’s Skwisgaar and Nathans?” Toki asked, taking his seat on the couch with a bounciness that everyone else in the studio resented. He was also wearing a Santa hat and the garish light-up holiday sweater any of them had ever had the misfortune to witness. 

“Who the fuck cares, dood,” Pickles snapped. “They both bitched me out last night, fuck those douchebags. I don’t need ‘em here to play drums.” And then he stormed around to the booth door. 

That’s when they knew it was showtime. The drum kit shielded them from sight until Pickles sat down, and even then he didn’t notice until he already had the headphones on. Plenty of time for both Skwisgaar to be making exaggerated shushing gestures and Nathan holding up a piece of paper by the time he looked at them and nearly fell off his seat. 

Knubbler must have said something over the mic, because Pickles’ eyes darted briefly between his hidden boyfriends and the window. They had ripped him a new one (figuratively) over missing the stupid recording session yesterday, but. . . .

In big block letters, Nathan’s sign read: 

JUST PLAY 4 A XMAS PRESENT AND U CAN JOIN WHEN U R DONE

Pickles hesitated as he thought it over. “. . . Nnnah, nothin’ man. Just, uh, missed a little, heh. Too much rum nog, tis the season. You know me.” He clapped his hands together and reached toward a back pocket for his sticks, one leg bouncing with sudden extra energy and enthusiasm. “Okay, let’s get this fuckin’ show on the road!”

Nathan flashed a grin and a thumbs up, then stopped the paper to put in his heavy duty earplugs. “You ready?” he mouthed to Skwisgaar. 

Skwisgaar, who already had his earplugs in, tossed his blond hair over one shoulder. “Alsways,” he mouthed back. “Lucky yous, Merry Christmas.”

“Smug asshole,” Nathan mouthed, but was grinning as he grabbed a handful of black shirt and tugged the other third of Dethklok’s creative team into a long kiss. Skwisgaar responded by crowding him down to lay on the blankets they’d spread out on the floor, keeping his hair to his far side so that Pickles would have an unobstructed view. The only sound in the booth was the quiet smack of their lips as they got a steady rhythm going. 

“. . . Christ, yeah, I’m goin’! Fuckin’ . . . now. No, just start the goddamn click track! . . . Okay. A-one, two, a-one two three—”

Between the earplugs and years of damaging their hearing with loud music, neither Nathan nor Skwisgaar heard the violent crash of percussion instruments as Pickles got going, only felt it. With the edibles just starting to kick in, it was like being wrapped in a fucking vibrator. Nathan bent a leg to brace across the floor and Skwisgaar ground eagerly against it while snaking a hand up the frontman’s t-shirt; Pickles skipped a beat and crashed to an abrupt stop. 

“Shut up, I’m fine! Start it again!”

They kicked their boots off. Nathan got a hand in between their bodies and gave Skwisgaar a squeeze through his jeans, smirking into a groan that flooded into his mouth. He expertly got the belt undone (lots of practice) and tugged the jeans open, shoving them down quickly so the zipper wouldn’t catch on anything (lots of freeballing); the rest was all up to Skwisgaar as he scrambled to yank both pants and shirt off without popping up into view through the window. 

Their kiss was an anchor, keeping his head down while his long arms flailed busily. Beneath him Nathan took full advantage of being on his back by only bothering to get his own jeans down to his thighs. When Skwisgaar broke the kiss to pull the shirt over his head Nathan cupped one hand to the back of his skull and helped keep him low . . . then urged him to move down. 

Skwisgaar’s blue eyes flicked to meet Nathan’s green ones, and they both looked in unison towards Pickles, who immediately lost grip on one of his sticks. 

“FUCKIN’. . . . No, Murderface, yer the butterfingers! Go take yer greasy mitts and go fuck yerself with ‘em!”

“Good ones,” Skwisgaar mouthed to Nathan. After all, the more Pickles screwed up, the longer they could keep doing this—and if there was anything he knew as well as playing guitar, it was drawing out pleasure. To that end, he licked his lips and slid down the other man’s mostly clothed body, a great big present all for him to unwrap, savoring the rasp of rough denim on his bare, sensitive skin. When he reached his destination and nuzzled the straining front of Nathan’s tighty whities he had the satisfaction of his hips twitching up in anticipation. 

For his part, Nathan wasn’t really thinking about drawing things out. The carrot was effectively dangling in front of the horse now and Pickles clearly wanted it; motivation achieved. They’d done good. As Skwisgaar slowly exposed him to the warm air in the booth, warmer breath ghosting over his eager cock along with methodical licks and kisses and nibbles, Nathan half wanted to melt into being taken apart piece by piece and half wanted him to hurry the fuck up, wrap those plush lips around the head and swallow him down already. His big hands tangled in blond hair but couldn’t decide what to do from there, so after a moment he just started absently scratching blunt, black-painted nails against Skwisgaar’s scalp the way he liked, earning an unheard hum that just about reduced Nathan to a puddle.

Thankfully, he had Skwisgaar to lap him up. 

“For the last. Fucking. Time. I do naht need a ‘Christmas snack,’ I do naht need a beer, I do naht need more cocaine, I want to hurry up and finish this fucking shit, so turn the gahddamn track back on and hit record or SO HELP ME—”

They couldn’t hear, but the vibrations around them were finally starting to carry the feeling of urgency and violence that the song called for. Skwisgaar noticed this distantly, but his pulse was racing to keep up with the beat and quickly sending more and more blood southward. Especially with the scalp massage Nathan was distractedly giving him sending waves of sensation rippling straight to his core. He licked his way up, dragging his tongue along the nearest convenient vein, savoring the taste of pre-come as he started to suck with one hand coiled around the thick base. His other hand was between his own legs, half fondling and half holding himself back from getting too excited too soon. 

The sensation of Pickles’ eyes on him as he took more of Nathan into his mouth was a thrill, like being plugged into an electrical socket. If it weren’t for that hand, he might be too far gone already for concentrating on teasing the cock that throbbed against his soft palate. 

It was hard to tell how much time passed as Skwisgaar drew the blowjob out until Nathan was practically weeping (not that he would ever admit it) with how much he wanted to just come already. Skwisgaar had him wrapped around his talented tongue, rendering all his brute strength useless (totally the edibles’ fault, he’d swear to it). At some point his hands had slipped from the man’s hair, one mindlessly clutching at the blankets beneath them instead while the other was crammed against his mouth to keep from making any sounds loud enough for the mic to pick up. 

Pickles, meanwhile, was playing so furiously that his entire body shook with the force of it, dreads flying and sweat dripping into his eyes, and even when he blinked it away he could still see the other two going at it. The vision of them was burned onto the back of his eyelids: Nathan with his head thrown back and his back arched while Skwisgaar absolutely wrecked him. Pickles wasn’t even thinking anymore, beyond a basic recognition that this might be some of the best shit he’d ever recorded, and the silent mantra (in tempo, naturally) of soon soon soon soon soon soon—

“Done!” he yelled, after crashing to a final halt, panting from the effort for a few seconds, and then jumping to his feet. “That was . . . theat was good, right?!” 

Ripping his eyes up from Skwisgaar releasing Nathan with a pop and gliding up to kiss the frontman and fondle their hard-ons together. . . . Ripping his eyes up from that, Pickles stared at Knubbler with a desperate intensity that made the producer roll back a bit in his chair. 

“Oh looks,” Toki crowed in amusement in the background, nudging Murderface and pointing for him to look. “Pickle gots a boner from playings drums!”

“What’sch wrong with you, I don’t want to schee that,” Murderface protested, looking anyway. 

“Tell me we’re done,” Pickles growled, eyes still boring into Knubbler’s robot ones. 

“Okay, okay, we’re done,” Knubbler said hastily. “Sheesh.” 

He pressed whatever buttons he needed to press to save the recording, blah blah blah, Pickles already wasn’t paying much attention anymore. He sat back down and immediately realized he was rocking slightly back and forth on his seat, trying to get some friction going. Fucking whatever. They could all think he was nuts and about to fuck his kit for all he cared, just as long as recording was done for the day and they would leave. 

Murderface left first, complaining about boners. Toki was next, saying something about some game he wanted to go play. When Knubbler was finished pressing buttons and whatever, he hesitated. “Hey Pickles, are you trippin’ balls in there?”

Oh god, he was so turned on that even Knubbler’s grating voice through the headphones, saying the word balls sent a jolt through him. “Yep,” he blurted out a little too loudly. “Trippin’ so many balls. So . . . fuck off, get outta here.”

“Okay, if you say so. . . .” Knubbler might have muttered something about Murderface being right regarding the inconsiderateness of not sharing, but he wasn’t holding the talkback button anymore and Pickles wasn’t paying attention except to make sure he left. 

As soon as Knubbler was out the door Pickles ripped the headphones off so hard they hit the wall of speakers behind him. Stranglingly tight pants and underwear were shoved hastily down at least to his ankles; he sent cymbal and hi-hat crashing to the floor and kicked out the base drum in front of him in his eagerness to get to the other side of the room, tripping on it. (They were rich as hell, there were plenty of replacements available.) Then he flailed the rest of the way out of his pant legs, losing both shoes and one sock in the struggle, and finished scrambling to his destination. 

The other two reacted more to the sudden flashes of movement than the sound. Nathan lolled his head around to look, and Skwisgaar looked up and blinked at him dazedly, but both smiled and reached out to welcome him in. He went for their earplugs first, specifically so he could whine “Fuckin dooshbeags” at them, then joined in for a Yuletide roll in the recording booth.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Michael Myers x Reader || Oneshot

Title: I’m Weak

Notes:

Could be considered the second, much later part to the smut oneshot I wrote but only if you want it to be.

Based off this quote, which has bene used in the Oneshot: ‘You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t want to feel anything.’ by Maya Banks.

I dunno where all this inspiration for Michael is coming from. 

I love how acclimatised to all of Michaels insanity reader is

Plot: 

Dating, or whatever the relationship can be classified as, the infamous Shape reaches its horrendous peak. You’re frustrated and if he doesn’t help you out here, then not even the truest, biggest love in the world can stop you from leaving- because if he isn’t really there, it isn���t worth it. 

Warnings: Slightly Yandere themes, I guess? I mean, if this were a Hetalia Oneshot I would say severely yandere themes but this is already a horror character so. Yandere, I GUESS??

~~~

“You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t wanna feel anything.” I say, not like it’s a revelation or because it needs to be said. But because it makes me feel better. Because I’m spiteful, because I’m allowed to be. Because it makes Michael breath- you can see his chest rise and fall as soon as it sinks in, and it is a glorious feeling to know that I’ve made his unfaltering, never ending emotionless composure stutter. “And I don’t understand it, but I know that engulfs you.” I take in a breath, stepping back. Every word that gets past my teeth and bashes off my lips is steely and cold, wholehearted. “And I know you’re failing.”

He doesn’t move apart from the breathing, but he will. He’s feeling more then he has since- probably since he was a kid. And I’m feeling more then I want, then I ever thought possible because by some twisted miracle I love him and I’m gearing up to leave him. And he’s aware.

“Well guess what, you can’t go through life that way, Michael, you’re human. You have to feel, it’s like breathing. And sometimes you have to feel your guts get ripped out but that means you care, and that can feel really, really great.” Its worth every tear. “Now, I care about you like that. But all I get from you is the pain and that’s just not good enough, I’m sorry.”

And I am sorry. Not for him, but for me. Because I know if he lets me go and I get out like I want to right now it is going to h u r t. But I’m not going to kid myself into thinking that it’s the end all be all of my life. He’s just a man, and he won’t kill me.

Michaels fists clench tighter and moves from the doorway -he was about to go out for the night, - back into the room. But only momentarily.

As if he didn’t even need to think about it, like I didn’t mean a thing to him, he reaches forward and yanks and drags his black t-shirt off of me, leaving me in the long sleeve I was wearing underneath. “Michael!” I gasp, as the collar scrapes up my face and the warmth and his smell disappears from me. My present and my memory.

And then, with that nasty little act, before I can even really focus on him again, the door slams closed and it feels like it shook the floor and the walls around me, and he’s gone. For a moment, I dumbly look at the door. I’m shocked- I mean, I knew it was coming. I initiated it. But there’s a big difference between waiting and experiencing and it is awful. I can’t believe it’s over. Michael’s gone. The behemoth that eats all my food, squishes my fingers until I let go of the TV remote, and keeps me tight against his chest at night is… gone. And all that, with it.

All of a sudden, surprising tears blur my vision and sobs clench at my chest and I feel… so, alone.

___TIME SKIP___

A week later, it still hurts that he’s gone and I desperately want him back. On the way to work and on the way back, the highlight of my day is driving by the places I know he would hide out, to look for any sight of him as I slowdown and drive by, and I can’t sit and watch TV, or… or, sit and anything because that leads to thinking about him because, evidently, my brain can think of nothing better then the most painful thing for me at the moment. But I’m not crying about it. I have a life, I bake. I work. I walk. I bought expensive ear plugs so I can blast nightcore in my ears as a distraction so loud that my brain goes white and blank. And, there’s always this dull, terrible aching deep in my chest full of dread because, ha! My heart just can’t get a grip and understand that he’s gone.

I’m just crocheting a scarf or… maybe a funny shaped blanket, with my loud ass music on-its some YouTube playlist of those frighteningly painful and addictive nightcore songs. The one I’m listening to now is a Carrie Underwood redo. ‘Choctow County Affair’, - and occasionally glancing up at the TV to see the news headlines when my fingers suddenly go spectacularly numb at a certain picture.

No, its not of Michael. But Loomis. That bastards on the telly, probably griping about how he shot Michael however many time’s and Michael isn’t human, but I have to wonder why he is on TV. They only bring him out when Michael’s been caught again and it causes me lose the breath in my throat for a second and hurt my ears as I rip out the earplugs. My ears ring as I try to listen in to what Dr Loomis is saying, as the headline at the bottom says ‘Deadly Scrape with the Shape’- news anchors think they’re so clever. Fucking hell, poor taste.

The newsman, Clive Weatherman-yeah, this guy gets made fun of a lot. Went into the wrong area of news,- waffles on with the same question and my head hurts. “What was he wearing, Dr Loomis? We heard he wore the same Captain Kirk mask he has the last consecutive times he’s broken free of the hospital- is this true? Does this say anything about his mental state? Its pretty freaky, to me. The viewers want to know.” Oh my god, shut up! I need to hear Loomis’ information, that’s trustworthy at least.

“Yes, he was wearing that terrifying mask, concealing his soulless eyes from me. He should still be wearing it, so if anyone watching sees a man in a mechanics uniform and a bleached Captain Kirk mask you should immediately alert the authorities.”

A relieved breath escapes me at Loomis’ warning. Michael hasn’t been caught, he’s still out there. I don’t know why that relieves me, he’s a menace to society and is better off in an asylum- I just know he’s free.

And… while he’s free… he can find m-

“I shot him twice, also. So, the man you’re looking out for will be bleeding quite badly.”

“Oh, fuck.” I exclaim, pushing off the couch immediately and zipping up my jacket, barely stopping to put shoes on before I’m at my front door ready to search for him- but a heavy thump at the door before I can even touches it stops me immediately in my tracks. Damaging, floor shaking bangs vibrate against the door harshly, and I open it. Michael nearly falls through it because of the loss of solid wall to keep up his weight, but stands up tall again, heavily.

My eyes go wide as a look on. He certainly is bleeding a lot, both his hands covering the wounds just above his rib cage and holding tight, shoulders rising and falling at a steady, much faster rate then usual. But, still solid and tall. Somehow.

But that’s not surprising.

Swallowing my fear and a good portion of air at the same time, I take him by the wrist and drag him the rest of the way in which is heartbreakingly easy to do due to how weak the blood loss has made him and close and lock the door behind him. Then I get to work stitching up the wound the best I can.

When you’ve known Michael for… I dunno… even just a couple weeks? One week? You learn the basics of surgery quick, so this is routine. Once its over, and my hands are idle again is when things get hard.

I’m pissed that he came here, after leaving like that. Because it was me, too. I wanted to him to piss off, and he wanted to piss off. We made a decision and he can’t come back and take it back whenever it fits for him!

And, I’m… also, glad he’s here. I don’t know how I’ll let him leave again when he has to. I sure won’t be letting him in ever again, after this.

At least that’s what I tell myself. I truly do not know if I’ll ever get better from him.

It mustn’t be more then an hour later when he truly shatters my soul and my heart. God, how did I ever think this would be easy? Not just breaking up with him, but loving him. Not because he’s a killer, either. Or unstoppable force. Just, plainly because he’s Michael, and my hearts done the worst thing ever in loving him.

He’s all stitched up and I’m getting ready to leave the room, go to bed. Pretend I’m pretending he isn’t here on my couch. This is when he gently, so gently, so heartbreakingly gentle compared to his… everything. Like this, this gentle, he takes my hand in his. Not even my whole hand, actually. Just his fingers, wrapped around my fingers, and as the moment goes on his thumb starts to rib circles into my palm. I try not to melt.

“Michael… what, the hell are you doing here.” I ask, and try to be firmer then his hand around mine. His grip twitches.

I watch, curiously and unsure of what to do, as he shifts on the couch and digs with the hand that isn’t holding mine into one of his pockets, and brings out a folded sheet of paper. He hands it to me, and as we hold hand’s he watches me assess it.

On one side it’s a Chinese restaurants menu, written in clichéd curly red script and clearly he found this in the garbage somewhere or in a gutter because its dried all bubbly like it was wet and there’s a yellow colour formed on the top half. But on the other side is familiar handwriting that I could recognise anywhere.

‘Y/N’, it says. And he’s written my name the biggest out of all the other stuff and twice as bold. Like he wrote it over a couple times. The rest is in messy scribble like he couldn’t get it down fast enough. ‘I didn’t know I could miss someone, but I do. I hate it. Not only do I miss someone, but I also wish to take something back that I did. I wish I hadn’t left you alone.

I’m going to let Dr Loomis shoot me, and then you’ll know I won’t do it again. And neither will you.’

Well… It could be worse, I guess. Slowly, darkly, I turn to Michael. “Michael… “Holding the note up, my hand steady from many months of Michael and his ways. “You can’t do this.”

He pulls his mask off and looks me in that vague, insane way. No emotion.

Coming back to him, because I’m weak, I lower the note and furrow my eyebrows. “You can’t get yourself hurt to prove a point.” Kneeling down by the couch and running a hand through his hair, I sigh. “I’ll worry.” I whisper.

Not even a quiet moment passes, of me petting his hair, before its not enough for Michael and he lifts me up onto the couch with him, our chests and everything else tight together as one of his arms hooks under and around my middle. Like it used to be, like I needed it to be. I’m weak.

Letting go of any last remining reservations, because even if I did want to leave or kick him out which I most certainly don’t he would never let me, I lean my face up to nuzzle in his neck. He shudders out a sighs, and tries to bring me impossibly closer. Its so warm and I missed this and I’m weak.

Finally, I’m weak, and this will be the rest of my life I think.

[missmonsters2]

Drive Her Crazy || Part V

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x OFC/Reader

Summary: AU. Meet Wanda, the new ‘It’ girl. She’s built her social standing as a social influencer through Instagram and vlogging on Youtube. Queen Bee in her social circle, she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. She’s perfect, you think. Girls like that require a little finesse, and you’re ready to play the game.

Warnings: Non-healthy relationship, psychological games, eventual smut. 18+ only.

Note: Welcome to a Tumblr exclusive! PM me if you would like to be added onto the tag list for updates.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

DRIVE HER CRAZY SETLIST 🎶

PART V of X

Count: 3354

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It was incredibly hot out, but you basked in the warmth. You had to head to Wasteland earlier to ensure everything was good to go with the equipment and sound check. You decided to stay and relax with a drink. Wanda, Vision, and Natasha wouldn’t be on the ground until the evening to hear some of the more prominent names play.

Your cell began to vibrate in your pocket.

“Hey, you’re going to be here later, right?” You answer, knowing it who was right away.

“Of course, bitch, I wouldn’t I miss this for anything. Boyfriend is just getting ready, and we’re going to eat first before coming.” David said through the line.

You smile.

“Perfect. I’ll introduce you to Wanda later then. Don’t forget what you promised me.”

You could hear an exasperated sigh on the other side. “How could I forget when you literally text me every day about it. I can’t believe you’re going to use the favor I owe you on her instead of yourself.”

“A favor’s a favor. Besides, I think when you meet her, you’ll forget it’s a favor.”

“Big words you’re talking there.”

“I certainly put the money where my mouth is.” You could tell David was grinning.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. The man is ready to go to eat.” David says, and you bid him goodbye briefly before the line disconnects.

The festival had provided you a tent to rest in behind the stage. You had nearly dozed off when your phone went off again. It was a text message from Wanda.

Hey, we’re here. Where should we meet you?

You quickly text a reply to Wanda and leave the tent. You meet up at one of the drink stations and smile as you approach the three. Vision looks like he’s a little out of place, and you almost feel for him.

Wanda looked amazing with her shorts, blouse, and converse. She had a couple necklaces on and rings on her fingers like she usually did, but the sun was just hitting her the right way. You made sure to not linger on her too long and focused your attention to Natasha who looked good as well.

“You guys made it,” you say as you walk up to them, adjusting your sling bag. over your shoulder.

Wanda comes to embrace you and your pat her back affectionately but signaling her to let go. Once she does, you walk over to Natasha, who also gives you a hug in greeting. When you part, you make sure to slide your hands down her arms intimately. She’s smirking at you while you grin.

Your eyes catch something though, and you frown a little at it. You lift your hand to her ear and lightly brush her hair behind it to get a better look. She’s looking at you intently, and you can feel Wanda’s eyes on your back.

“You don’t have earplugs?” You ask Natasha.

Natasha looked confused for a second. “No? I didn’t know I would need to have them.”

Your finger brushes her lobe lightly, and you bring your hand back to bring your sling bag around to the front of your body. You open it up and pull out a new pair of earplugs still in its packaging.

“Here, take these. Make sure you’re wearing these if you’re close to the stage, I don’t want you to go deaf.” You hand them to her, and Natasha is smiling at you.

“You sure?” She asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, these are my backup pair so no worries.” You turn your head to look over at Wanda who quickly smiles as soon as you’re looking at her. Her hair is tucked behind her ears, and you see she has only one in currently. The other she must be waiting to put in when she’s close to the stage. It wasn’t her first festival, after all.

The first thing you do is buy everyone a drink. Since you’re working later, you don’t drink as much.

“Is it hard to be in this kind of environment without getting drunk?” Natasha asks. You chuckle and tilt your head left and right to indicate ‘kind of.’

“At festivals like this, it’s easier to be in this section as you’re cut off from the general public. Less crowded. When I’m playing gigs at clubs or other venues, I typically only mingle for a bit before or after my set and then leave.”

“How kind of you to stick it out here with the rest of us then,” Natasha teases.

“Have to collect on your promise somehow,” you flirt right back causing Natasha's mouth to quirk upwards.

In the background, Wanda was watching the two of you, holding her drink a little tightly.

“Wanda,” Vision called, but she didn’t even hear it even though he was right in front of her.

“Wanda!” He calls again, and this time she whips her head at him, eyes wide.

“What?” She asks, willing her eyes to not go back to you and Natasha.

God, what was wrong with her today?

Vision gives her a concerned look but doesn’t say anything.

“How long are we staying?” He asks instead. Festivals weren’t really his scene, wasn’t his type of music, or what he could consider fun.

He only went because there was an odd feeling nagging him that he shouldn’t let Wanda go alone.

“I want to stay until it ends,” Wanda tells him, then nodding over to you with her chin. “She doesn’t play until tonight because she’s the opening act.”

Vision immediately frowns. That was a lot longer than he was expecting.

Wanda and Vision begin to bicker a little about how long they were going to stay.

“Vision,” Wanda finally says, a hint of irritation and frustration in her tone. “I’m staying. You can leave whenever you want to, I’m not forcing you to stay. I’m just saying it would be more fun if we’re here together.”

Vision doesn’t say anything back but sighs and nods. Wanda doesn’t really know if that means he’s staying or leaving earlier, but she doesn’t want to argue with him anymore. Lately, he’s been very strange.

Resolved to lift her spirits, she tells everyone they should get closer to the stage and dance. She can’t help but stare at you and Natasha dancing together. You were behind the redhead, pressed up against her, and seemingly saying something in her ear before helping her with her earplugs, and tapping the beat of the music against Natasha’s ribs.

Vision, seemingly trying to make up for bickering with Wanda earlier, grabs Wanda’s hand to twirl her around and pulls her close.

It’s a good couple of hours they’re out there listening to the music and dancing. You’re feeling pretty parched, and everyone follows you out to grab water. You run your fingers through your fringe, running it all the way back to help with the heat.

You’re supposed to be playing soon, so you’ll need to leave to go prep. Everyone is going to walk around until you’re about to play and will then make their way up front to the stage.

Suddenly, your phone is vibrating again. You pull it out see that it’s David who has arrived on the grounds.

“Hey,” you say to everyone. “I have another friend who came to see me play. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to him.”

You lead them in the direction David says he’s at. He’s at another drink station, and you can see him in the distance drinking and laughing with his boyfriend. He spots you in the distance and excitedly waves you over.

You walk over, and he pulls you into a hug. “My god, California is doing you wonders.”

David checks you over, you slap him lightly, and he laughs. His boyfriend stands up and gives you a hug as well.

“How are you, Liam?” You ask him and he tells a short tidbit on how he’s been.

After that, David is looking at the people behind you, and you turn and smile.

“As I told you, David, this Natasha, Wanda, and Vision.” You tell David, and he nods in greeting to them with a smile, keeping his eye on Wanda.

You turn to the three and smile. “This is my friend, D--”

“David King,” Wanda breathes out in awe. You chuckle lightly. David goes to shake everyone’s hand, saving Wanda for last.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m standing with David King right now,” Wanda whispers.

“Who’s David King?” Vision asks with a confused expression. David isn’t offended, but he does turn to you, giving you a look.

“Vis,” Wanda says, almost embarrassedly. “David King is a renowned photographer. All of his works are insanely famous. Anyone he’s worked with blows up. He’s known as the Golden Eye in the industry.”

Vision furrows his brows but nods with a soft, “Oh.”

David is smiling at Wanda, “Sounds like you know your stuff.”

Wanda nods enthusiastically. “Of course! My favorite work of yours is the piece you did in Italy in the countryside. It was so beautiful, it made me feel like a child.”

David raises his eyebrow at Wanda, feeling impressed, and you knew why. Out of all of David’s work, that piece was his least popular because the purpose of it wasn’t to make anyone or anything famous. It just showcased the land and some local people.

But it was special to David because that was his hometown, where he had grown up.

He sighs, looking at you and you smirk. David turns back to Wanda, pulling out his business card and holding it out to her. She takes it, eyes wide.

“I’m still working on a project, but I’ll be done in about 6 weeks. Call this number, and my assistant will make sure you’re booked in. We’ll start collaborating then.” David says, and Wanda is shellshocked. He winks at her before turning over to you.

“You've got a good eye. I’ll catch you later for your set.” David gives you one last hug and walks off with his boyfriend.

Wanda just turns to you. “Oh my god, am I dreaming? How did you do this?”

You just laugh at her, “I didn’t really do anything. David just owes me a favor, but even I can’t force him to work with anyone he doesn’t want to. He agreed to at least meet you and clearly he liked you. That was definitely all you.”

Wanda just squeals, jumping onto you with her legs wrapped around your body. You let out a surprised yelp, immediately having to put your arms around her to keep her from falling as you laugh. Her arms are wrapped around your neck, and she’s peering down on your face.

“You’re seriously too amazing,” she says, and you just roll your eyes teasingly to play it off. You gently set her down, ruffling your hair again, looking at your watch.

“Alright, I gotta head over to prepare for the set. Grab some more drinks and put it under my name. See you at the front.” You turn to Natasha, looking at her ears again and you softly lift your fingers underneath her hair to touch her ear.

“Don’t forget your earplugs,” you tell her softly and she smiles at you and nods. You wiggle your fingers at them and walk off.

Vision turns to Wanda and sighs. “I’m going to go. Don’t stay out too late.”

Wanda frowns at him. “Now? She’s just about to play.”

“I’m quite tired,” Vision says, and Wanda doesn’t say anything even though she’s a little upset, but she doesn’t want to argue with him again. He kisses her forehead and walks off.

With Natasha left, the two girls go grab another drink before heading to the front of the stage.

“She treats you really good,” Natasha comments as they’re walking. Wanda turns her head over to look at Natasha.

“Yeah, I suppose she does.”

“Vision told Tony about how she spent the day with you on Pietro’s anniversary too.”

Wanda narrows her eyes as they’re nearing the front of the stage.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend,” Wanda says, not sure what the problem is.

Natasha nods, smiling at the younger girl. “Yes, a friend. Thanks for introducing her to me.”

The redhead puts her earplugs in as the stage begins to flash. Wanda bites her lip, refraining from grabbing Natasha’s earplugs out and throwing them as far as she could. She wanted to scream that she met you first, you were hers!

Wanda huffed silently. She wasn’t too good at sharing, and you were a really good friend.

Shaking her head, she focused back on the stage. People were cheering around her as you came out with your mask.

The beat drummed along Wanda’s spine, and she closed her eyes, dancing away. A couple songs in, Natasha seemed to get a call and a text. She swore loudly, grabbing your attention.

“Tony has a work emergency, I need to head over immediately. Tell her I’ll call later,” Natasha says, looking at the stage once more before making her way out the crowd.

You were getting into your groove when you saw Natasha look at you, holding her phone up slightly with an apologetic look as she left the crowd. You were a little confused, but you assumed something happened. You look over at Wanda who is just beaming at you.

Smiling at her, you point to her, telling her the next song is for her.

Wanda throws her head back and lets out a laugh you can’t even hear and blows you a playful kiss.

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An hour passes by quick and before you know it, your time is over. You introduce the main act tonight, getting the crowd hyped up before you leave the stage. Backstage, you take off your mask and put your laptop away securely so you can bring it to your car later.

You make your way out into the crowd, finding Wanda in the same spot. She’s still dancing on her own as you come up behind her. When you tap her shoulder, she turns around and smiles widely at you, putting her arms around your neck to pull you into a hug.

“You were amazing!” Wanda yells loudly enough that it makes through your earplugs and the music. She looks a little flushed from the heat and dancing, so you hand her some water you brought along. She looks at you gratefully, taking a huge gulp of water. She gives it back to you, and you put it away in your sling bag, adjusting it back around you.

Some drunk YouTuber is flailing around dancing next to you. He’s nearly knocking into Wanda, so you wrap your arm across her collarbone to her other shoulder, pulling her closer to you and away from this menace. He’s getting too aggressive, and security at the front actually comes up to him, dragging him away from the crowd.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. You’re about to let go, but Wanda puts her hands up and settles them against your arm to keep it there. She leans her head back, resting against your shoulder and gets you both to sway with the music.

You settle your fingers more comfortably on Wanda’s arm just right under her shoulder. Your fingers automatically start tapping along with the beat, and you feel her body vibrate against you as she giggles.

The song changes and the beat starts to pick up much more. The crowd begins to jump with their hands in the air, but Wanda just spins around, facing you so close that your noses are nearly touching.

You’re both jumping to the music, but you can only focus on how you could feel her breath on your lips.

It feels like everything is happening in slow motion as you grab her hips and pull her close to you. You’re biting your tongue to hold the groan that wants to come out of your mouth, and she’s smirking at you.

Wanda closes her eyes, tilting her head back more, exposing her neck to you as she enjoys the music.

God, she was so fucking hot. You’re telling yourself to be patient, but you can’t help it when your lips ghost over her neck and she sighs.

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The two of you stay until the event is over. You’re currently driving her home because apparently, Vision was her ride. Then Natasha was going to drive her home, but she also left. She still seems full of energy as she’s singing along to the radio dramatically and dancing in her seat the best she can.

You’re just smiling as you have one hand on the wheel and the other perched up on the window ledge with your head in it.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Wanda whines.

You chuckle since it’s 3am, but you humor her.

“Alright,” you tell her, changing the route. You take her back to Manhattan Beach, and since it’s so late, there’s no one but the two of you. Getting out of the car, you guys are walking on the pier, admiring the view.

Taking a seat on the edge, you both let your bare feet swing over the water. Wanda is leaning against you, head on your shoulder as she sighs in contentment.

When she looks up at you, she grins. “What are you thinking about?”

You tilt her head down to look at her, a small smile gracing your lips.

“What I’m going to do next,” you tell her. “I don’t have any more gigs after this.”

Wanda sits up immediately, frowning. “You’re leaving?”

You shrug in response. “I did only come here for work.”

“Didn’t you say if you enjoyed it enough, you would consider moving?” Wanda recalls from the first night you both met.

“Can’t say if I’m enjoying myself enough,” you tell her hauntingly with a smirk. Wanda just laughs and slaps you on the shoulder as you rear back.

“I do actually have some collab offers to work with some local artists around here,” you tell Wanda after a moment, making sure you sound unsure if you were going to take it or not.

“You can’t leave yet,” Wanda tells you seriously. “My birthday is in a month, and I refuse to let you miss my party.”

While you knew her birthday was coming up, you grin at her attempt to make you stay. You had, of course, knew you were going to stay longer. You even already lined up some collabs to keep you busy.

Everything was progressing well, better than you may have even hoped for. You certainly didn’t miss Wanda glaring at Natasha all day, and from the looks of it, things were getting tense between Vision and Wanda.

You licked your lips, lost in thought. There was just something about Wanda that made you want her and keep her. You were entirely invested in seeing her edge.

“Well,” you say, your lips curled upwards. “I suppose I can’t miss your birthday. What a crime that would be.”

Wanda nods satisfyingly, settling back next to you with her head on your shoulder. “It would be. So, what are you getting me?”

She sounds so cheeky you can’t even hold back your laughter. “Aren’t presents supposed to be a surprise?”

You had known her birthday had been coming long before and had started working on it since the trust fund kid’s party. It was coming along together nicely, and you were just waiting for a call.

“Just a little hint?” Wanda negotiates, and you jut your chin out and purse your lips.

“How do you feel about crocs?” You ask, trying to not cackle. Wanda sits back up, narrowing her eyes at you.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ask again about your present and I just might,” You warn her, eyes twinkling.

Wanda’s jaw drops, and then she shakes her head, “And you call me wicked.”

The corner of your lip quirks up.

“You have no idea.”

PART VI

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach Chapter 22

I woke up wrapped around Negan tighter than we’d ever been wrapped together.  My throat was dry as a desert and I was fairly certain that my entire body had been through a better workout than ever before.  Even my toes felt sore, which raised a LOT of fucking questions.  

“Morning, princess,” He growled and even with my entire body achy as fuck, I still felt a twist of lust.  The hell kind of aphrodisiac was this man?  “Last night was-”

I stretched, happy that I could fucking move.  “Fucking memorable?” The vibration of his chuckle felt fucking amazing on my very tender skin.  “I’m so damn thirsty I could drink an entire lake.”  Another laugh, and I felt his fingers sliding over my skin.  

“You were pretty fucking loud, sweetheart.”  No shit, I thought, thinking if I ever dared the man to prove shit to me or earn anything I needed to have my head examined.  “Although, fuck if I don’t want to hear it every damn night from here on out.”  Another fucking lurch of need hit me, but then my stomach growled so damn loud it was embarrassing.  “First, food.  Then we pack Mary and Eric on their way home.  Then-” he left it hanging, but his hold hand cupped one of my ass cheeks and I knew precisely what we’d be filling today with.  

Tossing on shorts and a t-shirt, I watched as Negan threw on the shorts he’d thrown off the previous night. I had to bite my lip at his bare chest and back.  Fuck, would I ever get used to him being ALL mine?

“I can feel you staring,” his voice was still gravely and my stomach clenched.  Looking over his shoulder at me and knew he felt it too.  “Let’s open the fucking door before I change our plans and we text the two of them goodbye.”  Shit.

Negan opened the door and started laughing hysterically when he glanced down.  I was about to ask what the fuck was so funny, but he raised his hand and another fucking ball gag was dangling from his finger.  “Think Eric bought them in bulk, or-”

“I swear to fuck, if that’s the one my dad wondered about, I will fucking murder him.”  Negan’s hand took mine and we went downstairs to see if my best friends were awake for the day.

Mary and Eric were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, but neither greeted us as we walked in.  I offered up my own ‘Morning’, but nothing.  They had their backs to us, and I glared at their heads.  Those assholes.

Stalking to the two of them, I reached out both hands and slapped them in the back of their heads.  Seeing them jump made me feel marginally better, but then I saw the bitches take out soft earplugs and hit them both again.  

“Bitch, what is your problem?”  Eric shouted, turning in his chair.  

Negan, clearly stealing my dramatic whims, tossed the ball gag he’d found on our door knob onto the table and watched as my two best friends grinned.  Rolling my eyes as Negan’s arms wrapped around me, I waited for Eric’s hot take.

“Look, after all the different ways we heard ‘daddy’ come out of you last night, I thought we’d give you a replacement gag, in case you two decided for round-” Eric stopped and looked like he was trying to count through the rounds we may have had over the course of hours.  “Fuck I don’t even have that many fingers and toes, bitch.”

Coach was smothering his amusement in my neck, but I could FEEL his grin almost splitting his fucking face.  Deciding it was high time for Eric to learn his place, I sighed.  

“If I’m gonna call ANYONE ‘daddy’, he’s gotta earn it, you whore.”  And that did it, Mary’s grin was so wide I thought her face would explode and Negan had to move his face because he was going to smother from the laughter he was holding tight against my skin.  Eric’s eyes were wider than they’d ever been.  

“Then you better buy these,” he tossed the soft earplugs at me, “in fucking bulk and give your goddamn neighbors a stockpile each, because holy fuck, did he earn it!”  

After laughing our asses off, we finally managed to sit down for breakfast.  When we’d gone out for dinner the evening before, me and my two best friends had gone grocery shopping while Negan had run his own errand.  And as we ate, Coach handed two small boxes to my best friends.  

“I thought,” he said as they pulled the top of the boxes off, “that since you’re Amara’s family, you should have a key to our house.”  Inside, on key chains that he’d shown me during a respite overnight, were copies of our house key.  “Steven has one too,” he pulled out another box.  “You’re important to my girl, so that makes you important to me too.”  

I swear, every time I thought Negan couldn’t fucking surprise me any more, he did.  Mary’s key chain was a bejeweled theater mask.  Eric’s was a tiara, because of course, and Steven’s a crown.  It was one of the sweetest gestures, and he made it all by himself.  

Eric and Mary left about an hour after they got their keys and as soon as the door shut and locked behind them, I felt Negan’s mouth hot on my neck.  “Think we can scandalize the neighbors during the daytime?”  He growled into my skin.  

[kookadoodle]

Prank Calls and Payback

PLOT: Reading your book in peace is a difficult task to do when you are interrupted by the noisy boys staying in the next room.

PAIRING: Taehyung x reader (ft. the other boys) GENRE: crack, fluff, Prankcall!AU WARNINGS: bad words, the usual WORDCOUNT: 4.5k  A/N: chaotic bangtan is my religion x

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The first time you hear a knock on the door, you think that the girls might have forgotten something and gone back to get it. You find it a bit odd that they do not just use their own keycards, considering the four of you share the room during the school trip, yet you do not care to question it too much. You merely get up and open the door to let them in. It is a surprise, however, that no one is standing in the hallway and waiting to be let inside. You take a step out to check, but there is no one there. The hostel hallway is empty from everything but lights, carpet, and doors to other rooms. And you in your jammies and slippers. Maybe I misheard it? you think to yourself, wondering if there even was a knocking sound in the first place. It could have also easily been from the neighboring door since the walls are quite thin. You have already sighed over the noisy boys in the next room as they have entertained each other with impressions and who-knows-what. Whatever boys do that make them laugh so loudly. 

Being in the middle of reading your current favorite book makes you find it extremely rude that they seem not to care at all about their loudness. That, and of course, it does not help that they are the four boys that you dislike the most in your class. The ones that always do stupid things, say dumb comments and act as if the world belongs to them. They might be doing alright, popularity-wise, but not with you. You do not buy it, and you certainly do not fall for it. They can smile and plead as much as they want, but they will still be the same boys that make your blood boil. Sitting back down on your bed, you pick up the book again and try to focus on reading. Suddenly, you hear another knock on the door. Your brows furrow at the sound as you have just answered it to no avail. You get up again, knowing that you definitely heard something this time. It takes a few steps before you are at the door, and when you open it, you are once again left with an empty hallway. What the hell is going on? you think to yourself, scolding the culprit in your mind. You are not sure what is going on and why, but someone is knocking on your door, and being interrupted like that for no reason really annoys you. You just want to read your book, so with that in mind, you close the door again and try to not let it get on your nerves. However, you do not even make it back to the bed before you hear someone knocking again. The thing about trying not to get irritated is quickly forgotten as you storm to the door and rip it open. Sure enough, the hall is empty as expected, and this time you are seriously pissed. “Fuck off!” you yell out into the hall before you slam the door shut. The sound scatters on the floor of the hostel, and right as it stops, you hear someone start laughing with pure amusement next door. With a huff, you shake your head at the realization. It is so typically them to try and stir something up. That is exactly why you hate them. You are born with quite a temper, and honestly, those four boys especially know how to push your buttons. And it seems like they get a kick out of doing so. You close your eyes for a second to calm yourself down and take a breath. “Just ignore them, Y/N,” you say to yourself as if you are meditating in the middle of the room. You return back to your book and decide that if they knock again, you will not give them the satisfaction of giving in. You are not their entertainment. You refuse to be. Surprisingly, your outburst makes them quit their little game and leave you alone, presumably having gotten the wanted reaction from you. Though, it bothers you that they even got one at all.

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The next half-hour goes by as you read, letting yourself disappear into the world of the book in your hands. Reading has always been a nice way for you to distract yourself from the real world around you, and being someone, who gets easily bothered, you find it quite relieving to have a safe space to avoid just that. But then your phone rings, vibrating next to you on the duvet, and when you answer it, you unknowingly wave goodbye to the calm and quiet night, you had planned. “Hello?” you say, when you pick up the phone, holding it against your ear and listening for a response. “Yes, hello,” the male voice greets back, and you wonder for a second if they might have a cold since the tone seems a little hoarse. “Is this miss Y/L/N, staying in room 212B?” the guy asks. “Yes, this is she,” you answer, yet find it quite odd already. Thinking it must be the staff of the hostel, you put down your book and sit up to focus on the call. “Good evening, miss. We seem to have gotten noise complaints from other guests staying on your floor, and we have to kindly ask you to turn down the music, you’re playing,” the male explains formally. At first, you thought it was about the yelling from earlier, but then you are surprised that it is something else entirely. Something very untrue. “Music? I’m not playing any music,” you defend calmly with your brows furrowed from confusion. The male clears his throat. “I’m sorry, miss, but the complaints were very specific, and we must ask you to keep it down and not be disruptive to the other guests,” he says further still in the same husky voice. You huff, finding the accusation uncalled for. “Excuse me, but I am not being disruptive in any way. Are you sure that it is not room 211B, you are getting complaints about?” you ask, voice a little firmer as you are getting more irritated. It seems much more likely that the noisy boys next door could be bothering someone as they have already made you consider buying some earplugs for the rest of the stay here. “No, it cannot be. The complaints mentioned you by name,” the male answers back, and the statement has you wondering. Mentioned by name. “Who complained?” you ask as you cross your arms. If the guests know your name, they must be someone from your class, however, it seems odd that they chose to call the reception instead of saying it to your face. The male hesitates. “Well, we cannot give out information about our guests, so I am not allowed to say,” he explains, denying answering you. Something is off about it all. Suddenly, you notice a sound at his end as if someone is speaking in the background followed by a hushed laugh. It makes you tilt your head. Looking over on the nightstand beside the bed, you see a phone that comes with the room, and then, you realize that you are talking to them on your private cell. “I’m sorry, how did you get this number? Why aren’t you calling the phone of the room?” you question, and it causes his end to go quiet for a few seconds. “Uh, we are having trouble connecting to that phone at the moment,” the male states, and easily spotting the lie, you scoff with disbelief. “Is this a stupid prank?” you interrupt him, sensing your patience shortening. Then quickly, he hangs up, and the call dies. A second later, you hear the noisy boys burst out into laughter behind the thin wall, and when the realization hits you, steam might as well be spurting out of your ears.

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You pound on their door with a firm first, getting ready to give them a piece of your mind. “Open the door, you idiots!” you shout, knowing very well that they can clearly hear you, from the way that they laugh and panic inside. “You think, you’re funny!?” you yell again, voice turning a bit high-pitched in frustration. You might look like a soft little creature in your pink PJs, but kitten definitely has claws. “Ugh!” you burst, stomping your foot. “Y/N, what’s going on?” you suddenly hear softly spoken from beside you, and to your surprise, it is Taehyung. You thought, he was inside with the others, but apparently not, meaning it is just the three of them. Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok. The worst three. Taehyung is oblivious to the current situation, which shows from how his innocent eyes study your frustrated expression in question as he waits for your answer. “Your stupid friends are bothering me by knocking on my door and prank calling about noise complaints,” you explain, clearly fuming. Tae halts, raising his brows in shock. “They’re what!?” he says, and his eyes go wide. “Yeah, they’re being annoying, so could you just let me in, so I can beat them up, please?” you ask, shifting your expression to a pleading one with big eyes and a smile. Taehyung does not really register the threat in your question. He only sees the way you look at him, and with what his friends have apparently done, he does not even feel sorry about what is next. Stepping up to the door, he pulls out his keycard, making the little light turn green from contact. The door is unlocked. You quickly rip it open and rush in, causing the three culprits to jump up from their seats on the beds in surprise. “You bastards!” you spit, pointing at the three of them, whose eyes are all wide and mouths shaped likes O’s. Jungkook jumps behind a chair to hide, ready to use it as a weapon. Hoseok is furthest back by the window, looking so terrified that he might jump out of it, and Jimin is only about three feet away, frozen in his step. “W-what’s up?” Jimin suddenly stutters, trying to play it cool. He manages to shape a brief smile to fake innocence. “What the hell did you guys do?” Taehyung scolds from beside you, almost as bothered by the whole thing as yourself. His voice is drastically changed from the soft one, he used with you in the hallway. Now, it is deep and serious as he steps in to help you lecture his friends. It is a bit odd to you, but you appreciate the back-up. Taehyung has never truly been like the other three, though sometimes it is easy to forget since he is always with them. He can be silly and do dumb things with the others, but he has always been nice to you and given you your wanted space.  “Nothing, we haven’t done anything,” Jimin quickly defends, acting oblivious. It only annoys you more. “Then let me see your phone, Jimin,” you state firmly as you notice the black iPhone lying on the closest bed. Jimin looks over at it, and quickly, he runs to it in panic.  You do as well, rushing over to steal it from his grip. Jimin fights back, and the two of you struggle, each trying to get the phone for yourselves while the others watch the chaos unfold. You grab his wrist, yet he is quick to switch the phone to his other hand. “Jungkook, catch!” he says, throwing the phone to the maknae. Of course, Jungkook catches it, yet when he sees you turn to him with fire in your eyes and about to attack, he decides to pass it on and throw it to Hoseok. That, he should not have done, since terrified Hoseok’s immediate response is to throw the phone out of the open window. You all stop. “My phone!” Jimin shouts in panic, seeing his precious iPhone fly out the window to fall and smash against the sidewalk three floors down. “That’s what you get for prank calling me!” you scold, finding the punishment fitting for the crime. Jimin is in shock. Suddenly, the shock turns to anger, and he looks at his hyung with a firm frown. “Shit happens,” Hoseok says with a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood, yet Jimin is not amused. His anger then turns to pure pettiness within a few seconds, and he takes Hoseok’s most prized possession, his beloved chestnut pouch, and throws it out of the window as well without hesitation. “Oh no! Chester!” Hoseok exclaims, reaching out and trying to catch his furry purse, but it slips from his hands. He watches as it falls to the ground beneath and hurt gathers in his heart at the sight. Jimin crosses his arms as if the payback has been served well. The room is quiet. Jungkook and Taehyung give each other a look, knowing that shit is about to hit the fan. Being oblivious to the pouch’s importance, you try to read their faces but do not get much out of it. All you can tell is that from the look on Hoseok’s face, he is in absolute pain.

“You threw out Chester!?” Hoseok suddenly spits, piercing Jimin with his gaze that holds firebolts ready to shoot. “You threw out my phone!” Jimin defends pettily, gesturing out the window as if to remind him of it. Hoseok shakes his head. “I didn’t do it on purpose!” he argues, crossing his arms. The two of them stare each other down as if they are passing secrets through their eyes. Secrets of murder and the like. “What is going on in here? Why are you guys being so loud?” you suddenly hear from behind you and turning around, you see Seokjin standing in the doorway. He shares the room on the opposite side of yours with Yoongi and Namjoon. Apparently, you are all being loud enough to bother them as well. “Stupid Jimin threw Chester out of the window,” Hoseok is quick to spill with an angry pout, looking at his opponent unapologetically. Jimin frowns. “You threw out my phone, you dick!” the smaller one fights back, clenching his jaw. The two of them look like they are about to fight, but everyone knows that they will not. Really, they are too soft to throw punches. The worst possible fight to occur is a really intense stare-off between them. “Okay, okay. You both did something dumb, and you will pay each other back,” Seokjin states with confidence. “Jimin, how much is your phone worth? And be honest, we all know, you had that phone for a while,” Seokjin asks, keeping his voice calm and face collected. Jimin sighs. “Maybe about $230,” the smaller one estimates. Jungkook’s eyes widen at that. He then moves back from the chair towards Taehyung, not wanting to be blamed for the mess as well and having to pay up. In reality, he knew, he should not have thrown the phone to Hoseok, but maybe if he stays silent, no one will yell at him. Taehyung sees the maknae’s slimy act and shakes his head at him in disappointment. Jungkook merely bows his head in shame before getting behind his slightly older hyung for protection. Since Taehyung has a soft spot for Jungkook, he lets it slide. “What about your purse, Hoseok? What is it worth?” Seokjin then asks. “Like $10,” Jimin huffs like a true diva, saying it under his breath. Hoseok’s frown worsens at the provocation. “First of all, it is a very practical and colorful POUCH,” Hoseok starts off highly offended by his hyungs degrading words. “and second of all, it is worth at least $100 million emotionally,” he adds, looking out the window with a slightly quivering bottom lip. “Oh Chester, this world did not deserve you,” Hoseok says dramatically, placing a hand over his eyes in pain, resting his elbows against the windowsill and looking out. Jimin rolls his eyes at that. “Okay, Jimin, you go downstairs, get the pouch and clean it up. And Hoseok, you will share your phone with Jimin for the rest of the trip,” Seokjin says, wanting the drama to be over with. Being the eldest in the group, Seokjin has learned to solve conflicts between the younger ones. It is all about leadership and compromise. Hoseok and Jimin are still fuming, yet eventually, they give in to their hyung’s suggestion. “Fine,” Jimin says sharply, and Hoseok repeats it in a similar tone. “Good, now everyone can calm down again,” Seokjin says, getting ready to return to his room. The other boys seem to start heading out as well, while Jungkook walks over to his bed to lie down with a relieved expression on his face after dodging a bullet just now. Seokjin’s statement brings you back to the real issue at hand after having been distracted. “Excuse me, but we are not done at all,” you state firmly, clearly annoyed. The boys’ attention returns to you after having been stolen away by a possibly staged diversion. Seokjin, however, is just now realizing that you are here as well, and he wonders why. “You guys are serious tools for pranking me, and you owe me an apology!” you spit, though you find it a bit misplaced now after the whole phone-flying-out-of-the-window thing. Nonetheless, you take your stand with confidence. Seokjin is a bit baffled by your sudden outburst, and the three other boys turn a bit wide-eyed, having hoped for a second that you would let it go. You will not, though, and Taehyung has your back. He nods confidently at your words to show whose side he is on. None of the culprits know what to say. You guess, they had not expected you to actually find out about them, but that only confirms your thoughts on their idiocy. “Uh, I should probably go get Hoseok’s purse before someone finds it and decides to mercy kill it,” Jimin says, giving an excuse to leave. Hoseok is ready to choke his friend for insulting Chester, but he really wants Jimin to go and get his pouch, so he says nothing, swallowing the profanity at the tip of his tongue. Despite your want to scold the insole-wearing smartass, you let Jimin go too. Jungkook and Hoseok are easier to crack anyways since they are terrible liars and cannot handle any pressure. You cross your arms, looking at them with a raised brow, waiting for answers. Taehyung is by your side, crossing his arms as well to show a united front, and it assures you. Jungkook and Hoseok look like two puppies that peed all over the floor despite knowing that it is forbidden. They are busted, and now they must pay.

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“So, are you going to apologize?” you ask after having stared the two of them down for a few minutes. Jungkook gulps, looking at his hyung, whose mind seems to be elsewhere. Hoseok is most likely still thinking about Chester. “Uh, well,” the maknae says, clearing his throat. For a second, he looks at Taehyung as if to check his expression. You wonder why he seems to be looking for permission to talk from Taehyung, the one who was not even involved in the whole thing. “We didn’t mean for you to get mad, we just… uh… we were bored, so we wanted to prank someone, and you happened to be, well, an easy target,” Jungkook explains, having trouble getting out the words right. His eyes keep stealing glances at Taehyung like he is waiting for him to interrupt. “An easy target? Because I was alone?” you ask with disbelief. Jungkook briefly scoffs with a tilt of his head. “Yeah, that, but also-,” the maknae starts, but he is quickly interrupted as expected. “I think, you should just say sorry and let Y/N go back to her room,” Taehyung says with a cough, looking at the younger one with determined eyes. You frown lightly, finding his sudden changed reaction somewhat strange. Why is Taehyung even so worked up about it? you ask yourself but without an answer to it. “Hyung, why don’t you just-,” Jungkook asks but yet again, he is cut short. “Say sorry, Jungkook!” Taehyung states fast, talking over the maknae’s words as if to blur them out with his own. It is as if he avoids looking at you, and instead, he keeps his eyes locked on the younger one before him to display his seriousness. Jungkook gives up and shifts his gaze to you instead. “We’re sorry, Y/N. It wasn’t cool, and we’ll leave you alone now,” he states genuinely. The apology is finally said, and you nod in acceptance. “Thank you,” you say back, though your mind barely registers it as it is busy trying to figure out Taehyung. You think he seems to care too much about this, considering it really has nothing to do with him. Barely letting the younger one talk suggests that he is either so done with his friends’ childish behavior or that he is trying to hide something. Yet what could that be? you wonder. With that question in mind, you return to your room, hoping for the rest of the night to calm down.

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Chapter by chapter, you finally get to finish your book without too many interruptions. It is only the occasional laugh next door that delays you, but you quickly adjust this time, and after a while, you barely notice it. It is not until the last page is read, and you are going over the book in your head, that you find yourself distracted by the sound of them talking. It sparks a curiosity in you after what happened earlier, so you decide to step over to the wall and check if you can make out what they are saying. Standing with your ear against the wall and listening to a conversation that you cannot possibly make out words from, you realize how dumb you must look. However, you can sense the mood of their conversation as one of them is talking a bit louder than the others. It sounds as if he is voicing an issue from the way his sentences flow; serious and firm, and the other boys kind of hum in agreement. It is a discussion in a way, but you have no clue what the subject of it might be. Hard to tell through a wall, you guess. Then, the conversation comes to a halt, and it is quiet for a moment. Is it over? you wonder. The silence lasts for half a minute before you hear the door to their room open and close as someone steps out. It proves to you that whatever they were talking about is no more. However, as you walk back, you hear a knock on the door to your room, and it takes you by surprise. Opening it up, you meet eyes with Taehyung, and the first thing you notice is his soft expression. “Hi, do you have a minute?” he asks. He was the one, you heard leave just now, and for some reason, he came to you. “Sure,” you say and step back, allowing him inside, and he closes the door behind him after entering. You sit down on your bed, and Taehyung sits down across from you on the opposite one. Suddenly, you notice how nervous he seems, when he starts rubbing his hands against his thighs. “So, what’s up?” you ask, studying him to figure out what is on his mind. For the time being, you cannot tell. “Well, I just came over to apologize for my friends, they should not have bothered you tonight, I’m sorry about that,” he explains apologetically, rubbing at the back of his neck. His dark hair seems a bit messy as if he has been running his hands through it. His distressed state seems so misplaced, and you debate whether or not to just ask him directly, yet his words make you ask something else. “Why are you sorry? You had nothing to do with it,” you state, finding his apology uncalled for. It makes Taehyung chuckle with a tilt of his head. “Actually, I might have had something to do with it,” he smiles shyly, and it causes the light frown on your face. Taehyung notices your confusion and is quick to elaborate. “I am the reason they wanted to tease you in the first place since I kept talking about you, and they wanted to get your attention for me,” he says as he avoids your eyes. When you do not say anything, his eyes return to you, and he bites his lip with nervous anticipation. You then realize what today has been about, and why Taehyung has been acting weird about the whole thing. He likes you. “So, you’ve been talking about me, huh?” you smile, and you read the relief on his face when he smiles back. “Maybe,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The change of position gets him closer to you, and it gives him a better angle to study your face. His demeanor is suddenly different as he keeps his eyes on you with a cocky grin after he realizes that you like what you are hearing. He can tell from the smitten smile, you wear. The room is quiet and dimly lit, creating a softness of a kind that makes you see Taehyung in a different light. He looks warm and gentle, and so damn kissable. “Well, you have my attention now, so make it worth my while,” you grin, leaning forward yourself. Taehyung tilts his head, and his eyes fall to your lips. You find yourself holding your breath as he closes in and cups your face with a tender hand. He kisses you, and you place your palm on his forearm for balance as you relax into his touch. It is soft and intimate, and you taste sweetness on his lips. Just like a kiss should be. Before you know it, he pulls back and opens his eyes to meet yours. You bite your bottom lip, tasting what lingers of him still. He smiles at that as he pulls your hair behind your ear. With a relaxed sigh, he lets his gaze travel, and it finds your phone lying on the bed beside you. The sight makes him scoff. “I have an idea,” he says and looks up at you again. You raise your brows in question. “You see, Jimin’s phone might be broken now, but I know Jungkook’s number too,” Taehyung says with a mischievous look in his eyes. You smile as you realize what he is saying. “I’m in,” you say, and you both agree. It is time to have some fun of your own.

[thechembow]

Orgone Energy and Our Perception of Sound

Central Valley sunset during massive transmutation on Apr. 9, 2019

Apr. 10, 2019

We live in a noisy world. There are many sources of life negating sounds. People are desensitized to abrasive noise and treat you like you’re weak and “sensitive” if it bothers you and you desire peace and quiet. In actuality, they are the ones with a problem and they enable the problem to continue by being apathetic. They allow their parasitic controllers to dictate their ability to rest, relax, concentrate, or simply exist. It’s the same as how they can eat McDonalds, which would send me to the emergency room, and how they can live in a head crushing DOR environment, while my head hurts after a few minutes of using a smart phone. There is really nothing we can do about neutralizing life negating sound, since it’s completely accepted. Or is there?

We had a computer meltdown last week and are still in the process of regrouping. This computer provided our morning white noise so that we could sleep past 7am along with performing many other functions in our daily business and work. We just returned from a big job in Fresno, gridding the entire city with orgonite. I would say we covered 95% of the cell towers, or a conservative estimate of 200 towers in the Fresno and Clovis area. It made a 180 degree turnaround in the atmospheric energy and the weather in one day’s time. We knew that when we returned to our home we would have to rearrange how we play our white noise, but we were too tired last night to get technical. So instead of doing this, we decided to see if the orgonite gifting would help the noise problem here, since these are very wide reaching operations. It did, and we got to sleep until we actually needed to get up to feel rested, a little before 9am. Normally peak noise hours by our house are 7-9am weekdays.

In the war on sleep, 7am is now the acceptable time for noise to start according to laws of most municipalities. Therefore, you may expect this to be your wake up time. You will be treated like you’re lazy if you have a wake up time that is later than this one, just like you’re treated like you’re crazy if you don’t like hearing a truck idling outside of your house for several hours each day. You may even be treated like you’re a deadbeat if you require eight hours or more of sleep. I am at my most efficient with at least 9 hours of sleep and I go to sleep after 11pm usually. Am I lazy, or have I done tireless research and work in the field of orgonomy day in and day out for five years? Am I lazy because I produce audio and video content, maintain a fastidious journal of our field work, write articles and a book, and constantly produce quality hand made orgonite because I am more productive in the afternoon than the morning? Most people don’t naturally wake up early and enjoy being up later at night. They are treated like the minority even though they are the majority because this world is parasitically infected and inverted. They don’t want us getting a good night’s rest. Noise is a huge part of the war on sleep.

Because people do not want to be alone with their thoughts, and because over decades their attention span and concentration have been eroded by television, computers, and now smart phones, they actually seem to be comfortable in noisy environments. I don’t know if they actually prefer them or not. I would need to take a survey. I don’t prefer noisy environments. I like peace and quiet and don’t mind being alone with my thoughts. But for most people, a moment of silence, which once resulted in lighting a cigarette, now results in grabbing for the smart phone and clicking around on the tiny screen or watching a video. Then they feel better. All the thoughts are gone and replaced with the thoughts the parasites program through the phone.

There are two ways in which we are now seeing the possibility of using orgonite to help with noise pollution. One is by reducing the effects of mind controlling EMF. We have actually witnessed different and unusual human behavior in thoroughly gifted areas. By unusual, I mean behavior that is almost human. The other way it can help is by changing our perception of sound, or perhaps the quality of the sound itself. Life negating noise is consistently quieter on high OR days.

Regarding the human mind, we noticed that the usual perpetrators of morning noise were less active this morning. Trucks were shut off and not left to idle, workers who burn off hours bulldozing, chain sawing, and driving tractors were absent. It was odd, but of course welcome given how tired we were after two full days of heavy work and long drives. We had a most peaceful and harmonious morning. We have seen a direct correlation between high OR and less mind control related noise. The smart phones dictate most people’s thoughts actions most of the time by rerouting mental pathways. If they want to target you with an etheric attack, they do it through the phone or wifi. If they can’t do this to you because you refuse these devices, they will program others around you through their devices to disturb and abuse you.

In Fresno, I had a very interesting interaction with a young EMF addict at Whole Foods. We were eating our lunch at a long communal table and a little man sat down next to Gabriel. He immediately started playing some game on the smart phone which made annoying jingling sounds. Gabriel looked at me and said it was time to move. I did something I don’t usually do because it never works and usually ends in frustration. I asked the addict to please turn off the sound or put on his headphones. He looked at me with utter shock, mouth agape. He said unexpectedly, “I’ll do it just for you.” I thanked him and continued eating. A few minutes later, he grabbed for the phone and put on a music video. We got up and moved. What interested me about this exchange was that he turned it off at all. Most people of that low consciousness level cannot understand why others would not want to hear mind numbing media played through horrible quality speakers. I believe that it was the neutralization of the towers that even allowed his mind to be considerate for a moment. Of course, the addiction then took control again.

There is one more aspect to noise that I have noticed over the past several months and especially in the past few days. In Fresno on day one before gifting the city, we awoke to a lot of traffic noise since we were staying near an intersection of two major streets. The next day, also a weekday, the same traffic sounded like it was at about half the decibel level of the first morning. This is after over two thirds of the city was gifted. Nothing had actually changed physically in the amount of traffic. Recently near our house, I have noticed that on high OR days, the same negative sounds are quieter. On DOR days they are much louder. This morning, I heard some traffic and motors outside, but it was so quiet it almost sounded like nothing, and this is a weekday with typical weekday traffic. It was also an exceptionally high OR day with cold, clear air after the high winds throughout Central California last night. We didn’t even need our white noise or earplugs. It was dead silent outside all morning.

When OR is high, the landscape looks different. It’s more vibrant and colorful. On DOR days, the same land looks grey and drab. OR changes the way things look. Vision is our mind translating a vibration into the sense of sight. This vibration is affected by life affirming and life negating energy. It would stand to reason that since sound is a vibration, it can also be affected by these energies. OR seems to either change the quality of the sound or how it is perceived by our minds. Our ears translate the vibration into a sense we can understand. On a high OR day, life negating sounds seem to be neutralized. On a high DOR day, they are amplified. These new discoveries may be yet another way to combat life negating frequency, in this case sound. OR and DOR truly are at the core of everything we perceive in the Universe. They are the energies of creation and destruction, and one cannot exist without the other. We should choose creation over destruction in our own lives at every chance we get and that includes the auditory sense.