#listen it’s ambiguous on purpose | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

natsredbra · 1 month ago

Text

A fractured line II

summary: All we did was kiss, on my grave I swear.

pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

warnings: smut in the beginning, mentions of SA (Travis and doomcoming), shrooms, knives, fighting, mentions of hetero sex (yes thats a warning), angsttttttt, our girl reader is dealing with situationship demons, ambiguous ending

a/n: fucking finally!! im so sorry if this disappoints any of you, i literally got the idea when i listened to a song. i do like this one better but unfortunately i needed some angst on this page its literally all porn, also not proofread we die like jackie

word count: 5k

taglist: @theprismyyy @priyajoyy @bbbexee

part 1

Natalie’s lips were cold against yours, but it didn’t stop you from capturing them feverishly. And as cliche as it sounds, you really haven’t felt this way before. You could tell yourself it was the shrooms, but that simply wasn’t the case.

She was the first to pull away. It might’ve felt like torture but you did need to breathe.

She also had no right looking this beautiful. To look at you, while being this beautiful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You started, but were soon cut off by her own lips this time.

She kissed you like you were all she’s been looking for her entire life, cupping your face and straddling you on the cold ground. Your fingers tangled in your hair as you let her lips explore you.

They traveled down to your jaw, your neck and collarbone which was showing right above the neckline of your dress.

It all felt like you were in slow motion, maybe she felt it too. Coming back up to your lips, she pressed a searing kiss against them.

“I want you so bad.” Natalie whispered, sending a wave of heat between your thighs.

“Please let me have you.” She said with a burgeoning excitement. How could you ever say no to that? To her?

The small nod you gave was more than enough for her to continue, slowly dragging the straps of your dress down. Her slender fingers burned against your skin as they mapped it out, relishing the warm feeling of you. Her lips also continued their path in sync with her hands, growing needier by the minute.

You were hyper aware of it all - her body pressed against yours, it was as if your entire being mingled with hers.

Moving her hips down just slightly, she straddled just one of your thighs insted, tailing a hand up your leg until she reached the already ridden up hem.

“Can I?” Natalie asked almost shyly, one tone you’d yet to hear from her.

“Please.” You coaxed out, her hand pushing your panties to the side before you could even finish.

Once her skin made contact with your bare core you were done for. Resting her forehead against yours, letting her plump lips brush against your cheek in a soft reassurance before nudging your hole with her middle finger.

Once she does push it inside you, she acts as if she can feel it too. Her hips jerked against your body, digit moving simultaneously. Her movements were a bit unsure, but she soon found a spot that made you writhe in pleasure. Adding another finger, she circled your clit too, sending shockwaves down your spine.

You’d never been touched this way before. Never felt like someone wanted to touch you simply to make you feel good, and not get something in return. In this moment, it was as if her sole purpose was to please you, and rest assured herself, grinding down on the ridge of your thigh.

Not trusting your hands anymore, you propped yourself up on one elbow, the other arm sneaking around Natalie’s neck. She embraced it right away, placing a soft hand where your shoulders meet, as if grounding you.

“Does that feel good?” She whispered against your lips, nudging your nose with her own.

“Feels amazing, Nat.” You answered, pure desire laced in your tone. Seems to urge her on too, as her movements against you get noticably frenzied, chasing her climax along with you. Brushing your lips against hers, the two of you came soon enough, swallowing each other’s moans and whimpers. It was in this moment that you felt truly content, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Plopping back down onto the dirt, Nat collapsed atop of you, nuzzling her head into your chest.

“That was - amazing. You’re really amazing.” The girl slurred out.

“You’re really shitfaced!” You retorted with a laugh, the breeze making your damp thighs feel slightly cold

“No but you are! You’ve got those eyes and - and the hair and boobs.” She listed, holding up her fingers and counting on them.

The whole exchange made you throw a cackling fit, your arms tightening around her. This is what people meant when they called sex intimate, then. The intimacy may not only exist in the act itself, though it certainly was there - but also before and after. In fact, the buildup and post orgasm bliss may have actually been better.

Natalie felt that way too. She had her fair share of fucking, but never making love. It was different, even though she always argued it wouldn’t be, and you both felt it.

Right now, she just let herself listen to your heartbeat, no pressure, no worries or chaos, just for tonight—

“Help!”

You two heard in the distance. Immediately jolting upwards, you exchanged a skeptical glance. But your moms didn’t raise pussies.

Nat and you soon got up, running towards the sound that overtime became more pronounced.

Approaching it more, you could finally identify Jackie’s voice screaming, coming from the cabin.

“That good, huh?” You joked as the two of you bolted inside.

Grasping the handle, Natalie unlocked the door that the girl was trapped behind.

There she was, staring at you with wide, guilty eyes. Normally, you would’ve blinded her for messing with what’s yours. But could you even do that? Especially when you did the exact same thing? Shitfaced philosophy was really working as Jackie gawked between Nat and you, with an admittedly shameful look. Of course you weren’t sure, but from what you heard you presumed this was, in fact, her first time.

But apparently she was in some kind of hurry. it was funny what these mere mushrooms could do. The interaction was quite ephemeral, yet to you it seemed as the longest awkward moment you’d had to face, ever.

“Are you okay?” Nat asked, tuning to look at you

“I’m free! Natalie I’m a free being! And so is Jackie…” You started, both of you presuming her hurried state was a symptom of the high.

“Yes you are honey.” Nat said, stifling a laugh.

“Dude I’m a whole person!

“Yeah, you are a whole.” She replied with a stupid lovesick smile on her face

“I’m a hole!” You giggled along with her about your wrong interpretation of her words.

“We should see where she was headed, yeah?” Nat said, and you reluctantly did follow

Catching up to the aforementioned girl was quite easy, seeing as Natalie and you were fast, and on a nice amount of the forest-provided ecstasy. With asking Jackie questions came cryptic answers, however your light and playful demeanor lessened more and more with her serious one.

It went dead as soon as you heard sketchy sounds in the distance. They became as obvious as ever as you approached them, and getting to a clearing you saw something you thought you were tripping abo- oh, it’s real!

Your very ex was tied to some kind of fucking altar? With Lottie right next to him? And Shauna’s knife to his throat?

God help your delirium, Jackie and Natalie rushed over and helped him right away. You felt like a coward, only being able to watch in horror and shock. But then again, it wasn’t everyday that you see a boy strapped down to- whatever that is and covered in numerous lipstick marks, that were not in fact Jackie’s.

She did take the liberty of taking him back, Nat being the one to handle you. She took your clammy hand onto hers and lead you back to the lake for some peace and quiet, which you immensely needed.

"So that was something, huh?" Nat broke the silence, sitting beside you.

"If that's what you wanna call it." You deadpanned, your high wearing off.

"You did good. Back there. You did your best." Natalie spoke lowly, trying to make you feel better. She always did that, not just to you, to everyone. She wasn't as cheerful about it as say Jackie, but she did her best, and it almost always hit the spot. Not quite this time though.

"There was so much more I could've done." You whispered back, not turning your head to look at her. Still, you could feel her own eyes burning holes to the side of your face.

"Hey, don't do that! You were terrified, dude."

"And you weren't?" You questioned, a bit agitated. Not at her, at yourself.

The question was followed by a long silence, both of you gazing towards the woods and the water. The majestic moonlight illuminated the place, making the lake's contents sparkle before you.

Maybe, just maybe, if you were on a field trip with your friends from back home, sneaking in booze and huddling up to him her on the drive home, you’d think this place was beautiful.

"Everyone was so scared of you," She scoffed "I never was. I mean you were a girl, just like the rest of us. Trying to get through all that shit - high school, family, whatever...I get that." Nat said, making you smile a little

"That night, when Travis broke up with me, you said that were were two sides of the same coin. I wasn't sure what you meant until tonight." You replied

Yeah, now you knew exactly what she meant. Both of you were just young, putting out a tough exterior - one that everyone recognized you by - simply to protect yourselves. Maybe the reason you avoided Natalie wasn't because of how different you are, but how similar she actually was to you. Maybe you didn't wanna accept that.

"I don't regret what happened tonight, by the way." She said, sounding almost afraid to voice it.

"Me either." You whispered, finally locking your eyes onto hers.

It was as if she didn't have the physical strength to hold back, leaning in to kiss you seconds after you looked at her. Moving a bit closer, her touch got increasingly more hungry.

Oh well, a second round can't hurt.

------------------------------------------------

The early morning light distributed through the forest, slowly awaking you from your slumber. Raising your head, you couldn't ignore the dull ache in your neck - likely from sleeping on the ground. A few feet away from you, you could see your reflection in the shore of the infamous lake. Your hair was quite messy as you tried to shake all of the sand out of it - or at least most. The dress you wore was draped lazily over your hip, your almost bare body covered in dirt.

That's when it hit you, everything that happened last night. And I mean, everything, in detail.

"You’re awake." A soft, familiar voice that belonged to Natalie called out

"Unfortunately." You muttered, rubbing your face with your hands. Sure, you did have a thing for the dramatics, but this time you kind of meant it.

Natalie snorted before responding, "I got you some clothes." She said, and only then you noticed she was already changed.

"I'll rinse off first." You answered, standing up and leveling with her before walking over to the water.

You took careful steps, dipping your toes inside though it was quite frigid. Nat moved over closer to you, stripping bare of her pants.

"Just jump in." She said teasingly as you gave her a faux eyeroll. Though to her surprise, you did just dive right in, keeping your head under for a few seconds until some dirt was out of your ear.

The blonde sat at the shore, her legs intertwining with the water as she drew up her sleeves and leaned back on her hands. Swiftly swimming over you laid your wet head of hair on top of her thigh, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

"That was a shit show." She spoke up, breaking the silence

"Not all of it!" You called out, playfully smacking her arm with the back of your hand, earning a soft giggle from her.

"No, not all of it. I did like some parts." She said with a smirk

You just snorted, gazing up at her.

"You know, when all this is over and we get back home, I'm taking you out on a proper cheesy date." Nat stated, leaving zero room for argument.

"I'd love that." You replied, nuzzling your face into her.

"You know that really cliche moment in the movies when the lead finally realizes they're into someone and wants to - take care of them, or whatever?" The girl spoke up above you

"Yeah?"

"I feel like this might be it for me." She said, followed by a short silence

"I like how you make me feel so much lighter. Like I'm carrying a bunch of weight on my shoulders and you just take it away." You said quietly.

She didn't need to respond for you to know how much those words meant to her, or how she's felt it with you herself.

All the exhaustion was finally getting to you, as well as the hangover. You groaned in pain softly, and she took the hint, running the pads of her fingers through your hair.

"Maybe you should check in with him." She said. God why did she have to be so kind and well meaning? This was a conversation you were not looking forward to in the slightest, and it made you groan quite a bit louder.

"What if we just stayed here all day? We can be lazy and make out!" You proposed, climbing back up to straddle her thighs, your arms encircling her neck, wetting the fabric of her shirt.

"Yeah, for a little. But at some point we need to go back, there's so much shit to do." Nat responded, giving you a tender look.

"Dude why? They were the ones that went fucking insane!"

"Maybe so, but still. They'll be on our asses if we don't." She spoke with a bit of annoyance.

Surely though, you could not forget the makeout session that was meant to take place. Leaning in, you pressed your cold lips onto hers, making her hand fly and ball in your hair, pulling you in closer. It sure would be an eventful morning.

Finally being done with your...seemingly favorite stress relief method, you both did get dry and dressed, dreading what was to come. With a deep breath, Nat's warm hand found yours, taking it as she led you back to camp.

At this moment, you were hyperaware of all your surroundings. Her skin on yours, as your own clung to your clothes, your damp locks wetting the area of your neck. The quiet hum of the wind traveling through the dainty leaves, making the inevitable silence that much more bareable.

“It’s gonna be fine. They’re the ones that should feel shitty.” She just always knew exactly what to say.

You gave her a reassuring smile - that was mostly meant for yourself, and turned the corner, walking up to the cabin.

See, you expected many things. You expected a dirty look, maybe a concerned or a guilty one. Maybe you expected to be teased for the very obvious post-hookup flush in your face. You expected Nat to be made fun of for all the marks coating her neck. What you didn’t expect was to see the entire group in both awe and terror, gathered all together.

All together, around the one and only Lottie, pulling a knife out of a bear’s neck. So in the grand scheme of things, no one even noticed you walk up.

Natalie instinctivly pulled you closer, remembering your fairly negative feelings towards certain things, such as guts and gore.

“Oh - now you come back? We’ve been looking for you all morning!” Taissa called out to you two once she spotted you.

“Is that seriously what’s on your mind right now?” You asked in slight disbelief.

“Yes! We had no fucking idea where the gun was!” An agitated Mari yelled.

“It’s by the door.” Natalie said with a bit of a mocking tone, making you snort once you saw the other girl’s dumbfounded expression.

“Okay, who cares? The bear is dead, no one’s hurt and we have food!” Akilah stated.

“Absolutley. No point in talking about it now.” Coach said in what you presumed to be a bored tone. Not like you could blame him.

“Just drag it to the back, we’ll cut it up later.” Shauna muttered as a couple girls took the liberty to do so.

“I’ll go take a walk, I need to clear my head.” You told Nat, giving her hand a soft squeeze

“Take your time. I’ll be around.” She responded, scanning the place a little before giving the corner of your mouth a bit of a sarcastic, fast kiss, which earned her a small eyeroll.

Walking out to the back, barely twenty feet away, you ran into the very person responsible for your inner turmoil this sunny morning. Before turning and running away, Natalie’s voice rang in your head. And for fucks sake, you wanted her to think highly of you, even for something benign as this.

“Travis? You okay?” You incquired with a gentle approach. Or at least, as gentle as possible.

“I’m fine.” He responded hastly, though his current demeanor said otherwise.

“Need help with that?” You tried yet again, pointing to the cold, wet rag he rubbed against the bruised skin of his neck.

“No.”

Despite his refusal, with a sigh you slowly reached for it anyhow. The boy had a skeptical look on his face before letting go and fall into your own hand.

In a soft motion you soothed the sensitive area, making him slightly wince.

“So…Jackie?” You asked tenatatively

“Excuse me? Natalie?!” He shot back, raising his eyebrows up to his forehead.

Your own followed suit as you raised your eyes, looking into his. As soon as they locked on them the both of you broke into a small laughing fit as you still worked on him.

“Guess we finally got laid huh?” He spoke again.

“Hey! That was not my fault, you were the one who couldn’t get it up.” You retorted, though your words had no real heat to them.

“I was…nervous.” Travis replied, a faint red hue on his cheeks.

“You couldn’t tell me that before I shoved your flacid dick in my mouth?” You questioned in a mock flat tone, finally letting the rag drop back to the makeshift table.

The boy chuckled again, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go look for Javi.” He declared, rubbing his eyes quite agressively.

“What? He’s not here?” You proclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest as your brows knitted together.

“No he- I guess he ran away last night?” Travis said, and you could sense his anguish though he tried to hide it.

“Should I come with you or-“

“It’s fine. I need to clear my head anyway. It was nice talking to you though.” He conveyed with a tight-lipped smile before rushing away, leaving you a bit dumbfounded.

And honestly yes, it was nice talking to him. You could only go so long before going insane with all the awkward tension, neither of you needed that out there. Who knows, he might actually be your friend while you battled with your raging bicuriousity.

It was a nice day, though a colder one. Walking through the quiet woods, many things were on your mind. First and foremost, you thought all about how tough it'll be once winter gets here, and it was right around the corner.

Then you realized just how fucking thirsty you are, seeing as the last thing you drank was the so called berry wine the night before. Your finally dry hair moved in rhythm with the wind that unapologetically ruffled it as it went, making you a tad dizzy too. The sleep depravation didn't help either - if it was a possibility you'd do multiple questionable things for a Tylenol and some coffee, or at least tea that doesn't taste like piss.

"What are you doing out here?" A skeptical, slightly frightened Jackie called out, you hadn't even noticed her.

“I don’t know? Walking around…you?” You inquired, taking a seat next to her, letting your back rest against one of the trees.

“Same, I guess. Look, about last night-“ She started before you cut her off.

“No, it’s fine, really…It’s not like we were still together or anything. “ You replied, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Really?” The girl asked in obvious disbelief.

“Really. I mean we’ve got enough shit to worry about, relationship drama isn’t it.” You said in a flat tone, eyes scanning her face.

“Yeah, fair…but I don’t think you really need to worry about a relationship anyway.” Jackie said in a teasing done dripping with implication.

“What?”

“I just meant with Nat and everything-“ She sputtered, until realizing you were less then amused.

“Is there a problem with that?” You barked, the question coming out rougher then you intended.

“No! No, I’m just saying, she’s pretty much smitten. And it figures you wouldn’t be mad at me if you were this good with her.” Jackie said matter-of-factly, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Well why wouldn’t we be good?” You asked, mockingly accentuating the word.

“I just thought because- y’know, her and Travis?” She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wha- what about Travis and her?” You questioned, sitting up straighter

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

No, no you didn’t fucking know.

“They hooked up or something. Uh- Van saw them, when they were supposed to be out hunting. I thought she told you that” Jackie quivered, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Right…when’d this happen?” You asked breathlessly. Truly, it felt like there was no air left in the world.

“A couple days ago.” She replied, unsure.

Hearing that made made your eyes burn with unshed tears and your throat close up. You never felt quite this way before, and you absolutley despised it. Your mind ran with all the possible images and scenarios involuntarily, making your head spin. At this point you were spiraling, entirely in war with yourself. How could you ever let her get this close? Better yet, how the fuck did the only person you were actually into betray you this way?

Here she was, making you matching head pieces and dancing with you oh so intimately at that party - and what? To get in your pants? To use you, just like she’d been used. Do hurt people hurt people?

“Are you okay?” Jackie asked, careful of her tone and expression.

“I’m fine. Whatever, she’d have sex with anyone who gave her the attention her father didn’t” You hissed, leaving Jackie speechles with her jaw hitting the floor.

And god, as much as she hurt you, you felt rueful as soon as the words left your mouth. Usually, you’d never regret saying something like that about a person who dared cross you, but she was different. Just so fucking different, it scared you to no end. She had an inexplainable effect on you.

“I need to go.” You said, hurrying off before the girl could respond.

Your feet carried you as your mind ran. Without realizing it, you’d walked back to the cabin, not even bothering to stop the hot tears from spilling over your eyes. Only when you reached the back of the place, where you left Travis a little over an hour ago, you realized where you were.

The thing is though, you most definitely didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at this point, so you attempted to make your way back towards the deeper woods - or even the ever famous lake.

However unfortunately for you, luck wasn’t on your side. Just as you turned around to walk back, you faced a familiar person, and the very cause of these complicated emotions.

“Y/N, hey, I was looking for you-“ Natalie approached, walking closer.

“Are you crying?” She asked, already moving to embrace you softly, a slight look of hurt and confusion gracing her face when you pushed her away.

You didn’t need trust yourself to speak as you wiped your eyes, taking a deep breath to ground yourself.

Only then, she realized what this was about.

“Y/N” She whispered, sounding somewhat desperate

“How could you do that?” You shot back as the water dried on your face.

“We only kissed I-“

“You knew about everything that went down!” You yelled out, not paying much mind to her words

“We only kissed.” She tried again, this time sounding more assertive. Still as desperate.

“What kind of a fucking excuse is that?!”

“I- please, you have to listen to me, it was a dumb mistake!” Natalie continued, her own eyes watering up

“Natalie I was miserable when we broke up, you saw it! Gosh, you- you’re fucking unbelievable. I just - I thought we were friends! And anyway, I’d never expect you to do that!” You drawled out, your voice shaky.

“You can’t deny that you and I are so much more then friends.” Nat sobbed, locking your teary eyes with her own.

“That’s what I thought last night too.” You mumbled.

“No, I promise - it’s still there! I still feel it. Christ, I love you! I fell in love with you in a matter of weeks! Do you even realize the effect that you have on me?! That you always had on me?” She bawled, at this point yelling for the whole world to hear. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was your forgiveness.

“Oh God, Natalie you don’t love me, you don’t even know me!” You hissed.

“What the fuck? I’ve known you for years! Look, I know that you hate when guys tell you what to wear, I know that the coffee you drink is practically milk and you throw half of it away before every practice, I know you like having red nails. But the darker ones, you once said you felt cheap if they were neon or whatever. I also know what kind of music you listen to because you annoyingly always insisted to play it. And I can bet you know little things like that about me too but the thing is, I’ve grown to fucking love every single one of them this past month. And I am so fucking sorry about what I did.” Natalie explained. She sounded truly miserable, letting her own tears fall freely.

And you were stunned to hear it. At this point, there was so much emotion plastered across her face, you even debated believing her. But the truth is, you weren’t even sure you believed they didn’t hook up, so how could you believe anything else she said? Then again - why would she try so hard to convince you otherwise if she didn’t at least care?

Still, thinking about it made your insides churn and all you knew is that you couldn’t be around her. Your pride may have had a large impact on all of it too. Softly shaking your head, you walked away, not sparing her another glance. If you did, you’d stay back, and you couldn’t afford that right now.

All the betrayal, anger, sadness and frustration mixed inside your head into a dangerous cocktail. Retrieving the cheap, half drunken whiskey bottle you disappeared into the woods, settling down on the clearing that brought back many memories from the prior night.

You chugged it down like your life depended on it, though it did little to to ease your anguish. And anyway, the burn in your throat was a momentary distraction.

In the grand scheme of things, this seemed awfully unimportant. So what if you feel like you've known this girl in your last life? So what if she was the only person to properly watch out for you? So what if all your walls crumbled down as soon as she sent something as little as a soft smile your way? So what if you fell in fucking love in five weeks, right? It's not like you could lose something you never actually had. Right now, she's both the closest and the farthest she'd ever been from you. To you. This girl managed to reinvent you, only to kick you back down this way.

You cursed the day you let yourself be yourself in front of her, The day she was born a little, too. There were simply so many things you wanted to do and say, yet you found yourself unable to move a muscle. At this point, you weren't even sure whether you were being dramatic or not. You just knew you wanted this feeling to end

Little did you know, back at the cabin Natalie was crashing out. She was going around, poking and asking who the fuck had the nerve do say this to you. Deep down, she knew she was in the wrong - and that there was no taking back what happened. She knew that the trust you reluctantly put in her was long gone, and it was as if she grieved it.

Yet to this day, the only thing Nat wanted was to feel closer to you. To understand and and be there for you. She was so convinced that there wasn't a universe in which you would want her the same way she wanted you, and all the disdain got in and over her head, making her do something she knew she'd regret.

Out of spite, she kissed him. Out of spite, she hurt you. Out of spite, she ruined it. Because that it what she does, under it all, there is a divine, kind person, sadly covered up by a thick layer acting as rough protection.

The only thing she was now sure of was how much she would try to make it up to you. Natalie would do anything if it granted her the feeling of her lips pressing yours, just once more.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets thoughts 💭#natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets showtime #yj season 3 #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio thoughts 💭#natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio smut #natalie yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio smut

348 notes · View notes

deerspherestudios · 3 months ago

Text

🔍 QNA MASTERLIST (LYS VER.👻) 🔎

This masterlist contains all questions and posts relating to Alma from Lift Your Spirits. They might also be referred to as Vida.

General Info about Alma❕

They love junk food. + dev ramble about their design inspiration.

Their favorite food is popcorn and chocolate-dipped churros.

They can form legs if they wish, but prefer to float.

Their birthday is on 20th July! 🎂

Their race is ambiguous as Alma. (If someone asks me about Vida specifically I'd be happy to answer in it's own post and add it here since their appearance in MO.)

Their reaction to discovering someone pushed the vending machine that killed them on purpose.

They can touch things if they concentrate.

Their favorite color is red. + Their height is 6'4 (193cm).

Their reaction to another ghost in the campus building. (same post as above)

Their favorite character in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic pre-death would be Rainbow Dash. Post-death would be Zecora. + dev rambles.

Their MBTI is INTJ-J.

They love listening to city pop, math rock and swing jazz.

They would win against Mychael (Mushroom Oasis).

They would visit MC if they lived on campus.

They would disappear if the campus building is torn down/destroyed. + dev ramble about ideas for a sequel.

They have an interest in space and would've majored in astronomy.

Alma’s romantic traits…❔

They identify as panromantic demisexual.

Their love language is performing acts of service for others and receiving quality time.

Their preferred pet names for themselves are ones that're sweet and dessert-like. + They would call their partner "my comet."

Their gifts for MC + favorite Christmas activities + thoughts on hot cocoa (as Alma and Vida.)

About Laika…🐕❔

Their dog's name Laika is based off the Soviet space dog.

Laika is hinted to be an ex-service dog.

Laika is given to a family member after their death.

Extras❕

Some in-game and general loredump!

Alma giving you coins for the vending machine.

Alma accepting sodas from the player.

Silly Alma monster-form edit.

Alma being (not) hit by a snowball.

Their reaction to mistletoe.

#lift your spirits vn #such a small segment compared to mychael's 4-part qna masterlist good grief #anyhoo here they are nice and neat!!#atom's is up next in queue!

315 notes · View notes

nellasbookplanet · 1 day ago

Text

I'm hardly the first to make this observation, but the problem with many self-proclaimed cozy stories is that they're so scared to take risks, scared to do anything that could make the reader even slightly uncomfortable, because being uncomfortable isn’t very cozy. Characters lack in flaws and messiness; conflict is lackluster or quickly resolved or avoided altogether; a darker moment must always be followed by a peptalk, never lingered on; moral ambiguity is eschewed, because anything else would be problematic and messy. If a main character has flaws it’s always those of the good victim, someone who needs to heal and be validated but not grow and be challenged. Challenge, of character or reader, is anathema.

As I'm playing Stray, I'm struck by the thought that this is quite possibly the coziest piece of media I've ever experienced. You're playing as a little kitty cat. You’re carrying around a tiny robot companion in a backpack. Your enemies are tiny white blobs called zorks. There are game mechanics to meow and scratch up people's walls and furniture and knock paint cans off shelves and take naps. The pacing rarely rushes you, rather actively encourages you to slow down. You can stop and listen to a guy play guitar, or look for flowers to gift someone, or take a nap on a cushion while beautiful scenery full of plants and fairy lights roll by.

But it’s also a game set in the ruins of a near dead world. The cute blobs will eat you alive. The robot you're carrying is an uploaded mind earnestly struggling through an existential crisis and mourning an entire species. Under the plants and the fairy lights is garbage and rust and buildings falling apart. There’s no sunlight. There are creepy eyes watching you in the sewers. There’s classism and oppression and the downfall of man.

And through it all, the robots who inherited the world are working so hard to find pockets of hope and happiness. They paint and play music and play games and dance and grow plants and create cozy little homes for themselves. They resist for the sake of freedom and autonomy, they create an entire language, they dream of a world most think they'll never see.

This dichotomy of dark and light is something I see often in (better) cozy media. Dungeon Meshi is a fun cozy adventure where they make delicious food and talk about self-care. It's also about grief and the inevitability of death and the impacts of social inequalities. The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is a cozy found family road trip in space; it’s also about the difficulties of understanding each other across cultural barriers and the massive ramifications when we refuse to do so. Legends and Lattes is basically a dnd coffeshop au; it’s also about struggling to find happiness and purpose and self-worth after a life of violence, not knowing if you're able to successfully achieve anything but bloodshed. And All the Stars is full of found family and pastries and characters just hanging out; all of this happens as they're hiding and fleeing from invading aliens who see them as nothing but a resurce to be used. One of my favorite episodes of critical role is the beach episode of c2, where they basically just hang out; this happens soon after they buried their friend who died trying to save them, as they're trying to figure out who they are and what they want after his loss.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? Any story that is uniformly the same thing all the way through ends up as bland. A grimdark story that never offers respite or moments of hope will numb you to the horrors, removing their bite. A cozy story that offers nothing to be struggled against, nothing for which cozy moments and aesthetics is a break, lacks impact. A story needs ups and downs, a rhythm of misery and hope.

#nella talks #stray #i finished the game today! really enjoyed it but missed like half the memories lol #so probably gonna replay it soon-ish with a guide or smth to find them all #anyway this is my guide to a writing a good cozy story:#do not shy away from darkness and conflict and messiness. jusy don’t make it the central focus #zoom in on how characters rest and heal and forgive and reach out to each other. slow down and let readers and characters breathe #show exactly what the coziness is a respite from and how and why it matters

249 notes · View notes

wendichester · 1 month ago

Note

ok you write some teen dean but I wanna see teen sam x reader please and thank you :3

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ assignments & study sess,

summary. you run into sam at the school's library

pairing. teen!sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 539

notes. honestly, whenever i think of sam is almost stanford and onwards, but this turned out cuter than expected ehe thank you for requesting bubs 😙🩷

Sam has noticed you before. It’s hard not to.

You’re in a couple of his classes, always sitting near the window, twirling your pencil between your fingers when you’re lost in thought. You don’t talk much, at least not like the loud kids who take up all the space in a room, but when you do—when you answer a question in English or crack a joke to your friend—Sam always finds himself listening a little too closely.

He’s never had the nerve to talk to you, though. His family moves too much for him to bother making friends, and besides, you probably don’t even know who he is.

At least, that’s what he thinks—until today.

The library is quiet, except for the occasional rustle of pages and the soft hum of the overhead lights. Sam’s hunched over his history textbook at one of the back tables, trying to focus, but his brain feels like it’s made of static. He’s got an essay due in two days, and all he’s managed to do so far is reread the same sentence ten times.

And then—

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

He freezes.

Because that’s your voice.

Sam looks up so fast he nearly knocks over his coffee. And there you are, standing right across from him, your bag slung over one shoulder, a hopeful tilt to your lips.

For a second, all he can do is stare.

“No,” he blurts, a little too quickly. He clears his throat, willing himself to not sound like a complete idiot. “Uh, yeah. I mean—go ahead.”

You smile, sliding into the seat across from him, and Sam swears his heart actually stumbles over itself.

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out your notebook. “It’s weirdly packed in here today.”

Sam glances around. There are maybe five other people in the entire library.

He looks back at you, and you’re watching him with a tiny, knowing smirk. Oh.

You did that on purpose.

Sam swallows, trying to fight the warmth creeping up his neck. “Yeah. Super crowded.”

You grin, setting your stuff down. “I’ve seen you around,” you say casually, flipping open your book. “You’re, like, crazy smart, right? You always get the highest scores in English.”

He blinks. “You—you’ve noticed that?”

You tilt your head, like the idea of not noticing him is absurd. “Of course. I sit right behind you.”

Sam has no idea how to respond to that. His brain is short-circuiting, stuck on the fact that you—this girl he’s been secretly stealing glances at all year—have been paying attention to him too.

“Uh, thanks,” he finally mutters, pushing his hair back. “I just… read a lot, I guess.”

You hum, resting your chin on your hand as you watch him. “You always look super focused in class,” you muse. “Like, intense focus. It’s kinda impressive.”

Sam lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. I try.”

You lean in slightly. “So, Mr. Genius, since we’re here—wanna help me with my essay?”

It’s an easy excuse to stay here longer, to keep talking to you, and Sam knows it.

But he’s definitely not going to say no.

“Yeah,” he says, a real smile tugging at his lips now. “Yeah, I can do that.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @szyszoszelest ⋆ @angelicalm3ss ⋆ @writtenbyhollywood ⋆ @larasalii ⋆ @yeehawgiddyup13 ⋆ @xo-zeze ⋆ @jules-pagie ⋆ @freeluigihesbae ⋆ @viarasvogue ⋆ @ladykitana90

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #teen sam winchester #supernatural #.docx #.req

251 notes · View notes

bonus-links · 23 days ago

Note

IMMA BE THE FIRST TO ASK (I HOPE) CUZ IM LITERALLY CHOMPING AT THE BIT DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE

GANON??? THE EYES???? BANGER UPDATE 👹

the people have spoken and they want director's commentary (this isn't even all of them lol) OKAY HERE WE GO

the original draft of this scene was much shorter, and Loft actually didn't say anything at all in it. As I kept making the chapter it started to feel weird that he would just. Let Ganondorf say his piece without contributing anything. i like this version of the scene much better

listen. I love WW Ganondorf. He's my favorite Ganondorf. I was going to find a way to fit him into this chapter no matter what

in particular, I love that you get a sense from WW Ganondorf that he is, on some level, sympathetic to Link. Or if not sympathetic, understanding of his place in all this. He tells Link that his gods have abandoned him, that he has not particular quarrel with him, etc. But ultimately it doesn't matter. If this is who the gods have sent to stand in his way, so be it. Essentially, it's not my fault the gods are so callous as to send a child after me.

we're going w the canon that WW Ganondorf is the same as OOT, or at least remembers being him. Don't ask me how. Nintendo doesn't know either

big ol eyeball. which could mean nothing

How does Ganondorf recognize Loft? by that stupid hat. jokes aside he doesn't know Which Link Specifically Loft is, but he's smart enough to figure out that he's a hero of some sort.

Likewise, Loft is smart enough to figure it out as well. He's spent a lot of his chapter thinking about Ganondorf, and if you'll recall from Ch1, he knows from Zelda that Ganon once had a mortal form. I think, from Loft's perspective, he has a hunch that this Ganon figure is the mortal reincarnation of Demise, the way Zelda is the mortal reincarnation of Hylia. I wanna emphasize that's what HE thinks might be going on based on his experiences. He's not the knower of all things. He has a conspiracy board in his mind

the face of a guy who's like. I am not going to be lectured to about morality from the King of Evil. I was very excited to let Loft be snarky at long last. But he also, notably, doesn't push back against what Ganondorf is saying that hard. He doesn't even say that he's wrong, just implies that he's probably a hypocrite. In fact, a lot of this update is about what Loft DOESN'T say or acknowledge

Ganondorf's opening line is about how much he hates that statue of the hero of time, because it's "such grandeur for a mere child". I think he means that at face value, but he's also making another point— the hero of time was a child, but they're not going to depict him that way in his monument. It's honestly sort of ambiguous with the actual model because of ww's style, but it looks like adult proportions to me. The story Wake grew up with calls him a child, but his monument in the castle is of an adult. That was the idea behind this set of panels, the parts of the Hero of Time's story that aren't going to be put on the pedestal

speaking of that I realized making this update that I literally. forgot the pedestal. I just didn't draw it all this time. in my defense the castle in no clip looks like this. no statue or pedestal

except I recently found out by accident that he's literally. under the floor. what the fuck

ANYWAY. I really liked the symmetry of Ganondorf turing to stone at the end of the dream. He won't get any perfect monuments made to him. Also, looks like there's a suspicious lack of water in the underwater castle. which could mean nothing

I'm not gonna comment too much on other details, because i've got to keep some of my secrets. I do think that this update gives a lot away HAHA though that was kind of on purpose. We're entering year 3 of this comic and we're finally starting to get places lolol

WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT loft looks the same way he did when he last touched the triforce

and we've seen a border similar to this before haven't we

that's all i got for now, thanks everybody! im having a blast reading ur comments <3

#bonus content #directors commentary #ask

360 notes · View notes

umbrellajam · 6 months ago

Text

I feel like whether Tim is on some level suicidal in RR #12 is very open to interpretation, which is part of what makes it fascinating!

because Tim's homecoming to Gotham is the culmination of an upward/self-actualization arc, after struggling through multiple low points/depression/an extended breakdown.

he finally got proof Bruce is alive. managed to claw Tam and himself out of the Cradle and away from the Council of Spiders/LoA by the skin of their teeth. thumbed his nose at Ra's and reaffirmed his own principles by blowing up all the LoA servers. finally kind of processed that Kon and Bart are both alive again - he just tackle-hugged Kon in RR #9 and told him, "when you found me in Paris, I was in a bad place. Now... Now I'm in a good place." he's full of renewed purpose and the realization that he doesn't, in fact, have to do things alone! (team-up Robin ftw!)

so probably not actively suicidal

but then in all of his frantic calculations to thwart Ra's and save each and every person Bruce loved - he doesn't factor himself in. he doesn't put himself on that list of loved ones and set up a contingency for preserving his own life (wtf Tim).

or does he??? that's where the ambiguity comes in for me, because we don't actually see him discussing the full details of his plan with anyone. and he doesn't mention it in his internal narration, either! because his internal narration is always super reliable..... hmmm.....

we know that Dick isn't aware of any other contingencies, or indeed the full details of the plot they were thwarting - after catching Tim, Dick has to ask him, "You want to tell me what that was all about?" and of course "How did you know I'd be there to save you?"

and as I've mentioned before, I don't think Tim had actually planned for Dick to save him, so his "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me," response is uh, both loving BS and a "genuinely felt expression of retrospective faith", as Silver put it (and which has been stuck in my mind in glowing cursive letters ever since, lol).

but. we do know that as part of his plan to thwart Ra's ninja-assassinate-Bruce's-loved-ones plot, Tim calls all three of his best friends into Gotham. (among all his other rallied allies.) his best friends who are various combinations of flight and/or superspeed capable. and who had each just smugly patched in via comm to confirm that their protection jobs were all successful, meaning Tim knew they were available if he potentially needed them.

the fact that the rest of the Core Four then twiddle their thumbs and let Tim keep fighting Ra's on his own after confirming Alfred/Selina/Barbara are safe, instead of zipping over to have his back (ie punch the jackass through a wall) almost has to be because of: (a) Tim's plan to deliberately stall so Lucius could file the WE paperwork (on the Watsonian level), (b) Yost allowing Tim to have his Final Showdown with the villain of the arc on his own, and also (c) Yost setting up the emotional climax/reconciliation of Dick catching Tim (both on the Doylist level).

like, Tim stalls Ra's for long enough that Dick is able to glide and grapple his way over from his own ninja-busting detail, we don't think the speedster or the Superboy could have gotten there in time?

Dick is the one who caught Tim because it was thematic, it's a motif in their relationship and the resolution of their 12-issue arc, and don't get me wrong I wouldn't change that moment for anything - but! he wasn't the only one around who could have done so.

and Iiiiii have to suspect Tim would know that? there's ambiguity and room for interpretation, of course, especially since Tim doesn't say anything at all or call out to anyone as he's actually falling.

but also. Kryptonian superhearing? Tim's comm which could very well still be connected? could he have been relying on allies listening/clue-ing in, whether or not he actually explicitly sketched out a back-up plan with anyone to come back him up, after Lucius was done transferring WE? all according to (dumbass improvised) keikaku??

idk! seems plausible to me, but it's all so open to interpretation, it makes my brain go BRRRRRR 😊 like you can make a compelling case/headcanon/fic any way you look at it!

anyway. Dick catching Tim is very much The Moment Ever Of All Time <3 but also the thought of Kon just hovering at the ready to grab Rob but spotting Dick!Bats swooping in and being like ":))) oh ok. they both need this." is v. hilarious to me

#Tim Drake #Red Robin #Core Four #Dick and Tim #DC meta #sheesh it's been a while I'm forgetting all my tags #dcu #batfam #post tag #comics reading tag

301 notes · View notes

tom-foolery-incorporated · 1 year ago

Text

Lucifer's Fun

MDNI 18+, Dom Lucifer, sub afab reader, gender neutral, racially ambiguous, fuck machine use, vibrator use, overstimulation, dirty talk, degradation, reader is fucked silly, mentions of free-use, sexual punishment, sadomasochism

Lucifer didn't like distractions while he worked but he decided to make an exception for you just this once. After all, you looked so pretty on all fours getting your pussy fucked open by the toy you hid from him he attached to an investment he had yet to use until now. The machine hummed and squeaked with every thrust of the dildo into your weeping hole. The vibrator taped against your clit hummed an excruciating song of promised punishment you knew was coming when Lucifer caught you with your toys. The man responsible for your predicament simply rested his leather shoes on your back as he lazily looked over some contracts.

Your pussy made sick squelching sounds thanks in part to the gushing wetness from your previous orgasms at the hands of the cruel machine. Your screams and groans remained locked away behind a red ball strapped into your mouth with black leather straps. The past couple of hours have been utter blissful torture. At times you'd thought your body had gone numb from Lucifer's punishment but then with a couple remote controls, he'd change the speed and rhythm of the machine and vibrator attacking you.

"You should have known better," Lucifer mused looking at you from over his glasses. "I told you that I am the only one to touch you and yet you stuff yourself full of plastic cocks like some common whore." Lucifer pushes down on your back with the heels of his leather oxfords. You could only groan under his cruel treatment. "Maybe that's how you want to be treated, hm?" Lucifer purred.

"I could set you out front of the House of Lamentation just like this and let whoever comes along use you how they please. How does that sound, pet?"

You heard Lucifer chuckle at your strangled noises of disapproval and the way you pitifully shook your head. "But I thought you didn't care who or what used your holes? You don't want me to leave you outside for any demon to come knock up?" Lucifer asked in a mocking tone. You turned your head to look at the Avatar of Pride with overwhelming tears of pleasure blooming in your eyes. You vigorously shook your head hoping to earn Lucifer's pity.

"Then how come I keep catching you toying with your cunt like an insatiable slut?" Lucifer demanded as he turned up the intensity on both the vibrator and the fuck machine. You screamed behind your gag as you were forced to drop onto one of your elbows. The toy slid through your sloppy cunt with such ease as it carved its form into your walls.

"Poor little human," Lucifer mocked. You heard his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his pants. When you looked back at your lover his cock was firmly in the grip of his leather glove. The uncut tip of his manhood wept precum over his foreskin. His pale member was flushed red with arousal at the sight of you taking your punishment so well. Seeing Lucifer start to stroke himself at the sight of you made another gush of wetness run through your cunt. You could feel yourself starting to drool around your gag at the burning need to have his cock in your throat.

You moaned behind your gag trying to utter Lucifer's name to little success. Your brain was so lost to the torturous pleasure he brought to you that you could only make simple moaning noises. "Is my pet still needy?" Lucifer mocked taking his time running his fist up and down his swollen penis. "After all this, you're still a simple slut whose only purpose is to swallow cock." You nodded eagerly hoping to be able to finally take him in any one of your needy holes. Lucifer groaned your name so thoroughly aroused at your obedience.

"Is this really what it takes to get you to listen?" Lucifer growled as he turned the machine up to its highest setting. He removed his feet from your back as your body jerked with the power with which the machine fucked the faux cock into your slopping pussy. Lucifer's office was filled with the sounds of the slapping sounds of your wet cunt mixed with the mechanical hums of the toys he used against you. Your upper body collapsed onto the floor as your pussy was hung off of the dildo. The fuck machine became the only thing to keep your body from fully collapsing onto the ground. The only noises that came from your mouth were pitiful whines of pleasurable agony. Your brain felt like static with the only thoughts running through it being images of Lucifer's cock destroying whatever was left of you.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this," you heard Lucifer growl. His voice felt so far away in your blissed-out state yet you could hear the unmistakable moans and heavy breathing leaving his body. "I should keep you like this. Fucked stupid with no other purpose other than to cum all over yourself." You could feel a puddle of drool make itself known against your cheek as your own cum leaked down your inner thighs. Your body jostled back and forth at the will of the fuck machine. Lucifer continued to grip his cock in a choking embrace at the sight of your pathetic body.

"I'm going to cum all over you so you know who you belong to," Lucifer said in a deep growl. You barely registered what he had said before you felt the ropes of hot, sticky cum slather your body. It dripped down your back and off onto the floor. You felt so utterly pathetic at Lucifer's treatment but for some reason that just made your umpteenth orgasm that much more intense. Another spray of squirt gushed out of your messy cunt for what felt like the hundredth time. You wailed behind your gag as Lucifer maxed out the vibrations of the vibrator attached to your clit. "Now, " Lucifer hummed readjusting his pants and making himself presentable. "Diavolo has been invited over to go review some paperwork and have tea and I'd appreciate it if you were on your best behavior for him."

Your brain could only make out half of what Lucifer had said and you could only whine in confusion. "Poor little human," Lucifer mocked as he crouched by your head to pet your hair, "You just have to stay like this while Diavolo and I discuss matters too big for your little brain, okay?" You moaned at the gentle contact Lucifer allowed you to have. "Don't worry dear," Lucifer said mockingly gently, "You just stay right where you are."

Down the hall, you could hear the low humming of voices coming towards Lucifer's office.

#lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me shall we date x reader #obey me shall we date smut #lucifer obey me

1K notes · View notes

inkmonster21 · 3 months ago

Text

I Don’t Play Anymore

Series Masterlist

Hwang In-Ho / The Frontman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: parental abuse, emotional exchanges, teasing

05. Against the Rules

The elevator comes to a halt, and the doors slide open, revealing your father and the Game Maker entering the space. Their presence adds a layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere as the elevator becomes somewhat crowded.

Your father's voice cuts through the silence, his curiosity is evident as he looks at you. "And where will you be going?" Your father's tone is a mix of concern and slight annoyance as if he's been waiting to ask this question for a while.

Your response to your father's question is straightforward and confident, mentioning Anderson's efforts to get you into the club. "That club I mentioned. Anderson got me in," you reply, your voice conveying a sense of certainty. There's a subtle confidence in your words as if you're accustomed to navigating such situations.

Your father nods, echoing his appreciation for Anderson. "I like Anderson. He's got a two-year winning streak," he remarks to the Game Maker, a hint of admiration in his words. The Game Maker listens with a subtle nod of recognition, acknowledging Anderson's achievements, “My, that is quite an accomplishment.”

“Where are you going?” As you ask your question, your father's eyes meet yours, a mix of surprise and slight hesitation evident. "We're going out for a while," he responds, his tone carrying a sense of vagueness. It's clear he's not willing to provide a specific purpose or destination, leaving you somewhat in the dark.

Your response is a simple nod, a quiet acknowledgment of his brief and somewhat evasive answer. There's an understanding that your father has his reasons for being vague, and you choose not to push further, respecting his unwillingness to disclose more information.

You step onto the ferry, joining the others on board. The space is filled with white vans, piled with bodies of the unconscious players, the silence of the environment heightened by the knowledge of their unconsciousness. The sound of the waves provides a subtle ambiance as the ferry sets off on its journey towards Seoul.

While you were away, In-Ho, the Frontman, took the opportunity to contemplate you more rationally. His mind is filled with thoughts and calculations, trying to make sense of the enigma that is you. He attempts to analyze your behavior, actions, and interactions, searching for any patterns or clues that might shed light on your true motivations. The silence and solitude allow him to concentrate, his mind working to decipher your next move.

He couldn't deny the undeniable attraction he felt towards you. It was a fact he couldn't dismiss or ignore. His mind replayed your encounters, the way you carried yourself, and the impact you had on him. There was an undeniable allure about you that stirred something within him, making it difficult to shake off his growing interest in you.

The Frontman's contemplation continues, now pondering whether you shared his attraction. Your behavior and actions had led him to believe it might be possible, but the uncertainty and ambiguity surrounding you left him uncertain. Your confidence and boldness made it difficult to decipher, leaving him unsure if your behavior was a genuine reflection of your feelings or simply part of your intriguing persona.

In-Ho acknowledged the potential risks involved. If you didn't share his attraction, and he made a move, it could lead to complications and jeopardize the delicate balance that already existed between you two. The Frontman's cautious nature comes into play, causing him to hesitate and weigh the risks of making a move.

As you confidently walk into the club, your eyes quickly spot Anderson seated at the bar. With a warm smile, you saunter over, leaning against the bar and teasing him. "You know that's not your color," you say, referring to whatever he seemed to be wearing. Your playful tone hints at your easygoing nature, the words leaving your lips with a mix of charm and humor.

Anderson turns his head, recognizing you, and a smile immediately spreads across his face. "I'll have you know, I look great in everything," he responds with a laugh, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of amusement dancing within them. His playful banter matches your tone, as he responds to your comment with a good-natured attitude.

You order a drink and take a seat on the nearby chair, sitting beside Anderson. He engages with a young man, their conversation filled with playful banter and lighthearted flirting. Anderson is at ease, exuding a relaxed and confident demeanor as he effortlessly engages with others in the bar.

As you take a sip from your drink, you can't help but comment, a playful smile playing on your lips. "I see you've made a friend," you remark, your words carrying a hint of humor. There's a subtle satisfaction apparent in your tone, as you observe Anderson's interaction with the young man. Your lips, marked by the imprint of your lipstick, gently brush against the rim of the glass, adding an air of grace and elegance to your movements.

Anderson glances at you, a sly grin dancing on his lips as he asks, "Jealous?" Your comment catches his attention, and he playfully turns his head in your direction. His eyes meet yours with a mix of amusement and curiosity as if searching for any subtle signs of jealousy on your face. He awaits your response, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm and a touch of genuine curiosity.

You respond with a dismissive scoff, your words filled with a confident tone. Your eyes meet Anderson's, conveying a clear message of non-attachment. "Not in the slightest," you reply, your voice carrying a mix of sass and self-assurance. There's an undeniable aura of independence and resilience in your demeanor as if jealousy is a foreign concept to you.

As a man approaches you, attempting to engage in conversation, you politely decline, shaking your head gently. "No thank you," you say, your voice carrying a firm but friendly tone, clearly conveying your disinterest. Your straightforward response shuts down the interaction, and the man quickly retreats, sensing your lack of interest.

Anderson bursts into laughter, amused by your cold response to the guy's advances. "You're the coldest bitch I've ever met," he remarks, his voice filled with a mix of humor and disbelief. His comment, however, takes a sharp turn at the end, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. “He’s not my type.”

Anderson's curiosity is piqued by your response, and he raises an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement evident in his eyes. "He's not your type?" he asks, repeating your words with a hint of disbelief and intrigue. "And just what is your type, then?"

You meet Anderson's gaze, your eyes holding a depth of understanding and vulnerability. "Someone who could understand what I've been through. What we've been through," you admit, your words carrying a mix of pain and vulnerability. The weight of your experiences is evident in your voice, a somber undertone lacing the conversation. Anderson, who knows your past, meets your gaze, a look of compassion and understanding mirrored in his eyes. He listens keenly, feeling the weight of your words and the emotions they carry. Anderson raised his brow. He knew it was just as pointless as you did.

As Anderson reveals the deal with your father, his words hang heavy in the air. "He said if I could get two new players into those games, he'd give me ten grand," he explains, a mix of greed and ambition evident in his tone. The offer, while enticing, carries an element of moral ambiguity, raising ethical questions and sparking a sense of unease.

As you roll your eyes at the mention of the games, your words convey a sense of exhaustion and frustration. "I just got out of that place. Please let me enjoy my time," you plead, your voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and weariness. The memory of the games and their intensity still lingers in your mind, reminding you of the emotional and mental toll they took on you.

Anderson, not ready to let the subject drop, continues to press, his words tinged with curiosity and insistence. "Come on, I'm curious!" he says, his eagerness evident in his tone. He tries to persuade you, attempting to gauge your willingness or reluctance to give in to his request.

Anderson's curiosity remains undiminished, and he presses on, seeking information. "About what happened in the games, of course!" he responds, his tone tinged with intrigue. He leans in, expecting you to share details, eager to know more about your experiences and the challenges you faced.

Anderson's curiosity is piqued by your description, and his eyes widen in surprise at the scale of the operation. "It's huge," you begin, a sense of awe and disbelief evident in your voice. "It takes up the entire island. They have over 200 guards, and over 300 players to start. It's impressive." As you share more details, Anderson listens intently, absorbing the information you provide, clearly impressed by the scope and organization of the games.

You go on to describe the unique aspect of the games, explaining, "Everyone besides players wears a mask." The detail catches Anderson's attention, and his eyes narrow slightly as he listens, clearly intrigued by the peculiarity of the situation. He leans in, eager to hear more, his attention fully focused on your words.

The description of the masked participants, including the haunting presence of the Frontman's mask, leaves Anderson intrigued and slightly unnerved, “That’s not super creepy.”

You continue, adding, "The Frontman has this black matte facemask. You can't see his eyes, but... I can feel when he's looking, you know?"

Anderson, ever the joker, can't resist making a sly remark. "Sounds kinda kinky," he quips, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. His words are meant to lighten the mood and provoke a reaction from you, though there's a hint of genuine curiosity behind his comment.

As Anderson's playful remark lingers in the air, the memory of your interactions with the Frontman resurfaces in your mind. The fleeting moments of eye contact, the unspoken exchange of glances, and the subtle undercurrent of tension between you had not gone unnoticed. Despite your attempts to brush it off as harmless, there was a nagging curiosity that gnawed at you. The Frontman's rescue, the offer of his room, and the enigma that surrounded him had slowly and insidiously planted a sense of... well, it was hard to put a name on it.

You continued to drink and laugh with Anderson, the hours passing as you enjoyed each other's company. However, amid the merriment, a familiar presence entered the room, causing a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Your father had arrived, his presence commanding immediate attention.

Your father strides into the room, a commanding presence that immediately captures Anderson's attention. "Mr. (L/N), it's a pleasure!" Anderson stands up, greeting your father with a practiced smile, a touch of respect evident in his tone. Your father embraces Anderson in a friendly gesture, "You look good, son," he remarks, a mix of familiarity and affection present in his voice. The two men exchange warm greetings, and your father takes a seat, his eyes roaming the room, assessing the situation.

Your father's gaze falls upon you, and he asks, "Had enough?" There's a hint of disgust and a subtle reminder of expectations in his words, making it clear that he's scrutinizing your state and behavior.

Your response to your father's question is playful and defiant. "Cheers," you say, raising your glass and draining the remaining contents in a single swift motion. It's a clear show of independence and defiance, as you make a point to finish the drink rather than setting it aside. Despite your father's disapproval, you refuse to let him dictate your actions or dampen your enjoyment.

Despite your father's hidden anger, he remains composed, only managing a subtle hum in response. "Let's go," he demands, his tone firm and assertive, indicating that he's ready to leave. The tension in the air is palpable, but your father maintains a facade of composure, attempting to hide his displeasure and maintain appearances.

Your father's grip on your arm is firm as he guides you forcefully out of the establishment. His actions, though forceful, are subtle enough to avoid drawing too much attention. He leads you with a sense of urgency, as if eager to remove you from the environment and regain control over the situation.

As you follow your father's forceful grip, a sense of impending punishment hangs in the air. You don't resist; you know that any resistance or defiance will only make things worse. With each step, the weight of your disobedience and the impending consequences weigh heavy on your mind. The tension is palpable as you brace yourself for what may come.

The silence between you and your father on the boat is suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through the air. Your father refuses to look in your direction, his anger, and disappointment evident in his silence. The waves crash against the sides of the boat, the sound becoming almost unbearable in the oppressive atmosphere. It's clear that your actions have triggered his fury, and the impending punishment weighs heavily on your mind, leaving you with a sense of unease and dread.

As you enter the elevator in the headquarters of the island, the weight of your father's silent anger hangs in the air. You step inside, standing beside your father. As the elevator doors close, shutting you in with your father, he grabs you by the neck in a swift and unexpected move. The sudden and forceful grip tightens around your throat, a clear indication of his frustration and anger. The silence of the elevator amplifies the intensity of the moment, making the tension between you palpable as you stand there, caught off guard by his physical display.

Your back slams against the wall with a forceful impact, the pain shooting through your body. "You little bitch!" your father growls, his words filled with anger and frustration. The violence of his action echoes in the small confines of the elevator, the force of the throw leaving you momentarily dazed and hurting.

The first slap catches you off guard, the force leaving a red mark on your cheek. "Disrespectful," he repeats, his tone dripping with frustration and outrage. The anger and disappointment in his voice are palpable as he continues, delivering the second slap with a sharp and impactful motion. The sound of the slap reverberates in the cramped space, the pain and humiliation evident in the tense atmosphere.

Your father's words cut deep, the mention of your mother adding an extra layer of pain to the situation. "You make me so ANGRY! You don't drink! It's sloppy! So much like your mother!" he yells, his voice filled with a mix of anger and disappointment.

Despite the pain and the tension, an unexpected laugh threatens to escape your lips. "And what did you do to her? Huh?" you retort, a mix of defiance and sorrow lacing your words as you challenge him, bringing up the complex history between him and your mother. The question hangs in the air, waiting for an answer, even though you know you likely won't receive a satisfactory one.

The air in the elevator grows heavy as your father draws his gun, his anger reaching its boiling point. The cold steel of the weapon is mere inches from your head, the threat clear and imminent. The tension reaches a pinnacle in the confined space, the silence and stillness only adding to the gravity of the moment.

The tension in the elevator ratchets up, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. "Do it," you say, challenging your father, daring him to follow through on his threat. The room feels as if it has stopped, with the gun still aimed at you, the silence and tension filling every bit of space available.

With a flicker of uncertainty, your father's voice trembles slightly as he responds, "You don't think I will?" The gun still points at your face. A smile, tinged with a mix of bravado and defiance, plays on your lips. "I don't think you can," you reply the words carrying a hint of challenge and the belief that your father won't follow through on his threat. The tension in the elevator is palpable, each second feeling like an eternity as the standoff continues.

As the elevator doors slide open, revealing the entrance and the Frontman standing there, the tension hangs in the air. The Frontman's presence adds another layer of complexity to the already volatile situation, his arrival creating a slight pause in the standoff. Your father's grip tightens on the gun, the threat still looming as he stands there, a mix of anger and turmoil evident in his tense stance.

As the Frontman steps forward, his movements deliberate and controlled, he positions himself between you and the gun, breaking the line of sight and physically placing himself as a barrier between you and your father's weapon. The Frontman exudes an air of authority, his presence seemingly serving as a calming influence in the escalating situation.

The Frontman's voice cuts through the tension, addressing your father. "To your suite, Mr. (L/n)?" he inquires, maintaining a professional and composed demeanor. Despite the intensity of the situation, his tone remains calm and measured, as if his presence alone can help defuse the explosive atmosphere. The Frontman stands there, acting as a mediator and a buffer between you and your enraged father.

Your father's response is curt and short, a mere affirmation of the Frontman's question.

Your father's command is clear and resolute as he exits. "When we go home, you're going back in," he says, as he points his finger at you, his glare conveying his anger and intentions. The mention of returning to the games weighs heavy on your mind.

The elevator doors slide shut, leaving you alone with the Frontman in the enclosed space. It comes to a halt, and the doors open to reveal the top floor. You walk out with a sense of determination, your steps carrying a hint of defiance. The Frontman follows closely behind, maintaining a silent presence as you proceed to the suite.

In a fit of frustration and pent-up emotion, you swiftly open the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a glass dish with trembling hands. With a force fueled by emotional turmoil, you smash it against the ground, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the kitchen. Your scream follows suit, a fierce and cathartic release of bottled-up emotions that fills the air with an angry resonance.

The Frontman approaches you with a calm and composed demeanor. Despite your display of frustration, he doesn't react alarmed; instead, he takes a step closer, his gaze and presence unwaveringly steady.

The Frontman, with unexpected grace, hands you another plate, placing it in your hands with a gentle yet insistent grip. His actions communicate a silent understanding and acceptance as if his intention is for you to repeat the act that just occurred, offering you another opportunity to release your emotions. The gesture speaks volumes, expressing a quiet empathy and a subtle invitation to let out the turmoil that simmers within you.

With the plate in your hands, the pent-up frustration boils within you, demanding release. You raise the plate, and with a forceful motion, you smash it against the nearest surface, the shattering noise echoing in the room. Shards of glass and ceramic fly in every direction, the force of your action reverberating through the air. The catharsis of the act is momentarily soothing, as you release the pent-up emotions that have been consuming you.

You recount your brother's actions, and the sacrifices he made to keep you out of the games. Your tone carries a mix of gratitude and bitterness, as you walk through the scattered glass fragments. "He tried his best to make sure it wasn't me. He pretended to love the games, doing everything my father said, just so this wouldn't happen to me," you explain, your voice tinged with complex emotions. The mention of your brother's sacrifices hangs heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the burden of expectations and the sacrifices made in the name of love and protection.

Your laughter is a mix of sorrow and anger as you let out a bitter chuckle. "And then he died anyway!" Your words carry a sense of injustice and despair, as the reality of your brother's death and its consequences weigh heavily on your heart. The laughter, tinged with a sense of irony, serves as a release of the pent-up pain and anguish that you've held inside.

The Frontman continues to quietly listen, letting your words and emotions flow freely. His presence remains a steady and silent witness to your moment of pain and frustration, providing a non-judgmental space for you to express yourself. The weight of your emotions and the memories of your brother's sacrifices are palpable in the air, and the Frontman allows you the space to release them.

Your voice trembles with emotion as you continue, your words revealing the depth of your pain. "I was such a different person seven years ago," you confess, the weight of the past years of trauma and transformation evident in your tone. The realization of how much you've changed echoes in your words, a painful reminder of the person you once were and the person you've become.

The stream of words flows from your lips, each one carrying the burden of loss and the harsh reality of your experiences. "7 years ago, my mother died. 6 years ago, my brother died. 5 years ago, my boyfriend died. 4 years ago I won the games and killed more people than I can remember. My whole life has been a huge fuck you," you declare, your voice filled with pain, anger, and frustration. Each sentence carries the weight of the past, a stark reminder of the tumultuous path your life has taken. The years, marked by loss and violence, seem to have etched their impact deep into your soul.

Your words, tinged with bitterness and disappointment, reveal the harsh realities of your father's behavior. "My father plays with us and when he's done, he throws us in the trash," you say, your voice carrying the weight of resentment and sadness. The sense of being manipulated and used by your father's actions resonates deeply, leaving a heavy burden on your heart. The games, the death, and the loss are a byproduct of his selfish choices, and the weight of it all feels overwhelming at the moment.

You find yourself on the couch, shaking your head in your hands, mortified by your emotional outburst. "I'm sorry. This is... so embarrassing. My god," you mumble, your voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and self-awareness. The weight of what you've just revealed, the raw emotions that have been unleashed in front of the Frontman, leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

The Frontman, with a calm and measured presence, takes a seat next to you on the couch. His deliberate movements and gentle manner create a sense of reassurance and comfort as if silently conveying that you're not alone at this moment. There's a subtle understanding in his gaze, a non-judgmental acceptance of your emotional turmoil, a silent affirmation that it's okay to feel the way you do.

The Frontman speaks, his voice laced with empathy and understanding. "I... understand your loss," he says, his words carrying a hint of shared pain. It's a simple yet sincere gesture that acknowledges the depth of your grief and loss, a subtle connection that bridges the divide between you and the Frontman, forging a moment of shared understanding. It's as if he too has experienced similar hardships and can empathize with your struggles on a personal level.

The Frontman's words hold a subtle weight, and the depth of his understanding goes beyond what meets the eye. "I understand a lot more than you know," he says, his voice tinged with a mix of empathy and a hint of something else – a secret or a layer that he seems to keep hidden. The words, though seemingly simple, carry a sense of depth and enigma, implying that there are aspects of his past and experiences that he keeps hidden, leaving room for curiosity and speculation in your mind.

You lock eyes with the Frontman, and with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity, you ask, "Did you lose someone in the games?" Your words hang in the air, the question holding the essence of your desire for understanding and to connect on a deeper level.

The Frontman's sigh speaks volumes, conveying a sense of resignation and the weight of his past. He has never been open about the path that led him to his current role, to lead the games and all its intricacies. A layer of complexity and hidden history surrounds him, adding an air of mystery and enigma to his presence.

In a surprising turn of events, the Frontman chooses to deviate from the usual protocols. His hand moves with deliberate precision, reaching up to his face and unclasping the mask, the sound of the buckle releasing filling the room. With a swift motion, the mask falls away, revealing his face in its entirety. His features once shrouded in the anonymity of the mask, are now exposed to your sight.

As the mask falls away, you are struck by the sight of In-Ho's face. His sharp features, marked by high cheekbones and a strong jawline, exude an undeniable presence. His eyes, dark and intense, hold a piercing gaze that seems to see right through you. The clean-cut, professional hairstyle adds to his overall polished and refined appearance, making him even more distinct and attractive.

In-Ho acknowledges the unusual nature of the situation, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability and a touch of irony. "This is highly unusual, as well as against the rules," he admits his tone a mix of realization and contemplation. It's a departure from his usual composure, a moment of unexpected vulnerability as he willingly, and boldly, breaks protocol by revealing his face to you.

Your question hangs in the air, carrying a mix of curiosity and a touch of awe. "Then why do it?" you ask, seeking to understand the reasons behind In-Ho's decision to break protocol. His actions seem deliberate and significant, and the desire to know what motivated him to reveal his identity is evident. The answer may hold the key to a deeper understanding of who he is and his reasoning behind the bold move.

In-Ho's response carries a hint of introspection as he considers his actions. "I don’t have an answer," he admits, his tone thoughtful and introspective. "But when you laid yourself out bare," he continues, referring to your moment of vulnerability, "it felt like I knew you." There's a subtle recognition and understanding that In-Ho has gained through the shared moments and your honest admission of your feelings and experiences. He may not fully comprehend his motivations, but that doesn't diminish the authenticity of the connection he feels in the moment.

In-Ho's words carry a sense of sadness, and he opens up, sharing a part of his past that has affected him deeply. "I had a wife," he starts, his voice tinged with an undertone of grief, "She was with child, and she got sick." The weight of his loss and the pain of that experience linger between his words, the memories resurfacing and leaving a lasting mark on his soul.

In-Ho continues, his voice carrying a mix of sadness and guilt. "We didn't have the money for the treatment she needed. She was given two choices. Terminate the pregnancy or die trying," he reveals, the weight of the situation evident in his tone. "She said she was going to give birth even if it killed her." You could see the cold memories in his eyes as he spoke, “I borrowed money, as much as I could, but my employer found out and fired me.” The confession, laden with pain and regret, paints a vivid picture of the choices he made to try and help his wife and unborn child.

In-Ho's gaze meets yours, a mix of pain and determination echoing in his eyes. "So, I came here, I played, and I won," he says, his words carrying both a sense of accomplishment and a hint of regret. There's a tinge of exhaustion in his voice, a reminder that the victory came at a price, and it's evident that his emotional journey has been a complex and challenging one.

In-Ho's voice cracks with sadness, the weight of the memory evident in his words. "But when I got back home, I was too late," he says, the pain simmering just beneath the surface, his voice tinged with regret and grief. The tragic discovery upon his return home has left a lasting impact on him, adding a layer of bitterness to his triumph.

The emotional connection between you and In-Ho deepens in this vulnerable conversation. It feels like truth hour, where both of you are open and raw, sharing the pain and guilt that both of you carry. As he reveals his past, you find a sense of understanding in his words, realizing that he truly comprehends the depth of your feelings and the human emotions that keep resurfacing despite attempts to bury them.

As you continue to converse with In-Ho, a deeper understanding sets in, and you realize the tragic irony of his situation. "You didn't lose someone in the games," you observe. "You lost them because of the games." Your words carry a tone of empathy, recognizing the direct impact of the games on In-Ho's tragedy and the complex nature of the pain he carries.

In-Ho nods, acknowledging the truth in your statement. "I had nothing. I had changed in the games and everything outside of them felt wrong," he admits, his voice tinged with a sense of self-awareness and resignation. He pauses, considering the impact your presence has had on him. "For a while now, I've felt fine, leveled," he continues, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Until you showed up."

The surprise and confusion in your voice are evident as you respond, "Me?" You are genuinely taken aback by the revelation, unsure of what role you have played in his life to cause such an impact. The confusion in your expression mirrors the curiosity you feel, seeking to understand why your presence had such an effect on him.

In-Ho nods in affirmation, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and an underlying sense of vulnerability. "Yes, you," he confirms softly, the words carrying the acknowledgment of the impact you've had on him. His sigh conveys a mix of emotions like he's trying to articulate something more profound but struggling to find the right words. "You must know the type of effect you have," he continues, "the type of woman you are." His words hold a touch of wonder as if he's come to understand something about you that has resonated on a deeper level.

A smirk plays on your lips, and you lean in closer, feeling the comfort of the couch as you settle into the moment. "Oh, I know the effect I have," you respond, your words carrying a hint of confidence and self-awareness. You lean in as you add, "I just never thought it would make a man like yourself so weak." Your tone is a mix of playfulness and a subtle challenge, as you subtly assert the power you hold and the effect it's had on In-Ho.

The smirk on your lips holds a hint of anticipation, as you propose the idea of a game. There's a playful glint in your eyes, and an undercurrent of intrigue in your tone as you ask, "Do you want to play a game?" The suggestion hangs in the air, inviting a response from In-Ho and adding a layer of excitement to the room.

In-Ho tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Despite the guarded nature of his expression, a spark of curiosity flickers in his eyes, and he responds with a mix of intrigue and cautious interest, "What have you got in mind?"

In a moment of playful banter, you lean forward, suggesting a game of "two truths and one lie" to deepen the connection between you two. "Since we're here getting to know each other," you propose, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "how about a game of 'two truths and one lie'?" Your words carry a sense of excitement and anticipation, inviting In-Ho to participate in this playful game of truth and deception.

In-Ho with his guarded expression that softens ever so slightly. He nods, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as he agrees to the proposal. "Alright," he responds, a mix of curiosity and willingness in his tone.

With a moment of consideration, you straighten your seating position on the couch, readying yourself for the game. "Alright," you begin, your voice carrying elements of revelation and intrigue. "I'm the daughter of the biggest a-hole on this planet." The first statement holds the weight of truth, your frustration and resentment towards your father are evident in your tone.

Your tone is confident and direct as you clarify, "I can't stand it here,” As you clarify your statements, your voice takes on a softer tone, the smirk playing on your lips as you confess, "Three, you intrigue me.'" Your words are directed directly at In-Ho, carrying a mix of curiosity and an underlying suggestion of connection.

In-Ho smirks, his words holding a mix of banter and a touch of teasing as he responds to your statement about enjoying your time on the island. There's a hint of playful understanding in his eyes as if he's challenging you to deny the obvious. "Well," he begins, "I have to say, you've been enjoying your time here. Unless I'm wrong." His words carry a subtle edge, challenging you to acknowledge your enjoyment or to deny it if you so choose.

In a moment of playful banter, you raise your brow, feigning curiosity and challenging In-ho's assertion. A small smirk curves at the corner of your lips, as you playfully ask, "Is that your final answer?" The tension in the air is palpable, the game of truth and deception adding an extra layer of excitement to the exchange. In-Ho raises an eyebrow, responding to your question, "It is.”

“Congratulations,” You pout playfully, feigning disappointment, as you slip off your shoes one by one. The tension in the room continues to rise as you challenge In-Ho with your actions.

You smile and the cross of your legs add an air of confidence and assertiveness to the scene. The suggestion of your words hangs in the air, inviting In-Ho to share his truths. "Your turn," you say, challenging him to reveal his secrets.

In-Ho's words reveal a glimpse into his personal life, "I’m the leader, I don’t drink whiskey," he says, the words hanging in the air, then he leans in closer, his eyes locking with yours as he adds, "and find you... astonishing." There's a mix of vulnerability and sincerity in his words, conveying a true sentiment.

You smirk playfully, an element of mischievousness in your tone as you respond to In-Ho's statements, knowing all too well that the truth lies within the third statement. "Hmm, has to be that third one," you say, playing along with the game and challenging him with a devious curve of your lips.

In-Ho chuckles lightly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as he responds to your challenge. "You're at a loss," he says, fully confident in his statements, knowing that you have incorrectly guessed the lie.

Amid the tense and heated banter, you suddenly make a bold move. In a smooth motion, you reach behind your back, unclasping your bra, and letting it fall to the floor. However, the dress still covers you, maintaining a sense of decency. The act, though provocative, also holds an element of defiance, pushing the boundaries of the game and asserting your form of control. The tension in the room continues to rise as you challenge In-Ho with your actions.

The game continues, challenging you to stay on your toes. "Not many more layers to go," you say, the anticipation building with each layer of clothing being removed. "I better start winning," you add, your words dripping with playful determination. The game continues, each revelation adding fuel to the fire of this intense encounter.

In-Ho observes your actions, fully aware of the game you're playing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He understands the subtle layers of manipulation and control at play, and his response is measured, a blend of amusement and intrigue.

You take your turn, sharing three statements that reveal different aspects of yourself. Your first two statements offer a glimpse into your past and intentions, but it's the third one that holds the most weight at the moment. "One, I graduated top of my class," you start, setting the stage. "Two, I'm going to pay you back for those broken dishes," you add with a light laugh, acknowledging the moment of rage. Then, with a direct and sultry glance into his eyes, you say softly, "Three… I know you want to kiss me."

The last line hangs in the air, its honesty and vulnerability laying bare the emotional connection brewing between you two. In-Ho's gaze meets yours, and the tension between you reaches new heights as the truth is laid out on the table. The game takes on a deeper meaning, the honesty and directness in your words leaving no room for ambiguity.

In-Ho's breath hitched, and you saw a spark of something wild ignite in his eyes. He leaned in, his movements deliberate, as if savoring the anticipation. His scent, a mixture of cologne and musk, invaded your senses, sending a shiver down your spine.

As his lips brushed against yours, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. His kiss was gentle at first, a soft exploration of your lips, but it quickly ignited into something more passionate. In-Ho's hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, sending tingles down your neck. You responded eagerly, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm.

The kiss was a whirlwind of sensations; his lips were soft yet demanding, and his taste was intoxicating. You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to thread through his neatly combed black hair. In-Ho's grip on your face tightened, his kiss becoming more urgent as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Pulling back slightly, you gazed into his eyes, now dark with desire.

His hands traveled down your neck, gently caressing your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. The make-out session was a blur of pleasure, lust, and desire. In-Ho's lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that made you squirm with delight. His hands roamed freely, exploring your body, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed.

As his fingers traced the outline of your jaw, down to your collarbone, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper. The sensation of his touch was driving you wild, and you craved more. In-Ho seemed to sense your need, his kisses becoming more possessive as if he wanted to brand you as his.

In-Ho's hand found its way under your dress, his warm palm making contact with the bare skin of your thighs. You gasped at the sudden contact, your body arching into his touch. His fingers trailed upwards, their path leaving a scorching trail on your skin.

"We should stop," In-Ho panted between kisses, his breath hot against your skin, But his hands didn't stop their exploration, and his lips continued to ravish your neck, making it hard to think straight.

You wanted to protest, to tell him that you didn't want it to end, but before you could form the words, the shrill ring of the phone pierced the air. The sudden interruption startled both of you, breaking the spell that had enveloped the room.

In-Ho pulled away, his eyes now a mixture of longing and frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. "I need to answer that," he mumbled, his voice rough with unspent passion.

You sat there, breathless and dazed, as he stood up and walked towards the ringing phone. The moment had been interrupted, but the tension between you was now palpable. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a mixture of emotions swirling within you.

As In-Ho answered the call, his back turned to you, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The intensity of the moment had caught you off guard. You never expected to feel this way about him, but there was no denying the connection that had formed.

He finished the call quickly, his voice distant as he spoke, and then he turned around, his eyes searching yours. "I will be right there," he said, his voice laced with responsibility.

You stood up, your body still buzzing with unfulfilled desire. "Busy man," acknowledging his commitments and responsibilities. As you hand him his mask, your voice steady and unwavering despite the inner turmoil, you declare, "This isn't over.”

In-Ho's smile curves his lips, acknowledging the unspoken understanding and connection between you. With a gentle yet firm grip, he pulls you in by your waist, bringing you closer to him. The proximity adds an electric undercurrent to the moment, as he holds your gaze, the world around them seeming to pause.

In-Ho leans in again, their lips meeting in a more gentle and tender exchange. The intensity remains present, but it's softer and more tender. There's a sense of vulnerability and human connection in the way their lips meld together.

He leaves you there, and as you sit, replaying the kiss in your mind, you realize that something has shifted. The emotional connection had been laid bare, and there was no going back. The tension that had built up would only grow stronger, and you couldn't wait to see where this forbidden path would lead.

Tagged:

@jspidey5

@angelsukiipls

@mrsyixingunicorn10

@calistrialynna

@gagaga167

@urlocalsabito

@starkeyszn

@calistrialynna

@justaproudslytherpuff

@honeynickel

@sylviavf

@nepenthes-things

@glads-stuff

#hwang in ho fanfic #in ho fanfic #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #in ho x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game x reader #player 001 x reader

86 notes · View notes

dervampireprince · 2 months ago

Text

youtube

ASMR | Arcane - Viktor x Listener SFW Viktor Convinces You To Get Some Sleep

[M4A] [Set in Season 1] [Established Romantic Relationship] [Comfort] [Kisses] [Sleep Aid] [Purposely left ambiguous so you can imagine yourself or Jayce as the listener]

Based on Patreon requests. bytheweave asked "I would love a bedtime audio, whether a sleep aid or not is up to u but like the speaker coaxing the listener to leave whatever we’re fixated on doing and get into bed with them. imagining viktor asking for us to come cuddle him & petting listener’s hair or something to help us get into a restful headspace".

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

73 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

Text

look me in the eyes; tell me you love him

Author’s Note: this is FILTHY. 😳 I’m in love. 😌 Ending is purposely ambiguous, but def not bad/sad.

look me in the eyes; tell me you love him

Geto Suguru x Reader x Gojo Satoru

Word Count: ~3,400

CW: 18+NSFW, anal, cheating, cream!pie, c!m eating, degrading language, double!p, explicit language, Fem!Reader, spit, squirting, threesome

Kinktober 2023

~faqs~

“Y’know, you could’ve waited five minutes, just in case I forgot something.”

Fuck.

—

It’s hard to respond to Suguru’s deadpan remark when Satoru refuses to relinquish your mouth, candy sweet tongue swiping greedily along your bottom lip, pointedly ignoring his best friend posted up in the living room doorway. Your ass sits perched on the couch’s armrest, shocked and anxious eyes meeting your boyfriend’s frosty stare, breasts bare while your delicate skirt flares out innocent and pretty, legs spread to make room for Satoru’s ministrations. His large, slender hand remains occupied between your thighs, nimble thumb keeping your panties aside while his index and middle fingers pet teasingly at your soft, warm folds.

“Don’t grip her so tightly,” Suguru mutters darkly, stalking toward Satoru’s other hand as he kneads roughly at the plush of your hip, “She’ll bruise.”

“Oh I know,” Satoru replies, nonchalant and smug, promptly reaching up for your cheeks, squishing your face with a grin, “Now listen.”

Against his better judgment, Suguru halts his advance, stomach twisting at the dazedness in your eyes, your gaze dropping as Satoru slips his fingers into your heat, undeniable squelch of slick and desire blurring Suguru’s vision while Satoru curls his fingers so precisely and familiarly, your body jolting at the pressure.

“What a slut,” Suguru snarls, rooted in place as your head falls backward, a strangled moan building in your chest, Satoru’s fingers moving faster and faster with more and more dexterity, the sound of your essence coating his fingers becoming louder and messier, staining your skirt as he approaches the crest of your orgasm with practiced ease, “This isn’t the first time my best friend has had his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, is it? The way your breath catches, the way your knees jerk… how long have you been fucking?”

“Suguru,” you finally whimper, pushing limply at Satoru’s wrist, “I’m so sorry.”

A displeased growl draws your attention, Satoru frowning disappointedly even as he continues chasing your orgasm, fingers jabbing sharper, your pathetic mewls spurring him on.

“Damn right you’re sorry,” Satoru hisses, “Why the hell are you saying the name of the guy who isn’t about to make your stupid cunt cum?”

“That guy,” Suguru interjects bitterly, “Is your best friend. How about you quit blocking my view, and at least let me watch my bitch cheating on me.”

Laughing amusedly, Satoru acquiesces, unceremoniously flipping your skirt up to reveal your glistening pussy, shifting himself just enough for Suguru to see how eagerly your hole flutters around his fingers, “Your bitch? At this point, I’d say she’s our bitch. I’ve been fucking her whenever you’re gone for months.”

“Let me guess,” Suguru snorts, no longer frozen, striding closer till he can feel the air vibrating with Satoru’s domineering bite, “Something about asking for forgiveness rather than permission? Bet that was your thoughtless process.”

“Sure was,” Satoru singsongs, grabbing your face once more as you begin shaking, “That’s right bitch, fucking squirt all over your boyfriend’s nice pants. Show him how you like to cheat on him, show him what his best friend is capable of.”

Suguru’s mouth curdles with disgust and begrudging interest as you climax, your legs quivering too familiarly while Satoru slaps wetly at your cunt. Your poofy skirt paints a scene of naivety around your waist even as a visible puddle collects on the sun faded floor beneath you, the couch’s armrest suffering the same fate as your cum dribbles between your asscheeks.

“Well, you are capable,” Suguru sighs, nose crinkling when Satoru casually flicks the remnants of your orgasm onto his pants, a nasty smile accompanying the scent of your sex while you lean limply into Satoru’s side.

With a low hum, Satoru pets lightly at your head, his cock straining in his trousers with satisfaction as your cum sticks to your hair. Glancing downward, he notes Suguru’s own erection, a sizable bulge that you’d gushed about not infrequently, gears clanging when you tug plaintive at the hem of his shirt.

“Whaddya want?” he nearly coos, comfort settling in at your adoring pout and Suguru’s somehow ebbing temper, “Both of us?”

Your eyes widen at Satoru’s forbidden suggestion, Suguru’s jaw twitching. He must be so pissed you think, tears quickly brimming as realization knocks you from your high. You’d shove Satoru if you could trust yourself to balance, still reeling from your climax, beginning to tremble as Suguru fails to acknowledge you.

“As often as you ride this cock,” Satoru drawls, confidence rising, “I can’t seem to escape your yapping about his,” chin jutting toward Suguru, “Dick. So maybe you could give us both a try. We’ll figure out who you really love.”

And part of you immediately recoils, teeth gnashing at the implication of your cheating equating to loving, wondering far too late if Satoru might actually like you a little. If, perhaps, the tender, soapy showers and playful, gentle cuddles weren’t merely for his ego. If his constant availability and willingness to fuck you within an inch of consciousness—to then build and nurture you back to coy flirtation and unguarded laughter—should’ve been a redder flag. If, in fact, it was heart shaped.

But a bigger part of you surrenders, intrigued by the chance to feel your lovers together. Desperate to earn Suguru’s forgiveness. His approval. And much too aware of the precum leaking through his pants, almost licking your lips at the prospect of angry, possessive fucking.

“Suguru?” you say carefully, pussy clenching at the prompt disdain in his eyes, his expression so bored yet so ready to devour you.

“Tell me you love him,” Suguru murmurs, a succinct, seductive demand, “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you love him.”

“Wha-”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, readjusting his crotch in an exaggerated, languid movement, “I mind a lot. I fucking hate you,” the unzipping of his pants filling the room with a choked anticipation, “But what’s done is done. So you have two options,” resting a patronizing palm on your bare shoulder, smirking as your body gravitates away from Satoru, “You can tell me the truth, and my best friend and I will fuck your cunt and ass until we are sated… or you can lie to me and sit here while my best friend and I cum on your fucking whore face.”

Your ending is clear, the fragility of your position—and the wickedness of their friendship—stated point and blank. You don’t need to spare Satoru a glance to know he’s celebrating internally, his cockiness and blatant disrespect being rewarded in a roundabout manner as usual. And you don’t need to press Suguru further, his intent to punish you confirmed, a surprisingly promising future ahead should you play your cards right.

“Fuck my cunt and my ass,” you whisper, core stirring as Suguru’s pants hit the ground, his briefs soon following, Satoru’s impressed whistle—Not bad, not bad—and Suguru’s consequent scowl reminding you of how dearly you love Suguru’s cock.

“Not quite,” Suguru tsks, stroking his cock with a dreadful calmness, palm on your shoulder lowering to cup your tit, “Tell me the truth.”

“I…” you falter, feeling Satoru’s obliques stiffen against your cheek, his hand firm in your hair as Suguru’s remains on your shoulder, “I can’t…”

Suguru strokes himself faster, balls already tightening from your earlier performance, expression growing more bored and less primal.

“Ilovehim,” you gasp, Satoru’s eyes shutting at your confession, “I love him and how he’s memorized me from head to toe. How he can make me cum over and over, how he cleans and cherishes me,” gulping for air as you fixate on Suguru’s cock, so red and swollen and shining with precum, “But… but I love you. I love you and how you’ve accepted me through ups and downs, how you make me feel stars. How I feel known by you, inside and out. How I believe I know you, enough to make you happy.”

“Enough to cheat on me?” is Suguru’s tart retort, “With my best friend. You’re so-”

“Suguru.”

Satoru’s interruption startles you, his voice silken honey as he smoothes the furrow of your brow, deftly unzipping his own pants, determined to match Suguru’s pace. Eyes rolling, Suguru grabs your thigh, forcing your legs wide, mouth a thin line as Satoru’s underwear pools at his ankles.

“Complaints?” Satoru winks, grabbing your other thigh, brushing your cheek with his free fingers—your cum flaking onto your face—for a fleeting moment before nudging you upright, “Does she get any prep?”

You lick your lips properly now, the heat and allure of their hands spreading you open making your pussy tingle. Suguru’s cock waits heavy and engorged in his grasp, an unassuming yet devastatingly thick six inches with a perfectly mushroomed tip to compliment his foreboding stature. Meanwhile, Satoru’s curves slightly upward, elegantly cruel at eight inches, slim and pink as his flared tip drools precum.

“Prep? For this bitch?” Suguru punctuates his slur with a smack to your nipples, delighting in your yelp as he meets Satoru’s zealous gaze, “I’m sure she gets plenty, fucking around with multiple men.”

“Multiple?” Satoru snaps at that, mood simmering at the thought, “No, Suguru. Just me. Just me… and you.”

Suguru doesn’t have the patience to argue semantics, tugging roughly on your tit to guide you off the couch’s armrest and onto the couch itself, Satoru’s hand migrating from your thigh to your ass, whimsical skirt torn from your waist, lazy thumb prodding at your asshole as you brace yourself on all fours. A glob of spit lands on your back, and then your asscheek, Suguru pinching and twisting your nipples with unperturbed harshness as he watches Satoru’s thumb trace a heart through the spit before sinking into your hole. You hiss at the intrusion, ill prepared for the intense sensation of using spit for lube, groaning when Satoru immediately spits on your ass again. His thumb slips farther and farther into your asshole as he continues spitting, relishing in how his spit beads and then drips onto the cushions below, your pubic hair drenched and glistening.

“Does this mean you’re fucking her ass?” Suguru queries, admiring the pained scrunch of your face as Satoru switches from his thumb to both his index and middle fingers, tolerating the impromptu preparation to bask in your obvious physical discomfort.

He gifts you a chastising kiss, forgetting your tits for a second to cup and caress your cheeks, softening the pain in your expression.

“Actually,” Satoru grins behind you, something devilish and orchestrated to which only Suguru is privy, “I was thinking your monster girth would do a better job of breaking this tight fucking ass, and I know she loves when I abuse her cervix.”

Choosing to disregard Satoru’s baiting reference to his own claim to your pleasure, Suguru nods in agreement, squatting to your eye level as you whimper faintly, Satoru shoving a third finger past your gradually relaxing muscle.

“Satoru’s being so considerate,” Suguru says, saccharine and sarcastic, “The jerk’s always compensating for something,” sneering as he knocks your arms out from under you, your asshole suddenly empty as Satoru withdraws.

Suguru maneuvers you like light weight as he slinks himself beneath you, your mouth smooshed into his chest for a brief respite. And then you’re being flipped onto your ass, slippery from Satoru’s ministrations as Suguru’s cock slides hard and fat between your asscheeks. Suguru’s arms catch your legs and hook around your knees, pulling backwards till you’re bent in half, palms forcing your head downward while your tits squish into your kneecaps, your asshole and cunt presented to Satoru as you struggle to breathe.

“Marvelous,” Satoru murmurs, smiling to himself as he reaches tentatively, “Uh… Suguru, may I?”

“Yeah, yeah, touch my dick,” Suguru snorts, “How else is it gonna get into her asshole?”

“Touché,” Satoru laughs, grasping Suguru’s cock almost cheerfully, appreciating its heft as he guides your pelvis high enough to position the tip, “This thing is solid.”

Glowering, Suguru mutters, “Thanks,” hips shifting until he feels his precum smearing on the pucker of your ass.

You gasp when he thrusts upward, a fearful, eager noise, unable to even wiggle in Suguru’s ironclad grip. His tip bumps a couple times—clumsy and large—against your hole, Satoru letting out a dramatic sigh before providing greater assistance. Satoru’s long fingers curl fully around Suguru’s shaft as he persists in shallow thrusting, a guttural groan accompanying a loud exclamation—Fuck!—when he finally bullies himself into your asshole.

“Atta bitch,” Satoru chimes, enraptured by the sight of your skin stretched to its limit around Suguru’s cock, rim fluttering around the foreign feeling, your hands balled into fists at the tearing pain.

“Suguru!” you wail, gut churning as his shallow thrusts grow increasingly deeper, ass burning with every selfish rut as he ploughs through the immense friction, your hole receiving little opportunity to recover as he builds a staggering tempo, “Suguru, Suguru, Suguru!” drunk on the suffocating drag of your asshole clinging desperately to his cock, slowly but surely swallowing him whole, “FUCK!”

Head woozy and neck aching, the pain maintains pace with the pleasure as you watch Satoru grab his own cock, leaning over to spit on your sternum—you swear he mouths Mine, or maybe it was the endorphins—as he places his other palm on the underside of your thigh. Suguru pays Satoru no mind, speed barely lessening though your body remains relatively steady due to your restrained pose. You imagine taking Satoru in your pussy will be easier, it’s a more natural feeling after all, dazed on the cock in your ass, clit terribly neglected as your cunt clenches excitedly. But you’ve never been doubly penetrated before.

You’re sorely mistaken.

The initial push is as expected. You’re soaked from Satoru’s fingering, the plethora of teasing and warnings, and Suguru’s relentless fucking into your asshole, pain having reasonably subsided albeit still stinging with an unsympathetic roughness. Satoru’s pretty cockhead slips right in, his slimmer width hardly interfering with Suguru’s rhythm. You moan at the fullness, and Satoru’s poorly concealed whine makes Suguru smirk. Encouraged by your response, Satoru thrusts forward, hands resting casually on Suguru’s knees—who tries, and fails, to resist flinching—Satoru’s head pitching backward to display the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. A mewl fills the air as Satoru’s cock slides farther into your pussy, Suguru undoubtedly bruising your legs to counter your weak squirming, the stuffing of your ass and pussy coming to overwhelming fruition.

“So fucking beautiful,” Satoru gushes, fixated on how perfectly his cock disappears into your cunt, finding himself nearly winded as well from the newfound pressure of a second cock fucking into the hole beneath him.

“Pah,” Suguru grunts, hiding his dilated pupils and bitten lips in your nape, stamina far from waning as his brutal fucking continues, “Stop praising the whore and start ruining it.”

Shaking his head with wry amusement, Satoru’s meandering pace carries on, simply fascinated by the pleading glaze in your eyes, asshole sensitive to the touch as Satoru circles a playful finger around your rim, taut and clenching as Suguru’s cock flexes from the feathery stimulation.

Just when you worry Satoru’s forgotten about the hole he’s supposed to be fucking—Silly girl—he fucks himself in, balls brushing the base of Suguru’s cock as you scream, writhing hopeless and exhausted when Suguru plunges himself in to the hilt too.

“Mmm,” Satoru rasps, “You truly are a whore, huh,” tip twitching against your cervix as your cunt throbs erratic and velvety around him, “Falling in love with me while dating my best friend, letting us destroy your slutty holes to try and make it up to both of us,” spit trickling from his too sweet mouth to your puffy folds, “I can’t believe we fit in here,” tapping your clit with a handsome grin, moaning outright when you convulse, “You must really love us.”

You cum at his words, so cherry red and persuasively picked, Suguru relaxing slightly to allow you a complete orgasm. They fuck you through your climax, the sticky sound of slapping balls and viscous essence quickly edging you toward another. There’s cotton in your head, legs tiring even with Suguru’s support, trembling from exertion; what else could explain the dizzying fuzz hazing your perception? Suguru’s cock shoves ridged and ruthless into your ass, Satoru’s thrusting more lubricated but deep in your cunt, your poor cervix pulsating from every graze of his tip.

“Please,” you beg, whimpering hollowly as you cum again, walls beginning to constrict in a subconscious urge to cease their thorough fucking, “Please, please, please…” whining as Suguru’s grip tightens once more, sweat dripping from you onto Suguru abdomen, from Satoru’s brow to your bellybutton, “Cum for me.”

They exchange a look, Suguru reluctant but sated, Satoru willing and proud. You’re mumbling now, a mishmash of Suguru and Satoru and Can’t take it, pain blossoming stronger than before as their thrusts hasten, a sloppy finger rushing back and forth on your clit creating minimal relief, fierce and implacable as it coaxes a final, mangled orgasm from you. You manage a broken sob as you climax on their cocks, Suguru immediately releasing your limbs, his arms hugging sturdy and devoted around your shuddering frame, cum flooding your holes as they synch their highs. Suguru is silent when he cums, labored exhales the only indiction of his effort, teeth marking your neck with soon-to-fade divots. And Satoru is loud. Cursing and groaning while he pumps load after load into your swollen pussy, your folds a creamy mess as he fucks his cum out of you, spurred on by Suguru’s low growl when his spend inevitably leaks onto Suguru’s cock.

Satoru pulls out first, eager to watch their cum dribble from your holes, Suguru following shortly after. They unceremoniously readjust your depleted form, slumped ass off the couch, tits resting in the dampness left by Suguru’s body. Brown eyes glinting, Suguru uses his foot to nudge your legs apart, snickering as cum promptly oozes from your cunt and ass to the floor. Satisfying strings stick to your inner thighs, air escaping your pussy with a quiet queefing sound, a wet farting noise making Satoru giggle as your asshole gapes, bubbling with cum.

“So where does this leave us?” Satoru piques, kneeling to jab greedily at your cunt, pushing his cum back into your hole with a lewd schlick, chuckling when you clench weakly, struggling to keep it in, “She’s a loose bitch now.”

“Dunno,” Suguru glances away, arms crossing, “We should get dressed.”

“One moment,” Satoru grins, knees hitting the ground with a soft thud as he spreads your asscheeks with his palms, licking nastily at his lips, “I want a taste.”

Suguru scoffs, watching with morbid curiosity as Satoru flicks the tip of his tongue across your cunt, your protesting whimper lost beneath his giddy moan, cum coating his mouth. Locating his briefs, Suguru slowly clothes himself as Satoru dutifully cleans your pussy, licking himself from your quivering folds and bud, sticking his tongue hungrily into your hole as cum drools down his chin, smirking to himself as a nearly imperceivable orgasm shivers through your body. As Suguru zips his pants, Satoru traverses to your gaping asshole, Suguru’s cock feebly attempting to harden again when Satoru locks eyes with him, mouth covering your hole before he pointedly sucks.

“You’re fucking nasty,” Suguru grumbles, tossing Satoru his underwear.

Satoru hums pleasantly, the vibrations causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into the couch, cum trailing from your ass to the backs of your knees.

“And that’s why she needs both of us,” Satoru quips, nuzzling your asscheek with a smug smile, your head raising slightly at his affection, “That’s why she loves both of us.”

—

“There were easier ways to arrange a threesome than falling in love with Satoru,” Suguru mutters, eyeing your post shower glow with resigned endearment.

“But would they have been as fun?” you ask, pressing a fond kiss to his forehead.

“Nah, definitely not!” Satoru declares, arms slinging over Suguru’s shoulder and around your waist, “And by the way, I’m flattered.”

I love you Suguru murmurs into your hair, flicking Satoru’s ear beyond the edge of your vision. And I love you you trace into his hand, fingers intertwined against Satoru’s lower back.

#one shot #modern au #kinktober 2023 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #suguru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #suguru x reader x satoru #satoru x reader x suguru #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu x reader

778 notes · View notes

haedalkoo · 2 months ago

Note

Hey, how have you been? I wanted to ask you something if it’s not too much trouble.

I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to rewatch Hobi’s birthday Wlive with the official Weverse subtitles, but I have a question.

I know that pronouns in Korean can be a bit tricky, and because of that, Weverse/Hybe often translates things in a way that makes sense in another language, even if it’s not a word-for-word translation. But when Jimin, Jungkook, and Hobi were talking, Jimin said—according to Weverse subtitles—that since he doesn’t know how much he can/should share with us, he’s been staying away from ARMY on purpose.

My question is, was he talking about just himself or about him and Jungkook? Because I saw several translations on Twitter saying that Jimin actually said that since he and Jungkook don’t know how much they can share, they’ve been keeping their distance from the fandom. If it’s not too much trouble, could you explain the difference or share your opinion on it? Thanks in advance!

Hey!! This is a good question, and honestly a hard one to answer because it could be either way. Nothing in Jimin's speech indicates he's talking exclusively about himself, but he's not including the both of them explicitly in the sentence either. It's up to the listener to assume.

In my opinion, however, I think he may mean both of them. A couple of sentences before, he clearly says "there are seriously a lot of stories/anecdotes the two of us made" and the both of them go on to say they don't know how much they can share, and if they do, army may run away. I think what Jimin says about keeping their distance is a sentiment both of them share (my translation of what he says would be 'even though we're being careful and not seeking out armys so much, we really, really miss you.' It's a bit less harsh than 'keeping distant' imo).

Either way, one of the loveliest parts about Korean is that there's not a clear-cut distinction between the individual and the collective. What I feel, my brothers and sisters also feel. I could go into boring details about linguistics and the way languages shape society, but there's a reason why the use of 'we' and 'us' are so broadly and ambiguously used in korean, or why friends are referred by the same word as you'd refer to your actual brother or sister (I mean words like hyung, noona, etc.) This is surface level, or perhaps simply more obvious, but this sense of collectivism (what's yours is mine, what mine is yours) sneaks into every aspect of the way koreans speak.

That is to say, the line between 'me' and 'we' is far more blurred than it'd be in a language like English or Spanish. In Spanish you may ommit a pronoun, but the verb form gives all the information away ("estoy": 1st person, singular; "estamos": 1st person, plural). More so, I personally feel like Jimin would've specified in some way that he meant he's the one pulling away, instead of speaking for the two of them, if JK hadn't agreed with the decision. That, or JK would've bickered with him, scolding him for not greeting armys so often (tell me you can't picture this exact conversation!)

So it doesn't really matter that Jimin meant himself or the two of them, because honestly, can you really separate the two of them? The same people that give up on eating carbs if the other is on a diet even when they're on vacation, the same people that share an infinite number of inside jokes only the two of them understand, the same people that willingly enlisted together... everything about Kookmin, from their actions to their language choices, tell me that they exist in a tandem. 'You are me, I am you.'

#sorry i went into a big tangent lool idk if this actually answers your question #but i can't help but yap #ask #jikook #kookmin #jimin and jungkook #jikook and korean #minkook

118 notes · View notes

gladiatorcunt · 9 months ago

Text

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

196 notes · View notes