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#How to Tell if a Piano is Haunted
thatsbelievable · 2 years
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redinthesea · 1 year
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I know this is meant to be an art account but as per usual I’m WAY too busy to draw anything for this year’s 413. So here’s an extremely old and blurry video (yikes, this is before I cut my hair oh god) of me playing Harlequin on the piano while my dog enjoys it. Hey, music is art, right?
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yosh-iro · 1 year
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just realizing my hearing can be summed up as having a fucking nasa computer for hardware but only ever using it to play that vid of a spinning rat with a compressed version of free bird in the background
#making that comparison cuz i literally just bought a $2k desktop after my laptop shit itself and im now watching that exact video#anyways the context for this is that while my hearing capability is much better than average for my age#i have an auditory processing disorder that makes it so my actual ability to hear is dogshit majority of the time#like i can hear really high pitched things (up to 20khz still even on low volume)#but for example speech is something thats hard for me to understand sometimes because it somehow gets garbled in my brain#which i think is why i dont have a hard time with accents since im so used to needing to unscramble whatever the hell i just heard anyways#or like how i cant tell music intervals apart despite taking/being in music for like 80% of my life#i was so happy when my band teacher let me see his hands when i did the interval part of my theory final last spring#cuz i know the difference when looking at it but hearing it i cant tell the difference between a minor 3rd and a major 6th or anything#and its not a lack of practice seeing as id been doing that shit specifically for almost 8 years at that point and hadnt gotten any better#i think he realized there was no way i would pass that part normally cuz he had been helping me with interval training for a while#i could play whichever one when asked to but couldnt tell them apart audibly when i tried to#pretty sure the highest i ever got on an interval test outside of my theory final was like 60% cuz i had to basically guess all of them#even with just single notes i find it hard to tell them apart unless its a G or C#G cuz i was a emo shit in jr high and C cuz that note haunts me in my fucking sleep since i stopped piano lessons like 8ish years ago#anyways yeah welcome to tumblr where i feel its not too abnormal to have somebodys life story in the tags section as context for a joke lol#or maybe im in the minority and most people dont actually do this but i just happen to see a lot of posts that do :p#and now this is very off topic lmfao#yoshi talk
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broodingheroine · 1 month
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list of weird things I want to hear in a case file in tmagp:
baker (or just a person making their own bread) getting progressively more paranoid about the bubbles in their sourdough starter being sentient
teenager on some sort of social media talking about how the clothes pile on their chair looks at them in the dark
very cliche tree branch shadow tapping on someone's window in the middle of the night but it's actually an evil tree
I want more haunted theaters. It can never be overdone.
musician finds the one out of tune key on their piano deeply disconcerting to the point of obsession
someone gets a splinter and can't quite seem to get it out..... they keep digging for hours
avalanche. being stuck under the snow and not being able to tell which way is up.
story of someone who got stuck in an office building all alone and couldn't find the exit but there's just enough details similar to the oiar building that it freaks someone out.
worm sex part 2: electric boogaloo
someone with frost bite who couldn't stop rubbing their arms even though the skin was getting shredded from the ice particles :) flesh
everytime someone gets their picture taken, even if it's a candid, the result is them staring dead into the lense. even if they were turned the opposite direction when it was taken. they avoid cameras now.
someone's voice cannot be recorded and they start to question whether or not they're real.
furbiez.
someone who realizes everyone they've ever known has forgotten them. kind of an inverse not!them where they're the only one who knows themselves.
apartment complex finds body in their water tank, people had been drinking corpse water, one of the tenants obsesses over it and starts putting more bodies in the tank to get the ✨️flavor✨️ back.
love induced cannibalism and I want that shit genuinely romanticized. like i want it portrayed as if it's the most reasonable thing on earth to consume your loved ones.
time loop. except the person in the time loop is there so long they get desensitized and start just having fun with it. the time it finally stops looping is when they've done the most heinous thing they could think of and then they have to live with it.
might add more if they occur to me
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borathae · 8 months
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"I’m honestly so free use with you when I sleep", you told him after a very passionate morning in the sheets. That was weeks ago. Right now, your confession is haunting Jungkook. Free use, you called it. Free use...The words sound sweet to his pleasure twisted mind. Free use... Jungkook gulps and chases the ecstatic feelings your sleeping body gives him. One more time. He needs it one more time. 
Alternatively: After accidentally turning Jungkook on before you fall asleep, you wake up to him using your willing body to get off. Not that you mind, as his reward for your submission is as sweet as honey.”
Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, Camping Trip!AU, Smut 
Warnings: switch!Jungkook, subby!Reader, he calls her Mistress at first but then gets so needy that he takes the lead, Yoongi makes a short appearance, hints at various threesomes, hints at bondage, sex in a camper van, needy!Jungkook, consensual free use kink (free use in this story = you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want), consensual somnophilia, kinda sensory deprivation because he does all of this to her in a dark room & she can’t see, Koo has sensitive nipples, nipple sucking, he rubs his nipples against her lips as she sleeps, he humps her thigh while she sleeps, and plays with her pussy while she sleeps, big cock, vampire fangs, needy begging, body & breast worship, strength kink (he rips her clothes & pins her down), dirty talk, sloppy oral (f.receiving), fast pussy fingering, lotsa drool & slick, squirting, he cums humping the mattress, cuddly aftercare, they’re in love & very needy for each other
Wordcount: 5.4k
a/n: besties, it is finally happening. Sanguis!Kookie is getting the smut he deserves. Get ready for lots of it because I am obsessed with him. I fucking LOVE him. This is set once he learned how to control his urges. Oh yeah, and it’s a Kinktober22 request that didn’t make the cut, surprise it’s here now! Have fun! 🤍
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Today was a first for you and Jungkook. Your first ever couple trip. It wasn’t far. Just four hours by car to a small coastal town where every restaurant offered seafood and the air smelled of ocean. He drove while you napped.  
You spent the first day putting up your camper van by the beach and checking out the camp side. You spent too many minutes in the ocean and even napped under the shade of a big tree, cuddled up in a spacious hammock where Jungkook stole way too many kisses from you. Later in the evening – and after washing off the salt from your bodies and putting on pretty clothes – you went to eat at one of the restaurants where you ended up talking about too many things and drinking way too much wine.
It resulted in you getting so sleepy that you had just about enough energy to walk back to the camp side, wash up and fall into bed. The movie night you promised Jungkook was cancelled as you fell asleep five minutes after your head hit the pillows. 
Jungkook was left gawking at you with a big pout. He didn’t even have time to wash up and cuddle you in bed and you were already sleeping. 
Feeling utterly defeated, Jungkook leaves the camper to talk with Yoongi on the phone and make way for his frustrations.
“Hey, Kookie”, Yoongi picks up after the second ring, “what happened? Are you okay? Why are you calling me?”
“Yes, we’re okay. I’m sad. ___ already fell asleep because she drank too much wine.”
Yoongi chuckles fondly. 
“She’s cute”, he says, shifting on the chair in the music room. He was writing music on the piano before Jungkook called. He is smiling because hearing Jungkook’s voice makes him happy and hearing about your shared day makes him even happier.
“Yeah she is. Fuck hyung, it’s so unfair I want her but she’s asleep.”
“I can’t help you with that”, Yoongi says in a laugh, “why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know who else to tell.”
Yoongi laughs harder, “you are so silly sometimes, Kookie. Just enjoy your time with her, slip under the blanket and hold her. Listen to her sleep, kiss her neck. She’s so soft when she sleeps.”
Jungkook presses his legs together even when standing up. You would fit so snugly against his chest. Jungkook can perfectly imagine just how warm and soft you would feel. How you would press against the spots which are so incredibly sensitive. Jungkook shifts, feeling heat threaten to gather between his legs.
“Kook?” Yoongi’s voice rips him out of his thoughts and to his reality. Shit. He completely forgot that he was talking with Yoongi on the phone. Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at the realisation.
“Y-yeah?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah uh, yeah I did. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Mhm I could tell”, the fond smirk in Yoongi’s voice is obvious to Jungkook.
He flusters.
“I’m so stupid for calling”, he mumbles, “I’m sorry hyung, I know you can’t help me.”
“It’s alright, kiddo. You know you can always call me, yeah?”
“Mhm, yeah I do.”
“Good”, Yoongi says and chuckles softly, “I gotta agree though. I can’t help you. You gotta help yourself.”
“I know”, Jungkook whines, “shit, I’m just nervous.”
“Why? It’s just ___.”
“Exactly”, Jungkook widens his eyes, “I’m so scared to lose control.”
“Kookie”, Yoongi’s voice was soft but carried the slightest hint of a scold with it, “if there was even the slightest possibility that you could lose control, I wouldn’t have let you go on this trip. You are ready. Trust in yourself, my lovely.”
Jungkook smiles giddily, “thanks, my hyungie. I needed to hear this.”
“Always happy to help”, Yoongi says, “now stop talking to me and hold our princess, you fucking deserve it, goddamn it.”
Jungkook chuckles, “yeah okay, you’re right”, he giggles, “I’m excited, hyung.”
“Mhm, you can be. She feels like heaven.”
They end their call soon after. Yoongi will continue playing piano, but he will do so with a soft smile ever so slightly present on his lips. Jungkook returns to your camper van, sneaking a glance at your resting form. You are sleeping peacefully with your mouth agape in soft snores. Jungkook finds himself melting at the view and wanting to cradle you against his chest. He perseveres however, sneaking away into the small bathroom to clean off the day.
Jungkook returns after some time, wearing nothing more than a pair of satin boxers. He tiptoes to the bed and crawls on top. He knows that he can be careful without even having to try. Sneaking comes natural to his race. A vampire is, after all, meant to surprise its prey when they least expect it. 
He opens the blanket to slip inside. You roll to your back and then to your side. Jungkook halts, holding his breath. Your eyes open, searching for him in the darkness. Jungkook can see you perfectly, while you are clearly blind.
“Honey?” your voice is frail in sleep. 
“Go back to sleep”, Jungkook whispers. 
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Nightmare?”
You shake your head, eyes focusing on his face. At least you think that you do. You are looking right past him. Jungkook thinks it’s adorable. 
“I want snuggles”, you say and pout. 
Jungkook feels flutters in his tummy. You are so cute when you’re sleepy and a little tipsy. He closes the distance between you and him and picks you up just to rest you against his chest.
You rub yourself against him like a cuddly cat, humming softly.
“So nice”, you mumble, burying your face in his naked chest, “I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, my honeybee”, Jungkook says, kissing your hair, “sleep tight.”
You huff out air, running your fingertips along his waist. Jungkook feels goosebumps cover every single inch of his body because of it. 
“I dreamed of you”, you whisper slowly and very quietly. 
“You did?” Jungkook is melting under your touch, squeezing his legs together.
“Mhm, you moaned for me.”
“I did?” Jungkook croaks, rolling his hips into you as inconspicuously as possible, “why?”
“I made you cum”, you say and wrap your lips around his nipple to suck softly. 
“Ah”, Jungkook gasps, parting his lips. His body shudders, his cock throbs instantly. His nipples are his weak spots. You are so warm and wet around him. 
“Oh god, why are you doing this?” he chokes out, fighting every urge inside him not to take you against the fucking sheets right here and now. It’s like you pressed a button. He feels fucking charged.
“Is nice”, you murmur and continue to suck on him in rhythmical motions, growing slower and slower as the seconds turn into minutes.
Jungkook is a mess by the time your sucks are barely there, trembling in desperation and moaning into your hair. His cock is straining his briefs, his fingers twist the pillow behind your head. He would probably hurt you if he didn’t, because the only thing he truly wants to twist is a bundle of your hair. He would be way too rough if he did, having to twist the poor pillow instead.
“Oh god, honey”, Jungkook croaks, giving you a breathy moan afterwards. If he knew that he would get to feel something so incredibly good, he would have joined you in bed sooner.
You suck and suck and…suck and…stop. Your lips part and slip from his swollen nipple. Your tongue leaves it too. 
“Please don’t stop”, Jungkook begs, releasing the pillow to caress your head, “please? More?”
“Hm”, the sound you make is barely there. Your tongue darts out and licks his sensitive nipple. Soft, slow, barely there kitten licks is all he gets, but Jungkook is so charged in pleasure that he feels no different than when you sucked him. 
He moans instantly, closing his fingers around a bundle of your hair before he realises what he was about to do and he grabs the pillow instead.
“Thank you”, he sighs, "this feels so good. Oh god, it feels so good…”
Lick. Lick. Lick. Slower and slower. The pressure gets less. You breathe on his wet nipple. Like a huff of air. Involuntary and definitely not meant to stimulate him. Jungkook still moans and squirms. Your tongue stops.
“More please”, Jungkook begs, arching his chest into your mouth. Your lips press against his nipple, but don’t move. They simply rest on him and drive him insane. “Mistress?” Jungkook gets out.
No answer. You grow soft in his arms and seconds later, your breathing returned to a slow and steady rhythm. You have fallen back to sleep, now resting safely in his arms. 
You left him in his desperation. You used the sucking as nothing more than your way of relaxation. And while you found peaceful sleep through it, Jungkook is left feeling like bursting. His cock is so hard, his balls so swollen and his nipple is so sensitive that one little pinch would be enough for him to soak his boxers in slick. 
Jungkook pulls you closer and sobs softly.
“Don’t do that to me please”, he begs, “please wake up again please.”
Sleep however doesn’t release you and Jungkook is left with a painful hard on and sensitive nipples begging for attention. 
“Please wake up, please”, Jungkook begs, trying to wake you with a little shake of your head. You don’t wake, but what does happen is that your lips rub against his nipple. Jungkook moans softly, quickly realising what he just did and going up in flames as a result. 
“Sorry”, he gets out, “I, I didn’t mean to, I-”, he hesitates. It felt so good to do. Your lips are so soft and warm and still wet from all the licking you did. Would it be disgusting of him to do it again? Just one more time? 
There is a part of him which tells him that he is disgusting for wanting it and another part of him which keeps reminding him of that one conversation you had a few months ago. 
“I’m honestly so free use with you guys when I sleep”, you told Yoongi and him after a very passionate morning in the sheets where Yoongi woke you with oral while Jungkook jerked off and watched, “as long as you make sure that I don’t get hurt, you can honestly use my body however you want. Wake me with your cock stuffed in me if you want to, I’m so down.”
Back then, your confession resulted in Yoongi and Jungkook fucking you to the point where you cried from feeling too good. 
Right now, your confession is haunting Jungkook. Haunting and tempting and turning him into a version of himself which he feels very ashamed of. Free use, you called it. Free use…The words sound sweet to his pleasure twisted mind. Free use…
Jungkook gulps and squeezes the back of your head with his fingers. One more time. He presses your head closer and moves his chest. His nipple rubs against your lips. 
“A-ah hng”, he gets out and swallows audibly, feeling his cock twitch in his briefs. The feeling was indescribable. Your lips are so soft and wet. Now that sleep is keeping them relaxed, they are moving around his nipple sloppily. 
Again. He needs it again.
Jungkook presses into you and grinds his swollen bud against your lips. Electricity shoots down his body and moves his cock in a throb.
“Oh god”, he moans, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’m sorry, it’s so good. I’m sorry.”
He grinds his nipple into your lips and moans. It feels so good. You made him so swollen and hard and sensitive that now he is dizzy because of it. 
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop”, Jungkook whimpers, “Mistress, you feel so good.”
You give him no answer. You are slumbering peacefully. 
Jungkook presses himself closer, hoping for more of the sensation. He needs more of your mouth. More. You mewl and move your head away. He was too close, air was too sparse. 
Jungkook shimmies back, staring at you with glassy eyes. His nipples are throbbing. He wants more, but he knows that he should give you a break. He was greedy enough. 
He cups your cheek, runs his thumb over the lips he used so disgustingly before.
“I’m sorry”, he whispers, “I’m so horny, I didn’t know what I was doing.”
He has no idea why he apologises. He knows that he can do that to you. He was witness when Yoongi did far kinkier things to your sleeping body. He witnessed when he tied you to the bed and woke you with his fingers buried inside your already soaked pussy. And he was witness how you sleepily tried to fight the ropes only to beg for Yoongi’s vampire cock seconds later. And he was witness as Yoongi gave it to you, pounding into you until even the last ounce of sleepiness was fucked out of you.
Jungkook was witness to all of it and yet he still feels as if he committed a crime. He would feel far more terrible if his cock wasn’t that hard and his thoughts weren’t stuck on that night all of a sudden.  
“Oh god, I can’t help it”, Jungkook croaks and rolls you onto your back. He pins your hands against the pillow and wiggles his knee between your legs. Then he straddles your thigh, hovering above you that way. His curly hair hangs into his features messily, his blown out eyes are glued to your sleeping form. 
You look so innocent and sweet. Yoongi was right, watching you sleep is the best thing ever. It makes him feel so goddamn good. Especially when you look and feel so fragile under him. He feels so needed and strong, but also incredibly horny.
Jungkook angles his hips and rolls them against your thigh.
“Ah, hah ah”, he moans, squeezing your hands. Your thigh is grinding right against his swollen, hard cock. Slick covers his tip instantly, forcing his briefs to stick to it and making it slip against your naked thigh. 
You aren’t wearing panties. Jungkook can see it from the position because when he flipped you onto your back, your shirt slipped up your tummy and the blanket fell from your torso. Your pussy’s right there. Exposed to his eyes. As if you wanted to give him as little hurdles as possible. As if you wanted him to be able to access your pussy whenever he wanted to. 
Free use. 
You weren’t lying.
Jungkook moans throatily, punishing you with harsh rolls of his hips. He is aware that the only person that punishes is himself as this results in his cock rubbing against you with such vigour, Jungkook finds himself convulsing in reaction. 
“Fuck”, he rasps, “fuck, I’m so disgusting”, he chokes out and whimpers, “and you’re so perfect”, he gets out and furrows his brows, eyes focusing on your pussy. 
Maybe he is imagining it, but you are glistening. As if you are getting wet. Jungkook puts your hands together so he can hold both your wrists with one hand, then he lets his other run down your body. Along your arm, lingering on your neck and massaging your breasts for a while. 
You whimper, but don’t wake. 
“You’re perfect. Completely perfect.”
Jungkook speeds up his hips against your thigh, soaking more of his briefs. So fucking soft. You’re so soft when you sleep.
He runs his hand further down your body, your tummy is one of his favourite spots to touch. So soft and pretty. Next your hips. Jungkook fights every urge inside of him not to bruise it. Then your pussy. 
You moan in your sleep at the first touch, writhing underneath him as he drags his fingers through your folds. 
Jungkook trembles and squeezes your wrists. 
“So wet”, he growls, feeling his cheeks tingle as veins appear on his skin. He draws circles on your soaked entrance, looking at it with blown out pupils. The sexy dream you had before must have turned you on so much that you got wet. Jungkook moans and fucks your thigh in desperation. So wet and warm. So warm…
He wants to push inside, but doesn’t dare to. So he lifts his fingers, guiding them to his lips to suck them clean. 
The second your taste touches his tongue, Jungkook knows that he is done for. His eyes glow ruby instantly and his fangs are outside within not even a second. He moans deeply, cock ripping through his briefs from the sheer animalistic need he feels. Your thigh is covered in his slick instantly, resulting in his swollen cockhead to slip and slide all over your skin.
He moans, fucking your thigh as if he was already pounding your pussy. He is so turned on. He could cum right here and now if he wanted to. You are so goddamn sweet.
Jungkook sucks his fingers until even the last of your taste is gone. He slips out and moans deeply. His eyes don’t know where to look. Your pussy, your thigh, your tummy, your face, your tits. Your tits. Your nipples are swollen even under the fabric.  
Jungkook doesn’t think, he acts. He is too far gone to think. He rips your shirt and exposes your torso to his eyes. Your tits look so pretty when you are lying down and gravity does its perfect job. 
“Fuck, baby”, Jungkook whimpers and gathers one side in his spit covered fingers. He lowers himself and sucks your nipple into his mouth. 
“Ah”, you moan, arching your back. The scent of your wetness grows stronger in his nose and Jungkook swears that he sucks even harder because of it. He slides up your body, pressing his knee against your soaked pussy. 
A whimper slips past your lips. Jungkook soaks up the sound as much as he soaks up the feeling of your wet cunt against his knee. He rubs it into you demandingly, abandoning your wrists to instead gather your other breast as well. Hungry and full of greed, he leaves a sloppy trail of kisses on your chest as he changes sides. Your nipple slips between his fangs and he sucks hard. 
“Ah”, you moan, arching your back, “what? Ah! What?”
Jungkook lifts his head. You are awake again. Of course you are. It would have been a surprise if his rough touches hadn’t woken you. Your eyes search for him in the darkness. You look so out of it and confused.
“Don’t be scared”, Jungkook rasps, “I’m taking care of you.”
“I don’t get it, w-what are you doing?”
“You can’t just suck my nipples and expect me to be okay afterwards. I’m so fucking hard, feel it”, Jungkook grinds his huge cock against your thigh, pairing it with his knee grinding into your pussy. 
“Kook”, you moan, reaching for his hips.
“No”, Jungkook pins your hands above your head within a second, “stay where you are or I’m tying you up.”
“W-what?” you blink in the darkness, “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”
“Free use. That’s what you called it. Free use. I’m taking what’s promised to me.”
“Oh.”
Jungkook watches in delight as you roll your eyes back sensually. You arch your back off the sheets and throw your head back as best as possible.
“Holy fuck”, you choke out, rubbing your thighs against his legs in a needy attempt to press them together. 
“That’s okay with you, right?” he makes sure, “can I make use of it?”
“Yeah, fuck Kook. Yes”, you allow him, opening your legs again as you squirm sensually.
“Good. Wanna exchange safewords?”
“Mhm, snowdrop.”
“Yeah, snowdrop. Fuck, I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he rasps and lowers his tongue to your body to lick a thick and hungry stripe down your tummy. 
You writhe and whimper, allowing it to happen with a racing heart. Like this, he isn’t holding your wrists anymore, but he doesn’t have to. Your body is still droopy enough that keeping your hands above your head is an easy task to do. 
It does get harder however when Jungkook buries his tongue between your folds. You expected anything but this. 
“Ah! Kook”, you gasp, bucking your hips up. 
Jungkook grips them and pins them into the sheets, growling into your pussy as he sends you a warning look. One you can’t see because it’s dark in here and you have your face scrunched up in pleasure.
Jungkook fucks the mattress and moans, changing his grip on your hips to one around your thighs just so he can push them apart and reveal more of your pussy to him. He growls again from the pleasure this brings him, burying his hungry mouth deeper between your folds. He licks eagerly, using the animalistic hunger he feels for you to keep it quick.
“Holy fuck, please don’t stop”, you moan, panting like crazy afterwards.
The thing with Jungkook and oral is that up until two months ago, he was unable to do it with you. He wanted to do it, but his urges were too strong to do it safely. If he had given you head, it would have resulted in him biting you and therefore hurting you. Not anymore. Jungkook has been practicing with you and Yoongi almost every third night. It was the result of one terribly sexy evening where Yoongi tied up Jungkook and then made him eat you out “as practice”.
Ever since then, Jungkook couldn’t get enough. He was insatiable, asking for more practice sessions whenever he gets the chance and fantasising about nothing other than having your pussy under his tongue again and again and again. 
Your taste haunts him. It stays with him when he isn’t eating your pussy and it tortures him with its absence until he has to beg for yet another “practice session” in order not to go mad. You are all aware that calling them practice sessions is nothing but a lie. Jungkook found his sweetest drug between your legs and needs it like an addict. He doesn’t want to practice, he wants to get high on you. And you won’t complain. Practicing with Jungkook feels like fucking heaven. 
And tonight it seems that he finally had enough of pretending that what he does is nothing but practice. You are alone with each other, no Yoongi or Taehyung to monitor him in sight. This isn’t practice anymore. This is honest sex. The thing he already did every third night under the guise of practicing. 
“Don’t stop, please”, you beg, feeling your thighs shake without having any sort of control over it. He is moaning and growling so much that besides the quick licks and strong sucks, Jungkook sends vibrations through your pussy and it’s making staying still impossible.
Jungkook thinks that he still goes a little feral during those moments. That would explain why his cheeks are covered in veins and why his fangs are out. You taste way too good. Jungkook didn’t think that your pussy would taste so good, but she does. He grows feral for your taste and feels withdrawal symptoms whenever he can’t taste you.
More. He needs more.
He buries three of his fingers in your pussy just to pick up your slick and lick it off his fingers. In the current position, his tongue grinds against your clit as he licks and you whimper his name as your hands finally leave their position.
You grab a bundle of his curly hair and twist it. Your other hand slips to your own thigh just so you can grab it in desperation.
Jungkook looks up. Your head is rolled to your side, your pretty tits move each time you pant for air. He wants to touch them and squeeze them and roll your nipples, but he physically can’t bring himself to leave your pussy. Instead, he buries his fingers back in your warmth. Three at a time and covered in his drool. This time around, he does it so he can massage your g-spot as he begins sucking and licking your clit. 
You wail and arch your back, kicking the sheets because you can’t handle this feeling otherwise. You dreamed of him before you woke. Like before, you dreamed of having him lie heavy in your hands as you made him cum. It was such an immersive dream until all of a sudden it stopped feeling like a dream and became your reality.
You can’t accept that this is your reality. That Jungkook is eating your pussy as he fingers you roughly. It’s too much for your sleepy brain to comprehend and all you can do is shake and tremble and kick the sheets as your fingers dimple your own thigh. 
Jungkook out of all the people is eating you out. After two months of extensive training, you should be used to his techniques, but you really aren’t. You never know what you will get with him. He can be so gentle and slow if he wants to, whilst other times he treats you with such roughness that you want to scream. He is never terrible however. As if giving head comes to him naturally. Like a vampiric purpose he is finally able to fulfil.
Jungkook breaks his lips away from your clit and presses his thumb against it instead. You know what that means, moaning his name loudly as Jungkook drags his heavy tongue up your torso.
Not being able to see what he does, adds excitement to all of this. “Please don’t stop, holy fuck”, you beg, feeling charged in pleasure. He is massaging your g-spot with such precision that there is a constant hot pressure deep inside your pussy. As if you were constantly on the edge of orgasming. You can’t handle it, but don’t want it to stop.
He takes your right nipple between his teeth and tugs hard. 
“Fuck", you squeak at the pinch, arching your back. 
“I wanna ruin you”, Jungkook growls, “I wanna fucking break you”, he adds and lifts his head, staring down at you with swollen, parted lips. His long fangs glisten behind them, but you can’t see them. You are blind to his current state. The black veins, long fangs, feral hunger in his eyes. You have no idea that it is happening, all you can do is moan and writhe for him.
“Don’t stop, please”, you beg unaware of his confession and slave to his touches. 
He speeds up his hand between your legs, fucking your pussy with angry precision. 
“Like this, baby? Mhm?”
You squeeze your eyes shut and sob softly. Waving your hands in the air panickedly until finally grabbing your own thighs. Jungkook watches it happening with a throbbing cock. 
“Kook, please.”
“So good”, he lulls, drooling on your chest, “shake for me. That’s my girl, shake for me.”
“I’m gonna cum”, you croak and sob, “please don’t stop, please.”
Jungkook doesn’t stop. He keeps going. He is addicted to two things. Your taste and your orgasms. Knowing that he out of all people can make you feel so good that your body has to climax in order to handle it, fills him with a rush of ecstatic pleasure. He wants it to happen anytime you announce it, making it his only goal for the time it takes you to get there.
“I wanna lick you”, he pants, “will this get you there? Can I please lick your pussy?”
“Yeah”, you mewl and sob, writhing under him.
“Fuck. Thank you”, Jungkook moans and disappears between your legs. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, but keeps the speed of his fingers going. With eager curls and fast motions, he fucks your pussy open as his tongue and lips work your swollen clit. 
Your voice breaks and you grow completely silent as you hold your breath. One. Two. Three. 
“Meehngn”, you let out in whimpers, now fighting for air in quick pants until it repeats itself again. Silence as you hold your breath and then squeaky sounds as you fight for more air. 
Jungkook knows that it’s only a matter of seconds by now. You get terribly non vocal whenever you are close. He fucks the mattress harshly, whimpering into your pussy. To think that he was able to fuck you so much these days that he learned that fact about you. It’s a dream come true. He is so fucking happy!
“No-ohw”, you choke out and break under his tongue. Your legs close around his head, your pussy squeezes his fingers and your clit throbs against his tongue. Your orgasm sits so deep, making you cry out because Jungkook moves just right to turn it from good to spectacular. 
You are so turned on and sensitive from the combination of all your dreams and Jungkook’s touches that it doesn’t need a lot for you to convulse to the point where you cover his face in your wetness. 
Jungkook moans loudly and cums. He fucks his throbbing cock into the sheets as he shoots cum everywhere. He can handle everything but not drinking your squirt. The smell of it is already enough to make him climax. Your taste is another story. One which make him cum so fucking hard that he feels delirious afterwards. 
He keeps his fingers buried in your pussy to feel your rhythmic clenches, but rests his head on your thigh, panting with you as you both recover. 
“I’m sorry”, you whisper in a frail voice.
“For what?” he asks in a husky voice.
“I should have warned you.”
“Don’t apologise”, Jungkook clears his throat. Your taste still lingers on his tongue. He feels his head pound because of it, “don’t ever apologise for that.”
“I don’t know what to do”, you confess.
“Why?” he lifts his head, “are you okay?”
“No?” you laugh, “you just ruined me.”
“I told you that I would, didn’t I?”
“Yeah…”
You giggle and you sound so sweet doing it that Jungkook wants to kiss you. He gathers his already recovered strength and kisses a trail up your torso. You gasp and grow softer underneath him. This feels like heaven. To be brought to your breaking point, only to be loved so tenderly afterwards is heaven.
“Koo”, you get out, presenting your neck to him so he can kiss it. He does so with a happy sigh, slipping his fingers out of you to instead caress your waist. It fits so perfect between his fingers and all he really wants to do is cherish it. Neither of you mind that this spreads your wetness all over your skin.
“Thank you”, he whispers, stubbing your jawline with his nose.
“For what?”
“For this experience. I know you talked about free use, but it’s a privilege to be able to touch you, not a right. So thank you.”
You roll your head to look at him. You are looking right past him again. Jungkook smiles because of it. 
“I’m happy when you touch me”, you whisper and smile droopily.
Jungkook giggles and kisses your forehead.  
“I’m gonna give you so many orgasms on this trip”, he whispers against your skin, “you have no idea.”
You squirm and giggle, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to squeeze them gently.
“Don’t say that.”
“Mhm, no I will”, he whispers and snuggles into you, purring softly as he suckles on your neck to find relaxation. 
You sigh, closing your eyes as tranquillity washes over you.
“Did you rip through your briefs?” you ask him now that you feel his softened cock press against your leg. 
“Yeah”, he says and chuckles, “I lost it at your taste.”
You snicker, “you have the strongest cock ever, this is impressive.”
“In my defence, my vampire cock kinda has a mind of its own sometimes. I’m still not completely in control.”
“Don’t apologise, it’s hot”, you say and nuzzle into him, “I can’t wait to wake up to it stuffed in me tomorrow, yeah?”
“You’re unfair”, Jungkook mewls, “fuck, now Imma dream of it.” 
He makes you laugh, “sorry.”
“So mean”, he mumbles and pouts. 
He feels way too drained from his orgasm to feel truly affected by what you just said. You feel too ruined by your orgasm to want him to act on it right now. It still feels nice to tease each other. 
Jungkook cuddles into you, closing his arms around you. 
“Wanna stay like this forever”, he confesses and sighs happily.
“Me too”, you say, hugging his arm as best as possible.
You drift off to sleep together in this position, smiling because it felt so good to finally be able to love each other without any kind of restraints.
1K notes · View notes
ddarker-dreams · 11 months
Text
Entanglement.
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Yan Kafka x F Reader.
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.
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“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?” 
A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind. 
You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet. 
You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services. 
Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction. 
“It isn’t to my taste.” 
“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.” 
Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started. 
Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette. 
Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies? 
“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?” 
“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.” 
“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.” 
“I wish you wouldn’t.” 
You can feel her smile.
“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.” 
“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.” 
She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet. 
It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances. 
Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes. 
“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.” 
Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn. 
“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?” 
Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it. 
The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity. 
“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?” 
The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress. 
Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game. 
“... No.” 
“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.” 
You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.
After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it. 
Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place. 
Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip. 
“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…” 
As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.” 
Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?” 
“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.” 
Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess. 
Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope. 
“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.” 
1K notes · View notes
darlindeer · 1 month
Text
Hunted
tags: fem!reader, reader is in love Alastor, love sick-ish reader, perhaps inaccurate depiction of 1920s, human!Alastor, a little (a lot) of ooc!Alastor, there's a 4 year age gap between Alastor and reader, reader has mommy issues, NOT PROOFREAD !! Words: 3.5k a/n: Hiiiiii, so I'm really bad at writing synopsis so, I'll just tell you, this is a multi-part story following the story of Alastor and reader, where the reader is head over heels in love with Alastor in life and death but this part is just them meeting and meeting again :D enjoy!!! also maybe follow!! since this a new blog and i am going to be posting more parts :D reblogs are nice too ^^
part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v
You had met Alastor when you were just a child, you had been at his house, since his mother would give you piano lesson, you had spotted him here and there, falling head over heels at the sight of him, had you ever actually spoken a word to him, no, but is not like that mattered. 
Either way, you didn’t get to actually speak to him till years later, when you had just turned 18, you had finished your lessons with his mom years before, and hadn’t seen so much of a glimpse of him since. You reluctantly moved on from him, “entertaining” other suitors per your mom’s request, but in the back of your mind you dream of the day you could meet Alastor again. 
And it was almost as if the heavens heard you silent pleas of this, because what were the chances of you quite literally bumping into him, just as you were walking out of your favorite cafe?, it took a second for you to realize, since you were met with his chest, it wasn’t till you took a step back and heard his voice when it felt like your heart skipped a beat. 
“Oh, I’m sorry my dear, are you okay?” He asked, with that charming smile of his, as your eyes slowly moved up to meet his, your eyes widen as soon as you saw his face, you could never forget him. “Dear? Anyone home?” he asked with a chuckle, waving his hand in front of his face
“Oh yes, forgive me… just a little stunned” you said and cleared your throat nervously before dusting your dress off also as a nervous response, Alastor simply squinted slightly tilting his head, as if he were analyzing you, making you even more skittish than before 
“Say… are you Y/n y/l/n?” he asked leaning down slightly as if to get a closer look at you “you sure have grown quite a bit since I have last seen you” 
“You… you remember me?’ you asked shocked, eyes wide as daisies, clinging onto your skirt, it felt as if you were walking on clouds, well, more so standing on a cloud 
“Well of course! You had piano lessons with my mother! Three days a week, for three years straight, you never missed a day!” His smile widened slightly “now dear, how about we get a coffee? catch up a little?” 
Had you just left the cafe? Yes, but you had nowhere else to be, why lose the opportunity to spend the afternoon with the man that haunts your heart?.
That afternoon, Alastor and you talked for hours in that little cafe, till the sky was painted a dark blue splattered with stars, from everything that happened in the years in between when you last had seen each other and just a couple of hours prior this moment.
You told him all about your school affairs, how you were dead set on going to college and studying something grand, like journalism or even law because your hands were far too clumsy to be a nurse and your temper too short to be a teacher, and he chuckled as you called it a pipe dream, a great delusion but instead of agreeing with you, he encouraged you! To your surprise. 
And he told you about his mother’s tragic passing, and his job at the local radio station, how he was finally given a slot to host his very own show! It’d be hosted by himself and late at night but it was a start, just for now, you were sure, you told him so “you’d be on all day in no time! My, with your voice and that wit! it's preposterous you were given such a late slot” 
And then you smiled at each other.
He walked you home, like the gentleman he is. 
He kissed the back of your hand and said your goodbyes
Both of you knew there was no point in exchanging information for a measly attempt to keep in touch, you’d be off to a different city in no time and he’d be far too busy with his new broadcast soon enough. 
“Good night dear, I hope we can meet again soon” he said before you closed the door and he walked off. 
For the last couple of nights that you spent in your hometown, you tuned in to Alastor broadcast, laying in bed with your nightgown, listening to the wooden radio you kept in your room, smiling as you listened, it’d be a long time before you could listen again, you’d be gone by the end of the week and God knows when you’ll see him again. 
This is all you had for now, all you’ll be able to hold onto for the years to come.
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾  ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
You ended up returning to your home town 4 years late, with a flash, freshly (almost a month old) printed college degree in literature
You had hoped to return somewhat early in the day, in hope of getting you affairs in order and maybe even getting a job. Unfortunately, the train was running late, so now it was close to midnight, nothing was open, not even a single place to eat was open. 
You practically had to kick open the door to your childhood home, stepping into the dark place and kicking close the door behind you, letting your bags fall from your arms onto the floor with a loud thud, causing a cloud of dust to lift from the ground making you almost cough up a lung. You waved away the dust, stepping out of the dust cloud as you peeled off your coat, walking to the light switch only to find out the power had been cut off or hopefully just a blown fuse, as you flicked it up and down a couple times and nothing happened. 
You glance around at the very few things you could see in the dark, seeing that everything was as you left it, making it clear that your mother hadn’t so much as taken a breath anywhere near this house, which means, that yes, everything must be cut off.
“Why am I surprised?” you sighed to yourself, starting to walk to the kitchen to hopefully find some candles, your hands in front of you to hopefully avoid injury since you couldn’t see a thing in front of you. And after bumping into everything at knee level you finally found a candle and lit it. 
“Well, there is no point in me staying here tonight” you said to yourself as you walked back to your bags, picking one and walking towards your old room, lifting your bag up and letting it fall on the bed, putting the candle carefully on your nightstand. You looked through your bag for a second before finally pulling out a flapper dress you had… permanently borrowed from a gal-pal back in college “might as well have a night out” 
・༓☾  ☽༓・
You found your way to the back door of an old barber shop, you knocked on the door and a little window opened 
“Go away, there’s nothing to look at here doll” A female voice said from behind the door 
“Please! I really want a drink!” You pleaded and the door swung open and you were dragged in, and the door was slammed behind you. 
“Keep ya voice down kid!” the woman that pulled you inside said, she was shorter than you, she was wearing a red flapper dress and a slick blonde bob “well aren’t you a looker, couldn’t really see much through that little window” 
“Huh… thanks…?” you said fixing yourself up as the woman continued to eye you 
“Say, you don’t happen to be a singer?” she questioned before turning around “follow me doll, gimme your coat”
“Oh my! No, no, I can carry a tune but no one is lining up to hear me sing” you chuckled handing her your coat, she held it up examining it before opening a door and just throwing it in there 
“Hmm, alright then, the name’s Mimzy, this is my little slice of heaven” she said with a small chuckle as the pair walked down a flight of stairs, walking to a red and golden room, jazz music and cigarette smoke filling the air “so whatcha drink doll, I got anything you could want” 
“I’ll have a gin martini” she said leaning slightly on the bar as Mimzy walked behind the bar  
“Oh look at little miss fancy” she teased “most folks just go “whatever! Pour me a drink!” and slap the counter” 
“Hmm” you hummed picking up the glass set in front of you. 
You and Mimzy continued to mindlessly chat as she kept serving you drinks, obviously trying to make your bill bigger and bigger. 
A surprisingly loud cackle caught Alastor’s attention all the way across the speakeasy as it cut through the music, but mainly because it sounded somewhat familiar. His eyes scanned the room meticulously before they fell on Mimzy and a girl he didn’t quite recognize, giggling at the bar. You were wearing a deep red dress, with sparkly black fringe, your hair was cut to a short bob in current fashion, framing your face just perfectly, adorned with a silver headband. He was intrigued, it was almost as if he was being pulled towards you by some weird fated energy.
He made his way back to the two of you, standing next to you at the bar, “Mimzy, who is your new friend?” he asked before glancing towards you 
You looked his way and your heart dropped to the floor, you all of the sudden felt sober, eyes as wide as they can get “Alastor…” 
“Oh y/n! How long has it been” he said with a smile, as always “my! How long have you been back” 
“Barely a couple of hours” you said, words slightly slurred, although as you felt sober you were very clearly not.  
“Ya know this doll?” Mimzy asked pointing at you, as you down the last of your drink and held it up, asking for another one, and she served you another one 
“We go way back, perhaps my oldest friend” He said tilting his head slightly, eyes still glued to you as you sipped your fresh drink,
Friend… 
That word rang through your head, it felt like such a strong word in such many ways, strong in describing the nature of your relationship, friend… friends have had several conversations over years and years of coffees, drinks, meals, and such, friends know more than the bare basics of each other and things that could be considered town gossip. And strong in the sense that, that might all you could ever be, friends, it's so defining, telling all the ears that it falls upon that a relationship is purely platonic, little to no chance to ever be more than that, no love lost, not on his side at least. 
“How many drinks have you served the poor girl?” Alastor asked Mimzy as he watched how you circled the rim of the almost empty glass, eyes closed, idly swinging in your seat to the music in the background.
“Aw, barely any! What do you think of me?” Mimzy chuckled nervously before looking back at you, seeing how your head started to nod, as if you were starting to fall asleep, she snapped her fingers at you, making you sit up and open your eyes “sweetheart, what about a cigarette to sober up?” 
“Hmm yeah, I’ll have a cigarette” you smiled leaning more on the bar a ditsy smile on your face as you rested your chin on your palm
“Hmm, I don’t think so dear, I think it's time for you to get home” Alastor said reaching over for your hand before you could pick up the glass in front of you “come on darlin, up we go” he said as he helped you up from your seat, and you stumbled as soon as your feet touched the wooden floors, despite the fact that Alastor was practically holding you “whoa there dear!” 
“Sowryyyy” you giggled looking up at him “my… you really are handsome… handsome-est i've eveeeeer seen” , Mimzy chuckled and Alastor just shot her a threatening look, with a smile of course. 
“Thank you sweetheart” He said with a kind tone, “now, can you walk?” 
“Yesh, yea, I learn when I was just a child” you slurred, that ditsy smile seemingly permanent on your face, making Mimzy laugh again 
“I like this one, she’s a riot” Mimzy said looking at you “but dollface, you got a tab to pay” 
“Oh right!” you gasped, leaning even more on Alastor as you dug into your small sparkly purse, it matched with your dress! And pulled out a couple of clumped up bills, you brought them up to your face as if to count them before slapping them onto the counter “I’ll be back sooommee other night!” 
“Whenever you want doll!” Mimzy waved at you as Alastor practically dragged you out as you waved back 
Alastor, ever the gentleman, got your coat, helped you in it, before walking you out, somehow deciphering your directions to your home, 
You gasped and pointed at a house, you were hanging onto his side, barely holding up as you stumbled your way around  “thats it! Thats the one!’ you said and smiled, “youuurr wonna gonna kick the door a bit, it gets stuck, its like suuuuupeeeeeer old”
“Noted dear” he said, hoisting you up a little as you got to the door, you managed to take the keys out of your purse and handed it to him. Once he managed to get the door open he helped you inside, you kicked off your heels as you stepped away from the tall man. You slunk your way to the old tattered couch nearby, flopping down onto it, face first, making a cloud of dust rise from it, making you cough. 
Alastor went to turn on the lights, doing same as you, flicking the switch up and down but nothing happening 
“Oooh, those are shut, everything's shut” you slurred turning your head to the side, eyes close, as you slowly started to drift off to sleep
“My, my… well this just won’t do, I’m afraid you’ll freeze to death dear” Alastor tutted walking towards your sleeping body on the couch, “dear?”, you responded with a small snore and he sighed “well, I can’t in good conscience leave you in this abandoned house darlin, I hope you don’t mind, I’m taking you elsewhere” 
・༓☾  ☽༓・
You didn’t think sleeping in your old childhood bed would be this lovely, the mattress was old and god knows how deflated your pillows are, but for some reason you felt as if you were sleeping on a cloud, laying on the softest mattress of your dreams, your head resting on the fluffiest pillow and the warmest blanket you could imagine over you. 
You stirred awake by the sound of birds chirping and a warm sun beam hitting your face as it snuck through the gaps of the curtains, you slowly open your eyes only to close them again as the most intense headache hit you like a ton of bricks. 
You groan and rolled to the other side of the bed to avoid the sunlight in your eyes, opening your eyes to stare at the wall, only to see that you were not in your own room. You shot up at the sight, the walls had red wallpaper, yours was yellow, with little flowers all over it, and none of the furniture around was yours either, you should’ve known it wasn’t your room when you rolled in the bed, yours was small, you would have fallen right off, and your home wasn’t warm, it never had been. 
you slipped out of the bed, barefoot, no idea where your shoes were, you looked around, head pounding and urgent need to hurl in the back of your throat. You were curious to look around find whose home you were in, but part of you thought it was rude to look through things that weren’t yours. 
your thought process was interrupted by the smell of breakfast being made, you followed the smell, stepping out of the room you were in, you walked into the hallway, jazz music playing softly in the background. It felt like a dream, a bright, warm house, with welcoming smells and lovely music in the background. 
And then you were brutally dragged down to reality as you saw the picture in the walls. 
You seemed to be in Alastor’s house, you could tell from the picture of him and his mother on the walls, some of them had the body of his father, you say body because the face in most had been scratched out or ripped out. 
You walked out into the kitchen and gasped quietly, a small blush painted over your cheeks as you saw Alastor standing at the stove cooking. 
Why were you in his house? 
You couldn’t remember coming here
You definitely went to your own home after leaving the speakeasy! 
Alastor craned his head to the side ad spotted you in his peripheral vision “Oh darlin! Good morning” He smiled and turned around with the pan in had “sit down, sit down, have some food, I am sure you must be starving” he said with a bright smiled that for some reason made your headache worse, he served you up a plate of delicious looking food.
“T-thanks…?” you said softly looking at him as you sat down at the small table “s-so…um, how did I end up here?” your voice was quiet and corse, you looked like a complete mess, hair flat and stuck to your head in one side, make up smudge under your eyes and lipstick smeared to one side 
“Well dear, you drank your weight in Mimzy’s awful bootleg gin and then proceed to stumble your way home, with my help, but that home of yours” he explained sitting down on the chair next to yours, “it’s awfully cold, the power and water are cut off, everything is covered in dust” he continued watching you as you started to eat, your eyes rolling back as you took the first bite, before continuing eating eagerly  “I couldn’t just leave you there, I was sure you’d freeze to death, and it is not yet your time to go, I brought you here, to my home, it was your first night back I thought it was appropriate for you to sleep in a proper bed” 
“That’s so kind of you” You said with a smile before taking a sip of coffee in front of you, grimacing as you realized it was straight black coffee, too bitter for you “say, you don’t happen to have some sugar and cream?” 
“Hmm” He hummed almost in disappointment before standing up and fetching them for you, 
“I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth” you defended yourself before as you prepared your coffee to be light and sweet “my mother was supposed to keep the house in order but I don’t think she has even been in New Orleans since she left all those years ago” you shrugged as you sipped your coffee. “I was supposed to get all that in order yesterday but I got here far too late, decided it was better to at least have some fun out” 
“I gathered as much” he tilted his head slightly “well, aren’t you going to tell me?” 
“What do you mean?” you asked in genuine confusion 
“About university dear! Last time we saw each other you were so excited about it and I’m afraid that you were far too gone last night to maintain a conversation!”He chirped , you simply adored Alastor but at this moment it was bothering you how loud he seemed to be, your head was pounding and nothing seemed to making it better 
“Ah yes… well it was fun, I made my fair share of gal pals and read every book I could get my mitts on” You smiled, lighting up completely as you told him all about your studies, your eyes were practically sparkling as you spoke, “oh! But do tell, how has your radio show been, you must still be on, right?” 
“Well yes I am!, I don’t mean to brag but it is quite popular! I’m on in the evenings now” He said with a prideful smile, head tilting again as he looked at you returning the smile back at him 
“That’s good, as it should be” you smiled resting your head on your palm “really Alastor,, thank you so much for this… all of it, quite possibly saved my life” 
“Well it was no problem darlin’!” He chirped again “we must keep in touch now that you are home! I won’t allow anything else than three lunches a week, and we must go out drinking at least once a week” he demand making you giggle 
“Well, I must get a job first, I’ll be living on my own a gal is going to need cash for all those lunches and drinks” you giggled 
“Nonsense dear! It’ was my idea, it shall be my treat!” He chuckled a little 
“But still, there is bills and such I must take care of” You tilted your head to the side slightly “but I agree we must see more of each other” 
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actual-changeling · 4 months
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do you ever think 'hey, how can i make the south downs cottage sad?' and then just. vomit onto your keyboard? no? just me? that's okay, i wrote it so y'all don't have to.
i just had the mental image of crowley crying in an empty cottage while curled up on the floor okay. i was choking on it and it was write or die.
-
Crowley bought a cottage.
Well, he bought a lot of things in a near-manic online shopping experience that lasted two days and included—among many, many other items—a piano, five different tablets, a new couch, several bags of tiny plastic babies, a silver snake statue, and a cottage.
The cottage. His cottage. A quaint, yellow cottage in the South Downs.
If you were to ask him why, he would make a number of different sounds before settling on 'just wanted a change of scenery'.
Scenery. It is not a lie as such, but it barely scratches the surface of the truth.
London is empty without him. Familiar streets turned foreign, St. James's Park might as well be a cemetery of memories, and the bookshop—
Crowley doesn't like to think about the bookshop. No matter what he tells himself or how many good days he digs up from the back of his mind, the safety of what had been theirs disappeared with him.
(He refuses to set foot in it almost as vehemently as he refuses to say his name.)
Moving with supernatural powers is easy, yet he still decides to drive the Bentley all the way down, watching as London disappears. A part of him hopes the emptiness in his chest might stay behind as well, but his eyes burn with the same weight of uncried tears as before. There is no place on earth without the ghosts of what could have been haunting it.
So he moves into the cottage.
Crowley steps inside for the first time on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, warmth flooding the still-unfurnished rooms, and it would take a mere snap of his fingers to fill the void, to turn it into a home.
Maybe, he thought right before entering, maybe it will fix things.
When he sinks onto worn wooden floorboards and draws his knees up against his chest, he almost regrets not going with him. He had hoped, fuck, he had hoped, like the fool he is, that maybe building something for himself would expel the deeply rooted loneliness keeping him awake at night.
It doesn't. Nothing ever will.
(Unless he comes back, unless unless unless, and he needs to believe he will, he will lie down and never get up again.)
Crowley owns an empty cottage, and he sits in its hollow heart and cries.
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ilguna · 2 months
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Can you do finnick odair with Marjorie by taylor swift for the piano sessions . Like finnick is grieving after reader dies in the sewers . I LOVE some good finnick angst
Ps I absolutely adore your work
☼ marjorie (Finnick Odair) ☼
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warnings; swearing, death, death mention.
wc; 1.7k
notes; Piano Sessions: songfic, Marjorie by Taylor Swift.
--
District Four is haunted by the ghost of you.
Finnick knew it would be hard coming back here, which is exactly why he’s been putting it off for so long. He needed more time to come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be by his side when he did it. It helped that he wasn’t immediately released from the Capitol directly after the rebel’s victory.
There was a set time period for the victors from the Star Squad to recover from their adventure in the sewers. Whether it be from physical, emotional or mental wounds. In Finnick’s case specifically, all three. He nearly got torn apart by the pale slimy mutts if it weren’t for you, coming in to save him. Ultimately, losing your life for him.
It’s hard for him not to blame himself. He knows that’s not what you would want, it was your choice to jump in front of him. He wishes you hadn’t. He’s sure that he would’ve found a way to get out of there, and he’d much rather you be here, than him. You deserved to live. 
The vote that Coin conducted regarding another Hunger Games with the Capitol’s children delayed his trip home further. In fact, it set off a whole domino lineup that he’s sure Katniss never thought would happen. She knew there would be consequences, of course, she just didn’t take the time to think about how severe it would be.
Finnick voted no to the idea twice. Once for him, because he would never subject them to the years of torture he had to go through, especially since they had no hand in the Games. And one more time for you, because you would never have entertained the idea. 
In the end, it didn’t matter, because the vote went through. The same evening, Katniss was to execute Snow on live television, when instead she took the life of Coin for suggesting such a tasteless idea. This was when the dominos began to fall. Her actions caused another couple weeks of trial while they assessed her wellbeing. While that happened, an emergency election took place, where Commander Paylor took charge of Panem.
When Katniss was granted permission to go home to District Twelve, so was everyone else that was in Capitol custody. For the first time in Finnick’s life, he could go anywhere, do anything. Despite the fact that it should’ve felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, they felt heavier. When he imagined the light at the end of the tunnel, he always pictured it with you. Not by himself.
There were many people around Finnick that tried to support him. The most important of them being Johanna, who did tell him that he didn’t have to go back to Four if he didn’t want to. She wouldn’t mind it if he decided that he wanted to live with her for a little while, or even permanently.
With him being away for so long, he had to go home. He ached for it. The same way he ached for you to be in his arms, for you to kiss his face, for you to calm the rising grief in his chest for all the people you lost together.
Finnick’s never felt more alone.
He wasn’t sure what he expected when he stepped off the train a month ago, but it wasn’t the flood of memories that hit him while standing on the station. All of the times you’d gone to the Capitol together to mentor for the Hunger Games. How he held your hand every time while you carefully stepped off, because of the one time your foot slipped. His promise for it to never happen again.
It didn’t end there. It doesn’t matter where Finnick goes. It doesn’t matter how far he runs. He’s gone to the beach, and relived the picnics and the sunrises and the stargazes. The way you’d brush the sand from his skin, the minutes that never seemed to end when he had his eyes on you.
The first day he went to the market, he was met with all the sorrowed faces that frowned in his direction. Every single one of them knew how much you meant to him. If you were out of the house, usually he wasn’t too far behind, going wherever you went. If it meant he was able to spend more time with you.
It got worse when he returned to Victor’s Village, where he was met with a cemetery of houses that belonged to the victors that used to live there. With the rebellion, almost everyone had been wiped off the map by the Peacekeepers. And if not by them, then the rebels, who were afraid of the loyalists.
Besides Finnick, the only other victor that survived is Annie, but she lives with Katniss’s mother now. It was too painful of an idea for Annie to return here, she likely would’ve broken down completely. She can’t handle the memories the same way that he can.
He wishes he could say that he escapes reality in his house, that he’s able to pretend that nothing’s ever changed. And you’re still across the street, baking cookies with the door wide open. But his house is haunted, too. Finnick knew that one day he would regret inviting you to live with him at his house, when you had offered for him to move into yours.
He thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Finnick never intended for the two of you to fall apart, he was going to hold you two together for the rest of your lives if you allowed him to. He never considered that an outside force would wipe you off the face of the planet forever.
He should have taken your offer, because maybe then it wouldn’t be so painful to stay here, in his own home. Maybe he wouldn’t be crying in his bed at night, clutching your pillow, begging for you to come back. For a sign that you’re still around, waiting for him.
You’re everywhere, you’re inescapable. Your favorite tableware is in his cupboards, the one that your family has been using for generations. The one that your kids were supposed to use as they grew up, and eventually take as they gave it to their own children.
Your favorite soaps are in his bathrooms, which he’s too afraid to use. He had to buy new hand soap to avoid using the one that you’d gotten. He doesn’t touch the shampoo and conditioner in the shower. He doesn’t even sniff the body wash that sits on the ledge of the tub. 
Your decorations are carefully placed throughout the house. You brought life to his kitchen, his living room, his bathrooms, his hallways, his bedroom. Pieces that he never would have thought to grab in the past, because he couldn’t see the point of having them.
Your favorite smell is embedded in the blankets on the bed you shared. With your preferred perfume still sitting on the bedside table, waiting for you to come back. It would bother Finnick when you would spray his side of the bed, but now he would give anything for you to do it again.
Your makeup is on the vanity on the far side of his room, the jewelry box is propped open, the silver and gold collecting dust because he doesn’t want to close it. And your clothes are still taking up half of his closet, which he resists smelling every hour of the day.
Johanna told him to get rid of all of it. Or, at the very least, bring it back to your house, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s yours. For a brief moment in time, this place was yours too. Even if your belongings are gone, your feet are still imprinted in his wooden floors. In his mind.
You linger.
There’s a trace of you in every path you walked, in every object you touched, in every person you talked to, and in every breath of air that Finnick takes. This becomes increasingly obvious the longer Johanna stays with him.
“Maybe you and Katniss should spend some time together.” Johanna suggests, arms crossed over her chest. She looks over Finnick. “I heard that she’s not doing very well either.”
Of course not. Katniss lost more than she probably ever thought she would. She went through with being the Mockingjay to free Panem, but more importantly, to keep her sister safe. The whole reason why she ended up in that position was because she didn’t want her sister to go into the Games. Now that she’s dead, not even her own mother will return to Twelve. And the person she loved hasn’t stepped foot back, either.
When Finnick tears his eyes from the pot of fake greenery in the corner to look at her, the scowl on her face smooths out.
“No gossip.” She breathes, arms unfolding. “(Y/n) would’ve scolded me by now.”
Finnick presses his lips together, wanting to keep the growing pressure behind his eyes contained. 
“You and Katniss got along though, didn’t you?” She asks. “I thought I saw you getting close while we were in District Thirteen.”
He nods. “We had a lot in common.”
“You still do.” She says, the expression on her face has changed once again. This time to concern. “Finnick, are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“I’m sure.” Finnick breathes.
If Johanna stays, then she’ll ultimately end up trying to erase the time you put into him. She’ll try to take his mind off of all the things he knows about you. How you loved the amber skies in autumn. The way you’d pull him into the freezing beach water, while he complained the whole time.
The song you’d hum on the way back to his house, holding his hand up until the very minute you got into the shower together. He should’ve asked you what you were thinking about, he should’ve listened to every word.
‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from him.
--
this was part of my 3k celebration!!
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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 1 year
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what would it take for knives to admit he loved rem saverem?
because he did. I know he did. Rem taught him to play the piano and he plays it still, plays it in almost every episode in which he appears and his themes—Visitation of a Calamity and MILLIONS KNIVES—they’re piano songs. and you think—of course the villain of a shonen anime plays the piano. it’s within his aesthetic. but a piano is a human object and music is a human invention and it was nai’s human mother who taught him how to play.
he hates rem saverem. he hates her so much it burns, that he sees her in luida and when he sees her in Vash’s head he loses his mind. rem saverem haunts him. she took his brother away. she made him ill. but they’re both sick, aren’t they, they’re both rotting away, and yet knives still plays the piano, 150 years later.
he held out his hand. in episode one the first thing you learn about knives is that at the very last moment, though he knows she won’t come—you can see it in his face—he holds out his hand and says “rem, come with us,” without an ounce of hesitation. he says it so solemnly. with the eyes of someone who is both a child and not.
rem shakes her head. it’s one final betrayal.
I wonder if knives rebuilt the piano he uses out of scraps or if it’s the same one on SEED05 that he used to play with his brother. that he used to play with rem. I wonder how long it took him to bring himself to play it. How long it took for him to figure out how to play a duet by himself.
the first thing you learn about vash is that he remembers the names of everyone in cryosleep and that he greets them in the mornings; it tells you he’s a people person, that he’s extroverted and full of love, and that at heart, he’s a sweet, tender child.
the first thing you learn about knives is that he’s capable of mercy, and that he loves his mother. the second thing you learn is that he’s capable of betrayal, and that he hated his mother.
these four things tell you that he’s human.
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natimiles · 2 months
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Bringing Mozart into the 21st century and making him travel by modern transportation
Tags: lots of cursing; spoilers from his route?
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“No fucking way” is his first response when you show him a car and tell him you’ll use it to get around town. He’d walk a thousand miles, but he won’t climb into this... thing.
He ends up having to climb into the thing.
His first ride, he thought it was worse than carriages. The big front window gives him full vision of everything, and HE. IS. PANICKING.
Mozart: There’s another one coming this way! *screeches* MC: Mozart, they’re just changing lanes. It’s fine, you’re fine. Mozart: Oh my God, we’re gonna die… *starts muttering under his breath* MC: … MC: Are you praying???
He’s gripping the seat and the grab handle so tightly that his knuckles are white. He’s not breathing the entire ride.
As soon as the car stops, he opens the door and throws himself out. He’s praying again, but now he’s thanking God he survived this hell. Good luck making him enter the car again to ride back home.
The first time you get on a highway is wild. If he was already losing his mind before, imagine when you’re going faster. He’s gripping the seat, screeching, and praying. All at once. The whole time.
He might’ve passed out. If the sudden silence is any indication...
You can’t make him board an airplane. The first time you tried was to go back to your home country, and he caused a scene at the airport. You had to dope him with sleeping pills. 
He won’t board that huge, dangerous thing that flies again. How the fuck do they even fly???
Once he gets used to cars, things get easier. But it takes him a while, though.
He still yelps when he’s distracted and suddenly sees a car changing lanes.
He will open the window and pick fights. Someone didn’t signal? A car suddenly cuts in front of you? A pedestrian runs in front of your car out of the crosswalk? He’s screaming in German at the person.
You can try to make him ride a motorcycle, but it’ll be worse. He’ll cling to you, probably make you lose balance, and you two fall. And then he’s like “I told you these things are fucking dangerous!”
He won’t let you ride motorcycles again, even if you’re alone.
If you show him a car with autopilot, he freaks out. He’ll remember the time he went to buy a piano and it was playing by itself. Does the 21st century have haunted things too?
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Masterlists: Writing | Screenshots & Such | Edits
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gravitycavity · 15 days
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[Preview] Sunshine - Chapter 5
Hey guys! Thank you for your patience while I write chapter 5. This chapter might take longer than usual, so I wanted to give you all a longer-than-usual preview to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it!
For context, Pomni and Ragatha are in a ballroom inside of the haunted mansion. They're locked inside and looking for a key to escape, but aren't having very much luck. Having tried everything, they decide to take a break.
Also Ragatha is sitting in a chair. Pomni found her a comfy one :)
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The long, dusty boxes that Pomni had already sifted through still laid in a messy pile beside the antique chest. Pomni never was very good at putting things back where she found them.
Sighing, she opened the nearest one and cautiously unfurled the bulky scroll stored inside. A series of small, perfectly-cut holes stretched across the yellowed paper. Some existed in isolation, while others were grouped together into long lines — as if a leaf-munching insect had eaten its way through the fragile material.
Pomni’s tonge prodded the inside of her cheek. “Ragatha? You said you played the…” her gaze flicked aside, “...violin, right?”
“Violoncello.” Ragatha deadpanned. “Why?”
“Well, I was just wondering — since you’re a musician, do you have any clue what these weird rolls of paper are for? They seem related to the piano somehow, but…”
“I thought you would never ask!” Ragatha gasped, clasping her hands together. “Those funky bundles of paper are called piano rolls!”
The redhead had responded to Pomni’s question in plain English, but the baffled look on the jester’s face suggested otherwise.  
Ragatha continued. “Back in the day, these were used to play piano tunes without the need for a human performer. Each one plays a different song when loaded into a player piano.”
“Player piano…?”
“Oh, right. Sorry!” Ragatha shuffled her feet, “That’s a special type of piano that plays itself. I’m not quite sure how it works either. But back to the topic at hand — see those little holes cut into the paper? Each one represents one music note. As the roll slowly unfurls, a sensor reads them and tells the machine which keys to strike.”
“Ohh…” Pomni ran her fingers across the parade of perforations that spanned the scroll. Slowly, she nodded. “...So it’s like a music box?”
“Now you’re getting it!” Ragatha beamed. The look on her face as she watched the concept click in Pomnis’ head was a painting of pure joy; was it any wonder that she had worked as a teacher prior to her captivity? 
Pomni sighed. She planted an elbow on the old chest and cradled her cheek against her palm. “Your students must have loved you...” 
“Well, I did receive my fair share of apples.” Ragatha shrugged. “Never had to pack a lunch.”
“Wait, seriously…? That’s a real thing?”
“No. Not really.”
A silly smile teased its way onto Pomni’s lips. Heart stumbling, she turned away, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the old chest’s loosened lock. “S-So, um, is there anything else you can tell me…?” 
“Nah — telling is overrated. In my classroom, I always liked to take a hands-on approach.” Ragatha said. She admired the antique instrument seated on the far end of the stage. “There’s a player piano right there. Why don’t you give it a whirl, Sunshine?”
Pomni felt her whole body melting, all the way down to her soul. Sunshine. She was putty in the ragdoll’s hands. 
“S-Sure thing! I’ll find a good one!” Just about tearing the lid off of the antique chest, she rifled through its tightly-packed contents with purpose, scrutinizing the faded titles printed on each box. She didn’t recognize a single song, much less any of their long-dead composers, so it was anyone's guess as to what the music would actually sound like. She may as well have just swiped a roll at random — and, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she did. 
Pomni set the bulky scroll inside the automatic piano after a bit of clumsy fumbling — and more than a little help from Ragatha. With the flip of a switch, the paper started spinning, and the premier notes of a lofty, leisurely tune stirred to life beneath the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling. 
Pomni’s fingers drew circles on the mechanical piano’s smooth, wood grain exterior. For a moment, she forgot where she was, utterly fascinated by the simple elegance of the century-old contraption. 
It was funny. The long-forgotten piece it played, humbly subtitled ‘a ragtime two-step’, had set her up to expect something more peppy and up-tempo. As the piano roll steadily unfurled, however, the melodic constellations impressed upon the paper sang a far different tune. 
It was the type of jaunty music one would expect to accompany a silent film, just…polished. Refined. All of the musical tropes of the era were present — the driving bassline, the active, syncopated melody — but the piece’s dignified pace and finely-crafted harmonies would have sounded out of place in a rowdy saloon. 
Here in the ballroom, though, the old-fashioned tune was right at home — at least, that’s what the haunted furniture seemed to think. 
Looking impressed, Pomni tapped her foot, wholly oblivious to the perplexing scene unfolding behind her. “Hm. Not bad.” She remarked, turning to face Ragatha, “To tell you the truth, I actually kind of ohmygodwhat’sgoingon—”
Pomni stumbled backwards, then forwards, then backwards again into Ragatha’s chair. The ballroom’s inanimate denizens — the one-hundred-odd tables and chairs scattered across its marble floor —  moved all on their own, dancing in time with the mellow melody. A backing band of squeaking wood and clinking plates added a percussive flair to the player piano’s charming, just-slightly-detuned sound. 
Ragatha, for her part, was busy cracking up at Pomni’s complete and utter bewilderment. With a quick breath, she managed to compose herself. “Well, when in Rome…” The ghost of a giggle still lingered in her tone as she offered up her hand to the crumpled heap of a woman at her feet, “Shall we?”
Pomni let out a mousy squeak. “H-Huh?” She flinched, head feeling light, dots flitting across her vision, “But—”
“Come on. Don’t make me beg.” Ragatha batted her eyes, “It’s unladylike.”
Pomni blushed. She couldn’t argue with that. Without a word, she swallowed, shuddering like a frightened animal as she reached for Ragatha’s pretty hand.
Her fingers curled snugly around the ragdoll’s plush, doughy hand. Both women’s palms — one big, one small — fit together perfectly.
Pomni slid her other arm behind Ragatha’s back, powerless to stop the little whimpers sneaking out of her as she lifted the lightweight woman into her arms. For a moment, their faces were close enough to feel each other’s warmth — and it took every ounce of restraint Pomni had to resist asking: ‘Can I please kiss you?’.
With a brief, peppy fanfare, the music transitioned to a new section; the enchanted furniture, as if controlled by a single mind, adapted its routine in perfect sync. 
“I, um…” Pomni’s heart sank at the sight. This stupid furniture was making her look bad. “I don’t really know how to dance…” She winced the thought, and then at the sight of Ragatha’s grave injuries, “And even if I did, how are we supposed to—”
“Shh.” Ragatha’s thumb glided across the back of Pomni’s hand. “Just…hold me. Please.”
Pomni exhaled. 
Holding her dolly close, the jester closed her eyes, synchronizing her trembling breaths with every other downbeat. Her foot matched the two-step’s gentle pulse, and before she knew it, her whole body was swaying to the rhythm.
Ragatha nestled her head against Pomni’s chest; a blissful sigh escaped her shuddering smile. The tension in her body dissipated note-by-note, phrase-by-phrase, as her darling rocked her back and forth, here and there, to and fro. 
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theflyindutchwoman · 8 months
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I've got her! I've got her!! Right there. Here. Come on! Here she is. Help me.
| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 2.11 - Day of Death
I can't express how much I love this episode. It is such a masterpiece that I know that anything I write will automatically pale in comparison… So I'm just going to gush over some of my favorite moments.
The way Tim's emotions are so palpable during the whole episode, but particularly here… For someone who's usually good at compartmentalising, it says a lot about his feelings that he can barely keep it together. The only time we saw him this feral and this distraught was over Isabel and she was his wife… The cinematography and music just enhance everything he is going through here : the golden lights that remind us that Lucy is running out of time… the haunting piano notes or silence that give an eerie atmosphere… the looming dead tree… All of this serve to heighten Tim's feeling of despair.
His distress when Angela announces that she can't tell from the video if Lucy's still alive, is written all over his face. So is the confusion that quickly changes to hope when he spots her moonstone ring… And how symbolic is it that he finds her ring. Or that Lucy threw it as a breadcrumb - for him specifically. He once told her that the most important thing she needed was her eyes - cop eyes - and she remembered it. She left something for him to find, knowing that he would, as she admitted to him later. Because he also taught her during the manhunt that she's never alone. But it goes beyond trust : what she had was faith in him. And the fact that he rapidly recognises her ring just shows how attuned he already is to her. As far as we know, she only wore it twice in his presence : when they won the roundup competition and when she gave him her "evaluation" of him. And yet, he remembered and knew that it wasn't just some random piece of jewellery. Granted, the odds that someone else lost a ring there were minimal. But as we've seen with his Valentine's day present, he was paying attention to her.
And then there's this mix of desperation and hope when he finds out where she's buried, calling the others frantically, digging her out with his bare hands, not even stopping for a shovel… Or when he opens the barrel, not knowing if she's merely unconscious or not breathing… When he breathes life back to her… Armstrong's look says it all : what's driving Tim is something far more powerful than just guilt. Or duty.
There's also this immense sigh of relief that can be heard once Lucy regains consciousness… The way he's gently putting one hand under her head to make her more comfortable and help her get her bearings, maintaining contact with her to ground her… It's such a contrast to how feral he was before. Or the way he holds her close to him at first when she starts crying, trying to comfort her before hugging her tightly, cradling her, swaying a bit, with his hand in her hair… The way her trembling hand is gripping Tim, holding onto him like a lifeline… How she's hiding in his embrace and he's giving her some sense of privacy when she breaks down… How he's whispering soothing words to her - and I love that we can't really hear what he's telling her, that everybody else are giving them time and space. It adds to this feeling of intimacy, to this idea of privacy he's giving her despite the fact that they're surrounded by their friends and colleagues - and commander. It's just the two of them in that moment. That hug was as much for her than for him. After the ordeal she went through, Lucy desperately needed to feel safe again - or as safe as possible. And Tim himself needed the reassurance that she was alive. To quote another show - he cares, a lot more than he's supposed to. And it was in full display in this episode.
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some-rotten-nest · 1 year
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Okay, this is fully inspired by: The Ghost of Wayne Manor
But I'm going to write it anyway becuase I'm low-key in love with my interpretation of it.
---
When Dick was little and recovering from his trauma of seeing his parents be killed and becoming Robin shortly after he would always try to convince Bruce and Alfred that there was a Ghost in the house. And there was!
His name was Danny Phantom and he liked to haunt the study the most, then the library for the astrology books in there, and he played the piano! Well, he played badly, but it was funny to child Dick how he messed up the keys when he tried to play something.
He and Dick would talk during the night when they could, Danny showing himself, and Dick quickly learned of Danny Phantom as the world's first superhero! But when he tried to tell Alfred or Bruce, Danny never showed any sign on him, no flickering lights, to creaking steps, nothing!
Alfred and Bruce began thinking of this 'Danny Phantom' character as Dick's imaginary friend, no matter how much Dick said he wasn't imaginary.
One day Danny just left, and according to Dick he had 'to go rule his realm, which is a sister realm of ours, and it's called the Ghost Zone!'
Either way, years passed and now Danny Phantom was only brought up as a way to tease Dick while Dick would just roll his eyes and say he is real, he was sure of it
Then during one random day while the family had gathered, all of a sudden, the piano started playing badly enough to make Alfred frown.
Damian instantly ran to the study, assuming it was an intruder, sword in hand as Dick followed him, filled with nostalgia and childish joy. Bruce and Alfred followed out of concern.
There was nothing in the study except for the sound of the piano.
Everyone grew confused except Dick, who grinned ear-to-ear, and happily said, "Hey Danny, been a while."
The lights flickered and the curtains moved.
"oh so now you show yourself?" Dick complained, the piano stopped playing off-key songs.
"Dick, explain." Bruce demanded sternly.
Dick gave him a smug look, "what? Oh, don't worry about that, I'm just talking with my imaginary friend. Aren't I?"
Dick was tackled onto the floor shortly after as he laughed.
"Danny!" He called out, "okay, okay, I'm sorry! You're real!"
---
Or, alternatively, everyone had some kind of story about the ghost in Wayne manor.
Jason said the ghost helped him hide from Bruce and Alfred when the stole the last cookie.
Tim said the ghost would freeze his coffee solid if he worked late.
Steph said the ghost would help her find stuff she'd lost.
Barbara said the ghost would hand her stuff she couldn't reach.
Damian, no matter how much he refused to use the word ghost, said the ghost would grab him some new paint when he was running low.
Etcetera.
If anyone does anything like this please tag me want to see!
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Drawn Together 4
Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.
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Character: Steve Rogers
Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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A current of anxiety ripples around you. Since that day Steve came to your home. That day you foolishly let him inside. A tension made worse by your avoidance.
You haven’t called him. You’ve thought of it. You even thought of emailing but that was just as intimidating. You just don’t want to ever deal with him again. So you’ll say nothing and hope he takes the hint.
That also means you need a new student to take his spot. In the meantime, you can make due with the reduced income. You’re always smart about finances. As mindful and scrutinous as every other aspect in your life.
A whole week goes by. You feel the dread whittling away little by little. It feels like any other day as you wait for Caroline to drop off Freddy for his lesson. Despite being prone to distraction, he’s one of your most naturally gifted students. You enjoy those days when he manages to sit still. It’s worth the extra bit of patience you need to get him to focus.
You put a new bouquet of carnations in the window. The scent adds another layer of warmth to the sun streaming between the open curtains. It takes you back to the summers you spent there with your grandfather and his antique radio. It makes you miss him even more.
The doorbell chimes and your skirt billows around your legs as you descend. Teaching helps keep your mind off the shadow that follows you around. Another ghost that haunts these walls and your dreams. Just last night, you woke at nocturnal vision of his tattooed hands reaching for you.
No. It’s fine. It’s fine. He has no reason to return.
“Carol–”
You open the door and your voice lumps in your throat. It isn’t Caroline, it’s someone else. It’s as if he’s been summoned by your denial. You grip the door handle tight as Steve greets you with a bouquet of poppies.
“What… are you doing here?” You eke out.
He grins, “I didn’t hear from you so I thought I’d drop in. Just to say hi. I figured you’re a busy lady so you must’ve forgot to give me a call.”
His tone is light but with a weight hidden between his words. Like he knows something you don’t. He’s so certain it fills you with doubt.
“Uh, well, er, Steve,” you stammer, “it’s nice of you to check in but I’m expecting a student.”
“I understand. I just am so excited to learn more so I wanted to schedule my next lesson and you said yourself that I should keep at if I want to get better so–”
“Look, I, erm,” your words are stunted, painfully as they rise in wispy breaths, “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I’m at capacity.”
He watches you. His cheek dimples and the silver patch in his beard, just along his chin, catches the sunlight. He holds out the poppies in the cone of brown paper.
“I brought you your favourite,” he insists.
“That’s all very nice,” you reply, “but I’m sorry. I can’t take on any new students right now. There’s a music studio I can recommend, I have their number. My cousin works there and he’s brilliant at piano–”
“No,” he says bluntly, keeping the poppies hovering before you. “I don’t want a studio. I want you.”
“Really, I can’t. The flowers are pretty but I…” your voice quavers as his gaze bores into you. You chew your lip as you try to muster the next excuse.
“Would you quit chewing your lip and tell me the truth?” His timbre takes on a new edge and chokes the air from your chest.
“I am,” you murmur, “I’m– I should’ve told you but I lost track of… time.”
“And yesterday? At capacity. You didn’t have a single student.”
“Wha– how would you–”
“Hey, sorry I’m running a bit beh–” Caroline’s trill carries up the walk as she rushes up with Freddy’s hand in hers. She gasps and stops short, “oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I got caught up at doctor’s office and I know we’re late.”
You notice how she eyes Steve from head to toe. There’s a line of disapproval in her forehead as she stares at his arms. He’s unbothered as he doesn’t even turn around.
“It’s fine,” you step to the left to see around Steve, “I have everything ready–”
“We’re not done, sweetheart,” Steve snarls as he forms a barrier between you and Caroline. “You’re going to stand here and lie to me. Refuse the gift I brought you.”
“I told you. I’m just one person and I can’t handle any more students,” you put on your most stringent tenor, for Caroline and Freddy. You don’t want to cause them any panic. “Thank you.”
“That’s not what your post said online.”
“It’s old. I forgot–”
“You keep forgetting a lot.”
“Please, go. I have a lesson now.”
He huffs and drops his hand, hanging the flowers petals down as he sneers and turns to look at Caroline. He squares his shoulders and descends the steps one at a time. He marches up to her as Freddy cowers and clings to her arm, mommy.”
“Be careful with this con artist,” Steve grits out, “she’ll take your deposit and run. Trust me.”
You frown and bluster forward. He carries on down the sidewalk and you babble dumbly. Caroline looks at you then at Freddy as he fidgets. She turns to watch Steve cross the street as he tosses the flowers on the road. You follow her eyeline and stand frozen at his angry display.
He puts his helmet on and straddles the large motorcycle by the curb. He kicks the stand up and starts the engine, the roar cutting through the air starkly. You quake with the rumble as he revs and tears out, running over the bouquet as he tears off down the avenue.
“I–” you begin, “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t even know–”
There’s a sniffle and sob. You both look down at Freddy as he begins to cry, “mommy, I’m scared.”
“Shhh,” Caroline turns and squats down to comfort him, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, Freddy, come on.”
She draws him into a hug and you flit down the steps.
“You okay, Freddy?” You bend slightly as you try to get his attention. “How about you come inside and have a few cookies?”
“Please,” Caroline snaps at you, “I think we’re going to cancel this week’s lesson.”
“He won’t come back–”
“Look, I don’t know the type of men you hang around and frankly I don’t care,” she stands up and inserts herself in front of her son, “but when they scare my son, I have to be concerned about leaving him with you.”
“Really, I barely know him–”
“Please, keep your escapades to yourself,” she shows her palm dismissively. “You know, if you’re going to have kids here, you need to be careful who you bring around.”
“I don’t— I don’t know him.”
She scoffs and flicks you away like a gnat. She turns and tugs Freddy with her down the walk. You bring your hands to your throat in horror and sputter. Oh no, another empty slot. You might have to dip into your savings. Worse, you don’t know if they’ll even come back next week.
You drop your shoulders as you watch Caroline put Freddy in the car. As bad as the missing money, you looked forward to the company. You bite into your lip as doom stabs in your gut.
You wince and lean back on your heel. You reach out to lean on the pillar, your other hand falling to your stomach as nausea stirs. Steve’s words replay in your head. 
Yesterday? How did he know? You were so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t truly felt the impact of those words.
He has been watching you.
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xxsycamore · 4 months
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Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?
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Träumerei
╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming
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Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist
• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM
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"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"
It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.
"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."
***
"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."
Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.
Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.
Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...
"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"
His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.
***
"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"
It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.
He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.
"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."
***
"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"
Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.
"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."
She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."
"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."
***
"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."
Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.
"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"
And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.
"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"
***
Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.
He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.
It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.
Her room, that is adjacent to his.
Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.
His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…
"M-Mozart…"
Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.
"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"
He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.
"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"
It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.
"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."
"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"
"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."
The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.
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