#two octave keyboard

[mauricemylittlemeowmeow]

going back to the countryside tomorrow bc

1. i miss my dogs

2. i dont think i backed up my patho saves on steam so i have to go back to upload that shit manually so i can play it on my clapped non gaming laptop

[wyvernest]

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

[vyl3tpwny]

Any hot top five tips™ for learning and practicing piano in a cool and fun way? I wanna learn it but youtube tutorials are kinda ass

the way i always tell ppl try to learning piano is to take any note, play that, and then add the note that is 7 keys up from it (you count 1 on the first key that ISNT the note ur playing). then ur playing a perfect fifth. learning to play fifths gets you a huge step of the way. then start adding a note in between the two notes you have selected. dont pay attention to what theyre called or anything just add any old note in between the fifth. suddenly you can now play 6 variations of a fifth-based chord. pick a chord you like of those variations, and play that with your left hand. then with your right hand, go up the keyboard and find those same notes at a different octave. just play the chord youve chosen on your left hand and then noodle around with the same chord with your right hand except do it one note at a time. now youre playing .. something! you can even move that main chord to your right hand, then use your left hand to play the lowest note of that chord at a lower octave. huge news: big fat chord with bass note now. you are welcome. rinse and repeat with practice and you end up learning a lot more about piano lol.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || Ch. 32]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3k🌶️

ao3 link

The billboard across the street shifts from casting a blue glow into Matt’s apartment to a warm purple one. It is bright enough for you to be able to see your keyboard, but low enough that everything is still in shadow. You can maneuver around easily enough, which makes it the perfect level considering you are apparently the only one in your family who needs light to do so. 

Paired with the overall lack of decor, it fosters a nice working environment, with the ambience of the city providing the perfect background noise. 

You have a fair bit of invoicing to catch up on, so you have set yourself up at the dining table as Matt readies himself for his own night of working. Luckily, all the excitement of temporarily moving into a new place left your little Mouse exhausted and getting her down to sleep was as easy as it has ever been. You wish you would be able to go off to Dreamland as quickly as she does, but you know your brain won’t let you drift off without hours and hours of worrying first.

“You don’t need to wait up for me,” Matt says for about the millionth time. He’s changed mostly into his red Devil suit, and it still baffles you how different he looks in it versus his Lawyer suit. It is like he’s been possessed or switched out with a twin - it’s not necessarily evil but it is a completely different aura. All his fun and charm has been replaced with a caged animal ready to rip someone’s throat out, and you just happen to be his keeper who he knows isn’t a threat. He’s of no danger to you, but anyone outside these walls is fair game. 

“I have about forty emails to answer and even more orders to review and this is the only time I’ll be able to sit down and focus on doing all that. These are my working hours, too,” you reply as you finish connecting your VPN. “Plus, I’ll be up worrying until you are home safe. Killing two birds with one stone.” 

“No killing anything,” he chides, his voice dropping an octave. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you are starting to think you may like this Devil-y side of Matt. 

“You know I can’t even kill a cockroach.” 

He huffs from across the room, then in a few long strides, he’s behind you, putting his large, gloved hands on your shoulders and rubbing at them, “I mean it. If you finish before I’m back, try to get some sleep. You need it.” 

You let your head fall forward and enjoy the way his thumbs dig into your muscles. “I need to make sure I get my work hours logged. When you get home, we can both get some sleep.” 

Behind you, a pleased rumble comes from Matt’s chest. He bends forward and nuzzles just above your ear, whispering in that deep voice that makes your core clench, “call it ‘home’ again.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as your entire being heats up again. It isn’t just his voice and actions - it's the implication of his request - that he wants a home with you. He wants your home to be here with him. You can’t even take a moment to think about it, because you just want to please the Devil behind you. 

“Come home to us.” 

He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply while his hands tighten on your shoulders. He nods after a moment, then you feel him have to force himself to step away. 

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear on my life.” 

You resist the urge to follow after him and say something cheesy or dramatic. You stay planted in your seat instead, eyes still closed and breathing through your nose, trying to calm your fast beating heart. 

Matt strides back to where his gloves and helmet wait for him, and you listen as he dons the last pieces of his armor. Only when he has fully become the Devil do you let yourself speak again, hoping to encourage the beast coming to life inside of him.

“Keep the Kitchen safe. For me. For Minnie.” 

----

It’s closing in on three am when you hear the crunch of boots on gravel coming from the roof above you. You expected Matt to be home closer to one in the morning, but that was just a time you made up. 

Your emails are still on your screen, so you close them out and clock out just as the door on the landing opens and the Devil returns to the apartment. There is a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and you scrunch up your nose in confusion as he makes his way down the stairs.

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” he growls out and you can instantly tell the poor man is exhausted. 

You are up and out of your seat in an instant, making your way to him with your water bottle in hand. You hold it out to him as he comes to a stop in front of you and he quickly drops the bag to his feet in exchange for chugging the rest of your water.

“I told you I had a lot of work. Are you okay? What is with the - “You cut yourself off as the light coming from the billboard changes from red to yellow and you see there is a slice of suit missing from Matt’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

You don’t give him the chance to deny or explain - you turn and hurry back to the kitchen to get the first aid kit. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbles from behind you. You hear something thunk on the ground and assume it is his helmet. “It went through and through.” 

The words take a second to process and color drains from your face as they do. “You were shot?” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. “I just need to wrap it.”

You yoink the first aid kit down from where it’s hidden in a cabinet and whirl back around the face Matt. He’s removed his helmet and gloves and is in the process of taking off his boots. Your mind swirls into overdrive, flying back to your binder pages about gunshot wounds and you find yourself huffing at the Devil as practicality fills you. 

“Wrap it?” You almost scold as you march back to him. His head jerks up and his brows furrow, but your Mom Mentality is quicker than the Devil. “You can’t just wrap it; it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what is dripping off your suit into it. You can’t punch away an infection, Matt.” 

His face slackens into confusion as you move to squat in front of him so you can open the kit and begin to rummage through it. 

“What..?”

“I need to clean it,” you repeat as you inspect the meager contents of the kit. “And disinfect it. I’m not very good at stitches yet, but you have butterfly stripes,” you hold up the pack as you find it and continue your rambling, “and gauze, so we can wrap it, and hopefully that should be good enough. Do you know what caliber it was? Was it a hollow point?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, and you assume he is trying to remember what happened. You focus on reading the different packets you pick up, setting aside wipes and antibiotic ointments. If it was through and through, you shouldn’t have to get out any debris, but you add the tweezers to your pile anyway. Your mind is a step-by-step checklist of everything you need and you really hope all your studying has prepared you for your first real wound cleaning. You are a pro at scraped knees and paper cuts, but a bullet wound is a completely different level. 

“What?” Matt repeats and you look up to see he looks completely dumbfounded. “You…aren’t angry?”

It is your turn to be confused. 

“Why…would I be angry?” you ask slowly, trying to understand why he is asking. “You..didn’t mean to get shot, did you?” He shakes his head slowly, and your lips turn down into a frown. “Then..I’m not angry.” 

You slowly sit yourself down and cross your legs, trying to process your own feelings around your Fix It and Make Things Better thoughts, “I’m scared that you got hurt. And I’m worried..I worry about you every night when you go out, but this…this is small, right? It’s through and through and in your arm and you aren’t bleeding everywhere, and you are standing on your own. You’re…you’re okay. You’re hurt. You’re hurt. But you’re okay…you’re okay and I just need to make sure you stay okay.” Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head to chase them away. “Please let me make sure you are okay.”

Slowly, Matt kneels in front of you and takes your face in his hands. He thumbs away a tear that managed to escape before leaning in to press his forehead to yours. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers, the Devil gone from his voice, and he sounds so so tired. “I’m okay, my darling. Let me get out of this and you can clean it, yeah? Then we can go to bed.” 

You press into his touch, needing it to ground you and help you keep your emotions in check. 

Matt’s hurt, but he is okay. It’s just a little wound, something you can handle. You know he is going to get hurt, going out and acting as a vigilante, and it isn’t always going to be bruises and split knuckles. 

People shoot at him. They try to stab him. They might have weird fire breath or laser beams. 

He’s going to get hurt, but right now he is okay. He just needs to be patched up and that is something you can do. 

You’ve been practicing and studying to make sure he will stay okay. 

You take a shaky breath and center yourself, then let your lips turn up into a small smile, “You’re all sweaty, you need a shower before bed. Or Minnie will complain that you are stinky in the morning.”

Matt huffs a small laugh and tips his head up to kiss your forehead. “Well, according to her my whole apartment is stinky and dusty and cold.”

“That’s why we are playing housekeeper tomorrow,” you whisper as he pulls away. 

You allow yourself to wipe your eyes with your nightshirt as Matt removes the rest of his armor, leaving him in just his boxers. You then focus on double checking all the items you’ve gathered, letting your mind go back into Practical mode versus Emotional. 

“Why do you have a duffel bag?” you finally ask, curious as to what he had been up to all night and why he has a new accessory. 

Matt gives a quiet groan, then begins to explain as he sits himself in front of you. “I found an abandoned…lab is the only way I can put it, in one of the utility tunnels. I guess it got flooded out with all the rain and whoever was running it was clearing it out. When I got there, there was only one guy.” As he talks, you begin to clean his wounds, and you are not surprised at how stoic he remains despite the stinging of antiseptics. “I think he was just grabbing files, and that is what is in the bag. Paper files and what I think are thumb drives. I’m not too sure.”

You look up in time to see him turn his lips down into a hard scowl. “The whole place reeked of human blood, though. Not fresh - stale. And there were cages. It was just a few rooms, but someone was definitely up to no good down there.” He flexes his fingers, then says your name softly. “I think it was some sort of government agency. The gun the guy had was standard issue for the FBI and the way he moved was in line with their training, but it didn’t feel like the FBI. It felt more advanced and after everything with Fisk I don’t think they’d try something twice here so close together. But in my gut, it’s telling me this isn’t something like the Hand or something underground.”

You turn to look at the simple bag laying on the floor, your heart sinking as you take it in. You trust Matt’s gut with this - this is not his first rodeo, and he has so much more information about all of this than you ever will. 

“Do you want me to read them for you?”

He shakes his head, “No. Well.. yes, but no. I think this is something I need to take to everyone - Foggy, Karen, Frank, Jessica. Another piece of the puzzle of what has been going on lately. I think we all have different parts, and we need to start looking at what fits together.” He pauses, rolls his lip between his teeth. “I’d like for you to be there, too..if you’d like. I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You aren’t out there, like we are but..I’m dragging you into this just by being with you. I…” 

He stops, and turns to fully face you, pulling his bicep from your grasp so he can cup your jaw with his other hand. He runs his thumb over your lips. 

“I can’t risk losing you. If you being in the know and understanding everything that is going on is what is going to keep you safe - keep Minnie safe - then I can’t lie to you and I can’t hide anything. But I need you to understand that there is a risk of knowing what lurks in the shadows. It is your choice; I want it to be your choice. I need you to be okay, too.” 

You don't need to let the words turn over in your mind - you know your answer. “I want to be there. I want to help, even if it is just helping you talk through things. You don’t need to hide things from me. I…I understand what you are doing.”  You mimic him and reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb so lightly over his lower lip. “I just want you to be safe, Matt. I want you to come home at night.” 

You purposefully use the word, knowing it triggered a reaction before. 

It does again.  

His eyes flutter close, and he kisses your finger gently. 

“I’ll always come back to you,” he breathes out before swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and you wonder if he wants to say more.

Do you want him to say more?

You don’t know.

You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it. 

You just want Matt to be safe and right now that means finishing wrapping his bicep. You let your thumb linger on his lip for a moment before pulling away, “I’m almost done with your arm. I..I think it doesn’t need stitches. Everything here should be plenty.” 

“Okay,” he whispers as you hand drops, and he turns so you can apply butterfly strips to the holes in his bicep. 

You let your mind fall back to your guides as you wrap the gauze, mentally picturing exactly what you need to do while also making mental notes about directions you need to change and products you need to buy to fill out Matt’s first aid kit. While he has apparently been so much better at taking care of himself, his supplies are a bit lacking. 

As you finish, you hesitate before leaning in and placing a small kiss over the entrance wound, mumbling as you do, “Minnie would admonish me if I didn’t add a kissie for extra healing.” 

“She is the Doctor,” Matt replies gently, and you can’t help but smile.

You start to repack the first aid kit as Matt pushes up into standing to gather his own gear. You both clean in a comfortable silence and only once everything is put away, does Matt come back to you. 

“Shower with me?” He asks, his voice soft and low and your whole body quivers for him.

You don’t reply with words. You take his offered hand, and he leads you to the small room. 

The two of you can barely fit in the shower together, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you are under the water, you are one.

Matt cups your jaw with both hands as he kisses you like he is savoring every microsecond. It is slow and languid, and you melt together so easily. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his closer, like you want to absorb him because maybe you do. Maybe you want him to absorb you, because you are safe in his arms, and nothing will ever hurt you or make you cry if he is there. 

You have Matt Murdock, and you have the Devil and he has you.

You don’t know if it's hours or minutes or days that pass before one callused hand drops to your thigh and with the lightest of touches, urges it up. Once it is around his waist, Matt rocks forward and slides into you with no resistance.

His pumps are as slow as his kisses and you lose yourself in him. If you could think, you would imagine he is lost in you as well, but the only thing on your mind is the pleasure he is bringing you and how perfectly full you feel.

His name is falling from your lips over and over, breathless and needy, but not for a release - just for him and it is like he knows that. His head drops to your shoulder, and he buries his nose into your throat, his lips moving in words barely heard above the spray of the shower.

Your name.

Mine.

Yours.

Perfect. 

Please.

God.

Love. 

((“I love you.”))

((“I love you, too.”))

---

:) <3

---

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[jerrysghostwriter]

All His

request for @blackcherrywhiskey

Sorry it took so long and sorry it is so long lol, but I hope you all enjoy because I certainly enjoyed writing it

Nsfw/mdni

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Arriving at the party, a welcoming blur of writhing bodies, liquor that burns its way down your throat and enough music to drown your emotions in, you find yourself eager to separate from your boyfriend, not even him really , just the emotions hanging in the air.

it had been four days since the argument, you rarely bickered let alone argued on this scale, it had been playing in your mind over and over

You walk into your shared office, room dimly lit, finding vessel scribbling on a note pad as he sat at his keyboard, you could hear the process of him jotting something down, playing a few notes then getting frustrated and ripping the paper away, a pile of wadded up paper sitting beneath him

“I made you some tea.. I figured you might want a break my love?” You knew the new album was hard on him, it all was, so much change in his life in such a short time, you know he is grateful but he has always been a perfectionist, so much harder on himself than need be, his very worst critic.

“Thanks just give me 10 more minutes, its almost there” he said not even bothering to look at you when speaking , drawn into that space in his mind you cannot reach.

“Ves you said that two hours ago…you shouldnt overwork yourself, I worry” worry was an understatement, you know he cant help it and sometimes he needs someone to pull him out but its not an easy task, though you will do it everytime for him

“I just need to finish this song, you know how important this is , I cant let people down… th- they have given me so much” he said finally turning to you voice dropping to a whisper at the last words

“I know love, But they wouldnt want this for you, you have barely eaten, slept or even left this very room vessel. You need to rest” you spoke with a finality in your voice, trying to be stern, he turned towards you , though his hands stopped shaking in that jittery way they seemed to when he was over working himself, you could see the moment he had become angry, such a rare thing yet so recognizable, the sudden hardness to his soft features, the furious glint in his eye.

“Just please, let me finish this, I do this for us! I cant just stop working so much has to be done, I dont have the luxury of just turning my brain off! “ he snapped at you, nearly shouting, you flinched at the octave his voice had reached, never once in your relationship has he spoken to you with such anger behind his words

“Ves please.. Im trying to help” your voice came out weak, gentle yet pained, the heavy weight settling in my chest as I watched him run himself into the ground, Its never been this bad, this intense.

At my tone he lets out a harsh breath, seeming to register the hurt his words caused gaining his control back he lets his shoulders drop and eyes soften when he speaks again “i-im sorry...ill come to bed”

You both went to bed that night with nothing more than whispered ‘I love yous’ not even holding one another as you went to sleep

To anyone else this may seem so small, but to you it was worrying, vessel had never once snapped at you, never raised his voice out of anger, never even caught an attitude with you. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was your presence but since that night you have both been distant, seemingly miles away in the same small flat.

Shaking the thoughts away from your mind you come back to the present, you and vessel had just sat down at the table with his band mates, it was off in the corner but close enough to the bar to easily get drinks and it wasnt too packed to make your way to the dance floor, truly you were excited for the night out, maybe its what you both needed, atleast you hoped so.

The guys were already tipsy and goofing off as you joined in with their banter and conversation, you hadnt met them all that long ago but you clicked immediately and it seemed to make Ves happy that you got along with his friends. Looking to your side , you catch sight of vessel staring into his drink, speaking when spoken too but still quite reserved. II looked at you and silently made a face as if to ask ‘whats his problem?’ But truly all you could do was give him an apologetic smile and slight shrug of your shoulders

Later into the night after a few too many drinks and many ridiculous stories shared with the guys you managed to forget the foreboding feeling of unspoken feelings between you and vessel, he seemed to loosen up better too after being around his friends but only so much.

As the others delved off into their own conversations and the dancefloor became crowded III held out his hand to you

“Come dance with me!” He nearly shouted as if he wasnt only a table across from you. you hesitated for a heartbeat, but Vessel had never minded before, the music was good, and your body wanted to move. So you took III’s hand and let him lead you into the center of the crowd.

The dance wasn’t sultry. It wasn’t even close. III was purposely being stupid by

twisting his lanky body like a baby giraffe, making you laugh until you were beat red, At one point, he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, and shouted, “Guy behind you’s dancing like a walrus having a seizure.” Nodding his head over your shoulder.

You cackled and threw your head back in a full body laugh, not caring for how loud you were , but then, out of instinct or maybe habit you flicked your eyes up.. and froze. Vessel, still sitting in the corner booth but he seemed so alert, posture tense and the waves of anger coming off of him were nearly visible, as if his body was buzzing with the energy, the way his hand was wrapped to tightly around his drink, his jaw clenched, the slight tick in it showing the storm brewing beneath his rigid exterior.

Never having seen him look this way, look this angry, certainly not with his eyes fixed on you, that feeling came back, that feeling of pure anxiety, knowing something was about to happen but not what , how, or even why.

As soon as the song ended you weaved your way back towards the table, the change in your mood clear, the frantic energy seeming to suddenly leave your body as you thought over every thing that could possibly go wrong, what he could possibly be mad abo-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand wrapping around your wrist, startling you and clearing your mind, the hold not rough nor gentle but claiming, possessive…looking down at the offending hand then up to the body it was attached to you found the eyes of your boyfriend staring into you, somehow seeming darkened, burning with rage. He yanked you towards him, breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Its time to go.” His voice came out dark and deep, still with the smoothness he always carried but with much darker intent behind it.

You blinked, slightly breathless and furrowed your brows, looking up at him with a lost expression “ what? Why?.. Ves whats wrong?” You asked truly concerned and confused

You got no answer, just the weight of his stare, seeming to burn through you, He didnt let go of your wrist but guided you through the bar and out the doors, pulling you behind him as you slightly stumbled, struggling to match his much longer stride, the cold air hitting your skin bringing a shock and sobering you up quickly.

You tugged in his hand as you walked in the direction of your home “Vessel.. Talk to me, Whats going on?” Your voice coming out gentle , unsure, never having seen him in this state.

He stopped walking abruptly, nearly bringing you face first with his back and turned to you, his expression framed with shadows, backlit by the street lights, seemingly more calm but with a careful intensity, too controlled.

“ we are going home.” Thats all he said, tone cold , and uncaring at the moment. He turned right back around and kept walking, not stopping until you were standing in your living room, door shut and locked behind you, still utterly confused as to what is happening. You round on him your frustration flaring , “You’re not saying anything Vessel, But you are acting like I’ve done something to horribly wrong”

“ Im acting like a man who’s watching the woman he feels he can barely hold onto light up for someone else!” He shouted , taking a deep breath, as if trying to regain his composure “Forgive me if it turns my stomach” he said with a much calmer tone but just as upset

“I wasn’t flirting Vessel.. I was trying to keep my mind off of how distant you have been, after the other day it feels like we are miles and miles apart” you said exasperated, hurt he would ever think such a thing , even more pained by the anger between you too, the emotion thick in your voice.

In one step Vessel was no longer across from you but directly in front of you , swiping tears of your cheeks you hadn’t even noticed fall, a haunted expression on his face right before he smashed his lips onto yours pushing you back against the apartment door resulting in a dull thud as you were trapped by his towering frame, pinning you between the hard wood and his toned body, the kiss is hot, possessive, passionate.. despite all the emotions running through you, immediately you feel the heat pool in your stomach at the way his tongue slips into your mouth, drinking you in as if he’s a man starved for your taste, your hands find their place around his neck and wound tightly in his hair as he hefts you up, hands holding tightly to the underside of your thighs , your legs wrapping around his waist

He breaks the kiss as you take a breath, nipping at your cheek and jaw before moving to your ear “you’re mine” he growled with through ragged breaths “no matter what we go through, you are mine.” His words , not a question but a decree that draws a low whimper out of you as his teeth graze just below your ear, moving down to kiss from ear to collar bone, slowly moving across the room

You are thrown onto the couch, bouncing lightly. Eyes wide as he pounces on you once again, his hands trail down your sides, roaming your body as he continues his kisses, down your throat, over your collar bone and across the curve of your breasts, kissing down the exposed skin of your low cut top, he pulls back just enough to see your expression, lips slightly parted and breaths coming short, his own eyes reflecting the same raw , unfiltered desire as your very own

Removing your shirt as if the item offended him he paid special attention to your chest, releasing you from your bra and taking one plush mound into his mouth, biting down roughly while rolling the opposite nipple between his fingers, you let out a loud moan at his actions and he responds with a low groan “such a beautiful girl for me” with particularly harsh pinch to your nipple causing you to call out he rasps out “my beautiful girl” he says voice thick with desire as he continues down the expanse of your body, removing your jeans once reaching your waistline, pulling them down slowly and running his hands over your legs before spreading them, looming above you , staring, caressing your smooth skin as if you are something precious he must treat with reverence.

His breath ghosts over the bare skin of your pubic bone as he bends down, taking a small bite of your thigh, causing more filthy, needy sounds to leave your mouth

“Vessel please.. please” you say with a breathy tone, not even sure what exactly you are asking for

“Ive got you darling” he says against your thigh right before his mouth is on you, his tongue moving with precision like you are a goddess to be worshiped, moving slowly, deliberately. Drawing shakey moans and whimpers from you as he goes, every flick of his tongue, suck on your clit and wanton moan he pulls from you is a claim he is staking, a message carved into your very being

You are his. All of you. Always.

When the heat of his mouth against you begins to be too much and you tangle your hands in his hair, holding him there as you writhe against him , he wraps his arms around your waist keeping you still as he devours you like a man starving, as if he would die without your taste on his tongue, every time his name leaves your mouth like a plea it seems to renew his fervor, His mouth is relentless, tongue sliding through your folds , sucking your clit into his mouth just hard enough to make your hips jerk up into him, You try to close your thighs, to ease the pressure building, but his grip is iron tight. One arm leaves your waist snaking around your leg, pressing your thigh flat to the couch, holding you open, exposed, exactly how he wants you.

You moan loud, ragged and raw as he groans into you, the vibration sending a shock through you.

“Louder,” he rasps between licks, voice dark and low. “ Let me hear what i do to you, let me hear the proof that you’re mine”

He flattens his tongue and runs it up as he shoves two long slender fingers into you, curling just right to have you seeing stars, your back arches up off the couch, hand fisting in his hair, his mouth and fingers work in tandem as your moans get higher in pitch, your thighs shake under his weight and tears spill from the corner of your eyes as you fall over the edge, shattering into a million pieces with a loud moan, nearly screaming his name as you come, his fingers still moving slowly, fucking you through your orgasm as he looms above, watching you fall apart

You are barely recovered from your high when he lifts you up, gently turning you around to placing your hands on the back of the couch and bending you at the waist, the fabric a biting contrast to the heat radiating from behind you as his body presses in , his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise , you feel him line up, the hard tip of his cock dragging between your already sensitive soaked folds, teasing you.

He presses his chest to your back , ragged breathe coming sharp near your ear

“ you dont get to light up like that for other people, not when you cry like this for me” as if to punctuate his words he slams into your entrance as he finishes his sentence, immediately pulling out and pushing back in with a punishing thrust, pulling a strangled gasp from you , he picks up a pace thats hard and fast, the angle he has you at hitting the perfect spot every time, every groan that leaves his mouth, every plea that tumbles from your lips and every thrust is a mark , a brand.

His hand slides from your hip to your hair as he pulls you up , licking up your neck and groaning broken sentences of praises to you

“Such a perfect girl for me “ he moans into your neck “ my. Perfect. Girl.” He moans punctuating every word with a roll of his hips

“ who do you belong to love?” He grits out “I want to hear you say it”

“ you- fuckkk… vessel you, i belong to you” you manage to spit out, a jumbled mess but it seems to satisfy him

You could feel a second orgasm quickly approaching his name falling from lips like a prayer begging for release "vessel... p-please please let me come" your voice comes out like a broken record "then cum for me show me I'm the only one to make u feel this way, that you belong to me, only me" At his words you felt the band pop in your lower stomach causing waves of pleasure to fill you as you ride out your orgasm

He continues his punishing rhythm almost overstimulating you however after a few more thrusts his pace falters and he lets out a long groan, filling you with his cum before collapsing onto the couch, bringing you down with him.

Bodies slicked in sweat and burning hot you both move to cuddle onto the couch, looking up at him with your legs thrown over his hips and your head on his chest

“Ves.. Im sorry” you say after a moment, not quite sure how to feel or how to talk about it, he startles a bit but then pushes your hair away from your face as he speaks looking into your eyes rubbing soothing circles on your lower back

“No I’m sorry love, I think my fears about pushing you away after the other night manifested from my own self loathing to jealousy, Im truly sorry for getting angry with you like that when you have done nothing wrong” he said solemnly , then after a beat his expression changed “though make no mistake, you belong to me love”

[soongyeopsal]

Friends & Family

Summary: Hansol gives you a deal that you didn’t even need to bargain for.

▸ Pairing: Vernon x afab!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / humor, smut, pwp / best friend’s brother, friends to lovers If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), mentions of creampie 

▸ Word Count: 3.1k

▸ A/N: Happy valentine’s day weekend! Surprise @yoonguurt, I’m your secret cupid! 💖💖💖 Really hope you enjoy this lil romp! Thank you @ddeonghwa-s for hosting this lovely event. Don’t forget to peep everyone else’s entries for this as well, masterlist here! Eternal thank you to @onlymingyus for helping me figure this out in secret (I was convinced I’d accidentally spill the beans if I discussed this publicly lol) and to @shuadotcom for always supporting me and proofreading at all hours!

It’s Sunday night and you’ve almost finished working through your weekly routine. Your counters are clean, laundry is folded, and tasks for the days ahead are laid out. All that’s left is to unwind so you can drift off to sleep. 

Both of your pillows are stacked behind you, propping you upright in bed for the perfect angle to unravel. “Fuck,” you groan to no one breathlessly, eyes trained on your laptop. You’re so so close, one hand spreading your lower lips apart as the other times the push of your dildo with the cock on screen. 

The actors in this week’s selected porno aren’t what’s important: the content is. Your mind conjures up different faces over the talents’, further molding the fantasy to who you want most at the moment. On nights like tonight, ones where no one in particular is on your mind, you default to your oldest, silliest crush: your best friend’s younger brother, Hansol. 

Back on the screen, the cameraman has the lens nearly inside the actress’ pussy along with not-Handol’s dick. It’s even easier to imagine the two of you like this, reduced to exaggerated moans, the slapping of skin, and the squelch of arousal as you stand on the precipice of release. You squeeze the base of your dildo harder when not-Hansol’s thrusts lose their rhythm, thrusting into yourself eagerly alongside him. 

There’s a flash behind your eyelids when you tilt your head back as your climax hits you, perfectly in time with your entertainment. It’s not the hardest you’ve ever cum, but it gets the job done just like it does every week without fail. 

By the time the casts’ voices return to a normal octave, the strongest part of your high has worn off. Sitting up with silicone still nestled inside you as you return to earth, you reach blindly for the water bottle on your nightstand. The embrace of sleep is calling your name and you try uncapping the bottle with one hand while the other lands on your laptop’s trackpad, ready to close the browser. You’re honestly just looking for your cursor among the flashy popups on the side of the video player, but you can’t help the way you clench around the toy and shiver as you get an eyeful of creampie that you missed in your own bliss.

You also can’t help the comical juggling that you attempt when you feel your water bottle slipping from your fingers. Or the loud swear as cold water meets your front and the keyboard of your laptop. Despite your best efforts to flip it upside down to drain as much liquid as possible from the keys, the screen flickers. 

By the time you’ve dried off and changed your sheets, things don’t look much better. So much for the Sunday night routine. All it’s done is give you yet another problem to worry about tomorrow.

Y/N: holy shit they’re trying to rob me

Livvy: ?? hello?

Y/N: computer place quoted me 1k BASE to fix my shit.. said they have to replace a bunch of stuff

Livvy: um why dont you just call vern?

Y/N: your brother?

Y/N: why would i call him?

Livvy: yes?

Livvy: omg because he has a repair shop, please keep up

Y/N: omg you’re so right! 

Y/N: oo think he’ll give me a friends and family discount?

Livvy: he better or i’ll kick his ass

Y/N: i’ll tell him you said hi

Y/N: wait i don’t have his number lol can you send it?

Your family’s home is next to the Chwe’s, so it’s only natural that you and Olivia have been fixtures in each other’s lives since childhood. You went from neighbors to friends to sisters and although Hansol, only 2 years younger, was always there, he maintained a guarded distance. At first it’d annoyed you, catching him looking away when you tried to include him in conversation or excusing himself from gatherings as soon as possible. This went on for a few years until irritation gave way to disappointment. You liked when Hansol came around, actually. Sure, you’d tease him here and there, but it was always lighthearted and familiar. The kind of gentle ribbing reserved for people you’re most comfortable around. Despite trying to convey that the boy was welcome around you, however, he always seemed uncomfortable. It wasn’t until junior year of high school that Olivia finally spelled out what was happening: Hansol had a crush on you that bordered on infatuation. And you were the only one that hadn’t figured it out.

The revelation was surprising, but not unwelcome. Hansol had always been funny and kind, meshing well with most people he came across. Some might have seen a flaw in how quiet he could be, though you spotted an attentiveness that, if you thought on it too long, you wanted. 

And think too long, you did. You thought about dating Hansol for so long that you graduated, then he graduated, then you both went to university and danced the same dance once more. Always thinking, yet no action. With life getting busier and priorities changing after securing your degree, your late-realized puppy love dissolved into a fond memory that you dug up on the occasional Sunday night. You’d see Hansol a few times a year when your families got together for holidays or celebrations, but old habits lived on. A hello, a quip or two, then the rest of the evening was spent focusing on your own agendas.

It’s been a few months since you’ve heard Hansol’s voice and even longer since you’ve seen him in person, but you recognize him all the same when he picks up. “Butterfingers, how can we help?”

“Isn’t this your cell phone?”

Hansol pauses and you could swear he pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Hello?” he asks, almost disbelieving. 

Years of childhood playdates and awkward teenage glances flood your memory and you instinctively tease him. “‘Hello?’ You and Liv are the same, I swear.”

“Aah, Y/N,” Hansol recovers, “That’s true, but we are related so.” There’s another beat and it’s so easy to imagine those brown eyes looking into yours, waiting for you to speak again. When you don’t, he offers, “Did you need something or…?”

You’re grateful that you opted to make the call from your car during your lunch break, far from eyes that could watch you shake thoughts of Hansol from the forefront of your mind. “Yeah, actually. My computer’s fucked up. Do you think I could bring it by the shop?”

“O-oh yeah, for sure, definitely! Yes!” He stops to clear his throat before continuing, almost like he’s grounding himself. “We close at 7 if you wanna drop by today.”

“Awesome, thanks Hansol. I’ll stop by after work.”

Butterfingers Repair is nestled between a smoke shop and a family-run tax office, just a handful of storefronts still open in a nondescript strip mall on the other side of town. No wonder you’ve never been here. 

A local alt rock station plays on the wall mounted speakers, but there are no other signs of life when you come through the door. There’s no one behind the counter and with the staff door behind it closed, you have no idea who to expect to greet you. A few moments pass and you start getting second thoughts. Maybe you’re at the wrong location after all? Just as you take out your phone to double-check the address Hansol sent, the staff door swings open. “Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Hansol has always been easy on the eyes. Watching him grow from clumsy kid to gawky teen to unpolished (but handsome) college student never changed that, but you’ll admit it’s been a while since you’ve really looked at him. Present day Hansol is taller than you, broad-shouldered, and hot, having fully grown into his features.

Fixing your laptop is suddenly your second priority. If you play your cards right – if you play Hansol right – you could accomplish a lot today. “Sounds like you guys need a receptionist.”

“Yeah, haha,” he laughs, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll be first on my list when I can afford the payroll.”

“Ooh, moving up to management, are we? That’s cool!”

“Well yeah, I mean–like it’s my shop. So, like, I’m the only employee right now.”

“You own this, though. I like that. You should be proud.”

“Thanks,” Hansol hums, shifting to pointedly stare at your laptop bag and avoid your gaze. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

You keep your tone casual, giving him some grace for the painful redirect.” Right, so I kinda sorta spilled water on my laptop. It was just – c’mon don’t look at me like that, you haven’t even seen it yet. It was just a few days ago and I flipped it to try and let it dry but…” Placing it on the counter and tapping the power button confirms no improvements since you last checked. The keyboard lights up and the fan whirs, but there’s nothing on the screen. 

Hansol’s shaking his head before he even speaks. “Even after it fully dries, you’re gonna need a new display.”

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah, for sure. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

He grimaces through his words, clearly pained by the idea of telling you anything you might not be ready to hear. “It’s probably gonna be expensive. You sure you want a quote?”

“Mm, less of a want, more of a need.”

“Gotcha…” Hansol needs a moment to decide on whatever options are running through his mind. You afford it to him and are pleased when he hops the counter to go lock the front door. “Come on back, Y/N,” he says without looking at you, breezing past to unlock the staff door and usher you in.

Hansol seems almost relieved to be focused on your machine as the two of you sit in his humble workshop. You’ve helped yourself to the folding chair next to his, asking “well where else can I wait, Vern?” when your knees touch under the table and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

You’d planned to chat him up to help pass the time, but watching Hansol work proves to be rightfully interesting. He’s surprisingly nimble with his hands, carefully removing endless screws and drying any damp parts he finds as he goes. “So,” he finally explains, breaking you out of a trance, “the water damage actually isn’t that bad. The new screen’s gonna hurt, though. This is a nice pc, you’ve got.”

At last, he’s given you the opening you’ve been waiting for. “How much will it hurt, exactly?”

“After parts and labor, like $700.”

“That’s not bad.” And it’s really not, compared to your last quote. But you want more. “Got a friends and family discount for me, by chance?”

“Oh, uh, friends and–um–?” Hansol fumbles, flustered yet again at having to potentially tell you no. “I don’t normally–”

You’ve known Hansol long enough to gauge when it’s best to strike and his forehead’s got OPPORTUNITY written on it. You maneuver into his lap sideways, anchoring an arm around his neck and finding his eyes through his fringe, smiling wickedly as he visibly short circuits. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, with one hooking under your knee and the other jumping like he’s been burned when his fingers skitter across your leg that’s barely covered by your skirt in this position. “Can’t you make an exception for me, Vernon?” 

Hansol is desperately trying not to drop you while also surviving this dream? interaction. The nickname you reserve for when you really want something seems to electrocute him and the fingers hooked under your knees press into your skin. “I can waive the cleaning fee, n-no worries,” he soldiers on, his hand still trying and failing to find a way to support your hip without outright holding it. “I-It’s the display replacement that’s, uh–” you shift in his lap, “accidentally” grinding against his crotch, “–screens are kinda pricey, y-you know what I mean?”

It’s difficult to hide just how fun this pursuit is and even harder to ignore the dampness in your panties. Knowing that you’re this close to fulfilling a fantasy already has all of your blood going south. “I think I can offer you something pricey. Do you know what I mean?” 

“You’re worth way more than a screen, Y/N.” Hansol is delightfully flushed, but his tone is earnest. “You’re priceless.”

“That’s really cute. You’re really cute, you know that?”

Hansol tries to laugh away his nerves, but the sound he makes is more distressed than anything. “Thanks. I really – like really – like you. I’m into you, I mean.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Wanna show me?”

“Show you? I-I mean, yeah! Of course, I’d love to– I mean, I want to. Shit.”

“Take a breath for me.”

“Y-You’re right, sorry.” Hansol grasps you harder and breathes in through his nose, closing his eyes. He opens them again on the exhale and bores right into yours. His expression is determined mixed with something you’ve never seen in him before. It’s too new for you to place it yet, but whatever it is, it’s the sexiest you’ve seen him yet. “Yeah, I can show you. I really want to.”

Using the hand that’s wrapped around Hansol’s shoulder, you tug at his hair to expose his neck. The smell of his cologne hits you with full force and your eyes roll while you kiss his bare skin. Hansol wastes no time even as he shivers under your touch, gently guiding your leg to the side so he can reach your clothed core. The angle is a bit weird like this, halfway between his lap and the floor, but the inelegance is forgotten when he moves your panties to the side and teases your opening with two fingers.

For the first time all evening, you’re the one who seems surprised. Hansol’s cold fingers feel incredible as they gather wetness from your folds. You gasp at the sensation and outright moan when he experimentally licks your essence from them before thoroughly sucking the digits dry. “That’s so fucking good, wow,” he marvels more to himself than to you. 

Hansol’s fingers return to your entrance and he pushes them in slowly when he finds no resistance. “Shit,” he gasps, awestruck by the pressure of your walls.

“Shit,” you gasp alongside him, enjoying how his fingers curl into you. Your earlier vibrato is nowhere to be found, replaced with a need for Hansol that you’ve been repressing for what feels like a lifetime.

You continue on like this, with Hansol swearing at the ceiling even as he causes you to melt against him. He’s happy to enjoy the way you wriggle against him as he brings you closer to your end. Your orgasm builds quickly and just as you’re about to succumb to his ministrations, his fingers are gone. A frustrated whine leaves you before you can stop yourself. “No, please!”

Hansol doesn’t explain at first, just removes you from his lap so you can take his place while he kneels between your legs under the table.”This is better,” he declares.

This is even sexier than you could have imagined, but having your orgasm ripped away still leaves you pouty. “Is it? I was about to cum.”

“Oh. My bad.” Hansol supplies no other commentary and leans in to apologize to your pussy instead. You want to be annoyed at him, but your reprimand morphs into a breathless moan when his tongue replaces the spot his digits once occupied. 

Ever-diligent, Hansol makes up for lost time immediately. He eats you out like this might be his only chance to, like he wants to imprint this exact moment into your memory. The man only pulls away when he absolutely has to for air, taking huge breaths before diving back in to test the limits of his lung capacity. It’s not until you cum twice and he tries to return to your swollen lips for a third time that you realize he’s content to keep you here indefinitely if it means drinking up more of the nectar that’s creaming around your entrance. 

“Hansol!” You have to yank him away before your brain 404s from overstimulation. 

He scoots closer to rest his head in your lap, dopey grin on his face. “Hansol, no Vern? That means I did really good.” 

Rolling your eyes, you card your fingers through his hair to gaze upon him unobstructed. Hansol is striking in this position between your legs, mouth and chin wet with arousal. “Yeah, really good.. I need a break though, sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? That was awesome!” For all of his stuttering and nervousness, Hansol is shockingly casual now. It’s as if getting to taste you was the hint he needed that you liked him as much as he liked you. “Want me to replace your screen, still?”

Right, the laptop repair. It feels silly to talk about this with the smell of your sex in the air, but you follow his lead. “Yes, please. Don’t worry about the discount, I was just kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” Hansol finally crawls from under the table and stretches. He’s not shy about adjusting the bulge in his pants though he makes no mention of it. “About liking you, I mean. I can waive the rest of this, it’s no big deal.” Your intention was never to genuinely trade sex for repairs - especially when you’re the only one to be serviced so far. The thought must be written all over your face because he continues, “I was going to knock down the price for you before all this anyway, seriously. We’ll just count this as a courtesy repair. Sound good?”

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes darting to his dickprint and then back up to his face. 

It’s Hansol’s turn to laugh at how uncertain you seem, enjoying the irony of how your roles seem to have reversed. “I’m sure.”

Thirty minutes and a thorough cloth bath later, Hansol slides your open laptop in front of you. “Go ahead and sign in. Let’s make sure everything works.”

Even though you watched the repair in real time, it feels like magic when you type in your password and your lock screen falls away. That fascination immediately becomes mortification when the last window you had open reminds you of how you got here. 

There’s no missing the cock in the video thumbnail or the header above it that reads Giving my sister’s best friend a creampie. 

“Oh!” Hansol exclaims simply as his eyebrows shoot up. 

“Don’t!” you yell, slamming the laptop shut. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“I kinda like what it looked like, though… Can we?”

“I–well. Maybe. Sure. Yeah.”

“Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Ok cool.”

“Cool.”

[mytheoristavenue]

LF Creature x Reader - Mutal Comfort

Summary: You owed Lisa a favor, but you never expected she'd make you pay it back in the form of babysitting her undead boytoy while she goes to a party.

Warnings: rushed/not proofread, bisexual!reader, reader has an unreciprocated crush on Lisa, angst, fem!reader

"Lisa, I never agreed to this!" You shouted at your best friend as she hurried over to crawl back out of your window.

"I promise I'll make it up," she waved you off, sliding the glass panel up. "It's just for the night, I swear. I'll be back before school."

With that she was gone, hearing no other protests. You stood with your back flattened against the wall, frightened gaze never leaving the thing on the other side of your bedroom.

You were the only person who knew of Creature's presence, being Lisa's very best friend for life or whatever. You'd do anything for her but babysitting her undead little pet was definitely stretching boundaries.

You felt some guilt for your terror, after all, he did look incredibly somber, shrinking into the opposite corner. Maybe he felt bad for scaring you?

"S-Soo...uh," you started, pushing off the wall but only by mere centimeters. "Y-You...Lisa's new boyfriend?" The thing seemed rigid at the thought and reluctantly shook his head. "Let me guess, you wanna be?" You prodded, inching closer still. Another timid nod. The two of you had that in common, apparently.

"You and me both," you sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. Creature eyed you skeptically, still in the corner but not as glued to the wall as before. "Don't look at me like that, I don't mean I want to be her boyfriend." You paused, wondering if his expression was caused by the thought of you being gay or wanting to be a male, or maybe he was jealous at the thought of competition. "But, I don't know, being girlfriends might be nice..."

By this time, he'd inched close enough to sit on the other side of the bed, still as far away on it as possible, though. You took this as a sign to continue. "It's just that, me and Lis have been besties since like- kindergarten. I even convinced my parents to move her with her after her mom died and it feels like all she does is blow me off now," you ranted. "Like, before the incident, we'd have these long talks about the future, and we were always in each other's but now...I don't know anymore..."

An anguished moan was his only response as he drew his discolored hand to his chest. "Sorry," you said dropping your head. "I know you've gotta be hurting too listening to her ramble on about-" You brought your hands to your cheeks and batted your lashes, making your voice an octave higher to imitate your crush. "Micheal Trent!" He nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. "Y'know, I really don't know what she sees in him? Dude's a class A poser. He pretends to be into all that dark music and poetry but it's literally just to look cool and mysterious so all the preppy girls will fall in love with him."

While you ranted, Creature studied your room, noting how different it was from Lisa's. She had string lights, drawings, and moody posters all over her walls, while yours were tidy and well-organized with framed photos and prints of paintings that matched the color scheme of the walls. Eventually, you caught onto his staring and fell quiet prompting him to glance back to you.

"Didn't mean to fly off the handle, my bad." you muttered, standing up with a sigh. "Anyways, what do you like to do? Got any hobbies?" He stood up with you, wandering over to a keyboard that had collected dust in the corner. Curiously, he stuck a key and cringed at the sound it made. You joined him, explaining it. "That's just my old keyboard. I used to play piano as a kid but when we moved here we couldn't take my piano with us, so my dad got me this. It's kinda like an electric piano, only it's portable. Don't really like it though, too synthy for my taste."

Creature sat down in front of it, fumbling with the buttons on the control board while trying out the keys after each adjustment. Finally, he seemed to have found a setting he liked. "I'm guessing you play?" you cocked a brow. You couldn't have predicted how the cocky smirk then tossed you would make you feel. Following that, he threaded his finders together before pushing them out, cracking his knuckles before dramatically slamming down on the keys.

"Holy shit," you breathed, listening to the classical tune that filled your room. Needless to say, he played beautifully and was incredibly talented. At one point, he even glanced up at you with another shit-eating grin, showcasing the fact that he knew the positions by memory and didn't even need to look.

"You're amazing!" you explained when the song was finished, placing your hands on either shoulder and rocking him gently. "I've never seen that much musical skill from one person! What, were you like a professional pianist in your first life or something?"

To your surprise, he actually nodded. "Jesus christ man, I've never even heard that song before, did you write that?" He nodded again, and again, you were flabbergasted. "I bet you had an extraordinarily hard life." You muttered without thinking. "Art like that only comes out of suffering." As he nodded yet again, this time more bashfully, the two of you shared a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," you realized, glancing away. This time, Creature shook his head, an uncharacteristically peachy hand guiding your face back toward his as he stepped closer. For a moment, you waited to see what wisdom he had to offer, before remembering that no words would come as he stared at you, only able to offer a comforting gaze. "I wish you could talk," you whispered as he pulled you into his chest without you even realizing it. "But then again, maybe it's better you can't." you retorted to yourself bitterly. "I've had enough people tell me to cheer up because life gets better."

Creature stiffened, pushing you to hold you at arm's length, shaking his head again. "You think you got something better?" you asked, rhetorically.

Sensing your irritation, he resigned himself to giving up on communication for now. Taking matters into his own hands, he pressed a palm to his heart, a sign for you to trust him. Gently, he guided you back to your bed, pushing you down onto it. Awkwardly, Creature untucked the quilt from the bed a threw it over you, signalling for you to lay down, before tucking you in. You reluctantly followed his instruction, laying down on your side, tears welling in your eyes from all the overwhelming emotion bubbling inside you. You then watched as he made his way over to your desk, seeming to write something on a sheet of notebook paper Following this, he laid the note at your feet as he took a seat in front of the keyboard again.

You couldn't deny that you were beginning to feel drowsy after the soft music he played filled the room. This song was nothing like the first one. It was sweet and serene, unlike the dark and dramatic one he'd first played- with that cocky grin that made you feel so conflicted.

On the cusp of needing to rest your eyes, you remembered the note he'd left for you, briefly sitting up to reach it before laying back down, holding it up in the air to read what it said as he played your consciousness out.

"The sun does not ever reappear if the rain never stops. To live happily is to find solace in any weather. With the right balance, the flowers will begin to bloom. I hope to one day see a lush garden in you, darling."

[tmbgareok]

How did you make the intro for Super Cool? I really dig it!

JF: Just listened to it for refrence. Yeah it has some cool textures! It was the product of lock down so there was a lot of time to fool around. So the ingredients are-

handclaps, a synth bass and a guitar playing a unison bass line, and

the melody played on a guitar way up the neck thru a heavy metal-type distortion pedal (which is to say a lot of gain, maybe some low-octave-generation going on)

playing in unison with a very short slice of a long, bending horn note from some old recording that was looped in a very old fashioned, super-streamlined sampler in MOTU (a program called nanosampler) which just puts one looped sample across the keyboard like a Casio sampler from 1988.

I think the sound created by that two-instrument unison melody line, esp. with the warble of the untuned horn sample, gives it a mysterious flavor that sounds very far away from the very modern tools that it was made with.

[themdera]

“George Clarke replied to your story” Part 2

1,897 words. Green circle. Red Circle. what’s the difference?

Two hours. That’s how long it had been since George had sent his reply, and you’d left him on read. It wasn’t a power move, exactly—you just needed time to calm down and think through your next step without overanalysing.

The group chat had been buzzing nonstop during those two hours, alternating between hyping you up and begging for updates.

“What’s the plan, bestie?”

“If you wait too long, he might think you’re playing hard to get. Actually… maybe that’s good?”

“Don’t reply yet. Let him sweat a little.”

But now, two hours later, you decided it was time. Nothing flashy, nothing over the top—just enough to keep things casual.

You opened his message again: “Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you finally typed out a response:

“This was from last week, just thought it was cute.”

Short. Sweet. Unbothered. You hit send before you could overthink it, tossing your phone onto the bed like it might catch fire.

Almost immediately, the group chat went off:

“Did you reply? What did you say?!”

“I swear if you don’t update us—”

You hit record on a voice note.

“I finally replied,” you said, pacing your room. “Just told him it was from last week and I thought it was cute. Nothing dramatic, nothing flirty. Totally normal, right?”

Your phone buzzed, cutting you off mid-sentence.

GeorgeClarkey replied …

“Oh my God, he’s replied already.” You scrambled to grab your phone, barely breathing as his message came through.

“Fair enough. Let me know next time you’re in London—I’ll take you somewhere even better. 😉”

You froze. What.

You hit the group chat with a new voice note, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“GUYS. He said, ‘Let me know next time you’re in London—I’ll take you somewhere even better.’ WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!”

The chat exploded.

“It means he’s asking you out, you fool!”

“George Clarke is flirting with you, Girl. Just accept it.”

“Please tell me you’re going to reply to this.”

And now, staring at his message, your heart pounding, you realised they might actually be right. Before overthinking got the better of you, you flipped back to the group chat, sending a voice note in a rushed whisper.

“Guys. I’m gonna tell him. That I, in fact, live in London.”

The chat immediately blew up:

“DO IT.”

“YES. FULL SEND.”

“This is the rom-com moment we’ve been waiting for.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm as you typed out the reply:

“Funny you say that… I do live in London.”

For a second, you hesitated, wondering if this was too direct. But no—George had basically invited himself into your plans. The ball was firmly in his court now. You hit send, tossing your phone onto the bed and letting out a deep breath.

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

“Wait, seriously?”

A pause. Then:

“Okay, so no excuses next time. Drinks on me.”

Your jaw dropped. You grabbed your phone and sent another voice note to the group chat, your voice practically shaking.

“GUYS. He just said, ‘No excuses next time. Drinks on me.’ WHAT DO I DO?!”

The replies came flying in.

“You say YES.”

“You plan your outfit. That’s what you do.”

“Oh, he’s serious-serious. This man is INTO YOU.”

And as you stared at George’s message, a small, uncontrollable smile crept onto your face. Maybe this plan of yours had worked a little too well.

Feeling the growing weight of the situation, you opened the group chat again, needing their input more than ever. This was spiraling way beyond what you’d anticipated.

You typed out your message quickly:

“Girls, you guys are crazy. What do I reply without sounding weird? Like, I’d not mind meeting him, but do i really want to date him.”

You hit send and stared at your phone, the uneasiness settling in your chest. Sure, George was funny, charming, and, admittedly, good-looking—but the idea of this turning into something romantic felt… off. You just weren’t sure if that’s what you wanted.

The responses came flying in:

“Why not just keep it casual? You don’t have to date him to meet him.”

“Yeah, just treat it like meeting a friend. No pressure.”

“You’re overthinking it, bestie. Just go for the vibes.”

One of your friends sent a voice note, her tone more grounded.

“Honestly, just be upfront with yourself. If you’re cool with meeting him but don’t want it to get flirty, just keep the energy casual. No need to lead him on or overthink every reply. It’s not that deep!”

You sighed, nodding to yourself. They were right. It didn’t have to be that serious. You could meet George without it being a big deal.

Finally, you typed back to him:

“Haha, no excuses then! Sounds fun—let me know when you’ve got a place in mind.”

It was light, easy, and gave you some control over the situation. You hit send, feeling a little more at ease.

Of course, the group chat was already lighting up with speculation, but you ignored it this time. Now it was up to George—and you weren’t going to overthink it.

With your phone plugged into the speaker and your good vibe playlist filling the bathroom, you got to work cleaning. The rhythmic sound of scrubbing tiles and the faint hum of the music felt oddly satisfying. You were halfway through wiping down the sink when the unmistakable opening of Mastermind by Taylor Swift started to play.

You froze, the lyrics hitting differently this time:

“What if I told you none of it was accidental?”

You stood there, sponge in hand, staring at your reflection in the mirror as the words sank in. The song’s sly, self-aware tone felt a little too on the nose.

“And now you’re mine, it was all by design…”

Your mind instantly wandered back to George. The thirst trap, the close friends list, the café post, leaving his message on read—all of it.

You blinked. Was I… masterminding this whole thing?

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. No, that wasn’t it. None of this had been intentional—at least, not at first. But still… hadn’t you leaned into it just a little? Played along, maybe even enjoyed the attention more than you’d admit?

The song continued, wrapping you up in its sly energy, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the absurdity of it all. You shook your head, tossing the sponge back into the bucket.

“Alright, Taylor, you’ve got a point,” you muttered to yourself.

As the song faded, you finished up cleaning, feeling strangely lighter. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the clean bathroom. Or maybe it was the realization that, mastermind or not, you could handle whatever came next.

After all, it was just George Clarke—and maybe, just maybe, you had a little more control over the situation than you thought.

Just as you were toweling off your hands and admiring your freshly cleaned bathroom, your phone buzzed on the counter.

You glanced at the screen, heart skipping when you saw the notification.

GeorgeClarkey: “I’m free tomorrow if that works? Then you can answer in person if it was for me or not 😉”

You stared at the message, suddenly hyper-aware of Mastermind still softly playing in the background, like it was narrating your life.

“What the hell,” you whispered to yourself. George Clarke wasn’t just playing along anymore—he was setting up a full-on meeting.

Grabbing your phone, you rushed to the group chat, sending a frantic voice note.

“Guys. He just said he’s free tomorrow. And he said—wait for it—‘Then you can answer in person if it was for me or not.’ With a wink emoji! What do I even do?!”

The replies came in rapid-fire.

“You go, obviously.”

“Okay, but do you actually want to meet him?”

“Bestie, he’s giving you the greenest light I’ve ever seen.”

You took a deep breath, trying to sort through your own thoughts. Did you want to meet him? Honestly… you kind of did. Not for anything serious, but out of sheer curiosity. After all, how many times did someone like George Clarke invite you out for drinks?

Still, the uneasiness lingered. You typed another message to the group chat.

“Okay, but what do I even say without it sounding like a date? I’m not trying to lead him on.”

A reply came in almost instantly:

“Keep it casual. Something like, ‘Tomorrow works, but only if you’re buying the first round 😉’ or ‘Only if you don’t take this too seriously.’ You can set the tone.”

You nodded to yourself, feeling a little more grounded. After a deep breath, you opened George’s message and typed:

“Tomorrow works. But if we’re doing this, you’re buying the first round. No excuses.”

You hovered for a second, then added:

“Also, don’t get your hopes up—I’m still deciding if it was for you. 😉”

You had hit send before you could overthink it. You heart was racing. Whatever this was. it was happening.

The notification buzzed almost immediately:

GeorgeClarkey: “Burr & Co, Camden tomorrow 11am. I’ll see you there.”

You blinked at the screen, reading it again just to be sure.

Holy Fuck. He’d actually done it. George Clarke had set a time, a place, and was expecting to meet you. Not as a fan, not as part of some YouTube bit, but as… well, you weren’t sure exactly what this was.

You stared at the message, the reality sinking in. Tomorrow morning, you’d be sitting across from George Clarke at some café in Camden, trying to act like you weren’t completely overwhelmed by the situation.

Scrambling, you switched back to the group chat and hit record on a voice note.

“Girls. Holy shit. He picked a place—Burr & Co in Camden—and said, ‘I’ll see you there.’ Like, this is actually happening. What do I even do now?!”

The chat erupted into sheer panic.

“SHUT UP. IT’S HAPPENING.”

“Oh my God, what are you wearing?!”

“Please tell me you’re going. You HAVE to go.”

“Act chill but also make sure you look amazing. Casual slay.”

You sank onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as their messages poured in. What were you even supposed to wear? What were you supposed to say? This wasn’t some casual run-in with a friend; this was George Clarke, a guy with millions of followers, who somehow found you and your close friends list intriguing enough to want to meet in person.

Another voice note: “Okay, but what if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or, like, he thinks I’m someone totally different than I am?”

“Stop overthinking! Just be yourself!”

“You’re cool, you’re funny, and he clearly likes you already. Just vibe.”

“Bestie, you have NOTHING to lose.”

They were right. You didn’t have to be anyone but yourself. And whether this turned into a funny story or something else entirely, you couldn’t deny that you were curious.

With a deep breath, you typed a final message to the group chat:

“Alright. I’m going. But if this goes horribly wrong, you all owe me drinks.”

And with that, you set your phone down, your nerves and excitement battling it out as you tried to figure out what on Gods green earth you’d wear to meet George Clarke at Burr & Co tomorrow morning.

———-

a/n - There will be a part 3.

please let me know if you wanna be tagged in part 3

[blackdollette]

ooou i watched jack goes home last night & besides rory’s incredible acting, he just looked … so so good

i get nervous to send asks - but there’s BARELY any dry hvmping on this app and it makes me go INSANE.

so … maybe jack & r dry hvmping?

he looks so good in that film it's insane! anyways, bon appetit. i had fun cooking this one up :))

"my clothes still smell like you." | jack thurlow

body electric. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35

female!reader x jack

word count: 917

contents: dry humping, a little fluffy

jack clicked away at his keyboard as he sat motionlessly at his desk, the long hours of the day having taken a toll on him.

you were sitting pretty in your nightgown on the bed as you stared at him from behind. it was a few minutes pass 10pm, and you were waiting for jack to come and hold you as you two drifted off to sleep. “you finished yet, jack?” you asked for the millionth time, sounding like a broken record. 

“not yet, hon. go to bed without me. i’ll catch up… eventually…” his voice trailed off, his head slowly nodding off to sleep before he shook himself awake. you pouted, lying down and wrapping yourself in the blanket as the click sound from his keyboard gradually became less frequent until they completely stopped.

you lifted up your head to look at him, seeing that his head was held back with his eyes shut as he snored quietly. you sighed, standing up from the bed and making your way to him, placing your hands on his shoulders and massaging him gently. “you must be so tired…” you whispered, tucking a strand of his hair back into the bun at the back.

he grumbled, spinning his chair around slightly and grabbing your waist, pulling you onto his lap and resting his head on your shoulder. “damn right i am. i’m exhausted, baby…” you sighed, putting your legs on either sides of his lap as his hands trailed down to your hips. he looked up at you, his eyelids dropping with fatigue. “i hope you’re not mad at me, baby.”

you shook your head, pressing your body into his. “of course i’m not. i just wish you didn’t overwork yourself…” his head found your chest, pressing his ear against it so he could listen to the soft thumping of your heartbeat. your voice dropped to a hypnotic octave, one that was made to make him believe that everything would be okay. “i wanna help you, jack. i dont want you to be so stressed all the time.”

your chest against his face brought him more comfort than anything, his body beginning to respond to the subtle yet intimate touch. his hands gently caressed your ass, your nightgown shimmying up a little. “you wanna help me out, baby..?” you nodded, breath hitching softly as he pulled you into him even more, your clothed private parts coming into contact. there was no denying the lack of sex that had settled in your relationship. so maybe that was all he needed…

his hands slowly started to move your hips against him, your clothed pussy rubbing against his boner. “c’mon, baby. make me feel better…” you placed your hands back on his shoulders, slowly rolling your hips against his erect manhood, his sweatpants providing a soft landing for you.

jack groaned quietly, leaning his head back as his eyes fluttered shut. “j-just like that, baby. use me…” he pulled your nightgown away from your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as the friction of your movement made him shiver. our panties soaked with the juices of your arousal as you got him and yourself off.

your clit throbbed, begging for an end to the teasing. but considering jack’s state, you knew that penetration would be too much. for now at least. jack moaned shakily, staring at your chest as your body rose and fell. he squirmed in his seat, his hips bucking into yours with as much strength as he could muster. he mumbled inaudible little things under his breath, looking more relaxed than you’d seen him in months.

your cunt puffed up in the same way his cock strained against him. jack drooled slightly as he looked at your face, taking in your soft features through his blurry vision. “c’mere…” he muttered, pulling your lips to his and kissing you slowly. your tongues travelled eachother’s mouths, the rhythm of your hips quickening up just enough for needy moans to slip from his lips.

you greedily rode his lap, chasing the orgasm that was taunting you. you could feel a patch of wetness seeping through jack’s pants, signalling that he was getting close. he dug his fingers into your hips, firmly moving you against him as he moved in the opposite direction. your arms wrapped around his neck as the kiss intensified, his body beginning to tremble underneath yours.

he panted like a starved man, strings of saliva connecting your lips as he pulled away for just a moment. you had never cum with penetration before, so the sensation of your body heating up and your pussy throbbing was surreal. your movements became sloppier as convulsions shot through your body.

as your two picked up the pace, jack tossed his head back, a strained groan cutting through his throat as he came through his pants. you felt the warmth underneath you as the band in your guts snapped, your back arching as you moaned right by his ear, the sound soothing every nerve in his body.

he looked up at you, a tired smile on his face. “i feel better already.” you mirrored his smile, nodding in agreement. he picked you up bridal-style, carrying you over to the bed and laying down with you on top of him. “i really don’t know what i’d do without you.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, your eyes fluttering shut as he held you close to him, feeling a sense of ease at last.

author's note: stream "body electric"

[gemsalive]

hellooo isat instrumentalists this one’s for u 🎼

my pal @dasnercaret was looking to play the ISAT title theme on piano last night and lamenting the lack of single-instrument sheet music, so: i come bearing offerings of sheets created specifically with piano playability in mind!

the solo version does make some compromises to ensure it's playable by one person, as unfortunately the accurate transcription spans two too many octaves for that, but still retains the key features of the OST!

for the more accurate duets, i've got two formats:

the duet version is explicitly split into a single-line melody and piano accompaniment; the melody retains some chords at the end but the lower notes are easily ignorable if you need (winds gang rise up <3)

finally, the "2hands" version is just everything smushed together onto one staff in case you prefer it that way. or like. have rachmaninoff hands. as with the duet, you can easily play this by sitting side-by-side with your star-headed buddy of choice at the same keyboard and having one person take the low voice while the other takes the high!

additional notes under the cut:

incidentally, i did find out from the isat discord after finishing these that there was a really great direct multi-instrument transcription on musescore already, but unfortunately none floating around yet designed for actually learning and playing. so again, this is especially for folks who want to sit down at your Instrument Of Choice and play the theme yourself or with a buddy, but if you want to hear a truly faithful version, i believe it is thanks to @sketchz that you're covered here! (hope the ping is okay!)

also for the record, i said We Ball and used 32nd notes for the "echo" nearing the end of the track since it's Musically Significant but if that's terrifying you can absolutely just ignore every other note and play them as 16ths. go forth and make music freely and do whatever you want forever <33

enjoy!!

[choosingwhatmatters]

Music in The Loyal Pin, Episode 4

Welcome back to my music rambles. Buckle up, creampuffs, this is going to be a long one. Luckily, it was very easy to structure. Let me tell you about four different types of kisses.

Handkiss – Big emotions

Last week I talked about a piece I call “Big emotions.” It is connected to situations in which our princesses (Pin is the princess of my heart, and nobody can take that title away from her) have a lot of feelings. Snake bites. Tears on letters. Happy reunions. And, in this episode, giddy memories of a kiss to the cheek, as well as the angry chuckage of rocks into a pond.

Although this piece sounds relatively tame, there’s a lot going on in the music, especially the harmonies. A harmony consists of all the notes that accompany the melody at any given time of a piece, plus the notes of the melody itself. Harmonies are the melody’s clothing. They are the bed in which the melody stretches and writhes.

Usually, there is one harmony that everything comes back to. Some call it first chord; some call it tonic. I call it home. Our piece starts out at home in D major. So far, so snug. But then, suddenly, there’s a c in the accompaniment and the first music theorists are already raising their eyebrows: there’s no c in the D major scale. The music is trying to throw us off balance. The whole phrase is repeated and then there’s even more shenanigans in the harmonies. First we greet a chord that is a welcome guest in the house of D major: B minor, its sad little sibling. But suddenly, B flat major appears. A foreigner! Not one, but two notes that do not belong to the D major scale. B flat major waves through the open door before the melody comes to rest in A major, another regular in the household, and there it stays without ever going back to D major.

The whole thing happens in the span of seconds, but it leaves us with several instances of startled surprise and a quality of unfinished-ness. Much like a character grappling with a big emotion, our ears must come to terms with what we’ve just heard.

We hear the melody of the piece one last time at the end of the episode, when Anil is kissing Pin’s hand. It’s only the beginning of the melody, and there’s hardly any accompaniment. No harmonies to throw us off guard. The piece only lasts for a few seconds, hinting at big emotions to come before it floats away.

Butterfly kiss – Anil’s theme

Anil’s theme has undergone a lot of changes in the course of the first four episode. It starts out as a sweet, playful melody that matches Pin’s wistful one. It is often played by a glockenspiel but is fully orchestrated in moments in which Anil twirls for her family. Or sneakily returns from the UK without anyone knowing.

Anil brings back with her a new version of her motif. This one we can hear when she is plotting against the men in Pin’s life or manipulating those around her. Instead of the usual, cheery major scale we’re used to, we can hear the melody in a minor scale. Minor scales tend to sound melancholic or sad. In the piece at hand, the melody sounds sinister which, again, goes back to the harmonies underneath. Harmonies are powerful allies and even more formidable foes.

In episode 4, we can hear the minor version of Anil’s motif when she schemes against Kuea, shortly after being interrupted at the pond with Pin. We hear it again when Pin remembers Pranot trying to kiss Anil’s hand.

And then there’s a brand-new version of the motif when Pin learns about the butterfly kiss.

The time signature is different now. Instead of our usual 4/4 time, we are in 3/4 time. This time measure often has a waltz-y, swaying quality to it. Together with an airy keyboard sound I cannot identify, the whole thing sounds whimsical and innocent. Anil’s theme glistens in silvery glockenspiel notes above this soundscape in a high octave. We are putting a pin (heh) in this fact, namely the use of the glockenspiel and the high pitch.

Lip kiss – Pin’s theme

Pin’s theme is a constant in the first four episodes. Sometimes we can hear the whole piece, sometimes it’s just the first three notes, but it’s everywhere. It hardly changes.

Up until that fateful moment in episode 3, when Pin becomes aware of her heartbeat when she is massaging Anil. The melody evolves. There are more notes and shorter note values. The same thing happens when Anil kisses Pin’s lips.

Y’all, I don’t even know where to start gushing because this is so beautiful. As Pin has these life-changing experiences, her melody expands. It’s played by a glockenspiel now, the same instrument that has been mostly Anil’s up until that point. The tempo is off, restless. It doesn’t fit the accompaniment. Yet. Something shook Pin’s world, and she has yet to regain balance.

French kiss – Pentatonic flourish

In my last post, I promised to take a look at the pentatonic shenanigans that happen every time Anil and Pin are close. When Pin massages Anil. When Anil smells Pin’s hair. When Anil draws Pin close at the pond. When Anil kisses Pin in a way from which there is no return. Semi-quavers are drizzling on our eardrums, the measure is almost undeterminable.

Pin’s theme is back to its usual piano, but it's off beat now. Accomplished, less tame. Then Anil explains the French kiss to her and leans in a second time. The accompaniment narrows to one sequence that is repeated time and again, and once more there's Pin's theme, off beat. She has found her confidence. She is part of the music, and part of something even more beautiful.

Remember the other pin I was talking about earlier? How, during the butterfly kiss, Anil’s theme is played on the glockenspiel in a high octave? Well, during the French kiss, we can hear the first three notes of Anil’s theme, on the piano. Just as Pin has borrowed Anil’s instrument, Anil is now borrowing Pin’s, and even more importantly: they're on the same instrument now. Both of their themes are reduced to the first few notes, Anil's in a low octave that we haven't heard before. The low pitch has a calming quality. It provides the foundation for the last two high piano notes: the first note of Pin's theme, played twice. In my head, Pin is saying "I ... I ...," without even knowing how to finish that sentence, and instead giving up. Giving in.

Dear friends ... this show is so bloody beautiful! I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’ve spent way too much time revelling in the soundscape of this episode, and I regret nothing. If the show ended now, there would still be heaps of things to talk about. But it's not ending. It's just starting out and that is making my undescribably happy.

The fact that the premise of the show seems designed for me (sapphic, historical, South-East Asian) tells me that The Loyal Pin is not the most lucrative story to tell. To have hundreds of people dedicating time, work and skill into telling this story, supported by the Ministry of Commerce, no less, leaves me in tears. What a journey! Thank you for travelling with me!

[jswatson]

you know about musical tuning right? harmonics? equal temperament? pythagoras shit? of course you do (big big nerd post coming)

(i really dont know if people follow me for anything in particular but im pretty sure its mostly not this)

most of modern western music is built around the 12-EDO (12 equal divisions of the octave, the 12 tone equal temperament), where we divide the octave in 12 exactly equal steps (this means that there are 12 piano keys per octave). we perceive frequency geometrically and not arithmetically, as in that "steps" correspond to multiplying the frequency by a constant amount and not by adding to the frequency

an octave is a doubling of the frequency, so a step in 12-EDO is a factor of a 12th root of 2. idk the exact reason why we use 12-EDO, but two good reasons why 12 is a good number of steps are that

12 is a nice number of notes: not too small, not too big (its also generally a very nice number in mathematics)

the division in 12 steps makes for fairly good approximations of the harmonics

reason 2 is a bit more complex than reason 1. harmonics are a naturally occurring phenomena where a sound makes sound at the multiples of its base frequency. how loud each harmonic (each multiple) is is pretty much half of what defines the timbre of the sound

we also say the first harmonics sound "good" or "consonant" in comparison to that base frequency or first harmonic. this is kinda what pythagoras discovered when he realized "simple" ratios between frequencies make nice sounds

the history of tuning systems has revolved around these harmonics and trying to find a nice system that is as close to them while also avoiding a bunch of other problems that make it "impossible" to have a "perfect tuning". for the last centuries, we have landed on 12 tone equal temperament, which is now the norm in western music

any EDO system will perfectly include the first and second harmonics, but thats not impressive at all. any harmonic that is not a power of 2 is mathematically impossible to match by EDO systems. this means that NONE of the intervals in our music are "perfect" or "true" (except for the octave). theyre only approximations. and 12 steps make for fairly close approximations of the 3rd harmonic (5ths and 4ths), the 5th harmonic (3rds and 6ths) and some more.

for example, the 5th is at a distance of 7 semitones, so its 12-EDO ratio is 2^(7/12) ~= 1.4983, while a perfect 5th would be at 3/2=1.5 (a third harmonic reduced by one octave to get it in the first octave range), so a 12-EDO fifth sounds pretty "good" to us

using only 12-EDO is limiting ourselves. using only EDO is limiting ourselves. go out of your way, challenge yourself and go listen to play and write some music outside of this norm

but lets look at other EDO systems, or n-EDO systems. how can we measure how nicely they approximate the harmonics? the answer is probably that there is no one right way to do it

one way we could do it is by looking at the first k harmonics and measuring how far they are to the closest note in n-EDO. one way to measure this distance for the rth harmonic is this:

adding up this distance for the first k harmonics we get this sequence of measures:

(this desmos graph plots this formula as a function of n for k=20, which seems like a fair amount of harmonics to check)

the smallest this measure, the "best" the n-EDO approximates these k harmonics. we can already see that 12 seems to be a "good" candidate for n since it has that small dip in the graph, while n=8 would be a pretty"bad" one. we can also see that n=7 is a "good" one too. 7-EDO is a relatively commonly used system

now, we might want to penalize bigger values of n, since a keyboard with 1000 notes per octave would be pretty awful to play, so we can multiply this measure by n. playing around with the value k we see that this measure grows in direct proportion to k, so we could divide by k too to keep things "normalized":

plotting again, we get this

we can see some other "good" candidates are 24, 31, 41 and 53, which are all also relatively commonly used systems (i say relatively because they arent nearly as used as 12-EDO by far)

increasing k we notice something pretty interesting

(these are the same plots as before but with k=500 and k=4000)

the graph seems to flatten, and around 0.25 or 1/4. this is kinda to be expected, since this method is, in a very weird way, measuring how far a particular sequence of k values is from the extremes of an interval and taking the average of those distances. turns out that the expected distance that a random value is from the extremes of an interval it is in is 1/4 of the interval's length, so this is not that surprising. still cool tho

this way, we can define a more-or-less normalized measure of the goodness of EDO tuning systems:

(plot of this formula for k=20)

this score s_k(n) will hover around 1 and will give lower scores to the "best" n-EDO systems. we could also use instead 1-s_k(n), which will hover around zero and the best systems will have higher scores

my conclusion: i dont fucking now. this was complete crankery. i was surprised the candidates for n this method finds actually match the reality of EDO systems that are actually used

idk go read a bit about john cage and realize that music is just as subjective as any art should be. go out there and fuck around. "music being a thing to mathematically study to its limits" and "music being a meaningless blob of noise and shit" and everything in between and beyond are perfectly compatible stances. dont be afraid to make bad music cause bad music rules

most importantly, make YOUR music

[jaycesirlgf]

a guy/honey drabble :3

note: this is set pre-confession! think maybe a couple weeks before the events of the valentines video :3 also, my headcanon is that honey's a wolf shifter so that might make more sense in the last couple paragraphs :3 also, i wrote the last bit at 2am, forgive me, its shit. not proofread. lowercase intended!

warnings: none! pure fluff :3

the clacking of your keyboard in the room across from his could very well have driven him insane. his eyes leaped between the image of his slightly creaked open door, and the hallway; contemplating exiting his den of serenity for the first time in what felt like years. he’d already received a, long, winded, well deserved lecture on the ethics of disturbing his favorite roommate’s focus in regards to their ever-so important essay. he had then, of course, argued the ethics, and, to put it in his words, the point of starting an essay three weeks in advance, which earned him quite a…terrifying glare.

guy’s mind wandered for, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, pondering whether to interrupt his cherished friend’s self-inflicted torture. friend. had they considered him a friend? would they ever even think of, perhaps, being.. more? he hadn’t even noticed when the excruciatingly loud typing had long halted. the fumbling of the doorknob across him interrupted his thought process. a rather, show stopping pair of eyes met his. his breath hitched.

“hi” guy was grinning, as usual, (his voice had always skipped an octave up when he was around them.)

“hi. sorry for.. uh. sorry for yelling, earlier, i mean.” they whispered, looking down at the bleak carpet below the two.

“oh?!” he chipped, “well, you’re forgiven, though you’re still very, very mean, i hope you know.” his smirk sent butterflies through their stomach, electric currents through their veins. he eyed the smile (which they’d tried to hide) creeping onto their gorgeous face.

“hey, guy?” their voice was like honey.

“mm, w. what?” he stumbled, voice wavering. eyes dancing up from their lips.

“wanna watch a movie? um. with me?” their hands fidgeted with the thread of their shirt. “uh. kayla’s at her boyfriends place for the night.. i was just, you know, wondering if you wanted to. no pressure.”

guy smiled, warmly,

“aaoow… how romantic!” his giggles bounced off the walls, filling their ears with nothing but sweetness.

“urgh.” they sighed with utter exasperation, “yknow what. nevermind.” they rolled their eyes, turning to face their bedroom, defensively.

“NO nononono no. no!” he whined, grinning through his words and grabbing their hand, giddily spinning them back around. “i’d love to, honeyyy!” he teased. his nimble hands began to tug them towards the living room as they groaned, heavily, at the petname.

“oh, come on.” they groaned, “that’s not even what werewolves look like, not even close!” facepalming, they leaned backwards, pushing guy’s shoulder against theirs. his breath caught, not focusing on the poorly edited, skinny, man-like ‘werewolf’ displayed charmingly across the tv screen.

“how would you know? you’ve never seen a werewolf before.. for all that you know, that COULD be an accurate representation.. you don’t know!!” his smirk was almost engraved into their mind.

“well, howdya know i’m not a werewolf?” they murmured, their face dead straight, not a sight of humor behind the phrase.

“i don’t.” he spoke, definitively, “buuut it wouldn’t surprise me.. you’ve got the grumbly, dare i say, emo.. attitude to back it up.” he uttered, “OW! owww shitshitshitshitshit stoooop!!” the pitch of his voice stepping higher as they hit him, forcibly with the largest pillow in reach.

“you’re just proving my point, sweetcheeks!”

[the-iron-shoulder]

The vibes of the (Western) music notes based on what VGM songs they remind me of

-E: I'm starting with E because this is my post and I do what I want. Anyway, E is a good friend. So many classic songs start on E or revolve around E. Wily Castle 1 (MM2) hinges on E, Korobeiniki/Tetris Type A starts on E, it's the intro to Cut Man (MM1), A Bewitching Dance (Monster Hunter series) revolves around E, Boomer Kuwanger (Mega Man X) hinges on E, Battle With Magus (Chrono Trigger) is basically just a scale down from E, it's the first note in the intro to The Decisive Battle (FF6). It's a good note. Maybe one of the best?

-F: F is a strange note. I'm not sure how much I trust it to be honest. It's the first note of the melody of Core Magi Battle (Magi-Nation), nice and dark and somber and stuff I guess. Idk, F doesn't do a whole lot for me. That said, though, it is the start to Clash On The Big Bridge (FF5 et al.), which is one of the most solid pieces ever fucking written, so I can't write it off entirely. We need the whole keyboard.

-F#: Much better. F# is, as we all know, the first note in the melody to Giant's Cry (La-Mulana), so it's super solid in my book. I hear F#, I'm instantly thinking about Giant's Cry. Excellent.

-G: G is all about Battle 2 (Final Fantasy 4)! Or Culex (Super Mario RPG) if you feel like it, they're the same thing, we cool. But yeah, starting with two Gs an octave apart like that and then just kind of orbiting around G after that? Excellent choice, really. Come to think of it, Spark of Blue (Monster Hunter series) also has a main theme that starts with a low G and then a high G slamming into it at full force... someone needs to do a mashup of those two. It's also pretty important in Grunty's Lair (Banjo-Kazooie) but really that's secondary.

-G#: Not a lot in my orbit hinges on G#! It's the start to the super sad ending of Mega Man 2, I guess? And it's kind of important in the quest ending theme from Monster Hunter Rise, even though I don't think it's fair to call it the core note. It starts the melody of Corridors of Time (Chrono Trigger), but it doesn't make me think of Corridors of Time, you know?

-A: Can't really complain about A. Core note to J-E-N-O-V-A (FF7), which is something. First note to Weight of the World (Nier Automata). Heart note of Frog's Theme (Chrono Trigger). It's absolutely the most important note to Magikarp Festival (Pokken Tournament)! You start with an A, you're probably going somewhere good. Oh, and Mid-Boss Mayhem (Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle)! So important!

-A#: Or Bb or whatever, I'm a self-taught pervert, it's fine. Anyway, this is a well-loved note that's core to a lot of songs (I mean, if nothing else, freaking Bloody Tears, or Big Shot, or or or or), but to me, I hear A# and I am immediately just mentally playing the rest of Cassiopeia (Pokemon Scarlet/Violet). There's no other choice. That's just what that note does. And by god it does it so well!

-B: B is an excellent note. We love B! B's the start to Molgera (Wind Waker), it's the start to part of Boomer Kuwanger (MMX), it kicks off Katamari on the Rocks (Katamari Damacy), it's critical for Storm Eagle (also MMX), it's the core of the second part of A Bewitching Dance (Monster Hunter Rise), it starts off Fight Against An Armed Boss (Super Mario RPG), it's the center of It's Pizza Time! (Pizza Tower), it's just solid stuff, we love it.

-C: To me, C is David Wise's territory. Gang-Plank Galleon (DKC), baybee! Also Stickerbush Symphony (DKC2)! I feel like it's a hard note to commit to because people who don't like E the best tend to think of it as foundational and therefore basic or something, idk.But hey, it also takes us through Clock Town (Majora's Mask), that's important.

-C#: C# is often better than C imo. Even though it takes a back seat to E immediately after, it's the first note to Wily Castle 1 (MM2), and that just counts for something. It's an excellent supporter note. Critical in, like, a lot of the songs that I've talked about already or will be getting to. It's Pizza Time, Giant's Cry, Fighting of the Spirit, whatever. We don't all have to have the spotlight. We love a support character. C# is good.

-D: Okay I know what you're thinking, but really, that's like number 3 on the list of what D makes me think of. First and foremost, though, is Fighting of the Spirit (Tales of Phantasia)! Like, I hit a D when I'm just idly noodling around, and there's pretty good odds I'm just gonna turn that into Fighting of the Spirit. I can't stay away from that song. And of course, it's SO foundational to Nightmare King (Hollow Knight)! It's the baseline of the whole thing! And then yes, we cannot escape from Megalovania (Undertale), but seriously it's like third in line. (Don't get me wrong, Megalovania fucking whips, but that's not the point today.)

-D#: Another helper note but not really one that I associate with being the spotlight. Maybe it's because E is so foundational to me that I don't feel the need to bring it down a semitone and then focus on that? Who knows. Kind of Schala's Theme (Chrono Trigger)? Kind of? I'm sure as soon as I post this I'll think of some really obvious example but it's late and I should go make dinner.

[stewrattius]

“dreams have a deeper meaning”

I just had a dream where someone bought legal ownership to the c# key two octaves above middle c and anytime I tried to play it my keyboard would just glitch out and display an error message that someone (I forgot the username) had copyright protection over it and I was like “honestly checks out with everything happening rn”

chat???????????