#so all of my character interpretations are slightly to the left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stargirl-int3rlud3 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

adults of jjk x reader

🗯 ! swearing, cuddling, snoring, mentions of the sound of heartbeats, sleepwalking, drooling, insomnia, almost being crushed by Toji !

synopsis; how i interpret jjk characters would be like to share a bed with. — ♡

GOJO; In my opinion I think Gojo snores, not like loud ass snores (well, maybe sometimes), but like soft snores when he’s deep in sleep. The soft noises he admits while asleep always tends to lull you right to sleep even if you weren’t previously tired. Gojo subconsciously cuddles you in his sleep, however, it wasn’t always like this. It took awhile for Gojo to be truly comfortable having someone else sleep in his bed because he had gotten so accustomed to being by himself. One time he even freaked out when he rolled over in bed and felt someone on the other side of his bed, you had to calm him down and reassure him it was just you. Continuing, Gojo sometimes rolls himself off the bed. When you started sleeping in his bed he’d roll to your side and then when his body realized he couldn’t roll any farther he rolled the other way off the bed.

Due to an exhausting day at work, Gojo had headed to bed earlier than usual. You quietly make your way into Gojo’s room seeing him laying shirtless with both his legs and the blankets sprawled chaotically across the bed. A tingly warmth brought its way to your face as you could never quite get over how genuinely attractive and fit your boyfriend was. Crawling into bed with as much cautions as you could muster, you hear the soft snores release from his slightly parted lips. You laid on your back staring at the ceiling until you realized your brain was still quite awake, this is when you made the decision to scroll on your phone for a few. Just as your eyes began to feel tired and had started to close, a loud THUD made your eyes widen and your body sit up. Instinctual, you look over at Gojo to find him not where you had last saw him, you scramble to the other side of the bed to see Gojo rubbing his head which you assume he hit when he fell off the bed. You place yourself between his scrunched up legs to examine his head, giving it a few kisses before looking back into the beautiful eyes you had fallen in love with. A light dust of pink is brushed across his cheeks as he gives you a laugh, you push his shoulder which then results in him pulling you to the ground on top of him. He reaches on the bed and pulls a pillow and a blanket from off of it. Placing the pills under his head and the blanket over you two, there you two fall asleep on the floor together.

GETO; Unlike Gojo, Geto gets immediately used to the feeling of you in bed, so much so that when he doesn’t feel you in his bed he gets worried. He needs to be touching you at all times when you guys are in bed. I believe Geto to be a light sleeper, small things can wake him up but he also falls asleep easily. Geto sleepwalks every now and again, you have to double check all the doors are locked so he doesn’t leave and get hurt or lost. When sleepwalking he doesn’t do anything particularly weird, usually he just walks around and then either goes back to sleep in bed or on the couch. It really freaked you out the first time you found him sleepwalking.

On one particular night you had been falling in and out of sleep constantly making it difficult to truly go to sleep. Geto had his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in your spot next to him. While in the midst of falling in and out of sleep you must’ve not realized his arm had left your waist until you heard noises coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. Slightly freaked out, you turn to Geto but he’s no where to be seen. Relief began to flood throughout your body as you get up to go looking for your boyfriend.

“Geto what’re you doing up, it’s so late?”

You rub your eyes as they make out Geto’s figure standing completely still in the kitchen.

“Geto?”

No response once again. At this point you were even more freaked out. Hoping he was just messing with you or something, you get closer to him and reach your hand out towards his shoulder. He swiftly turns and heads for the bedroom, freaking you out due to the fast movement. You made an executive decision to just sleep on the couch for the rest of the night.

When morning hit you were woken up by Geto asking you why you were sleeping on the couch, you explained his oddness last night and he apologized before telling you about how every once in awhile he sleepwalks. He made sure to make your favorite breakfast even though you insisted that he didn’t have to do that.

NANAMI; Nanami is also quite a light sleeper, but he needs some kind of noise to put him to sleep as well as complete darkness. Well, if you need some light because you can’t fall asleep in the dark cause it freaks you out he’ll absolutely let you do so. He prioritizes you sleeping over him sleeping. Nanami is always very warm so he usually doesn’t sleep with a blanket but instead a thin sheet of some sort and because his body is often quite warm you don’t have to worry about a blanket you just cling to him. Nanami also makes sure you have a glass of water by your bed every night in case you get thirsty.

Sleep had began to consume you when you and Nanami were curled up on the couch watching a movie and now even more so. Nanami held you up as you wobbled to your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and made sure you were comfortable and cozy. A whine admitted from your mouth causing Nanami to turn back to you. You shiver and begin to rub your upper arms to show him you were cold as he was about to get a blanket, you whined again. With a soft smile on his face, knowing exactly what you wanted, he crawled into the empty space next to you and you buried yourself in his warmth. The warmth of your loving boyfriend drifted you right to sleep so much so that you began to snore a little. Unfortunately, to your dismay, you had gotten parched in the middle of the night so now here you were trying to move as slowly and quietly as possible out of Nanami’s arms. Which you somehow successfully did and were currently tip-toeing to the kitchen but as you opened the door and stepped out of the room an obnoxiously loud creaked echoed through the room instantly waking up Nanami. “My love? Why are you awake?” Nanami’s soft voice asks. “Um..I was thirsty” “Let me get it for you” He quickly gets out of bed and passes by you to get you a glass of water from the kitchen. When he comes back and hands it to you, you give him a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek for his act of kindness. After that, you two are back to sleep in no time.

SHOKO; Sleep hasn’t been in Shoko’s vocabulary for awhile, she’s an insomniac after all. However, she tries her best to get as much sleep as her body will allow when you give her those big, pleading eyes. Who is she to say no to someone as cute as you? She has noticed that she sleeps more when she sleeps with you so now you try to sync your sleep schedule to hers, well, for the most part at least. You’ve even gotten her to take melatonin. If Shoko gets tired somewhere and falls asleep in your lap then you’ll stay there until she wakes up. To be honest, you’re just happy she’s sleeping.

You were sitting in the morgue waiting for Shoko to finish up what she was doing when you felt something in your lap. There laid Shoko’s head. You couldn’t contain your smile as you grazed your fingers through her hair. It didn’t take very long for Shoko to fall asleep, you knew it wouldn’t. She had a long day and she’d been exhausted since the minute she started. So, you spent this time admiring every bug and small feature that graced your girlfriend’s gorgeous face. Everything about her was beautiful, she’s beautiful. A few hours pass when Gojo walks in about to be his usual loud self when you give him a glare and hold your finger up to your lips. He marvels at the sight of a peaceful Shoko fast asleep in your lap. “Wow, you got her to sleep. You deserve an award for that” You roll your eyes at the man’s joke before looking back at the women in your lap. “God you’re really in love with her” In seconds, a red hue tints your cheeks as you flip Gojo off. He laughs knowing he just read you so easily, but in your mind all you could think is how could someone not love Shoko. “Are you sure you’re okay staying like that? Your legs must hurt” “I’m fine Gojo, I’d rather have her get as much as she can” Gojo leaves you two be so he doesn’t accidentally wake up Shoko and is forced to face your wrath.

UTAHIME; Utahime will never admit it but she loves to listen to your heartbeat to fall asleep. The sound just calms her so easily. Utahime is a heavy sleeper, she very rarely will wake up if you accidentally make noise. She doesn’t mind if you have your head laying on her shoulder or your holding hands when you sleep but she needs her own space. You both like to have your own sense of space but there are times where she wants to be closer (aka when she wants to listen to your heartbeat)

The sunshine soaked you and Utahime in its rays as you lay in the grass relishing in the warmth. The mix of the warm sun on her skin and the sound of your heartbeat echoing throughout her brain made her start to feel really sleep. She tried her best to stay awake but was soon succumbed to sleep. You watched as her eyes fought to stay open before fluttering closed. Her porcelain like skin shined brightly in the sun as you begin to feel yourself drifting to sleep and soon enough you are also sleeping in the warm rays of the sun with Utahime peaceful asleep on top of you.

INO; Ino is a big cuddler, to be fair he’s a big softy in general. He prefers being little spoon and will proudly admit that to the world. Now don’t get me wrong he has his moments where he wants you to be little spoon mostly because he likes the sight of you laying on top of him. Anyways, he snores AND drools when he sleeps but it’s not a lot of drool like it’s just a little bit and it’s actually so cute. He’s cute (he’s very pookie). He doesn’t exactly snore quietly but it isn’t that loud, like it’s not unbearable. He also cannot sleep without you now that you’ve started sleeping in the same bed.

Ino had been talking about how exhausted he was waiting for a call from his job so you told him, he could just fall asleep on top of you and you’d wake him up when he got a call from his job. He thanked you and in no time he was sleeping soundly. It didn’t take very long for the exhausted Ino to fall into a deep sleep and begin to snore. You had to hold back your giggles to not make the boy centimeters away from you. Not long after that he had began to drool on your chest. It was slightly gross but his cute face as he slept was far greater than any kind of grossness. You held him closer as if it might make you two fuse together so neither of you will ever have to leave each other. To both of your guys dismay, his phone rings and you’re forced to wake him up. As he blinks his eyes open and picks up the phone he realizes the drool stain on your shirt. A pinkish blush spread to his face as he scratches his head and mouths the words ‘sorry’. You kiss his free hand, letting him know that it’s okay. He smiles at you and give you a kiss on your head before returning back to his call.

TOJI; This man is pretty damn huge, he’s a fucking wall for crying out loud so the only space you ever really have is if you lay on top of him. I mean, hell, he’s not complaining. Sometimes you have to check if he’s dead because he sleeps so heavily and doesn’t make any noise. Toji does have a tendency to roll around in his sleep which isn’t always good for you cause he has almost crushed you a few times.

It was a peaceful night of sleeping. Toji had held you especially close since he had been gone for so long. Every bump and curve of your body was kissed by Toji. He hadn’t left your side since he came back, and you weren’t complaining. Once night fell and the moon came out, Toji hurried you off to bed. Toji wouldn’t outwardly admit it but he missed you sleeping on top of him. It just felt right with you and so when you weren’t there he began to sleep less. As you crawl your way on top of Toji, he smirks at you and caresses your face in his hands. Purely on instinct you push your face farther into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his skin on yours. He leans in to give you a goodnight kiss, this one lasts longer than usual but you don’t mind at all. Within no time at all you two are sound asleep. Toji is so sound asleep that he begins to turn his body, an action you don’t notice until it’s too late. Ot only takes you a few seconds to realize that there’s a giant hunk of a man crushing your rib cage. You try pushing him back over, doesn’t work. You try poking and smacking him, hoping that he’ll wake up, doesn’t work. You try wiggling your way out and that works for a few but it also takes a lot of energy out of you. You pinch him and he stirs a minute so you continue with that until he grumbles and his eyes open with an annoyed look. That soon fades (for the most part) when he realizes he’s laying in top of you. Quickly, he moves and places you back into op if his chest. You thank him and tell him to never do that ever again. He just shrugs and goes back to sleep while playing with your hair.

☆ | I struggled a bit with Utahime’s and Ino’s so sorry if they aren’t what you expected them to be!!

#luv₊˚꒰🩰꒱‧#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #utahime iori x reader #utahime x reader #jjk x reader

3K notes · View notes

wysteria-bloom · 1 year ago

Text

⚝ " mine, all mine "

How do the hazbin boys kiss you

Warnings : I mentioned 'lady' in lucifer's part, but the reader can still be interpreted as whatever gender ya want. Highly suggestive on both Lucifer and Vox's parts.

Genre : Fluff, suggestive

A/n : this account has been doing so well lately and I just want to say thank you so much. I love every single comment you guys send in and the support is so appreciated. You're the reason I get the motivation to write these silly little stories so thank you.

Characters : alastor, Vox, lucifer

▢ alastor ⍋

- Sweet as cream -

"Al, can you pass me the cream?" You asked politely, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. Your eyes didn't lift from your book, too engrossed in the scene that was playing out.

Your boyfriend hummed, currently in the middle of his meal and looked at the cream sitting next to him," I'm not sure, darling. Can I?" He teased out, his ever-present grin stretching mischievously.

You blinked at his response and looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow at him," Well, I would like to think my lovely boyfriend isn't incompetent." You replied bluntly, a sweet tone to your voice as your head tilted to the side.

"Frankly? My wonderful partner is being rather rude at the moment and doesn't seem to be deserving of the cream!" He shot back just as sweetly.

"Oh-hoh? Is that right?" Your eye twitched, smile dropping ever so slightly," Well, perhaps I can show you just how rude I can be when you're banished to the couch, hm?"

"What a card to pull, my dear!" He placed his face in his hands, eyes sparkling with amusement and glee," I must really be pushing your pretty little buttons."

There was a small growl at the back of your throat but you were quick to push it down with a cough, but from Alastor's perked up ears and widening grin, he had heard you.

"Alastor, love of my life, how can I stop you from being a pain in my ass today?" You asked, making sure your tone was light with gentleness despite your foul language.

He let out his typical 'hm', his eyes narrowing in thought as one of his claws tapped his chin,"... A kiss may just suffice."

You blanched at him,"... are you that emotionally chaotic that you have to irritate me to request for a kiss?"

"..." He began to slowly push the cream towards the edge of the table, a challenging glint in his eyes.

His actions basically answered your question, however.

"Oh my-... Okay! Okay." You begrudgingly got up from your seat and walked around the table to your tall deer-man whilst he only watched you with a cute little sparkle in his eyes.

You reached a hand out gently, brushing a knuckle against his cheek before cupping it. The smile couldn't stop from spreading across your lips when you saw him lean into your loving touch. He's come so far where sudden touches are concerned and you've never been more proud.

You leaned down, smile still on your face and you took note of the prideful grin on Alastor's lips as he looked at your lips," Don't look so happy with yourself - you're being a scoundrel, yknow?"

"Oh dear, a scoundrel?" He breathed, pretending to be devastated at the revelation," Whatever can I do to get back into your good graces, my love?"

You leaned down, lips brushing his," Good question..." Your hand fell from his face and you brushed a thumb onto the cream before bringing the white treat to his lips, swiping it across his bottom one,"... Give me what I asked for from the beginning?"

And with that, Alastor closed the gap between you both, lips moulding together perfectly. You hummed into the kiss, cupping his face softly to deepen the kiss, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip to clean the cream off.

At this, the passionate kiss got all the more sweeter. Alastor's hands fell to your hips, kneading the flesh like dough as he focused on the feeling of your soft lips against his.

When you both pulled away for a break, you were left panting against eachothers lips. The red-haired demon smiled widely, eyes lidded," I trust that this has qwelled our little rivalry, hm?"

"I dunno..." you pecked his lips and gave him a teasing grin," You still seem like a scoundrel to me."

Alastor chuckled lowly, "Then let me remind you of how much of a gentleman I can be," dragging you into another sweet kiss.

▢ vox ᯤ

- underlying spice -

"Vox, you're- ah~... You're gonna be fuckin' late idiot," You grunted out as he nipped at your neck, the feeling of his teeth sending literal pulses of electricity through your veins.

He had you caged to his desk, chest pushing against yours. Your bodies were so close together that you could feel a low and pleasurable buzz between you both.

He groaned against your neck," You think I give a shit about meetings when I have you pressed against me like this?" His sharp teeth grazed your skin teasingly, but there was the underlying threat of breaking your skin with them," and you're sooo fuckin' pretty like this too... I'm offended you'd think I'd abandon you in a state like this, babe."

Your hands gripped onto his shirt, giving him a threatening undertone as well," I am not letting you back out of a meeting I've been planning for months just 'cause you wanna get your fucking dick wet." You gritted out, but still not pushing him away.

"You're so bratty today." He pulled from your neck to grin down at you crookedly, an almost lazy tilt to his eyes," only makes me want you more."

"Well, you don't get that privilege dipshit. You need to go. Now." You frowned up at him, tapping his screen with a clawed finger.

"Stop acting like you don't want me to get you off. We both know that's not fuckin' true." He deadpanned.

"I can just go to Val for help." You shrugged absentmindedly," No biggie."

There was a low growl from him as moved his hands to your thighs, lifting you onto his desk suddenly. You yelped from the action and stared on in shock and arousal.

"Stop fucking fighting me on this." He mumbled, leaning in close to your face as his eyes narrowed," as if Val couldn't compare to me- are you fucking shitting me?" He seemed genuinely offended at the notion," You're both power-bottoms, how would that even work?"

"I dunno..." you tried to gain the higher ground by playing with some lint on his suit," I could top, this one time..." you leaned close to his face, an unhinged glint in your eyes," Juuuust to piss. You. Off..."

Suddenly, Vox surged forwards, capturing your lips in his. Almost instantly, his tongue is shoved down your throat, the buzzing of electricity making you moan. You gripped onto his jacket desperately, wanting to deepen the kiss even further but he refused. He set the slow and erotic pace of the kiss, claw digging into your hips to try and control himself. His other hand entangled into your hair, tugging ever so slightly to shove his tongue further into your mouth for more exploration.

Red liquid drooled from his mouth, the same coming from you too as you gasped and moaned into this rough kiss. You could swear the buzzing coming from his tongue was turning your brain into mush, making you forget about your previous grievances and think about him, him, him.

When he pulled from you, trail of red saliva connecting your lips as you panted breathlessly.

"... You're such a whiny fucking baby about everything." You grumbled.

Vox only grinned maniacally, knowing that meant you had given in," and you're easy to push over the edge, baby."

To celebrate his accomplishment of getting out of a meeting to rail you instead, he played an applause sound and people cheering from his screen to really rub it in your face, grin widening at the sight of the twitch of a smile on your lips.

"Oh, shut up!" You laughed out before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

- taste of home -

"Hon, I'm happy for you and everything, but isn't this a little bit excessive?" You mumbled out, a look of concern on your face as you watched him run around his office like a headless chicken to find a thin paintbrush.

"Pffft- Whaaat? No!" He waved his hand dismissively and grinned like a madman as he tinkered away at a little duck, hand painting meticulously," this is the perfect birthday present for her!" He then looked at you from over his shoulder, giving you lidded eyes and a charming grin," just trust the process, pretty."

Your heart fluttered at the nickname and you huffed, giving into his wild ideas as usual. His wonderful mind was a force to be reckoned with, and when he has a plan then there's no stopping him.

"You've been painting ducks for the passed three hours, though." You pointed out and walked over to him when his back was turned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. He didn't even react to your touch, continuing to paint the little ducky like it was his final mission in life.

But he did lean into your touch, however. Maybe he isn't a lost cause after all.

He didn't answer you, but you couldn't help but watch him. His hand moving methodically. You already knew what duck this was going to be, it was almost a perfect replica of Charlie.

But as a duck. Duh.

You smiled softly at the sight of it, watching for a minute or so before you leaned down to his neck, opening your mouth to whisper," Earth to Lou~..." you cooed out gently.

His shoulders tensed and his movements paused, a shiver running down his spine. He bit his lip and then gulped," y-yea-... ahem... yeah?" He could feel his cheeks growing hot at the press of your warm lips to the back of his neck.

"When are you gonna take a break?..." You hummed, trailing your kisses across his neck.

He set the duck down slowly, your affection having a grip on him,"... Now seems like a good time." He hummed back, head tilting to the side to give you more access.

"What a good answer~" you breathed out prasingly, lips sucking a little love bite to the back of his neck which made him moan lowly.

"Y-you're killing me here, beautiful..."

You chuckled," Kind of the idea, hon." Tapping his shoulder, you kissed his cheek," how about you turn around, hm? You can make it up to me with a kiss."

"Make... make it up to you?"

"Make up for ignoring me."

He smirked and turned around in your arms, wrapping his own around your waist, chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you," Oh yeah? My pretty lady wanted attention, huh?" He teased out gently with that heart-warmingly charming grin.

"No no no. You don't get to turn this on me, you tease." You grunted out, brows furrowing as you tapped his forehead.

"And why not?" He challenged, grin never falling.

"... because."

"What groundbreaking reasoning!" He laughed and then pulled you into his lap. A hand trailed up and down your spine lightly, the other moving to pull you closer into him by the waist," If you wanted attention, you could have just said, honey."

"You would have won, then."

"Who says I'm not winning right now?"

You pressed your forehead against his, eyes narrowing," Me."

"... and your word is final, yeah?" His amusement was clear," The King of Hell's word is worthless compared to yours?"

You giggled," correct."

He huffed out a breath of amusement and brought one of your hands to his lips, licking your wrist with a sultry glint to his eyes," Oh, wow... then I guess I really have to step my game up then, eh?"

Watching him with warm cheeks, you nodded with a gentle smile to your lips, "You do."

He brought you close to his face by cupping the back of your neck, pressing a gentle yet passionate kiss to your lips. His tongue immediately licking your bottom lip for permission to enter. You opened your mouth for him, humming lowly in pleasure as your hands ran through his hair.

His lips were warm and soft, they felt like home. The gentleness balanced out with the dominance and sent the perfect shivers throughout your body.

His touch to your back was soothing, claws sliding up and down; drawing patterns, spelling out your name and then his and then drawing a heart around it.

Fuck, he was so cheesy but it only made your love grow more.

#hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #im down-bad for lucifer 24 fucking 7

3K notes · View notes

cybrasigilism · 28 days ago

Note

Hi!! Could you please write a smut thing for either reader x min su or reader x dae ho (either is fine you can pick) about them being a virgin and reader is experienced? Thank you!!

YES IVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS REQUEST FOR A MINUTE BUT IM JUST NOW GETTING THE MOTIVATION!!

Nice and Easy (Player 388/Kang Dae-ho X F!Reader SMUT)

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: sub! dae-ho will never get old, i need him so badly it’s not even funny

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

for a virgin, dae-ho certainly did know how to use his mouth.

you knew it would take some time for him to want to lose his virginity, so you relished the moments where he would come up behind you and plant little kisses all over your neck. they weren’t sensual in nature, just cute little pecks that left you wanting more— and it drove you wild all the same.

on this particular occasion though, he seemed a bit more eager in his kisses. one thing led to another, then you guys had migrated to the couch. you were sat on his lap while he ran his hands through your hair, the kisses growing sloppier in desperation.

he was hungry, and you knew just what he was hungry for.

“y’ think you’re ready now, hun?” you whisper as he latched onto your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake— one could only assume.

a muffled ‘mm-hmm’ was heard as you felt his tongue run over your skin, as though to soothe where he had just been sucking. you tangle your fingers in his hair and bring his head from your neck; a needy whine leaving his throat.

“i’m gonna need to hear your words, love.” your voice was silky smooth on his ears, he leaned into your hand now resting on his cheek as he gave you those eyes.

those eyes that made your pussy clench.

you needed him so badly, and he clearly needed you. you could certainly feel all of that need grow where you sat; pressing against his sweatpants so hard you were sure the fabric would tear.

“please, baby.” he begged, rolling his hips up into your own involuntarily. a light moan left your lips before you held him down, chuckling.

“alright, alright. if you want it so badly, i’ll give it to you.” you giggled, standing from your seat.

“what are you.. doing?” he asked as you gently nudged his legs apart, smiling at the tent in his pants. you looked up at him in a way that made him avert his gaze in embarrassment.

so cute. god, you thought he was the cutest thing.

“i’m gonna get you ready for me.. if you’re okay with that.” you asked, you know he said he was ready but you needed to he sure.

when you got the okay, a gasp was next to come out from his mouth as your hand found it’s way beneath the waistband of his pants to bring out his now hard cock.

“you’re so adorable, you know that?” you chuckled once again, his avoidance of your gaze was indeed just that. he flicked a glare down at you, and you let out an airy “sorry, sorry.” before running your hand slowly up and down his dick.

“h-holy… holy sh-shit..” he stammered, eyes squeezed shut as he bit his lip shortly thereafter; quick exhales could be heard as you jerked him off nice and gentle.

the sound he made when you ran your thumb across the tip just about made you lose it, but nevertheless you persisted with a soft pace. you knew he had jacked off before, but you also knew that from experience— receiving a handjob from someone else was worlds different from touching yourself.

“ya’ like that?” you asked, earning another angelic moan from dae-ho. “oh yeah, oh god yes. i like it when you touch me like tha— shit.”

you could feel poor dae-ho tense up beneath your touch, his chest rising and falling at a more irregular rate as you sped your pace up slightly, before…

“why’d you stop?” he asked, panting as you brought your hand away. you didn’t have time to answer any questions though, you wanted to give him even more.. and he was absolutely not ready for what you were going to do to him next.

“ahh, fuck!” he squealed, a hand rushing to your head at the speed of light as your lips latched onto his dick. you looked up at him as you took all of him inside your mouth, and once again he avoided your eyes. a light pink dusted his cheeks, and his hair was all disheveled. in your opinion he had never looked hotter, which only made you suck him in a quick succession.

“oh f-fuck, oh fuck! your mouth feels so good..” his head fell back as you bobbed up and down on his now twitching cock, his fingers locked in your hair as if you had any intention on moving. it drove him extra crazy when you let out a gag as his dick hit the back of your throat.

“oh my god. oh my god, do that again. please, do that again.” he was behaving so needy, how could you not give your sweet boy what he wanted? each time you gagged on his cock, his moans would only make you want to take him deeper inside your mouth.

“ah…mmh, fuck me.. oh, shit.. i think ‘m gonna…” his speech was becoming less coherent by the moment, and again you knew you had to cut things short.

he whined pathetically as you managed to lift yourself head from his dick, but his disappointment was short-lived when he realized what it was you’d be giving him next.

“please tell me you’re doing what i think you’re doing.” his tone tired, yet hopeful. you nodded as you pulled your panties to the side, positioning yourself over his dick. “oh fuck, just do it, i can’t take it..”

you smirked at his desperation, it was the driving force of your horniness. you felt a bit bad for teasing him, but you knew that the end game would be worth it all.

you both moaned in tandem as you sank onto his cock, his hand grasping at you like as if you were going anywhere. you clenched around his size so hard, you would have assumed you were the virgin here.

“oh my god, oh my god. ohh, you feel so g— ah!” he was cut off by your sudden start at riding him.

clapping sounds filled your living room as you rode his dick something fierce, one could have assumed you were trying to take it off with how aggressively you were going.

his moans almost drowned out the sounds of sex, and that of course— only made you want to fuck him harder.

“fuck me! fuuck me, ah! oh, my god.. your pussy— your pussy feels so good…” you wondered how he was even getting words out at all at this rate, he looked completely fucked out as your bodies collided.

you were both echoing eachother’s moans as you soaked in the feeling of his dick filling up your insides. but soon enough, you were met with a familiar warm sensation as dae-ho tensed up.

“oh god, oh god, oh god. i’m cumming, i’m— fuck.” he gasped, as your pace slowed down, coming to a stop as you felt poor dae-ho shake beneath you. his chest rising and falling in quick succession as you pried yourself off of his dick. readjusting your panties, you flopped down beside him; quickly he laid his head on your shoulder. you both simply sat in the silence for a moment, just taking in what had just transpired.

“thank you.” he gasped, looking up at you with those eyes again. you laid a kiss on dae-ho’s forehead, smiling down at him.

“no, thank you. that was incredible.” you sighed, rubbing his head as he nuzzled in.

“it really was. i’m so glad i could be good for you.” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around you, as if he needed to make any effort to keep you where you were.

he was definitely right about that, too.

the sex really was incredible.

══════════════════

not me conveniently posting in time for squid game’s popularity resurgence. I MISSED WRITING BUT LIFE STUFF HAS TAKEN PRIORITY.

thank you so much anon for the request, it was fun to write for dae-ho again.

any and all constructive criticism/advice on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! thank you so much for reading and have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💋

🏷️: @gongyoosgf @namsgyu

#squid game 2 #squid game #fanfiction #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #player 388 x reader #player 388 #kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #imagines

185 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 8 months ago

Text

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he?

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played.

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow.

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home.

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful.

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you.

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are.

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him.

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants.

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you.

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm.

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you.

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own.

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate.

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties.

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor.

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs.

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering.

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways.

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly.

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by.

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face.

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit.

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream.

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t.

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips.

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down.

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face.

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption.

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true.

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side.

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night.

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same.

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #skz fanfic #lee know fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #don't ask me how many times i listened to the poto soundtrack while writing and editing this #the answer is obscene (several hours)

447 notes · View notes

tinyshyteacup · 24 days ago

Text

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16 @brianna-merlim @staley83 @oceanticspace @insaneintheemembranev2 @dummylovewp @xmiaacxio @meyukoo @grilka @itsgivingdepression @timebomb1101 @inejghafasdagger @koshkahhh @juliperezsilveira @pandaofsilentdeath

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

TW: Cussing, Walkers (Zombies), tension, kidnapping, helplessness, coercion, lecherous behavior, predatory behavior, angst, Negan is a Villan, SA (Implied, offscreen)

A/N: this is a very dark chapter, I have left what happens between reader and Negan as a cut away so that it remains up to personal interpretation as I know the Fandom has differing views on this part of his character.

Part 43

Dead Weight - Part 44

The hand on the back of your neck feels like a brand, Negan's fingers pressing just hard enough to remind you who's in control as he guides you through Alexandria's gates. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you take in the familiar sight of home—a place that feels both exactly the same and completely foreign after weeks at the Sanctuary.

"Hot diggity dog!" Negan's voice booms beside you, that signature grin already spreading across his face as he takes in Alexandria's walls, its houses, its people.

"This place is magnificent! An embarrassment of riches, as they say." His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he drinks it all in. "Rick! Good to see you again, old friend."

You can see Rick's jaw clench from here, his hands flexing at his sides as his eyes dart between you and Negan. The look on his face—that mixture of relief and horror—makes your stomach twist. Behind him, you catch glimpses of the others, Carol's pale face, Glen's protective stance in front of Maggie, Michonne's glare.

Already, you can see Negan's men spreading out through Alexandria like locusts, their hands on everything—furniture, supplies, anything that catches their eye. The systematic pillaging of your home makes your chest tight with helpless rage. These are your people's things, their security, their hope, and it's all being carted away like spoils of war.

But it's the shuffling footsteps behind you that make your breath catch.

You turn, and your heart shatters.

Daryl.

He's barely recognizable—that orange 'A' painted on a filthy sweatsuit that hangs loose on his frame, no shoes, and feet that are cut and dirty, hair greasy and matted. But it's his eyes that destroy you. Those blue eyes that used to find yours across every room, that held such gentle warmth during those tentative moments in the attic—they're hollow now, defeated in a way you've never seen, and their not meeting yours.

She's here. The thought hits Daryl like a physical blow. She's really here, and she looks... God, she looks beautiful. Even in that black dress, even with Negan's hand on her neck like she's his property. His chest tightens as he takes in the sight of you— looking so small next to Negan's imposing frame.

The shy way you're holding yourself, trying to make yourself invisible, it makes him want to scream.

The note he thinks, fingers twitching at his sides. 'Still yours.' How can she be mine when m'standing here like this? When I couldn't protect her? Because I was too weak to keep m'goddamn hands to myself?

"Daryl," you voice is barley a breathe, the word escaping before you can stop it.

His eyes lift to yours, curtained by his greasy tresses and for just a moment, you see him—the real him—breaking through that defeated exterior. But then his gaze drops to Negan's hand on your neck, and something dies in his expression.

"Now, now," Negan chuckles, his grip on your neck tightening slightly. "Isn't this just a beautiful reunion? My new wife here has been just dying to see how everyone's doing."

The word 'wife' hits the group like a physical blow. You see Glen's face darken as he pulls Maggie closer behind him, his protective instincts flaring. Carol's hand twitches like she wants to reach for a gun. Rick's eyes burn with fury but remain downcast.

"She's not your wife."

The voice is young, defiant, and makes your blood run cold. Carl steps forward, that determined set to his jaw that you've known since he was eight years old and making bread.

Your heart lurches—no, not Carl, please not Carl.

"Carl," Rick warns, his voice tight with fear for his son.

Negan's laugh is like nails on a chalkboard, but his eyes narrow as they focus on Carl. "Well, well. Somebody's got some balls." He releases your neck to lean forward slightly, studying Carl with predatory interest. "How old are you, kid?"

Your heart is in your throat. Carl—sweet, brave Carl who you've watched grow from a scared eight-year-old into this fierce young man—is staring down Negan. You want to step forward, to put yourself between them, but Negan's hand finds your waist, holding you in place.

"Carl, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

But Carl's jaw is set, his one good eye blazing with the same stubborn fire you've seen so many times before. He doesn't back down.

Your eyes find Daryl's again, seeing the way his whole body goes rigid, hands clenching into fists. The muscle in his jaw jumps as he watches Negan's hands on you.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. You can see the way Glenn's arm tightens around Maggie, the way Carol's shoulders shake with barely contained rage. Michonne looks ready to draw her sword, and Rick... Rick looks like he's calculating how many of Negan's men he can take down before they kill him.

But it's Daryl who breaks your heart. The way he won't meet your eyes now, the way his shoulders hunch like he's trying to disappear into himself.

"You know what?" Negan says suddenly, his voice taking on that playful tone that makes everyone tense. "I think this calls for a celebration." His hand slides from the back of your neck to your waist, pulling you against his side. "After all, it's not every day a man gets to show off his beautiful wife to her old friends."

Before you can process what's happening, before you can react, Negan's other hand is in your hair, tilting your head back.

"Don't," you whisper, but his mouth is already on yours.

The kiss is possessive, claiming, meant to humiliate and control. Your hands come up instinctively, hitting against his chest, trying to push him away, but he's too strong. You can taste the smugness on his lips, feel the way he grips you tighter when you struggle.

Behind your closed eyes, you're aware of the shocked gasps, the sound of someone—Glen, maybe—cursing under his breath.

Daryl's hands shake at his sides, his whole body screaming at him to move, to fight, to do something. The sight of you hitting Negan's chest, trying to fight him off—it's killing him.

His mind drifts to the attic room, to the way he'd hold you so carefully each night, his face buried in your hair, breathing in your scent like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to this world.

But he can't. He's nothing now—less than nothing. Just a dog in Negan's kennel, watching the woman he loves be claimed by another man. This is what I am. She saved me, and for what? So I could stand here and watch this? She deserves so much better, she sure as hell doesn't deserve this.

When Negan finally releases you, you stumble slightly, immediately wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before spitting on the ground with disgust. The taste of him makes you sick, and you can't get it out fast enough.

Your eyes immediately seek out Daryl's, desperate to convey everything you can't say—that this means nothing, that you're still his, that the note you sent was true.

But Daryl's looking at the ground now, his whole body radiating shame and defeat.

"Well," Negan says, straightening his jacket with satisfaction, "I'd say that went rather well. Wouldn't you agree, Daryl?"

Daryl's head snaps up, and for a moment, you see murder in his eyes. But then that defeated look creeps back in, and he just glares.

Negan grins, then turns his attention back to Rick. "Now then, Rick, let's talk about what you owe me."

As Negan begins his usual routine—the taunting, the threats, the systematic breakdown of everyone's dignity—you find yourself caught between two worlds. The man whose hand rests possessively on your lower back, and the man across the street who won't look at you anymore.

The dining room felt enormous with just the two of you in it. Negan had insisted on candles, of all things, like this was some kind of romantic dinner instead of... whatever this actually was. You sat across from him, hands folded tightly in your lap to hide the trembling, barely touching the food on your plate.

"You're not eating, sweetheart," Negan observed, cutting into his steak with deliberate precision. "Don't tell me you don't like it. Had the kitchen make their best for you."

"It's... it's very good," you managed, your accent thick with nerves. "I'm just not very hungry."

"Nervous?" His eyes glinted with amusement. "That's understandable. Big few weeks for you. New life, new husband..."

The word 'husband' made your stomach lurch. You took a small sip of water, hoping it would help steady your voice.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning back in his chair, "what did you and ol' Daryl used to talk about during those long nights on the road? Must have gotten pretty cozy, sleeping side by side all that time."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "We... we just talked. About normal things."

"Normal things," he repeated, grinning. "Come now, don't be shy. I'm your husband now—we shouldn't have secrets between us. Sweet little thing like you, lying right there next to him..."

"He wasn't like that, he wasnt like—" you said quickly, then immediately regretted giving him any information at all.

"No?" Negan's voice was teasing, but there was something predatory underneath. "Hard to believe a man could show that kind of restraint."

You kept your eyes fixed on your plate, willing the conversation to end.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, sweetheart."

The command was gentle but firm. You lifted your eyes reluctantly, and his expression softened slightly when he saw how frightened you looked.

"Hey now," he said, reaching across the table to cover your hand with his. "No need to look so terrified. I'm not going to hurt you."

But you were trembling harder now, his touch making your skin crawl despite his gentle tone. He noticed immediately, his thumb stroking across your knuckles.

"You're shaking like a leaf," he murmured, and something in his voice suggested he found your fear almost... endearing. "Poor little thing. This is all pretty overwhelming, isn't it?"

You managed a small nod, not trusting your voice.

"We don't have to rush things," he continued, but his hand didn't move from yours. "I'm a patient man. We can take all the time you need to get comfortable."

Comfortable. As if that was possible. As if you could ever be comfortable with this man who held Daryl's life over your head like a sword.

"But," his grip tightened slightly, "I do expect you to try. For Daryl's sake, if not your own. You understand that, don't you?"

The threat was clear even wrapped in his gentle words. You nodded again.

"Good girl." He released your hand and went back to his dinner. "Now, eat something. You're going to need your strength."

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you picked up your fork with shaking hands and managed a few bites, tasting nothing.

Later, back in his room—your room now, he kept reminding you—Negan loosened his scarf and shrugged out of his jacket while you stood by the window, trying to make yourself invisible.

"Come here," he said softly.

Your feet felt like lead, but you forced yourself to move closer. When you were within arm's reach, he cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone.

"You really are beautiful," he murmured. "Daryl's a lucky man... Sorry, was a lucky man."

The correction made your chest tight with grief and fear.

"I want you to understand something," he continued, his voice still soft but carrying that underlying steel. "I could go check on your boyfriend right now. Make sure he's... comfortable in his accommodations. Or I could stay here with you. Your choice."

It wasn't really a choice at all. The threat was crystal clear—behave, or Daryl would pay for it.

"Stay," you whispered, the word barely audible.

"What was that, sweetheart? Didn't quite catch that."

"Please stay," you said a little louder, hating yourself for the words.

"That's what I thought you'd say."

"Now, I told you before that I'm not the kind of man who forces himself on a woman," Negan said, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. "And I meant that. I'm a man of my word." His grip tightened just slightly. "But I'm also a man who expects cooperation from his wives. Enthusiasm, even."

The words hung in the air like a noose. You understood perfectly—he wouldn't physically force you, but he didn't need to. Not when Daryl's safety hung in the balance of your compliance.

"You see, sweetheart," Negan continued, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his body, "I'm a man who likes to be appreciated. And when I'm not feeling appreciated by my wives, well... sometimes I need to work out that frustration elsewhere. You wouldn't want me to be frustrated tonight, would you? Not when your boyfriend's in such a precarious position."

Your breath caught in your throat. The choice he was offering was no choice at all—submit willingly, or watch Daryl suffer for your resistance.

"I want to be here," you forced out, each word like swallowing glass. "With you."

"That's what I like to hear," he said, satisfaction clear in his voice. "See? I knew you were a smart girl."

When he leaned down to kiss you, you didn't pull away. You stood perfectly still, letting him press his lips to yours, trying to disappear inside your own mind. His beard was rough against your skin, nothing like Daryl's gentle touch that felt like a lifetime ago.

Think about something else. Anything else. Think about home. Think about the group. Think about—

"There's my girl," he murmured against your lips, and you realized with horror that he'd taken your stillness for compliance.

When he started moving toward the bed, you followed on unsteady legs. The black silk nightgown he'd laid out for you felt like costume, like you were playing a part in some horrible play, sleeping next to this monster.

"Take your time," he said, settling onto the edge of the bed. "No rush."

But there was expectation in his eyes, and you knew that Daryl's safety hung in the balance of your next actions. With trembling fingers, you reached for the zipper of your dress.

Daryl had been pacing the small cell like a caged animal, running his hands through his greasy hair, trying not to think about where you were right now. What that prick might be doing to you.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor made him freeze. Too light to be Negan, but he recognized the gait.

Dwight appeared when the door opened, holding a plate with what looked like a sandwich made from dog food and stale bread.

"Dinner," Dwight said, sliding the plate too him.

Daryl didn't move toward it. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb. Y'know who."

Dwight was quiet for a moment, then glanced down the hallway to make sure they were alone.

"She's fine," he said quietly. "Having dinner with Negan."

The word made Daryl's stomach churn.

"Look," Dwight continued, his voice dropping even lower, "I know what you're thinking. But fighting it, trying to resist... it just makes things worse. For both of you."

"Like you'd know," Daryl snarled.

"I do know." Dwight's jaw tightened. "Better than you think. My wife... she's one of his wives too."

The admission hung in the air between them. Daryl stared at him, seeing something he'd missed before—the same haunted look he'd seen in his own reflection.

"Sherry made the same choice your girl did," Dwight continued. "To protect someone she loved. And fighting it, trying to change it... it only made things worse for her. Made Negan more interested in breaking her down."

Daryl remembered his brief glimpses of the wives. They all had dead eyes.

"The best thing you can do for her right now is survive," Dwight said. "Stay alive, stay strong, and wait for your chance. Because if you get yourself killed trying to be a hero, she'll have suffered for nothing."

Daryl wanted to punch him, wanted to grab him and choke the life out of him. But underneath the rage, he knew Dwight was right. Getting himself killed wouldn't save you. It would just leave you completely alone with that monster.

"She's stronger than she looks," Dwight added, turning to leave. "She'll survive this. You both will"

After he was gone, Daryl sank down against the wall, burying his face in his hands. Somewhere in this building, you were with Negan. Probably scared out of your mind, probably thinking about the attic and those sweet, tentative kisses you'd shared before everything went to hell.

Imma get you out of this, he promised silently. I don't know how, but I'm gonna get you out. Just hold on a little longer.

The dog food sandwich sat untouched on the floor. Daryl couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but sit in that cell and listen to the building settle around him, wondering if you were okay, wondering if you were thinking about him too.

Jus' survive, he told himself, echoing Dwight's words. Both of us Jus' gotta survive.

The silk sheets were cold against your skin as you lay perfectly still beside Negan, listening to his breathing even out as he fell asleep. His arm was draped possessively across your waist, heavy and unwelcome.

You stared at the ceiling in the darkness, trying not to let yourself break down completely.

This was the nightmare your life had become. And somewhere in this building, Daryl was probably lying awake too, wondering if you were okay.

I'm sorry, you thought, tears finally spilling over to wet the expensive pillowcase. I'm so sorry, Daryl. I'll find a way back to you. I promise.

The moonlight streaming through the window reminded you of all those nights you'd spent curled up against Daryl's side, safe and warm and loved. It felt like another lifetime.

Just survive, you told yourself, borrowing strength from the memory of his arms around you. Whatever it takes, just survive until we can find our way back to each other.

You must have dozed off at some point, because you woke to the feeling of Negan stirring beside you. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. Even in sleep, he was possessive.

"Mmm," he murmured against your hair, his voice rough with sleep. "Good morning, Sweetheart."

You went rigid, every muscle in your body tensing as he moved his head to your neck. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, and you had to bite your lip to keep from pulling away.

"Sleep well?" Negan asked, pressing his chin to your shoulder in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Yes," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine it was Daryl holding you instead. Daryl's gentle hands, Daryl's careful touches, Daryl's whispered words of comfort in the darkness. The way he'd hold you, just letting you know you were safe.

I wish you were here, you thought desperately. I wish it was you holding me. I wish we were back home, back when the biggest worry was whether Rick had enough diapers for Lil Asskicker, God, what I wouldn't give to be worried about something that simple again.

"You're trembling again," Negan observed, his thumb stroking along your arm. "Bad dreams?"

"I'm fine," you managed.

"You know," he said, settling more comfortably against the pillows while keeping you pressed against his side, "I was thinking we could have breakfast together. Maybe take a walk around the compound. I like showing you off to everyone."

The thought of being paraded around like some kind of trophy again made your stomach turn, but you knew better than to refuse.

"That sounds... nice," you forced out.

Daryl, if you can hear me somehow, you thought, staring at the ceiling as Negan's fingers traced patterns on your skin, please know that none of this means anything.

Outside, the Sanctuary was waking up, but you lay trapped in silk sheets and false intimacy, counting the minutes until you could find a moment alone to breathe, to remember who you really were beneath this performance you had to give to keep Daryl alive.

107 notes · View notes

arimbaudspierre · 4 months ago

Text

Anything You Knead - Doey x Reader (18+) HCs

Some headcanons for my on-going fic (nsfw!), or rather, just some scattered thoughts I have on how I've written some things about Doey, the Player, and other things. Blown away by all the sweet comments and kudos on it, just to say thanks again. HCs below the cut! Probably nothing NSFW but the fic itself is EXTREMELY NSFW so minors please DNI.

‣ Obviously, Doey's an adult in the fic. There's a tape that says that Matthew was at least 15 when he was under observation by Playtime, with the expectation that he was too old to be likely adopted and that they were considering hiring him when he was 18. Given that Doey was made in 1993 and the game takes place in 2005, he's at least 27, but even if Kevin and Jack are slightly younger than Matthew was, they too would be in their early 20s at the least. ‣ To the extent that that matters though, I'm not sure-- at least not for what I've written. I actually don't treat the three personalities as distinct, I have sort of taken a page from Steven Universe on this one, but I like the idea that Doey is his own wonderfully complicated person as a result of the merging, although I know that the game has fairly unsubtle imagery to suggest otherwise. It's part of why I think Doey is so much better written than almost all of the other characters in the franchise though; in their attempt to create a character that exhibits qualities of three different people, I feel like they actually just finally wrote someone who feels three-dimensional and fleshed out, because people are complicated things who are often compelled by many wants and fears within themselves, those of which may even be at odds. So, in the fic, there is no personality that 'fronts' at different times, Doey simply is himself-- for better or worse. ‣ I do think he's tried his hand at a relationship or two before (despite what he claims in Chapter 3 of the fic, slight spoiler), before the Player walks into his life, since there's obvious hints within the game that the Bigger Bodies project has been tried with more than just the orphans (the whole theory surrounding DogDay's true identity, the Prototype, etc) and there are reasonably other hot-blooded adults sharing the space with him. But, it's probably best left to hand-wavy-head-cannon territory since I don't want to spend a whole lot of time explaining that. ‣ The Player is an adorable little bombshell so Doey is quite correct when he calls them pretty. I did a quick lil' drawing of them, taking some fashion cues that I would have worn in 2005 (but much less layering. I am so glad we are over putting flared skirts over flared jeans). They are Hispanic, 28/29ish, and you know we gotta do the pale nude lipstick and sequin 'Angel' shirt. They are based on a Bratz doll, although I don't think the Player is a toy, just a cute little nod to that theory.

‣ I think the Player was an intern or a small-time assistant at Playtime, although I know there are nods within the game that suggest otherwise. There's a part where I wrote that they used to fetch coffee for Harley at some point. If that's true, I know it's possible that they know of Doey, but I really want to put some distance between the Player and Doey in the early days. Would make for some great angst, though, and probably would be better set up for romance if they'd been friends. Someone take that idea and write it for me! ‣ The Player is selectively mute. They can talk, but I think it's rare for them to speak even in their everyday life, and the trauma they've endured at Playtime is pushing that to the extreme. Doey is great at interpreting what they mean, though, and being mute doesn't stop them from talking about their feelings. ‣ The Player's candidness in inner dialogue is also inspired by how my friends and I spoke in 2005. Sick! ‣ One thing that I have loved writing is that both the Player and Doey have aspirations beyond falling in love and sharing intimate moments together. They are both there to do what they need to do, and although it's clear that something is brewing between them, that unfortunately cannot stop what's to come. ‣ I know a lot of you really want it to be a fix-it fic, but I hope that you trust that what I have for the ending must be what it is-- love is not without sacrifice, but I think the core of the issue is that in the actual game, we don't know why the sacrifice was made (narratively, because we are in the dark about the Player's motivations and Poppy's motivations, and thematically, because Doey's crash-out and our conflict with Poppy is largely due to miscommunication). This doesn't leave us feeling like the Chapter had a good conclusion, even though stories can have feel concluded without it being one where everyone we like lives and good, sensible decisions were made. I initially just wanted to write a one-off little smut story, but since I'm tackling some plot, my terms will be that I want to give the canon ending set up that makes the pay off feel earned, but bittersweet. ‣ That being said, 100% I'm rooting for him to return in the next game. :) You can count on more stories if so. That's the end! If you read all this way, thank you. Please share some HCs with me, if you have them, I love any and everything about this stupid doughman. The next chapter of the fic is almost done, and because I am a loving and fair god, it is mostly fluff, and we will get to the angst in the chapter afterwards. Don't say I don't do anything for you guys. Bonus: here's what I listened to almost on repeat while writing the next chapter. -arim

#doey x reader #poppy playtime #doey the doughman #ao3 fanfic #ao3 smut #minors dni #poppy playtime oc #fanfiction #poppy playtime hc #art-hurrimbaud

128 notes · View notes

grunckle · 1 year ago

Text

Qualia and Ascension in Rain World

(To clarify I'm mostly talking about base-game lore and not including Downpour, but honestly most of these things can transfer over)

Qualia

One thing that’s relatively hidden in Rain World’s text and subtext is the concept of qualia. Qualia is described as being, “sensory experiences that have distinctive subjective qualities but lack any meaning or external reference to the objects or events that cause them.” It’s a personal sensory experience that cannot be comprehended by another person other than the individual themself, and are often hard to convey via language.

Qualia is a reoccurring motif in Rain World, but what’s more important is the way in which it’s conveyed to the player. The picture that’s painted is that of a world or civilization that placed a great importance on the individuals’ experience, and it’s shown through pearls or environmental details.

Here are some examples of qualia appearing in the text through pearls.

“It's qualia, or a moment - a very short one. Someone is holding a black stone, and twisting it slightly as they drag their finger across the rough surface. The entire sequence is shorter than a heartbeat, but the resolution is extraordinary.”

“A memory... but not really visual, or even concrete, in its character. It reminds of the feeling of a warm wind, but not the physical feeling but the... inner feeling. I don't think it has much utility unless you are doing some very fringe Regeneraist research.”

“This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible. It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand.”

But the most prominent examples of qualia and it’s importance in this world are the Memory Crypts and possibly ancient naming conventions. The deep purple pearl (shortened) found in Shaded Citadel states,

“In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids (…) Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane. The assorted memories and qualia include:”

Ancients likely mutated their own neural tissue into the cabinet beasts we see in Shaded, which were used to store their memories and qualia before ascension. Even james said once "how 5 pebs got the rot is a good hint here" in response to someone asking how cabinet beasts work, and how they're made.

Adding on to this, ancient (and iterator) naming conventions seem to be built off of the concept of qualia, with them focusing on individual images or experiences.

Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections

Droplets upon Five Large Droplets

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

Looks to the Moon

Generally, this all points to a world focused on the expression and preservation of the individual experience. You could even consider some of the echo dialogue as more evidence for this running motif, but I already have too many quotes lol.

Ascension

So now time to talk about my interpretation of ascension. In short, you turn into a worm, but I should probably explain more than that.

So its been surfacing on rw-tumblr that the light in the end of the game is called the egg in files. Although file names shouldn't be taken as fact or canon, it is pretty obvious given the birth imagery.

But something a little lesser known is what happens to the worm that takes us down to the void-sea depths. Void worms normally have a bright glowing effect, on their body, which is present for ours as well. But after it unhooks us, it swims down, and when it passes us on it's way back that glowing effect is gone.

To be honest, I don't really think this can be interpreted in many ways, but the most obvious one and the one I personally subscribe to is that the worm laid the egg. Biology and spirituality really aren't that different in Rain World, it's implied that karma is stored in the brain through Five Pebbles's slideshow. Adding on to that, we see voidspawn after eating an iterator neuron. One's spiritual state is innately tied to their mental state, and that dictates what and what they can't perceive.

And for that reason I decide to take a more biology leaning approach to what happens in the ending. At face value, we are fertilizing the egg of a void worm to be reborn into a voidspawn.

Not only do void spawn and void worms have multiple characteristics in common, (worm like bodies, tendrils/tentacles, glowing heads, void spawn look microbial and void worms are likely some of the oldest "life" in game)

but voidspawn are seen inside egg-like coverings and share the same egg light seen in the end of the game, confirmed to be the same thing by Videocult in a livestream they did.

I believe that all this points to ascension being re-birth into a voidspawn, which eventually undergoes metamorphose into a worm. Higher-dimensional beings, who manifest and give birth to a new world.

So how does this tie in with qualia? Another thing you might know is that the area in which void spawn are most plentiful is Shaded Citadel and areas in Shoreline near Shaded. And shaded is absolutely packed with Cabinet Beasts, even outside Memory Crypts. I believe these qualia-storing creatures are what manifest voidspawn.

From what we see in ascension, it still looks physical and largely based around the real world. Hunter still has his scars and see's an iterator, survivor sees the slug tree in a more mystical and formless state, and monk sees survivor frankly just looking like a normal slugcat. I think that ascension is a product of qualia. We transcend our earthly knowledge via the egg, and our own qualia is used to give birth to a new world. This is why voidspawn appear most in Shaded Citadel.

Now I won't be getting into Void-Worm theories too much here, I'm mostly focused on ascension but I can't ignore the Gnosticism parallels. For those who don't know, Void Worms heavily resemble the Yaldaboath from Gnosticism, along with sharing some similar celestial motifs.

and running with that some people theorize that, like the Yaldabaoth, void worms are responsible for manifesting the material world. Ascension seems to be a mix of the concepts of Gnosis and Nirvana, but I believe it might lean more on Gnosis.

From my limited knowledge, Gnosis is a few things, some of which being a state achieved from experiences or intuitions, and an essential part to salvation is personal knowledge. While researching a bit, I came across this text by Peter Wilberg called "From NEW AGE to NEW GNOSIS" which brings up some comparisons between Gnosticism and qualia as well.

"Gnosis is subjective knowledge of an inner universe made up not of matter, energy, space or time but of countless qualitative spheres or ‘planes’ of awareness – a knowledge obtained directly through inter- subjective resonance. It is the subjective science of this inner universe."

One thing though that has been brought up when discussing this is how this can be consolidated with the tone of the ending. It is pretty un-ambiguously happy, but if we're going with the Void worm Yaldaboath theory then that would put a bit of a sour twist on it right?

I agreed with these for some time, but now I actually think it ties in perfectly with Rain World's core themes as stated by the devs, "overcoming differences and finding empathy." I don't think the void worms are "evil" or malevolent, but I think they (and subsequently us after ascending) play a key role in demonstrating this theme.

By manifesting the physical world, we allow these souls to experience life and develop their own qualia so one day they can ascend themselves. We are shown compassion, and pass it forward.

#rain world #rain world lore #lore #rain world spoilers #gnosticism #gnosis

782 notes · View notes

carlyraejepsans · 2 months ago

Note

until recently i was a "havent even touched the game in 8 years, i barely remember the characters" type of ut fan, but i just finished it again and my brain is active again, but im really rusty. i could only think of you to ask, please feel free to ignore if youve answered before or for any reason at all. ill send them by separating, first one is this: since flowey says he "could never get past Asgore if it werent for you" does that tie to the quality of his determination, stats, or gameplay? like is he simply stuck on the "playing" part, no matter what he has equiped or his LV, is he simply unable to manage the turns? im a shitty gamer myself, i can bet sans fight would succeed to stop me from finishing a NoMercy, so is the asgore fight equivalent of that for flowey? so he never got Any "ending" at all, just went around doing what he could, until only thing left was asgore, and reseted? if so, wouldnt that make it basically canon he'd tried a NoMercy and got stumped worse with sans? please tell me your thoughts on floweys time with the power to save and reset

Hi, and welcome back to the game! I was in your exact same position a couple of years ago, so I'm super flattered you're looking at me for information.

Flowey's final kill count before the events of the game is... debatable. More under the cut because this got long.

Of course, like you said, you have lines like the ones after you deal with Asgore for him:

Howdy! It's me, FLOWEY. FLOWEY the FLOWER! I owe you a HUGE thanks. You really did a number on that old fool. Without you, I NEVER could have gotten past him. But now, with YOUR help… He's DEAD. And I'VE got the human SOULS!

There's a pretty straightforward interpretation of this line, and it's the one you brought up: Flowey tried to defeat Asgore but couldn't, and he needed us to weaken him first to achieve his goal. The phrasing doesn't leave much to be contested. However! There's another Flowey line--this time in the geno route, I don't know if you've already gotten to it in your replay--that i feel can offer a slightly different perspective.

You understand, I've done everything this world has to offer. I've read every book. I've burned every book. I've won every game. I've lost every game. I've appeased everyone. I've killed everyone. Sets of numbers… Lines of dialogue… I've seen them all.

If you go with the previous interpretation, you can read this line as Flowey being hyperbolic, or taking some poetic liberty for the sake of rhetorical parallelism. But considering his larger metanarrative role as a mirror and reflection of the completionist player experience, I think it is also completely fair to assume that Flowey HAS, in fact, killed Asgore before. Just like he's killed Sans. Just like he's killed literally everyone who can be killed in the game, either directly or indirectly (see, in our case, Alphys).

This does require a re-framing of the post Asgore fight dialogue, however. Which is... actually not as much of a stretch as you'd expect!

"but now, with your help... he's dead. and i've got the human SOULs." -> i needed your help to kill him.

"but now with your help... he's dead. and i've got the human SOULs." -> i needed your help to get the SOULs, specifically.

It's a subtle difference, but one that gets corroborated, once again, in Flowey's NEW HOME monologue in the geno route.

We don't even need to leave to get them this time. The king has six of them locked away. I've tried hundreds of ways to get him to show me them… But he just won't. I know he'll do it for YOU.

Remember how the SOUL containers are hidden under the floor in front of the Barrier until the moment you and Asgore initiate the battle? There would be no way for Flowey to know where they were stored unless Asgore chose to show them to him.

If you want my personal favorite interpretation, I think it's pretty clear that I lean towards the second option. All while not discarding the idea that Flowey is just a bit of a shit gamer as unrealistic (for all he may trap us in unavoidable attacks over and over, he does get thwarted every single time). He certainly seems more apt in plotting schemes and manipulation than sheer fighting prowess. My preference also remains because, while Flowey IS softlocked out of the ability to "finish the game" until we (the true protagonist) start playing, that is because Undertale doesn't end when we kill Asgore: it ends when we get to the Surface. THAT'S the final objective Flowey wants, and can never achieve on his own in the state of the game before it begins. Whether Asgore is alive or dead is irrelevant.

My preference also comes from Asgore and Flowey's characterizations. We know that Flowey has spent a significant amount of time stalking and resenting and mocking and enjoying Toriel's suffering in the RUINs. He is extremely good at pushing buttons and digging wounds back open. And well, Asgore himself is actively suicidal by the time we get to him, and has been for a while. Think only of the ending where Flowey doesn't kill him, so he kills himself instead. Furthermore, if you look at Undyne's reminiscing during our date in pacifist...

Once, to prove I was the strongest, I tried to fight ASGORE. Emphasis on TRIED. I couldn't land a single blow on him!

...it's clear Asgore is not only a very strong opponent, but also capable of blocking/dodging attacks. Something he doesn't do during our battle with him, in order to give us a fair fighting chance. Which is also clear suicidal ideation. Now, once again you could use this dialogue to support the opposite thesis that Flowey never managed to kill him. Asgore clearly has past experience in fending off rabid 13yos who want to beat his ass. But he is also in a very fraught mental state as is. Flowey's... well, everything--his mere existence as a concept would be enough to make him want to die. You can't tell me Flowey never drove his father to suicide during his resets (think of Asgore and Alphys' parallels), OR his mother--though I don't think he would be successful in her case (which only makes him hate Toriel more.)

But I would say both options are very good and can both be used to explore their characterization, on their own and in relation to one another.

So while I don't disagree with your comment about the Asgore fight being Flowey's personal Sans fight, I do think Flowey's Sans fight WAS also just... the sans fight lmao. Possibly with easier requirements to face it than us, if you only consider this dialogue of his after several neutral endings in a row

You know. Smiley Trashbag. Say. If I have ONE piece of advice for you... DON'T. Let his brother. Find out ANYTHING about you. He'll... well… Let's just say. He's caused me more than my fair share of resets. Stay away from that guy.

Though it's true that that could both refer to his fight and other shenanigans Sans could have pulled to cause problems on purpose for a time traveler, if he really saw them as a threat that needed dealing with.

does that tie to the quality of his determination, stats, or gameplay? like is he simply stuck on the "playing" part, no matter what he has equiped or his LV, is he simply unable to manage the turns?

I'll leave that to your discretion, actually! Like I already mentioned, it does seem to me that Flowey's specific strengths lie in his ability to manipulate and plot from the shadows, but whether he's naturally good at battles or not, I think the core of what makes him dangerous is the same thing that made us dangerous too. The fact that his mistakes, at the end of the day, do not matter. Flowey can fail and die and try again every single time he wants.

Every other character only needs to mess up once.

When the bored time bending kid with a violent complex has the wheel, it's not a matter of "if" he beats you. It's a matter of when.

Hope that made some kind of sense!

#answered asks #undertale #flowey #asgore #metanalysis

91 notes · View notes

allur1ngs · 1 month ago

Text

ⵌ call me if you need me ⵌ

TW: allusions of smut + brief descriptions of smut (oral, + fingering all r!receiving, ellie giving), car sex, ellie is pussy whipped</3, sad, #yearning!ellie, kinda silly but also cute? not edited so pls ignore any mistakes or bad descriptions....

SUMMARY: ellie is overwhelmed by the intimate moment you both just shared, and all she can think to do is call you

WC: 897

A/N: heh...got this idea from this tiktok i saw on my fyp and just thought hey...why don't i write abt this....hope you enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER: all mannerisms and traits portrayed are my interpretation of the characters from this series, please keep this in mind!!

It's hard to imagine that mere seconds ago your bare body had been sprawled across Ellie's back seats, hot puffs of air leaving your mouth and sticking to the glossy condensation filled windows. You were barely able to keep your moans at bay while Ellie moved her tongue along your pussy, her eyes closed while she tried to keep her face as close as possible to your heat, almost like she was scared that if she pulled away, you and your sweet pussy would disappear.

She'd been in this same exact position for a little over an hour now, trying to take her time with you. Moments like these were what Ellie wished for on most days--especially when both of your schedules had become to busy that you barely had time to lay in bed and cuddle together at one of each others apartment. And, now that she had you, she was savoring every second.

And yet, with all her patience and care, the moment felt like a mere blip in time. Before she knew it, Ellie had helped you back into your clothes and given you a moment recover before she drove you to your apartment and dropped you off with a deep kiss.

Now, sitting in the driver's seat of her car, all Ellie had left was the lingering taste of your cum on her tongue, which she tried to savor. She rolls the appendage in her mouth and sighs, her eyes tracing over the lines of her steering wheel in regret.

"Fuck..." She mutters, the words coming out in an almost pathetic whimper. Truly, what had you done to her?

In her past, brief relationships, Ellie never recalls a moment when she'd had such good pussy that she just had to sit and stare into the distance, missing it. The taste, the heat, the wetness, the sound of your moans.

Ellie lets out a deep, sad sigh, her heart stuttering with a painful jab. What she would give to go back just ten minutes and stuff her tongue and fingers inside of you--to have you grabbing onto the headrest of the seat beside you as your back arched away from the cushiony material of her car.

The things she would do for your pussy...

It's truly, simply, just pathetic.

You'd barely made it through the door and dropped your keys into their designated holder when you feel your phone buzzing against the material of your back pocket. Your eyebrows knit together, wondering who could be calling you at such an ungodly hour, before your hand grabs your phone and clicks the on button, your face illuminated by the cute image you have of Ellie as her contact photo.

You stare at your screen for a split second in confusion before you answer the call, your lips forming into a small frown as you utter, "Ellie?"

On the other side of the phone, only the static of background noise buzzes in the background as a response. You wait for a moment before trying again.

"Ellie? What's going--" You cut yourself off, a quiet noise reaching your ears. A small, almost mouse like sniffle comes from the other end, making your heartbeat race. "Ellie, baby, are you okay?"

The sniffles become louder now, less timid and slightly more frequent. You hear the sound of Ellie rustling around, most likely shifting her position.

"Hello--?"

"Babe." Ellie manages to make out from her tears, her hand gripping her phone so hard that her knuckles are white.

"Yes?" You answer, your voice filled with worry as you pace around the entrance of your apartment.

"You have the best pussy I've ever had in my life." She all but sobs.

You stop in your tracks, your racing heart damn near skipping a beat. It takes a second for your ears and brain to process what your girlfriend had just said but when it does, you have to stop yourself from releasing a small laugh. "What?" Is all you can think to say.

"I just--" Ellie has to pause, wiping the hot tracks of tears from her cheeks while she tries her best to form coherent sentences. "I was just sitting in my car, staring, thinking fuck...I love your pussy."

A warm feeling blooms in your chest as you try your best to calm the large smile that's making its way onto your lips. "Really?"

"Yeah." Ellie sniffles yet again, "I love it so much like...I think about it all day, especially when I miss you. And I miss you all the time. I think about how it tastes and how it feels and..." She all but word vomits, each sentence coming at twice the speed of the previous.

"Oh Els," You say fondly, losing the battle between yourself and the smile that wanted to emerge. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't say sorry." She cries, her other hand moving to grip the steering wheel just as hard as she grips her phone. "I just love you and your pussy so much. And I know we just saw each other but I miss you."

"Ellie..." you let out a small breath, "do you want to stay the night?"

A long pause meets your ears, and you almost think to speak again before you hear the sound of Ellie's car turning on, and tires screeching against concrete. "I'll be there in ten."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #the last of us part 2 #the last of us

130 notes · View notes

chow0w · 1 month ago

Text

Redesigning a Winglet - part 5/7

Happy Wednesday, as always! the victim of today is Cordelia!

This design is certainly more expressive than some of the other ones, but unfortunately this winglet already seems to have a lot of angry types. For the sake of the redesign, I thought it would be nice to completely revamp this character!

First, I decided to make her trans. Why? Doesn't matter. Second, I needed to replace the name 'Cordelia,' since that's my girlfriend's character... I looked at a few different fish species names, but decided on 'bigfin' after my favorite squid in the end. Since the bigfin squid is a deep sea creature, it seemed cool to give them deep sea attributes - but I thought about it some more and honestly there would be a lot of difficulties adjusting to life at jade mountain after being raised in such a high-pressure, low light environment. Deep-seawings are so cool, but putting them in jade mountain seems a little unethical.

Moving on - the biggest changes I made to Bigfin were definitely adding/removing some design elements, such as webs and markings (so like basic seawing features.) I also changed her expression! It now rests much more neutrally - I it could be interpreted as slightly serious or just observational, depending on the person. I was hoping to replace the angry personality with a more motivated/optimistic kind of demeanor. I imagine Bigfin is probably one of the more easygoing members of the winglet - not out of ignorance or naivety, but trust in her ability to navigate the challenges to come. She would get along best with Arrow-Arum and (surprisingly) Ficus, while thinking Startalon is too pessimistic and Saguaro is too... intense.

Bigfin would be a good teammate during stressful, quick situations - but her logic may sometimes be unhelpful in a longer, more strategic discussion. She has all the optimism and confidence in herself, but can sometimes lack in the planning needed to follow through...

Overall, she's an excellent addition to her winglet!

Thanks for checking in this Wednesday! I hope to see you all soon - and to anyone who doesn't know, I am hosting an art competition right now! There's just over a month left to enter: so if you're an artist who likes free money and fun times, you might want to se this!

Here's my server, where you can submit an application:

we're also chatting it up in here, so feel free to stick around and play wordle (≧◡≦) later!!

#wings of fire #wof #art #character design #wof redesign #oc #seawing #seawing wof #wof seawing #jade mountain academy #jade mountain #art competition

128 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

Note

What're your thought on Skully/Skelly so far? Personally, I like the kid, he seems fun and cute (might even adopt him too lol)

I’ll make an update post later once the full event is out; this post will be my first impressions of the guy! Thought it might be interesting to document my feelings now and see how those change over time.

First thing I’ll say is while I like his design, his personality didn’t match my expectations. I expected him to be polite yet also eccentric and a little sinister, not… going around kissing the hands of everyone he meets. Skully also comes off as much more harmless than he appears. It’s an odd mix of demure but also really excitable when his special interest (Halloween, lol) comes up in conversation. A fun-loving guy! He definitely looks a lot more imposing and mysterious than he actually is.

I think a lot of his intimidation factor comes from the shades. If you take them away, he looks more like a dejected fuzzy animal or a Halloween-flavored Idia/Saeran (Mystic Messenger boi). LIKE SORRY BUT WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A SAD PUPPY LEFT OUT IN THE RAIN… His spiral eyes are cool though ^^ It’s just slightly hard to see sometimes because of the shadow his hair casts and the shading around that area.

His overall expressiveness is great! He looks cute when he smiles and blushes (from his idol complimenting him, haha). It feels very pure and innocent, which contrasts with his more… deranged expressions.

The way he speaks surprised me too… He talks about coming from a rural place, but he speaks so formally! Sometimes even more formally than Jade. I wonder if that implies being of high class/social status or if he just taught himself to speak this way for personal reasons. My worst nightmare (hah) is that Skully devolves into a heavy Kansai accent later in the event (if only because I’m not sure how to transcribe the Kansai accent into English when I write his dialogue 💦).

I mentioned in an earlier post that Skully’s outfit is a Nightmare Suit provided by the book. We don’t know what he actually dresses like irl which is a shame. Knowing that would really help with getting a read on his character, even if he were just in a school uniform (because different people can wear their uniforms very differently, as we can see in the NRC School Uniform line of cards). Stuffing Skully into a Nightmare Suit by default doesn’t tell me much about how he presents himself outside of the book, in reality.

There’s definitely a lot of interesting (and vague) lore around him 🤔 like how he doesn’t know what magical pens are and how his hometown is the only place that knows who Jack Skellington is… Hopefully those questions get answered by the end of the event. I also have to wonder why he’s such an intense Halloween otaku??? There could be no deep reason behind it, but I’m a little suspicious since this is a Halloween event. It feels like Skully’s hiding something and/or he’s not confident in himself since his dialogue implies he’s a loner irl. Maybe he’s attracted to the idea of Halloween because even the dead and creatures of the night can fit in (so he, the outcast, can also have a place among them)?

That being said, I do find Skully’s personality charming, especially when he’s opening the event with his little dramatic monologue about Halloween. It’s a nice way to interpret Jack Skellington’s whimsy and child-like wonder into a Twst character. However, I don’t exactly find myself completely endeared to his character yet. He feels a little too… safe? Too… sweet. Unless this was all intentionally and he's actually a RSA student or something/j I’d like to see more of his villainous traits and weaknesses on display to get a full scope of his character. *rubs hands together* I want to see what he’s like when he snaps… We already saw some glimpses of his nastier side when he calls his classmates worthless for not understanding him. I want to see that unleashed on the NRC students! As is, I’m not sure if I enjoy him talking down to others (he calls his classmates worthless) for not being on the same wavelength as him when it comes to his interests. It feels like something elitist otaku do (Idia has definitely done this), and that’s a big yikes for me.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Skully J. Graves #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst jp #twisted wonderland jp #jp spoilers #twst halloween #twisted wonderland halloween #notes from the writing raven #question #jack skellington #mysmes #saeran choi #mystic messenger #Idia Shroud #Jade Leech

237 notes · View notes

braveasnouns · 8 months ago

Text

ANIMAL ARMY BACKGROUND MEMBERS!!

this is not an exhaustive list and some of them i’m not sure of the names but i tried :D! all are up to interpretation as they are not listed on IMDB, credits or any official source as far as i can tell!

and this is really only focused on scenes from S1 as nobody apart from Bear, Tiger and Pony are shown very clearly past that (or shown uhh.. alive, anyways...)

in no particular order:

Flamingo! very prevalent and recognizable in and out of costume for their bright pink hair

Bluejay! they could be a different type of blue bird but they do look like a bluejay and i love that name! you can see them wearing denim on denim as a way to represent the blue even out of animal costume! very cool

and standing next to Bluejay in the main scenes is Leopard! shown clearly quite a bit compared to some others and i really love the commitment to this outfit its very awesome

Gazelle. they show up very briefly (only in this one shot clearly) but their look is one of my favorites for sure!! So cool and unique

a red bird, while most people connect the image of a red bird with Robins and Cardinals which it very well could be, with the darker red and dark beak i could also see them trying to be Tanager, Finch or Apapane bird. there's really no way to know if they were even given a specific bird type in production but those would be my guesses!

Elephant!! Im guessing it was just from using whatever resources around them but i really love how their ears look weathered, like an elephant who has been through battles as they have

i like to think this is Vulture!! and that’s so cool to me as a name and persona! it just started in my mind because they stand next to each other but i like to think that Vulture and Elephant are siblings and found the animal army together :))

Panda! the most prominently shown other than the main four, you see them in the very first shot of the animal army and they have watch over Jepp when he is tied up. it all makes me think they were a member earlier on and very trusted

Raccoon (left) and “Red” panda (right). Since we already know that there's for sure someone named just panda i would assume this character goes by red as a nickname even if their animal army name is officially Red Panda. I also thought it was funny how in the same scene Raccoon kept appearing and disappearing from the background on the tree ledge, im sure it was just a filming thing but so on brand of them tbh

i think this would be Orangutan! that name is seen one of the walls. they are one of the ones holding back daisys chains and are seen in the very first scene of the animal army as well.

I believe this is Bison! From what i could tell they are only shown in this shot in the background until they zoom over to Panda and i didnt see them in any scenes after that clearly. there is writing on one of the walls that says Bison and thats the only reason i don’t say Cow or Bull, still could be though! I wish we got to see more of them because its very cool

This should be Porcupine! They are hardly shown and it was hard to get a real picture of them. kinda interesting that we do have a porcupine hybrid child later on too, Porcupine you probably would have loved to meet Otto

i just started calling this Bird because i can’t figure out what type they are, and i think its kinda fun to think they were the first bird member (after flamingo) and just like birds generally :)

Zebra! shown prominently in the main scenes and one of the people given the responsibility of opening daisys containers doors. kinda terrifying outfit so good job Zebra

I think this is Peacock! they are quite literally shown for less than 2 seconds in all lol

slightly perplexing...Otter, Weasel, even Vole, Mink or Loris? lots of possibilities and im so not sure

Armadillo i'm pretty certain of! They are one of the ones holding daisy’s chains and I couldn't really figure out who they were in other scenes when they are not in their full outfit since their face is mostly covered

I believe this is Hyena but its quite hard to say for certain, but it does say “heyena (do you see what i did there)” on the animal wall so i could totally see this being them! they also hold daisys chains

Rabbit! they're cool i'm very curious as to the materiel of their mask

Bobcat?

Falcon I like to think, also holding daisys chains

i am saying this is Crow because i really want it to be

thats pretty much all for S1 but there are also things on the walls like "killawhale" and a lion drawing which is probably from canon members not shown in their full animal army outfits as well!

#sweet tooth show #sweet tooth netflix #animal army sweet tooth #sweet tooth #i can look at S2 if anyone wants

174 notes · View notes

cybrasigilism · 2 months ago

Note

hear me out, the wet dream drabble you did, PLEASE MAKE A FIC like where hes over for the night and reader falls asleep and has a wet dream abou him, but hes still awake and when readers asleep he hears her like faintly moan his name and like she wakes up and they ykkkk

Sweet Dreams (Nam-gyu/Player 124 X F!Reader SMUT)

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: holy moly, i’m so sorry for my lack of activity! i recently got a new place and i’m in the process of moving, life’s been hectic! i can’t promise that i’ll be posting a whole bunch but i’m definitely going to try :)

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

finding yourself having a sleepover with nam-gyu of all people was not something you expected out of the night, but here you were— cozied up in your own bed, scrolling on your phone while he took a drag from his cigarette.

“hey, asshole. did i say you could smoke in here?” you scoffed, looking him up and down in exaggerated disgust as nam-gyu blew his smoke in your face.

“funny, you mistake me for someone who gives a fuck.” he chuckled, before bringing the butt to his lips once again, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.

you weren’t sure what it was, but in that moment, there was something about nam-gyu that made you press your thighs together. you had never seen someone look so damn good while smoking, and here he was; as if he was putting on a show for you.

there was no possible way he knew what he was doing to you.

was there?

————————

as you slept that night, your mind couldn’t help but circle back to when nam-gyu was blatantly ignoring your aversion to his smoking habit. the way he retained your gaze as he slowly exhaled trails of smoke from his mouth, slightly agape; dark brown eyes flicking from your own eyes to your lips quickly.

you couldn’t trust if that last part had actually happened, or if it was just a trick your brain was playing on you as some more… lewd thoughts began to circulate through your brain.

it was impressive how quickly your mind took things from slightly suggestive, to downright dirty, in a matter of moments. before you knew it, visions of nam-gyu dicking you down were playing on repeat in your mind. it all felt so vivid, down to the sensation of the sheets beneath you moving in tandem with your bodies.

you must have been deep in this erotic trance, because you didn’t notice that the noises you were making in your blissful fantasy were carrying over to the real world.

it started out as nothing much, a light moan leaving your throat that could easily be explained away as a sound you made due to changing your position. although stirred awake by this initial sound, lord knows how, nam-gyu didn’t think much of it… until he heard it again.

this time, it was more than a light sound; you straight up moaned his name. not overly loud or obnoxious-like, but airy enough for nam-gyu to piece together that you were definitely dreaming about him.

part of him wanted to let you carry on, he wanted to see how far you would get— if you would actually cum in your sleep. but another part of him wanted to wake you up, and fuck you for real.

to hell with dreams, to hell with fantasy. he wanted you to feel him fuck you good, real this time.

against what may have been his better judgement, nam-gyu reached over and shook you awake. you rubbed your eyes, squinting up at him confused. but, before you could say anything, his lips crashed into yours; his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as a desperate moan left his throat.

you brought your hands up to his neck as he crawled on top of you, you felt his bulge rub up against your side as he did so.

“fuck, you knew what you were doing.. didn’t you?” nam-gyu gasped, breaking the kiss as he rolled your shirt up your body. “i don’t.. i don’t know what you mean—“ you were confused, but you definitely did not mind your current situation.

had you known letting your subconscious take control would end up getting you in bed with someone like nam-gyu, this may have played out earlier. but you didn’t have the time to focus on ‘what if’ scenarios here. you were quickly snapped back to the present when nam-gyu rolled his tongue over your nipple— shooting a sharp shiver up your back.

“oh shit! ah, s-so, so..” “shh…” he interrupted, running his hand up and down your body, occasionally cupping your tit when he reached your chest. “don’t need you to say anything.. just lemme do this, please..”

his breath against your skin made you tremble, and each time he brought his mouth back onto your tits, you felt your pussy clench around air. he knew exactly how good his tongue felt on your chest, and he was going to drag that feeling out as long as he could.

“mh, so good… need more of you…” you were slurring your words, like you were drunk on this wave of pleasure— and of course nam-gyu was going to take advantage of this. “yeah? need me s’bad, huh? you just want to get your needs met, don’t you?”

the mix of your tired state and the sheer sense of euphoria you were riding boiled you down to a mumbling mess, the only coherent response you could give him was a loose nod. nam-gyu chuckled, bringing himself away from your breasts and falling back onto his side of the bed.

“well, you’re not the only one.” he stated, pulling the waistband of his sleep pants down; exposing the tent in his boxers. you may have been a loopy mess, but you knew exactly what he was getting at here. without command, you positioned yourself between his legs and started to free his dick on your own.

“i’d say it’s only fair, since you were practically begging for me before— ah, fuck..” what would have been more of his douchebag rambling was cut short by your taking his cock between your lips. with no warning at all, you cut the shit and started bobbing your head up and down his dick. now, he was the one who was becoming incoherent— rambling nonsense as he took a fistful of your hair in his grasp.

“ah, f-fuck.. your mouth feels.. s’good— yeah, j’st keep sucking me like tha— fuck” he was so fucked out already, you would have guessed that he was the one having the wet dream.

each time your tongue swirled around his shaft, you felt nam-gyu buck his hips up into your mouth like you were planning on abruptly stopping anytime soon. you were sucking him like a woman starved, like you planned on sucking him dry. his moans only egged you on as you dug your nails into his hips; deepthroating him all the while.

“mmh, f-f-fuck me, oh g-od, ‘m gonna cum soon if you don’t… don’t—“ you almost felt bad, with how pathetic he sounded. but you wanted to pull more of these sounds from his lips, you craved hearing him whimper and whine like a cheap slut for you.

poor nam-gyu, he doesn’t know half of the monster he’s created.

══════════════

hey chat! i’m alive! i can’t believe it’s been 18 days since my last work, i promise i didn’t mean to leave it that long!

i’m sure you all understand that life gets busy, but i don’t want anyone to think that i’m losing interest in squid game. well that could just never be possible.

have a fantastic night/day lovelies! 💋

as always, thank you so much for reading! if you have any constructive criticism/advice on how i can improve my writing, please feel free to dm me! 💌

🏷️: @namsgyu @gongyoosgf @kouzih

#squid game 2 #squid game #fanfiction #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #cybrasigilism #nam gyu #namgyu drabble #player 124 x reader #namgyu x reader #player 124

247 notes · View notes