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reidrum · 9 months ago

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one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #kinktober #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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hoe4hotchner · 21 days ago

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Take away | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 3.8k | CW: Smut. 18+. Don't worry it has a plot. PIV. Hotch is rough, but also a total softy. It's implied that reader is smaller than Hotch

A/N: I was like a giddy little kid writing this, fluttering my legs behind me cause I love it so much.

Also a part of the last scene disappeared as I copied it to tumblr, I've tried to rewrite it, but it feels a little more rushed than the original part.

The night had settled over your home like a soft and heavy blanket, muffling the sounds of the world outside and leaving only the soft melodic tone of the commercials currently running as you waited for your show to continue.

You were curled up on the couch, your legs tugged underneath your body as you leaned against the armrest. One of Aaron’s shirts hung off your body, you’d stolen it weeks ago from his go-bag, not planning on giving it back – but then again, he hadn’t asked.

The fabric still smelled faintly of him, but soon enough you would need to steal another shirt. You let out a sigh, not knowing when he would return from his case, the line had been silent since the day he left, which only meant one thing – the case was a bad one. A really bad one.

You didn’t expect him tonight, maybe not tomorrow, or by the end of the week. Sometimes he even appeared at your door in the middle of the night, straight of the yet. Other times he called. Occasionally, he didn’t even show up, so emotionally drained that he needed absolute silence for the time being. But one thing you knew: Aaron Hotchner wasn’t the kind of man to announce his arrival and expect fanfare. And through the years, you’d learned to read his silence and what it meant.

And yet, the sound of a key turning in your lock sent a sharp electric jolt of excitement through your body. He was here.

You straightened yourself on the couch, the movement causing the hem of his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing the edge of your shorts, barely visible under the shirt. The whole apartment was quiet, it felt like you were collectively holding your breaths, waiting for something – or rather someone – to break the silence. Your pulse quickened as you heard the door creak open.

Rising from your seat, you shuffled toward the hallway, your heartbeat picking up as you watched him step inside the small entrance, his silhouette filling the entire doorway. Aaron looked like a man who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulder for the past week. He looked tired. His eyes shadowed and rimmed with what could only be the sign of how many sleepless nights and relentless days he had had while gone. His suit jacket folded neatly over his arm, the fabric more creased than he usually allowed. His tie hung loose around his neck, while the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the hollow of his throat and the faintest hint of his collarbone.

In his other hand, he held a white plastic bag, the handles slightly stretched from the weight of its contents. But you couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable logo of the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away printed on the side. It was your favorite.

It smelled good. The mixed aromas of sesame oil, garlic, soy sauce, and what could only be their signature soup.

At first, you’d only started going there, because it was the only place open late at night when Aaron would return home from a case. And in time it had become your go-to takeout place. The owners knew the two of you by name now, and always slipped you a few extra egg rolls or side dishes.

But even though he had gotten you your favorites, it wasn’t the food that made your heart stutter. It was him.

His hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d run his hand through it one too many times during the past week, his shoulders slightly slumped, like the case hadn’t fully left him yet. But when his gaze found yours – standing at the end of the hallway, his shirt on your body, waiting for him without realizing you were waiting. It made something within him shift.

The look in his eyes softened, just for a moment, and he let out a slow exhale that seemed to release some of the tension he’d been holding on to.

“Aaron,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, moving closer to him. You didn’t know what to say, what he needed to hear, maybe offer to take the food to the kitchen – but it didn’t matter. He didn’t give you the chance to.

He crossed the entryway in two long strides. His movements fluid and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. The bag was left on the small table near the door. Before you could reach for him, before you could even take a step forward, his hand found your waist, fingers curling into the soft curve with a grip light enough to be gentle. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He threaded his fingers slightly into your hair, tangling themselves through your strands enough to tilt your head toward him.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. Not when his eyes burned with deep and dark desire for you. He pinned you against the wall, caging your body in – not that you had any intention of moving. Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. Gaze flicking from your eyes and down to your lips, then back up again.

And then he moved, pressing his lips against yours. It was like the world fell away. He wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tentative. It was raw and desperate, like he was a starved man, knowing just what he needed and intended to take.

He slotted his thigh between yours as his grip around your waist tightened. It was almost possessive. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you whine into his mouth, and he took it as his opportunity to press his tongue against yours. It made your head spin.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in and pulling him closer, needing him closer, because the distance had killed you too.

He broke the kiss just long enough to speak, his lips still brushing against yours, his voice low and demanding. Almost unrecognizable with need as he murmured “Bedroom.” When you didn’t move instantly he nipped at your lip letting a low growled “Now!” out.

You didn’t walk, didn’t get the chance. His hands still on you as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. Clearly too slow for his liking.

The hallway to your bedroom felt endless, although it was only a handful of steps. Aaron’s grip around you was unrelenting. His body pressed so tightly against yours, that you could feel the rising rhythm of his heart beating and the tension in his muscles. His breath was ragged, hot against your neck as he trailed kiss after kiss down towards your collarbone.

Your own pulse thundered in your ears, your skin tingling with every kiss he pressed to it. He moved like he’d been holding back for days like he had been starving for you.

When you reached the bedroom, he didn’t bother turning the light on. The faint glow from the streetlights outside was enough as it slipped through the curtains. It was enough to see the sharp edge of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell like he was fighting to keep himself from turning into a feral beast.

He didn’t let go of you as he placed you back down, not for a second, instead he backed you toward the bed, his hands moving to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. And as your legs hit the edge of your mattress, and before you could steady yourself, he was on you again, mouth finding yours again as he gently backed you down on the mattress.

Aaron only broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw until he found that spot just below your ear that made you completely malleable in his hands. He let his teeth graze the sensitive skin, drawing a soft and involuntary moan from you.

His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, skimming the curve of your waist moving higher and higher until he reached your chest. He cupped your breast, letting a low growl out as he felt the lack of a bra. His fingers brushed over your nipples, teasing each one until they hardened under his touch. The sensation sent jolts through you, your body arching off the bed, your body responding before your mind could catch up.

“Aaron,” You whimpered, the tone of your voice begging him for more. Although he didn’t speak, you saw the change in him, the flame igniting within him, his grip tightened and he let out a grunt. His hips grinding down on you, the hard length was unmistakable through his boxers, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you.

The pressure made your thighs clench as heat pooled low in your belly.

He moved his hand back to the hem of your shirt again, and in one swift movement, he yanked it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. His hands brushed against your neck, trailing down your sides, over the curve of your hips, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

He didn’t pull them off right away. Instead, his fingers teased, dipping just low enough to brush against you, finding you sopping wet and aching for him.

“Fuck!” He muttered against you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, making you buck your hips into his hand. His fingers moved with purpose, with a rhythm so slow and torturous that you couldn’t help but push against him harder, needing more, needing him. He responded by pressing his body harder against you, his free hand holding your hip down to keep you in place.

“Please!” You whined voice breaking, your hands fisting the sheets as you tried to ground yourself. He didn’t answer with words, instead, he tugged your shorts and panties down in one motion, them too discarded somewhere on the floor.

And then, all sensation was gone as he moved off you, but his hard gaze told you to stay in place. You watched as he undressed himself, letting his clothes fall to the ground. And just as quickly, his hand was back on you, the other stroking himself a few times before he positioned himself at your entrance. You felt the tip prod against you, teasing you, testing your patience – and then, without warning – he thrust into you, bottoming out with one smooth and powerful motion.

The air left your lungs as you felt your stretch to accommodate him. The sudden fullness almost too much to handle, yet exactly what you craved and needed. Aaron didn’t give you much time to adjust, his grip on your hip tightened, while he used his other hand to steady himself before moving.

And he did. Each thrust was hard, fast, deliberate, each one hitting deeper and deeper. All of your senses clouded with pleasure, barely hearing the sound of the headboard tapping against the wall in time with his pace. All you could feel was him – his heat, his strength – all you wanted was him. The way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him, the way his hand felt on your body like he couldn’t stop touching you, like he needed to touch you, to make sure you were real.

His pace wasn’t just rough, it was raw like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t find the words to let out, into every movement.

Aaron’s lips found your shoulder, kissing, biting, soothing the marks he left behind with a tenderness that contrasted the relentless pace further down.

His hand slid up from your hips, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back enough to expose your throat to his mouth. He kissed you there, open-mouthed, his teeth scraping lightly, making you moan his name. The sound breaking the barrier of your shared grunts, moans, and whimpers.

“You’re mine” He murmured against your skin, so soft it almost felt alien in the moment, but the possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable, making your heart stutter in your chest.

You wanted to tell him you were – always had been, always would be – but words were beyond you now. All you could do was push back against him, meeting his thrusts, your body trembling as the pleasure built. His hand slipped around to your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it with a precision that made your vision blur. It was too much, too good, and you felt yourself unraveling under him, the coil in your belly tightening until it finally snapped. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body shaking, your voice breaking on a cry of his name as you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

He groaned, low and guttural, his thrusts faltering for a moment before he followed you over the edge, his body tensing, his grip on you tightening as he spilled inside you, his breath hot and uneven against you as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. And for a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies locked together, the only sound you shared was your ragged breathing. Then, slowly, he pulled out, his hands gentle now, steadying you as you trembled, your legs barely holding you up as he helped you up from the bed. His eyes searched yours in the dim light, making sure that you were okay, that he hadn't hurt you.

He kissed you again, softer this time, but no less desperate, his lips moving against yours like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t about the case. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers threading through his hair, still damp with sweat. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

The kitchen was a haven of stillness, wrapped in the kind of quiet that follows a storm, where the air felt softer, heavier as if it was holding its breath. The faint hum of the refrigerator pulsed in the background mingling with the gentle crinkle of takeout containers being opened and the delicate clink of chopsticks against porcelain plates. The under-cabinet lights bathed the room in a warm glow, casting soft shadows across the countertops, turning the white tiles into pools of light and making the steam rising from the food shimmer like a faint, ethereal halo.

The scent of soy sauce, sesame oil, and warm rice filled the space, curling around you both like an invisible thread, tying this moment perfectly together.

You stood leaning against the counter, your body still humming from earlier, your legs trembling faintly like a fawn taking its first steps. The sensation wasn’t painful, but your knees felt soft, your thighs ached with a sweet, lingering soreness, and every shift of your weight sent a quiet reminder of Aaron’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d unraveled you with such precision and hunger that you could barely walk. Aaron had dressed you in one of his sweaters he had once forgotten at your place, the hem brushing against the tops of your thighs, tickling your bare skin with every small movement.

You folded your arms loosely across your chest, not out of cold but to ground yourself, to keep your heart from racing too fast as you watched him.

Aaron moved through the kitchen with a quiet, effortless grace, his feet silent against the tiled floor. He hadn’t bothered with pants, just the black boxers that clung to his hips, the waistband sitting low, exposing the cut of his hipbones and the faint muscle of his abdomen. His hair was still a mess, strands sticking up in places where your fingers had tugged and twisted, a sight that made him look younger, less like the stoic unit chief and more like the man who existed only for you.

The light softened the lines of his face, smoothing the tension that usually lingered in his jaw, and for a moment, he seemed almost boyish – still serious, still Aaron, but unguarded in a way that made your chest ache with affection.

He was methodical as he opened the takeout containers, his eyes scanning the labels out of habit, though you both knew he’d memorized the order long ago. His hands moved with the same precision he brought to everything, slow and deliberate as if he were handling evidence at a crime scene instead of portioning out lo mein.

He reached for the veggie lo mein first, knowing it was your favorite without needing to ask, and began scooping it onto a plate for you. The noodles coiled neatly under his careful movements, steam rising in delicate tendrils that caught the light.

“Still the veggie one, right?” he asked.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile as you watched him, captivated by the way the light played across his profile – the faint shadow of stubble, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

“You remembered,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of wonder, though it shouldn’t have surprised you. Aaron always remembered the little things – the way you took your coffee, the songs you hummed absentmindedly, the foods you craved after a long day.

“I always do,” he replied. He turned to hand you the plate, his fingers brushing yours as he passed it over, and then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. The contact was soft, lingering longer than it needed to, his lips warm and slightly chapped against your skin.

He didn’t pull away immediately, his breath fanning over your cheek, and you felt the weight of his presence, the way he seemed reluctant to put any distance between you. You didn’t want him to, either.

You both moved toward the small kitchen table, your steps slow and languid, your bodies still heavy with the afterglow. The sweater swished around you as you walked, the fabric catching the air, and you felt a faint flush creep up your neck at how exposed you were, how intimate this was, standing here in his clothes, your legs still unsteady, your body still carrying the memory of his touch.

When you went to sit, your knees gave a small, betraying wobble, a flicker of weakness that made you grip the edge of the table for balance. It wasn’t dramatic, but Aaron noticed – of course he did.

His plate was still in his hand, but he set it down with a swift motion, his hand finding your waist in an instant, steadying you with a gentle but firm grip while his other hand slid under your plate, keeping it level, ensuring nothing spilled.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with that quiet authority that made your heart skip. He guided you into the chair with care, his hand lingering at your waist as he crouched slightly, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“I went too hard, didn’t I?” His brow creased, a flicker of guilt crossing his features, his voice dropping to something almost apologetic.

You shook your head quickly, reaching for his wrist, your thumb brushing over the pulse point there, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“No,” you said firmly, your eyes locking onto his, your smile soft but sure. “You were perfect. I’m just… a little wobbly. In a good way.” Your voice was light, teasing, but there was truth in it, and you hoped he could hear it.

He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours as if he were profiling you, looking for any hint of a lie. Then, slowly, the tension in his face eased, and he let out a quiet huff of a laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, more intimate.

“Positive,” you said, your smile widening as you picked up your chopsticks, twirling a strand of lo mein with a lazy, contented motion. “Totally worth it. Besides, I get to wear your shirt, eat good food and have you fuss over me like I’m some kind of princess. I’m not complaining.”

That earned you a real smile, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and your heart stutter in your chest. He raised an eyebrow, settling into the chair across from you, his own plate piled with fried rice and a few dumplings.

“Princess, huh?” he said, his voice dry but laced with amusement. “Careful, I might start calling you that.”

You grinned, popping a piece of broccoli into your mouth, chewing slowly as you leaned back in your chair, the shirt shifting slightly to expose more of your thigh. “Would you prefer ‘Kitten’?” you teased, tilting your head, your voice playful.

His reaction was subtle but immediate, his eyes darkened, just a fraction, and his hand paused mid-motion as he reached for a dumpling. For a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far, that the spark might flare up again right there in the kitchen, that he was ready for round two, but then he cleared his throat, his lips twitching into a reluctant grin.

“Eat your dinner,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed the sternness, and you knew he was fighting to keep things light.

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet kitchen, and turned your attention to your plate, twirling another bite of noodles. The food was somehow still perfect after being reheated, and you ate slowly, savoring the moment.

Aaron watched you between bites, his gaze soft but intent, like he was memorizing the way you looked – hair mussed, cheeks flushed, completely at ease in his presence. Every now and then, his foot brushed yours under the table, not accidental but not deliberate either, just a quiet reminder that he was there, that this was real.

The minutes stretched on, and the world outside the kitchen ceased to exist. There were no cases waiting, no early morning flights, no weight of responsibility pressing down on either of you. It was just the two of you.

And when you reached for a dumpling at the same time, your chopsticks clashing with a soft clink, you both froze, then laughed.

“You take it,” he said, nudging the dumpling toward you with his chopsticks, his voice soft, his eyes warm with something that looked dangerously like adoration.

You shook your head, pushing it back toward him.

“Split it,” you said, and without waiting for a response, you used your chopsticks to break the dumpling in half, popping your piece into your mouth with a triumphant grin. He watched you, his smile lingering, and for a moment, you could see it, the future, maybe, or at least a version of it. Nights like this, quiet and simple, filled with takeout and laughter and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be felt.

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starset21 · 1 month ago

Text

Plot Twist |IH6|

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x reader

Summery: You’ve been dating Isack for well over a year, and he knows you write fanfiction. What he doesn’t know is that you write fanfiction about him. Using his real name. And one night he finds out.

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: I've seen a few others do this and thought maybe I'd jump on the train here's my first Isack fic <3

You’d always told yourself it wasn’t really lying.

Yes, you were dating Isack Hadjar. And yes, you wrote fanfiction. But it wasn’t like you lied to him about it. You just... never exactly told him what — or who — you were writing about.

It started innocently, before you ever even met. Just a silly crush on a talented, scrappy young driver with a sharp tongue and kind eyes. You wrote a few soft imagines on Tumblr under a fake name, and somehow, it took off.

Then, against all odds, you met. You hit it off. You started dating.

And the fanfic?

Well… it never stopped.

Even after things got serious. Even after you moved in. Even after you started borrowing his hoodies and waking up in his hotel beds, you still wrote your silly little stories about Isack Hadjar and the girl he’d do anything for.

You just didn’t think he’d ever read them.

It happened one quiet Tuesday night. You were back in France between races, curled up on the couch in one of Isack’s oversized Red Bull hoodies, eating cereal straight from the box while he sat beside you, scrolling through his phone. He was quiet — half-watching something on TV, half-dozing off — when a low sound escaped him.

“…Huh.”

You glanced over. “What?”

He tilted his phone toward you, brow raised.

“I just saw a tweet about fanfiction. Someone tagged me in it. Thought it was another thirst edit or something, but…”

Your blood turned to ice.

He tapped the link.

No. No. NO.

There it was. The blog post. Your blog post. A fic you’d published just days earlier — one that had already gained hundreds of reblogs — with the title:

“Stay the Night (Again)” — Isack Hadjar x Reader

He stared at it. Then at you.

You tried to play dumb.

“Huh. People write a lot of fanfiction, right?”

But it was too late.

He opened it. He scrolled.

And when he hit the line where you (well, technically, “reader”) whispered “You’re the only place I feel safe,” in his arms on a Monaco hotel balcony — which you had actually said, in real life, six months ago — he paused.

“Okay,” Isack said slowly. “So this is… incredibly specific.”

You stared ahead, wide-eyed, silently begging for the earth to open up and swallow you.

He turned to face you fully, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Chérie,” he said, voice calm but clearly amused, “you use my real name?”

Your voice came out a full octave higher. “...Define ��real.’”

“Not like… ‘Zack.’ Or ‘an F2 driver who’s definitely not me.’ You wrote ‘Isack Hadjar,’ full name, and then described my hotel room layout and the exact way I kiss you when I’m tired.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands.

“Are you mad?”

He blinked. “I’m… not sure yet.”

“Okay. Valid.”

He kept reading. “Did you write this one before or after we went to Monaco for our anniversary?”

“…After.”

He put the phone down and gave you the flattest look you’d ever seen.

You cringed. “In my defense, it got over 20,000 notes.”

He just stared.

“I said in my defense!”

“You wrote a scene where I give you a back massage after Quali and then say ‘I could win or crash out and you’d still be my favorite feeling in the world.’ I don’t even talk like that.”

“You said something close once!”

He looked absolutely betrayed. “I was half-asleep!”

You groaned again and sank deeper into the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into the throw pillow. “It started before we got together, and I didn’t want to stop. People liked it. It felt like mine. No one knew it was me — or you — not really.”

Isack watched you, expression softening. A beat passed.

“Wait,” he said slowly, voice full of dawning realization. “That NSFW Alphabet one… was that—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

His mouth curled into the most devilish grin you’d ever seen.

“Oh, you wrote that.”

“I hate this timeline,” you muttered, dragging the pillow over your face.

He was already pulling the blog back up.

“‘K is for Kitchen: where he makes you beg quietly because the wall’s too thin.’ That’s literally my apartment!”

You flailed an arm out and smacked his leg. “Stop reading it out loud!”

Isack cackled, holding the phone just out of reach.

“You’re unbelievable,” you groaned.

“I’m flattered, actually,” he said, nudging your knee. “I mean, who needs PR when I’ve got my girlfriend anonymously publishing erotica about me on the internet?”

You peeked out from under the pillow. “So… you’re really not mad?”

He smiled, a little softer this time.

“No. Not mad.”

You bit your lip. “Embarrassed?”

He grinned. “No”

You tilted your head. “Then what?”

“I’m a little… intrigued.”

You blinked. “Intrigued?”

He leaned in. “So let me get this straight: while I’m out here giving interviews and prepping for quali, you’re writing little scenarios about me — using my real name — where I kiss you like we’re in a movie and whisper things in French?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes?”

He smirked. “And these have, what, thousands of readers?”

“...Tens of thousands,” you admitted.

He whistled. “So I’m basically F1’s main character.”

“In the fic world? Kind of, yeah.”

He hummed. “It’s weird. But mostly just because I had no idea. You’re so quiet about it in real life. Meanwhile, online you’ve got me reciting French poetry in the rain and undoing bra straps like I’ve got a degree in it.”

You laughed, cheeks flushed.

“I take creative liberties.”

“You give me main character energy, chérie.”

He paused. Then, eyes twinkling:

“…Can I request a fic where I win in Monaco and we make out behind the podium?”

You gaped at him.

“Are you seriously making fic requests right now?”

He leaned over, resting his forehead against yours.

“Seriously. I want bonus points if I say something emotionally repressed and French.”

You smiled, your heart still pounding.

“Okay. But only if you stop reading the NSFW Alphabet out loud.”

“No promises.”

Later that night, as you curled up in bed together, he scrolled through more of your blog while you tried — and failed — to take his phone away.

“I knew I recognized this dialogue,” he said smugly, showing you a screenshot. “This is word-for-word what I said when I kissed you after that sprint race in Spa.”

“God, you remembered?”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you were going to immortalize it on Tumblr.com.”

You buried your face in his chest and groaned.

“You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He kissed the top of your head, laughing softly.

“I guess this makes me your muse now.”

You sighed dramatically.

“You always were.”

Isack looked down at you, one brow raised.

"Say that again," he murmured.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Say what?”

He leaned in, voice lower now. “That I’m your muse.”

You swallowed. “...You’re my muse.”

He smirked. “And all those scenes — the ones where I can’t keep my hands off you, where I make you forget your own name — those were based on real stuff too, yeah?”

You hesitated. “Some were... inspired.”

You felt his fingers trail along your waist, under the hoodie. Your hoodie. His hoodie.

He dipped his head, brushing a kiss against your collarbone.

��Then let’s make sure your next fic is even more accurate.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“Isack—”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Think you can remember the details, chérie?”

You swallowed, heat pooling under your skin. “Vividly.”

He smiled against your jawline, then lifted you effortlessly into his lap, his hands splayed across your thighs like he already knew the next scene.

And you thought to yourself:

Well. There’s your next chapter.

#starset writes #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #isack hadjar #isack hadjar x reader #isack hadjar x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #isack hadjar imagine #ih6 x you #ih6 x reader

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hellsslibrary · 4 months ago

Note

I don't know if you write for this character but I'll ask anyway, sub! eita otoya 🙏🙏🙏 I luv him and I haven't seen much of him with a male reader 😭

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : this was really hard to write because he's literally my least favorite character??? Sorry, not a fan of playboys and that type of character in general. But it was okay to make fun of him a little, so it's okay.

!!Warnings: dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!Eita, protected sex, the actual plot is that Eita is a closeted gay man and the reader brings him out of it, slow sex (not romantic, just to make his brain work harder), kind of a mixture of praise and humiliation, I'm not sure, hair pulling.

"Oh, just look at you, what a wonderful boy, huh?" you hoot, kissing Eita's temple as your hips slowly and steadily move in and out of his soaking hole.

"Shut up... Just shut up," escapes his lips as he struggles to keep any sounds from escaping his mouth as he claws at the bed linen beneath him.

A smirk grows on your lips as you watch the way his back arches to push his ass closer to you. The way his hair sticks to the sweaty back of his neck. The way his breath hitches with each thrust in just the right place.

He could say whatever he wants, but his body language wasn't lying. Oh no, he absolutely wanted this, wanted to be fucked by you, maybe more. Sure, a guy like him had dozens of girls he'd dated, dumped, cheated on, kissed flying before his eyes. All that, you know? But no, that wasn't the point, not his desire to be noticed. Not now. Right now, he just wanted to make sure you didn't notice the obvious signs of his arousal.

Like the way his precum was staining the sheets beneath him way too much. "But you like it, Eita," he winces when he hears the laugh that escapes your lips, so cruel, almost sadistic, but he knows you don't want to hurt him in any way. Well, maybe just his ego.

"Eita? I'm talking to you," you whisper, sliding your free hand into his hair, then gripping it and pulling his head back, making him let out a strangled wheeze.

His back was pressed against his chest, trying to lower himself back down, feeling the angle of your thrusts increase, but you just held him, stopping his thrusts and making sure your cock was just right.

"Are you going to answer me, doll?"

You ask in that sweet voice that would drip sugar if it were possible. Doll. What the fuck. How many girls has he called that? Probably a lot. Too much, if we're being honest.

He clenched his jaw, trying not to move, to breathe evenly, to just not look at you. Anything. Anything to avoid admitting what he didn't want.

"Something like that..." is a pathetic, almost silent word that escapes his bitten lips, and they press into a thin line when he feels your chest resonate with a giggle.

"Well, that's a small step, I guess?"

Otoya hiccups, feeling your cock start moving again, more sharply, but still just as slowly. He whimpers, throwing his head back onto your shoulder, wanting to lie down again, but you won't give him that privilege, not after he called sex with girls the best thing in the world. But the poor thing probably didn't even do it, and fed it all from sites you know what...

"I'm going to make you scream that you're gay, little one. Got it? You're going to play fucking football with your legs buckled, all the girls are going to look at you and think you're injured, but it's just your fucking guts that's been rebuilt," your lips slide over his ear, biting the lobe and pulling it down just a little, soothing the bite with your tongue.

Your eyes immediately light up when you see his hand reluctantly reaching for his cock, which is practically dripping from your actions. His walls are breaking down, the closet doors are opening wider and someday the whole fucking world is going to know about it. And you're going to be the reason for that.

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amoristt · 5 months ago

Text

closer

「 ✦ thanos / reader / nam-gyu ✦ 」 tags: smut MDNI // afab! reader, DP, mild drxg use, like super mild, no plot lol, light coercion but reader is into it

a/n: when is it my turn im barkingggg i want them so bad theyre gonna have to burn me off w a lighter the way im biting word count: 9.5

・❥・Never in your life had you felt so grateful for something as simple as lukewarm water. Fuck, any water at all that wasn’t ice cold felt like a luxury- your palms collecting the clear liquid before tossing it up to your face. The splashes only offer so much, it’s awkward to bend over the sink to wash yourself, but it’s better than nothing given there don’t seem to be any readily available showers.

Paper towels make shitty loofahs. The hand soap isn’t exactly your favorite fragrance ever. Your tracksuit and t-shirt are slung over a stalls door, and you’re craning your entire spine forward just to wash your upper half. The last game had been so strenuous- you were sure you absolutely reeked.

Man, you miss your shower. If you make it home, you’re going to spend most of the rest of your life under as hot of water as you could get, you think. The ultimate pick-me-up.

Speaking of pick-me-up’s, you wonder if Thanos's would be a kind enough soul to let you bum off some more of this muscle relaxants. You had no idea what the things were, but holy shit, did it knock you off your ass the last time. It was like being made entirely of lead. Every time you shifted positions, you fell into an even comfier spot, the thin mattresses offered to you suddenly about as comfortable as a kings.

You could use some good sleep right about now. Sore, exhausted, and more high-strung than you cared to admit. Thanos and Nam-gyu were always entertaining enough to take some of the edge off. Even when your lives were on the line, they made it hard to take anything too serious at all at all. Or maybe that was the drugs- either way, you were appreciative of their company. Who better to hang around with than friends, right? Long before the games, before you all became a trio of sorts, you’d met them both a handful of times, only when your friend groups would clash because a few people knew a few people who knew a few people.

Thanos was always the center of attention, but he was never outright unkind to you. Notably, he was always particularly focused on you when you were in a giggly mood. You would laugh at all his jokes, even the shitty ones, with a drink in hand. He ate it up- worked overtime to keep you around- you made him feel like he was the funniest man alive.

Nam-gyu worked at the club you both frequented at and he came to be as equally as interested in your friend. He hung around your table, they chatted endlessly on about some online currency thing most times, and you’d zone out all too easily. Other times, your favorite times, Nam-gyu would sneak you all into a private lounge and share some of his spoils he’d come across. They took drugs like water, you always chose the bottle, instead.

Friday’s would blur into sunday evenings before you could even really get a grapple on what was going on. You’d wake up in hotel rooms with them both strewn about, sleeping in all sorts of positions. It was fun. It was really fun, in a wreckless, manic type of way. You never understood why they kept you around, but you didn’t question it, either. Why question when you could just enjoy. Why question when you could just enjoy?

When you’d found them among the crowd on day one, it was like the planets had realigned. Actually, you hadn’t even been the first to notice. You just heard your name shouted over the crowd and suddenly someone was slamming into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A blur of purple hair and green tracksuits.

You aren’t sure you’d have made it as far as you had if not for your buddies. You try not to think about it too much- you’d hate to ruin your own vibe as lives come to end all around you. It was the first time you’d ever taken something from Thanos- a muscle relaxant that really took the anxieties away.

Dipping your head into the sink and rinsing your face once more, you don’t bother looking up when you hear the door push open and then click shut. You’re too focused on how the water is warm enough, and you don’t stink to the high heavens any longer.

A man’s voice cuts through the silence, echoes off the tile walls.

“Woah.”

You rip your head from the sink so fast it almost nails the faucet on your way up, alarm flashing through you, arms coming to cover your chest only clad in your bra. When you manage to process the not only one, but two men standing before you, you feel anger bubbling in your chest.

Low and behold, speak of the devils.

“What the fuck!” You hiss, tightening your arms around your chest.

Thanos’s hands are tucked into his pockets casually, and he looks around the bathroom with his brows raised, like he wasn’t sure what to expect out of the women's bathroom. Nam-gyu tails him but passes by after offering you a snarky grin. In your relief that you knew the two souls invading your space, you almost forgot the fact that you were naked from the waist up.

“You seriously scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Thanos hummed, putting his hands up to his chest mockingly. He moves like he’s light on air, but his eyes never leave you.

You turn on your heel and grab your shirt from its spot over the stall door, throwing it on quickly. In the mirror, you don’t miss the way Thanos’s eyes drink you in, but you do miss the way Nam-gyu is almost seeming to scout the girls room, checking under the doors and pushing stalls open.

“What are you guys doing in here? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble.”

Thanos scoffs. “Trouble. It was crazy boring out there.”

Nam-gyu sighs dramatically, snaking up beside the taller male. “And you’ve been in here forever. We thought maybe something happened to our buddy.”

You actually laugh at that. He’s said that before- and this isn’t the first time your friends have barged into the women's bathroom in search of you. Usually at clubs, they’d be pushed and shoved out by other women, but right now there’s no one to chastise them for being irritants.

“My heroes. I’m definitely doing fine. Buuut…” You trail off in a hum, eyeing your purple haired friend. He raises a brow again. “You got more of what you had me take? Not the crazy shit, obviously, whatever the white one was from the other night.”

“Why? You stressed?” He rocks back and forth on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. You can’t help but stare at him, incredulous.

“Yeah, I’m stressed. All this game shit is starting to get under my skin.”

“Yo, you’re not voting no are you?” Gam-gyu is already touching you. So clingy, all the time, thin fingers petting and pressing on your shoulders any chance he could get. At any point it seemed like he was tugging on you from somewhere.

“No, I’m just saying I could use some relief.”

He slips behind you, hands on your shoulders. Your friends are trading looks that you can’t quite place, this unspoken vibe that you’re clearly not tuned into. Something thicker settles between all three of you, as does your confusion. They were up to something- you knew it. You knew them like the back of your hand.

Thanos is jostling the necklace around to sort through all the colors. Eventually he settles on one and he hands it over. The entire time he’s searching for it, Nam-gyu is still standing along your back, the heat of him palpable. Consistent. He’s always exuded heat like a furnace.

Thanos pulls his necklace from his shirt and pops the cross shaped case open. Plucking out a small white pill, he eyes it before flashing it in your vision. You brighten up at the sight, but he’s quick to take a step back when you reach out.

“What is it?”

“Hm… I’m just thinking. You know, I give you a couple of these, but what do I get in return?”

That stops you, your eyes narrowing just enough to notice, subtle suspicion settling over your features.

“Uh… What do you want, I guess…?”

Thanos eyes glance around the room as he thinks, before they settle on you. They’re different. A bit darker, a flame of mischievousness to those irises. Not a look you’ve never seen before, but certainly not a look you expected to be directed at you of all people.

“How about… a kiss.”

There you go, laughing again. Now that was certainly a first. When you have your little giggle and straighten back up, you see that Thanos doesn’t find his request even slightly as funny as you do. He’s staring at you with his expression of expectancy, so much so that it makes you raise a brow.

“For real?”

He jingles his necklace, the pills rattling around audibly. There’s no way he’s serious. But he looks serious. He was a flirt to his very core, you knew that a fact to be true, but ever since you’d left the ‘cutie in his friend group’ category and slipped into the boundaries of being his genuine friend, he hadn’t made any advances.

Maybe this was some sort of test, because he’s still not budging. If he is serious, well… You can’t exactly say you’d mind a little peck. He was handsome- they both were. With cool, untouchable attitudes to match. Fun, fun, fun, and the rare times they had to look out for you, they were as reliable as concrete.

If you hadn’t developed such a bond with them- not quite something like siblings, but not of lesser importance either, you’d have been all over the idea. Now you have to put thought into it, tread more carefully than you’d like.

You decide, though, fuck it. If he’s to be the fisher, then suppose you’ll be the fish that bites.

“Sure. Why not.”

They both trade looks again. Quick, only in a flash, but you catch it. Nam-gyu’s thumbs rub circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and for some reason it makes your breath catch in your chest. There’s a strange energy about them. Something charged, determined. Every move is calculated with some end goal in their minds.

“Here.”

A strange pang of disappointment rings through you, though, when Thanos plants the little pill in your palm- you had kinda hoped he’d kiss you, after all. But oh well. You knew he was just clowning around- he always was. You always had turned his meaningless flirts down, maybe he was trying to see what you’d do in the name of drugs, or something like that. You feel prickly heat on your cheeks- embarrassment.

You wish you had turned him down now, too, kind of feeling like an idiot.

The pill is just as bitter on your tongue now as it had been the first time, a grimace playing over your lips as the texture bursts into a gritty chalk-like powder dancing over your tastebuds. You had about five minutes before it’d start kicking in.

“Jesus, that taste is so fucking na-”

You’re cut off by Thanos pressing his lips firmly against your own. It’s sudden, it’s intrusive. His hand is firmly cupping your jaw and the other is resting on the pulse of your neck. It pushes you back against Nam-gyu roughly, and his hands come to grasp at your forearms from behind you, continuing to rub circles into your skin. Your own hands come up instinctively, planting on Thanos’s shoulders.

There’s heat flooding your cheeks, heat flooding down to your chest and out to your ears. Worsened, a flame so fiery hot it scorches, when Thanos tilts his head to deepen the kiss even further, his hands keeping you flush against him. Nam-gyu’s sliding his hands from your arms down to the curve of your waist, feeling the shape of you through your t-shirt. You shiver, electricity rippling up and down your spine in body shivering shudders.

When Thanos splits from you, your mind reeling, there’s fingers replacing his grip on your jaw almost immediately, making you face over your shoulder. Another set of lips overtake yours, tongue lapping into your parted lips, pushy and demanding. Thanos’s kiss wasn't especially apprehensive, but it wasn’t like this. Nam-gyu kisses you like he owns you, fervent and sloppy and noisy.

There’s a string of spit bridging you when he pulls away, watches you gape at him, breathless and flushed. You’re stammering, unsure of what to say next.

“What- what the fuck-”

“You are so beautiful.” Thanos interrupts again you by running a hand through your hair, nails gently scratching along your scalp. It’s not the first time he’s ever said it, but there’s something different now. Passionate. Like he really means it this time, and not some off-handed flirt that was easy to swat away.

You’re blushing a raging red, your heart pounding in your chest- you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore. He takes them for you in his own, long fingers stroking over your knuckles before he dragged your right hand up to his lips and places kisses along your knuckles. Over the top, up your wrist. Up to your forearm and then only stopping when your t-shirt blocked away your smooth skin. Nam-gyu brushes hair from your neck and buries his face into the cradle of you, breathes you in, his hands still squeezing gently on your hips.

“What’s going on…?” You chirp, eyes falling half lidded.

“You tell us.” Nam-gyu murmurs against you, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver in, you realize, pure delight. You feel a weight start to settle in your cheeks, your head starting to feel just a little bit heavier than before to hold up on your neck.

The drugs are kicking in just in time, your shoulders slumping, a content sigh leaving your lips. Opening yourself up to them, head lolling to the side to give Nam-gyu more of your collar. He takes, greedy, excited, and presses a smile into your jugular.

This was calculated. This was planned. And fuck, it’s working.

“I don’t know.” You say. But you do know. And you know you’re clearly enjoying it- already wet between your legs and feeling the roll of anticipation settle in your belly.

The anxieties start to ebb away, and Thanos is watching your every micro expression with blown pupils. You watch him from under your thick lashes, lips swollen, your breath leaving you in shallow pants. It beckons him, draws him in for another kiss.

Thanos is the one who finally decides to stop beating around the bush. He breaks your second kiss to touch your face, one hand caressing down your cheeks, the other brushing stray strands of hair away from your eyes. He’s beautiful- he’s always been beautiful.

“You want more?”

You swallow. “Drugs? Or…”

He traces his thumb over your lower lip. “...Or.”

Yes, you do. Fuck yes. But for some reason you can’t say it outloud- this weird, nagging feeling that surely comes from some insecurities buried among the skeletons in your closet, that this is all some cruel prank. That if you say yes, really give in to them, they’ll leave you high and dry, laughing all the way back to their beds outside. You’d never live it down. It would change everything.

“...Are you being serious…?” You have to ask, even if you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable, clenching on nothing when strikes of need course through you.

There is no laughter. Just excited, aroused breathing all around in the silence. Nam-gyu squeezes you once more, fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes that are suddenly much, much too warm to be under.

“Seriously.” Thanos murmurs, and then he finds your lips again. Kisses exhilaration into you like a drug of its very own. You let him in, lean forward and hum a sweet little sound into his mouth. He pulls back again, and there’s those expectant eyes again. He’s being genuine, they both are, their hands and their eyes and their mouths unable to leave you for even a moment.

“Let’s have some fun, yeah?” Nam-gyu breathes, and you shiver. His fingers dip below the thin fabric of your t-shirt, barely brushing his calloused fingers over your skin, and it’s enough to light you up with goosebumps and desire. You can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body now, from your head all the way down to your aching cunt.

Yeah. Let’s have some fun.

The moment you nod, it’s the green light they’d been waiting for- hoping for.

Your shirt is gone in a matter of seconds, Thanos making quick work to pull it over your head and toss it over the wall of the nearest stall. Before you even get the chance to cover yourself, exposed in the bathroom before them all over again, you’re being walked backwards, pushed gently by the front when Thanos kisses you fervently- like he can’t get enough of you. Like everytime he breaks away he’s just waiting for his chance to find your lips again. You’re sore with him, kiss-drunk and willing. The world disappears behind the stall, and all else disappears except for them.

Nam-gyu backs up to the wall, keeps you in front of him, sandwiched between their bodies. His hand slips under your bra and he kneads your breast with one hand, the other wrapping around your waist, keeping you pinned against his warm, warm body. When his thumb flicks over your nipple, you jump with a sharp gasp. Thanos groans an equally as delighted sound against you, doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you the chance to have second thoughts.

Gentle pinches and tugs make you whimper, forced to break Thanos’s kiss when you’re overwhelmed with the need for air. You suck in greedy breaths, a sound that raises into a high keen when there’s suddenly pressure flattened right where you needed it between your legs. Thanos’s palm is grinding against your sex through your sweats, your hands clutching against his jacket in need of purchase.

“I knew you’d sound cute.” Nam-gyu harps, grinning into your hair.

You wonder when they’d planned this. Initially you had figured it was a fuck it, why not scenario- after all, tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. But the little comments like that, like this was something they’d thought about before, tells you otherwise. It makes you even hotter. Fuck, if you had known, you would have been on it. Especially if it felt like this.

Your head tips back, resting against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, and he makes quick work of nipping at your throat. Thanos is all kisses, but you’re finding the other male is mostly teeth, biting and grazing along the sensitive flesh of your neck. Thanos adds just a bit of pressure, just enough to make you moan again, the sound like music to their waiting ears. You’re quickly dissolving into a squirming mess of sultry cries and ember-hot skin.

Your bra is next up on the chopping block. It’s actually shocking it’s taken this long, Nam-gyu growing impatient with the idea of touching, but not seeing. When it’s pulled away, the cold air meets you, makes you shiver, exposed. Now it’s getting real- you’re entirely bare from the waist up, panting in front of them like a present begging to be unwrapped.

“So fucking hot,” Thanos coos, feeling you, bouncing between catching your sensitive nipples in his fingers and easing his palm against your sex. You need more- you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it through your clothes, now, hips rocking, begging for more. He drops to his knees in front of you.

“Woah-” You clam up, tensing, and Nam-gyu lifts his head so he could see what your sudden fuss was about. Thanos freezes, his fingers caught and hooking over your sweats. You swallow hard and squirm. “I mean- You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t… Want me to?” He’s actually taken aback that you’re stopping him, clearly worried about cold feet coming into the picture. You stammer again.

“Well-, Not like, I don’t want you to, but that’s… I don’t know.”

He leans back on his heels, tilting his head. “So you do want me to.”

You’re under the spotlight, frozen, floundering. They’re exchanging glances from over your shoulder. Fuck- you don’t want this to stop but you’re nervous at the thought of him eating you out. You force out, “I-I just- I’m embarrassed.”

Thanos gapes at you. “Embarrassed?”

You can’t bear to look at him in the eyes anymore, nerves getting the better of you.

Fuck, you want more drugs. Anything to get away from this random bout of insecurities that seemed to jump you out of the blue. Or maybe it was the sobering reality that was your good, good friend about to be face to face with your cunt.

Nam-gyu drags his hands along your sides, makes you shiver, before they settle on your breasts again. He grasps you, rolls your sensitive buds between his fingers. He’s trying to break you out of your funk, you know it, and it’s starting to work. Reminding you how good this feels, how they’ve been all over you like drooling hounds to scent from the moment you’d invited them into yourself.

“Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He whispers in your ear. You’re inclined to listen, even if it takes a few extra beats of silence.

“Okay.”

Thanos’s eyes light up. He leans forward. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He’s quick to drag your pants down, takes great care to bring your underwear with them, into a pool around your ankles before tugging them away all together. When you lift your left leg to step out, he catches you by the thigh and hikes it over his shoulder, your other leg supporting your weight. You’re spread open and he’s eyeing your sex like a wolf eyes a cornered rabbit. Hungry, primal. He doesn't let you develop those worries this time, wastes no time before butting his tongue up against your slit and licking a broad, deep stripe.

A high, blissful sound escapes your lips. Something like a mewl, but from somewhere deep in your chest. It’s lewd, it’s downright pornographic, and it’s making Nam-gyu groan into your neck while Thanos’s eyes slip shut. Every lick makes you jump, every prod of his tongue against your lonely clit a cause for squirming. If Nam-gyu’s arm wasn’t wrapped around your waist, crushing you against him, you would have crumbled into a heaping mess.

“God, you’re such a fucking babe.” He murmurs in your ear, a taunt to his tone. “You’ve wanted this bad, huh?”

You did want it. You wanted it so bad that you’re already dripping with your own slick, Thanos devours you like the finest of fruit. He’s ravenous, hungry, sucking on your clit and spreading you open with his fingers until all you can do is wheeze out sharp cries. You can’t do anything to slow him down, urge him deeper, stuck in place and expected to do nothing else but let them have you.

“Look at that,” Nam-gyu’s voice again in your ear, you can hear his grin. “You're soaking his face already.”

It’s too much. You can’t lock eyes with him- you can barely even stand the sight of him buried between your legs on its own, let alone locking eyes when he's making all these obscene, salacious sounds, drunk on your slick. But then the male behind you grabs your chin and he makes you look and he whispers dirty, downright bawdy things in your ear that make you shake in his unrelenting grip.

When Thanos’s eyes flick up to find yours, you whine and bury your hand in his hair. He moans against you, letting his eyes fall shut again, reveling in the way you tugged and clawed. You’re covered by them, covered by hands and kisses, losing any and all sense of prudence. These wanton, needy sounds are slipping past your lips and you can’t seem to stop them. It’s all so good, pleasure from every angle.

Your orgasm is quiet, but it rocks you to your very core. This rippling, climbing tantamount of pleasure that bursts into fiery roars of euphoria fluttering under your skin. Head tossed back against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, scrabbling for purchase on his arm around your waist, you cum and cum and cum until it feels like you’re never going to find your way back down.

If you’d been soaked before, you were downright drenched now, and Thanos couldn’t have been happier. He’s greedy, clutches your twitching hips so you can’t jump away from his mouth when he drinks you in until you’re writhing to get away from it. When he finally pulls away, he laps another wet kiss onto your clit for good measure, and then another for the road. And then one more, one more just for good luck.

“Holy shit,” Nam-gyu chuckles against your hair. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

Thanos kisses up from your thighs to your abdomen, up to your breasts, where he finds his mouth busy once more latching onto a nipple and earning another bout of whimpers. You lurch back, wiggly and restless, but you can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped, cornered. It’s perfect.

You’re suddenly hoisted into the air, hands gripping into your thighs and ass. Your back presses weight against Nam-gyu’s front, and instinctively, you wrap your legs around Thanos’s waist for support. They’ve got you sandwiched in between their bodies even more now, your weight entirely supported by their grasps, the soft fabric of their tracksuits brushing against you with every shift. Occasionally, there’s a sharp chill of cold along your back, the zipper brushing against your heated skin.

There’s a quiet, rustling of fabric that reaches your ears over the incessant pounding of your heart rate, and when you look, you feel your stomach roll. Thanos is shimmying his pants down to his mid thighs, and you watch with eager eyes as his cock springs free from its confines. His tip is red and angry with need, precum glistening under the overhead light. It makes you clench of nothing, suddenly realizing how empty you feel, how he could fill you up so perfectly.

When he settles between your legs again, he tests the waters, drags his tip along your slit, knocking it against your clit. You jerk your hips against him, trying to urge him in without outright telling him. He’s a good listener- doesn't make you wait and agonize, doesn't even make you beg for it. Just lines his shaft up with your entrance and lets out a shaky, eager breath. He doesn’t wait for an okay. He doesn’t need one. Not when you’re driving your heel into his lower back and biting at your lip in anticipation.

You’re so drenched that he’s inside of you all the way to the hilt in one move. You go from uncomfortably empty to suddenly bracing the impalement, your walls fluttering and sucking him in, drawing these deep guttural groans from both of your throats. His hands are squeezing your ass, nails barely catching the skin. He certainly feels thicker than he looks, snug inside of your gummy walls.

“Damn,” English meets your ears, low and sultry as you wrap your arms around his neck. “So fucking wet.”

“Take her.” Nam-gyu says, and before you know it, your weight has shifted onto Thanos almost entirely. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen slithers away, and then you feel it. The unmistakable, undeniable feeling of Nam-gyu’s erection pressing flush to your occupied slit. He’s so hard it must hurt, breathing heavy against your neck, a fever growing within him. And he’s bigger- you can tell, thicker. Thanos’s cock twitched inside of you, reminds you that you already feel full. You still, the sudden dawning realization that they’re both going to take you temporarily yanking you from your haze of euphoria.

“You gonna be able to take it?” Thanos can sense the change in you. He always does, his eyes seem to never leave you.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, because quite honestly, you don’t know. You don’t know if you could house both of their swollen cocks within the confines of your cunt. You’re trying to even your breathing, to relax around him, but it’s hard when Nam-gyu knocks his length along your sex once again. He’s trying to wait- but patience has never been one of his virtues. But he does it for you, does it because he wants this more than anything in his entire life. And he wants it done right.

Thanos rocks himself into you, sets you alight once more, lighting little sparks behind your eyelids. Reminding you, again, that they’re going to take care of you. Chirping, mewling little sounds pass your lips every time he does, spurs them both on, especially Nam-gyu, who butts his cock up against your slit one more time before he presses inside with a hiss.

It’s an impossibly tight fit. Your chest heaves, your body tenses, your heart is beating so rapidly you’re afraid it may burst any time now. There’s hands all over you, soothing you, toying with you, rubbing circles into your clit and catching your nipples between the pads of their fingers. The first inch of Nam-gyu manages a path inside your pussy. You tense with every fiber of your being, this searing, rippling burn forcing you to toss your head back with a dying yelp on your lips. It hurts- it hurts more than you thought it would, and you knew with certainty you’d be struggling. He won’t fit- he can’t fit, there’s no way the size of you could accommodate them both. But he continues anyway, forces another inch inside of you.

The stretch is unbelievable. You can’t cope

There’s hands petting down your hair, lips on your cheek, trying to kiss and lick and sooth you.

“Quiet, it’s okay.” Your ears are swimming, you can barely hear Thanos’s voice over the crashing waves beating along your eardrums. You whimper a pitiful noise- one that makes him shift your weight onto Nam-gyu’s iron grip. Your eyes are screwed shut so tight you’re unsure if they'll ever open again. Something pokes against your lips- fingers, you realize, slipping inside your warm mouth and dragging along your tongue. You’re so lost, swirling, you just let them explore you.

“You’re so pretty, baby, let me help you.” He hums, and that reaches you just fine. Another wave of red hot blush creeps over your cheeks as if having both of their cocks jointed in the cavern of your cunt wasn’t enough before. Chest swelling, leaning into his fingers collecting your drool and prying your mouth open for him, like an obedient dog.

A bitter, sharp taste explodes over your tongue.

Try as you might to rip your head back, retching, Nam-gyu’s holding you up so Thanos’s other hand has got you by the back of your head and he’s shoving that terrible taste to the very back of your throat until you're gagging it down. His voice is so sweet in your ears, sickly so, faux honey tipped words that reach you in cooing there you go’s.

“How much-” You gag with the taste of the pill still drifting down into your stomach. “How much was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. I got you.” And his broad hands are back onto your body, supporting and dragging you against him, burying his face in your neck, lapping the smooth skin there.

You trust him. You trust both of them, even when they give you every reason not to. And so, let them handle it all for you. To take care of you. In return they ravage you, take and pull anything they can get their hands on, stuck somewhere between treating you like the finest of china

whilst simultaneously brutalizing you at every turn. This precious, pliable, breakable, but oh so usable thing at their very fingertips.

At the very least, Nam-gyu hasn’t continued trying to bulldoze his swollen cock into you, not yet. He’s giving you the chance to relax, to let him have you.

This round of drugs takes as quick of effect as the first, and you can feel it starting in your back before all else, this overtaking, tranquilizing sooth that works to pacify your tense muscles. It spreads to your face, your arms, your thighs and your legs, like a flood slowly rising until you’re soggy and heavy in their arms. Your head lolls forward on your shoulders, your brain grows foggier by the second. Their heartbeats are in tandem- or perhaps, it’s just your own, pulsating through every nerve in your being.

The drugs are helping, you think, or you really are starting to enjoy the way you’re being lanced in two. It’s hard to think at all anymore, all you can really do is feel and pant and try not to cry anymore than you already have. As the seconds tick by, you’re still lucid enough to know a glaring fact- they’re going to gut you with this. But you’re starting to lose the ability to care and you aren’t sure if that’s entirely a good thing or not.

In that moment, however, it was bliss. Painful and scorching, but all euphoric consuming bliss.

There isn’t enough space for them between your legs, but they carve it out anyways, shape and mold you around their cocks. Nam-gyu pushes in again, and you wrench around them, gasping out high noises in the back of your throat. He stills- there isn’t enough room like this. Even being so soaked that there’s this audible, obscene wentess to your cunt as he makes his way inside, there’s simply not enough room. Not with Thanos already buried so tightly inside of you, snug and occupying. Your fingers grip anywhere they can get- their arms, their shoulders, desperate for something to cling to in your woes.

“I don’t think she can-” Nam-gyu groans when you squeeze around them mid sentence, and even with just half of his length sheathed inside of you, it’s fucking tight. He can’t even move, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “M’ not gonna fit.”

Your weight is tossed back to Nam-gyu, your head tipping back, and he kisses your cheek again, breathes hot pants against your trembling skin. Thanos shifts inside of you, just enough to draw out urgent moans from all three of your throats. He’s so snug inside of you that it’s almost seamless, you can’t tell where he begins, where you end. That felt fucking good, whatever he had done. Your walls flutter around them, clenching, sucking them both in despite your qualms. Thanos resettles his grip, the weight redistributed.

“Just-” His voice is strained, coming out in quick huffs. “Just do it.” Thanos ducks his head to find your eyeline, this pseudo, eager concern on his knit brows and pleading eyes. “You can take it, right?”

All you can do is nod, even though you’re still sure that this will kill you.

Nam-gyu jumps you just a bit, hoists you up just an inch or so higher so he could get a better grip on around your waist while his other arm snakes up your face so he could touch your face. Small tears are biting at your waterlines, you’re weightless and heavy all at once, on fire from the very core of your being, terrorizing you from the inside out. He kisses your cheek again before his palm finds your chin.

“Don’t scream, don’t scream.” He covers your mouth, stifles all your frantic little noises, in preparation for what came next.

In one single thrust, he bottoms out inside of you. You do scream- a high wail against his palm that still echoes off the stall walls even muffled. Fire spears you, you’re wrenching around them as if it’s going to help ease the flame. You go nowhere. You can do nothing except cry into his hand and accommodate them. There’s no other choice.

Buried to the very base of his cock, Nam-gyu’s groaning against the back of your head, a hiss dying on his lips every time you squirm and vice around them. Thanos mirrors him, grunting at the friction, the unbelievable feeling of being stuffed into something so warm and so soft. You’re so full- you’re too full, filled to the very brim, wall to wall, crevice to crevice. Stuffed so deeply you can feel them in your fucking throat.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Frantic english meets you but you can barely register it. Nam-gyu’s hand leaves your lips, and the moment cool air meets your lips, you’re choking out sobs somewhere between erotic pleasure in its rawest form and the genuine pain of feeling as though you were being ripped in two. You’re struggling, tensing in all the wrong places. They’re heavy inside of you, both of their intrusive beings splitting you in half. Taking you, ruining you. All the while your walls are putting in the work, clamping down, rolling waves of squeezes that have them struggling to focus. A vice so wet and plush that it truly does seem like you were built for this- built to take them, painfully for not.

Thanos is trying to keep you at bay, trying to pet down your face and ease those lines in your expression brought on agonizing, brutal pleasure.

“Fucking- so fucking tight,” Nam-gyu, however, isn’t trying. Not at all. “Holy shit, baby, can’t even breathe-“

Since the very beginning he’s been desperate to have you on his cock, waiting for the moment he could sink into your heat long before you’d let them kiss and lick and bite you, corner you, feel your soft skin underneath all those dreadful clothes. Long before he followed Thanos into the women's room, and long before the games were even a thought at all. And now that he’s finally got you, he’s out of his mind with it. He’s ramrod straight and terribly hard, damn near pulsating inside of you, crushing you against his chest. The hand that was once stifling you is now gripping marks into the flesh of your under thigh- but you’re slipping, just barely. Just enough for him to have to jump his hips to have you properly held in his grip. It rips a cry from you, the burn clawing and tearing from within all over again.

There’s not enough space. They’re killing you.

“Take it easy, this is a lot.” Thanos’s brows are knit, he adjusts himself and slips in just a little further. Such a small action but it sends riveting electricity up and down your spine. It’s enough to draw yet another whimper from your sore lips, and he coo’s at you, at least tries to act like he isn’t getting off on your pathetic noises.

Their lust dark, greedy beasts, drooling and starved with prey backed into a corner fit for the taking.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Nam-gyu tries to sound like he’s apologetic but it falls flat in comparison. Mostly because you can feel him grinning, feel him tighten his grip. His breath is a quick ghost over the shell of your ear. “Taking it so well, though, fuck.”

“Oh god.” You’re crying again- not entirely out of pain. It’s overwhelming, they're all over you, their voices are swimming around the fishbowl of you skull and they sound so sweet but they’re devouring you whole and tearing you into bits. There’s another nudge inside of you that's making your stomach roll- you still can’t decide if this hurts too bad or it’s so fucking good that it’s almost blinding. The noise that leaves you certainly sounds pleased, however, and Nam-gyu groans in response, an instinctive carnal reply.

“That’s it, that’s it. Feels good, right?” You can hear his smile in his words, your face is red hot with all the attention, and the tears, and the mind numbing rapture of it all.

“We’ll take care of you baby, just-” Thanos hisses, struggling to get the words out. “Just say the word.”

You’ve got them teetering on the fine line of wanting and waiting, craving the slick and lushious feel of your walls writhing against their cocks, ready to take you and break you and fuck you. Thanos tries to be patient, or at least act like he’s patient, but you can see how he’s grappling with it. You’re stuck, held fast in the chains of their arms and strong hands, and he knows he could just take you like this and you couldn’t stop him. But he wants to wait, he wants to hear you sing, and he wants to hear you cry and cum for him, and forcing you wasn’t the road to that destination.

Something urged you to wrap your arms around his neck and drag him down for a kiss he’s all too eager for, clashing teeth and pressing into your mouth so intensely he’s pushing your head back against his friend's shoulder with the force of it. And while you’re distracted, scrambling to keep up with the ferocity of him, Nam-gyu decides to take a gamble. He rocks his hips just enough for you to feel that tight, tight pressure against your cervix where he lays. Pleasure lights up within you like a spark that soars from the very depths of your cunt all the way to the behinds of your eyes, and you constrict around them.

This longing, aching keen leaves you and plants itself against Thanos’s lips, he's quick to grasp your jaw in his fingers and swallow the sound like fine wine. You hadn’t expected it to feel this good already, this glorious thrum of heaven that makes you arch and press into the feeling for more. Your walls are clutching, dragging them in, your brain is choosing to ignore the burn in favor of the racing pleasure vibrating through your core.

Thanos breaks away from your kiss to lick up your neck, and you finally get the chance to whimper, please.

The beasts close in on their prey, snarling and snapping, catching its little body between their teeth.

Thanos, with his face buried in your neck and his hands shaking as they clutchy you, draws back just far enough to kiss your stretched slit with the tip of his swollen head before he’s driving himself back inside of you. Fuck, you could scream all over again at the spread, but instead all that escapes you is hoarse cries. Nam-gyu presses his forehead against the back of your hair and breathes you in, readies himself. You don’t even get the full length of a second to prepare before you’re ravaged.

He moves quick- hard, with the hiss of fuck on his lips. He’s been waiting and waiting and waiting and you’re so soaked around his cock that it’s dripping onto his legs, how could he ever stop himself from gripping you in his mighty claws and fucking you like an animal. He’s drawing himself to the tip and forcing his way back inside at a speed you can’t keep up with, and he’s making all these guttural lewd grunts into your ear that make you even wetter, somehow, even slicker. You’re sucking them in and constricting around their lengths like you’re trying to keep them buried within the confines of your body forever.

“Oh my god,” Thanos is chirping out mixtures of english and korean, all words lost on you, his eyes slipping shut as he takes his time properly fucking you. He’s slower than Nam-gyu for sure, but the way he rocks his hips against you is making you squirm, toes curling, fingers grabbing hard into his tracksuit for some sort of desperate need of release. His cock is mapping you out, becoming familiar with every ridge and valley of your softness, seeking out the entirety of you and the perfect curve of his dick is hitting spots that have you barking out yips of ecstasy.

Nan-gyu changes his angle and you can’t take it. There isn’t a slow thing about him. He fucks you like he’s been dying for it, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, savage and wild, so fervent and profound that it’s making you see stars. He’s a little longer than Thanos- but only just a little, just enough for him to pound away at your cervix while you’re stuck folded and taut in his iron grip, damn near bouncing on his length. Wet squelches and the undeniable slap of skin on skin thicken the humidity between your bodies until it’s hard to breathe between the thickness and the rapid beat of pleasures sweeping through you in pulses.

You’re crying out broken little sounds that either die in your throat or find their way lost in all the hazy noise and he’s echoing you, telling you dirty, dirty things in your flushed ears, how you’re so fucking tight, how perfect and wet you are for him.

Someone- you can’t even figure out who anymore, finds your lonely clit under their fingers, rubbing quick and slick circles into the sensitive nub. Your thighs clamp down around Thanos’s waist but he’s too broad to offer any reprieve, your eyes slipping shut, head tossed back. It’s escapable- they’re inescapable, and their uneven tempos are making you see blank- a sheet of veneer white sparks you can feel with every pop. There’s no air left in your lungs, there’s so much pressure between your legs that you fear you may burst.

There’s a certain moment when you’re right on the edge. This perfect moment when you’re right there and then you’re rolling through it in convulsing waves. All the stars align, the inferno stoking within you suddenly becomes this roaring wildfire swallowing you whole. You’re at that peak, focused on nothing but the endless stream of slurred words and the feeling of being stuffed to the very brim, no singular spot of your leaking pussy left abandoned.

“You gonna’ cum?” Nam-gyu’s voice barely even registers with you when you first hear it. He’s still got you taking him in pistoning jerks of his hips, bullying himself into your poor, swollen sex. You don’t exactly try to nod, but the way you’re being pounded is making it all too easy to. Just a little more…

It’s not Nam-gyu pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit- no, his free hand is right back to grasping at your face, roughly flattening your hair back out of your face and keeping your expression on full display. Not quite pulling, but ensuring your head doesn’t leave its spot pressed against his shoulder.

“That’s it, fuck, lemme’ see you cum.” You’re twisting in his grip, drooling and babbling please, please, please, and the fucker is laughing at you between carnal grunts. He’s hissing and groaning against your cheek like you’ve made him feral.

“Come on, baby.” There’s another voice- Thanos’s, it’s reaching through the fog of lust and sultry cries, fishing you out of your own head and lulls you into a messy, heated kiss. You’ve gotten familiar with these lips now, familiar with the taste and the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips until you’re panting breathy cries against his taste buds. His fingers, you’ve realized, speed up their assault on your clit.

Anything anyone says after that point is lost on you.

If not for his lips on your own, you’d have outright screamed when you finally tipped over that edge. It’s everything, it’s everywhere. It’s in your eyes and your mouth, it’s in your toes and fingertips, it’s racing in colliding atoms up and down the length of your spine.

The sheer shove and weight of their cocks pushing and grinding raw friction into you, impossibly deep, their grips holding you in place, you’re in a damn chokehold. Can see nothing, can hear nothing. Can only feel, and feel, and feel that pressure having snapped and unfurled into blooming pleasure that takes root within the very core of your being.

You’re squeezing them, a torrent of slurry drenching and spilling around their shafts. Pulling, dragging, you’re clamping around them in pendulum pulses. It’s knocking the wind from their lungs, drawing out all the air in a slew of chest rumbling groans and teeth-whistling hisses. You’re delicious on it- blissed out and fucked and still being fucked with reckless abandon.

Nam-gyu bites and licks red into your neck, little specks turned into welts just above where your tracksuit collar reaches, the asshole. But he’s lucky- you’re so spent and raw and limp in their arms that you aren’t even registering it. That’s a problem for later, right now you’re too focused on how they’re both so damn heavy inside you, swollen intrusions that twitch for release everytime they drag along your plushy walls.

“Shit.” Thanos is gripping wounds into your thighs, hips stuttering, fighting his own release. You’re too warm, too perfect and tight around him, he doesn’t want this to end- not yet. Not when he’s got you just where he wants you. His head is falling on his shoulders, chest shaking with his stuttering breaths. “Slow down, slow down. Make it last.”

Nam-gyu listens. Kind of. For good measure he bucks up and slams himself as far as he’ll reach before he finally settles and breathes heavy pants against your collarbone.

“Slow down, man, fuck.”

“Can't help it, feels so good.” Tongue lapping over your jaw, cruel laughter grazing your skin in huffs. “Look at you. You feel good, baby? Hm?”

You’re still reeling from your orgasm, still riding out the aftershocks. Some strangled whimper-like sound leaves you, he’s laughing at you again, finds everything you do something worth a reaction. He kisses the marks he’s littered on your throat. Shivering and trembling, you’re blitzing on the borderline of over and under stimulation while they’re suspended inside of you. There’s a sense within you, something filthy and needy, that’s so insatiable, unsatisfied until they’ve had their fill with you. Or, perhaps, until you’ve been properly filled with them.

Thanos presses his forehead against yours. “See? I said we’d take care of you.”

“Feels- I’m-...” You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “I’m so full.”

Nam-gyu groans against your jaw. Your voice has this gravitational pull to him, like he leans on every word, or feels the primal need to meet you at the end of every noise you make. That same primal need also crosses him when you suddenly grind into him, feels the urge to find you halfway and kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick in a sharp buck. It rips a shrill sound from your throat, his tongue tasting the vibrations on your skin. Wet kisses dot your chin before they’re on the corner of your mouth, and then taking over your lips entirely.

Nimble fingers pinch and knead your clit, sliding through your swollen folds before showering the sensitive nub with attention. Thanos doesn’t wait for any sort of confirmation from you, barely even waits to collect himself before it’s been entirely too long since he’s felt you moving against him. You run your fingers through his hair, feel him sigh against your collarbone, and then he’s dipping down to bite marks into your chest. It’s that same rhythm that drives you insane, nerves buzzing back to life following your earth-shattering orgasm.

Nam-gyu is still by choice for the first time since he’d entered you, something about the way your lips are moving against him keeping him locked in this trance. One of your hands finds it’s way from Thanos’s hair and into Nam-gyus, having to reach over your shoulder to clutch at the back of his black strands. It beckons him, draws him in deeper into the feeling. When he finally does start to move again, it’s different. Different pace, different angle, different sounds, even. Sensual and smooth, a slow drag inch by inch until he’s just buried by the tip, then rocking his hips until he’s pressing hard against your cervix all over again.

You’re trying to be still, trying to not heave out breathless sobs but Thanos is still rubbing you and it’s too much to take- Nam-gyu eats every sound funneled into his lips, tongue tangled with yours, unwilling to let you catch your breath.

You don’t get even a second of reprieve, their rhythms mismatched but also perfectly timed, never a moment you aren’t full, wrecked with jolting twitches and shaking legs. At this point you’re just along for the ride, nothing but flesh and warmth and slick. A pound of meat masticated and devoured between them.

Teeth find your left nipple, Thanos’s excited hum meeting your ears when you writhe in response. He speeds up, both his thrusts and his fingers, grunts against your breast and you start to feel it- that deep, deep simmer between your legs. A crescendo up, and up, and up within your belly that mounts alongside the seconds. You’re so messy and wet that you’re feeling it run along the underside of your thighs, each movement accompanied by slapping skin and trilling moans.

Up, and up. The pressure building until you’re arching your back and trying to squeal into Nam-gyu’s mouth that you’re right there, you’re gonna-

You seize up around them and wail. It rips through you, spears you like a lance, you aren’t sure how anything in this life could ever feel so good. How anything will ever feel this delicious again.

Heaven is on earth, and it’s in your shaking hands and leaking pussy and shoved up inside you with their cocks. Surging pleasure washing through you and scrubbing you of everything else except the rut of their hips into yours.

Nam-gyu cums first, manages to fuck you through you through your own, but no longer than that, growling into your mouth and biting your lips and your biting your jaw when he wrenches himself out of your cunt and paints the underside of your thigh with thick, pearly ropes of his cum. He’s shaking hard, and you’re sure you’re shaking harder, more akin to a leaf in a raging storm than a fellow human being.

Thanos bites your shoulder. You’re absolutely covered in bites, in drool, in their sweet words lashing into your skin. He’s so close- you can feel him twitching inside of you, his cock pulsating before you feel the spread of his cum coating your walls. It’s thick, it’s red hot, and there’s so much of it that before he even pulls himself out of you it’s already dripping around him and onto the floor. Your head tips back, eyes half lidded, unfocused on the ceiling.

You’re hollow. You're so empty that it's uncomfortable, carved out and built into their perfect mold.

“Fucking dick. I pulled out.” Nam-gyu pants, irritated, but not on your behalf. No, irritated because he would have loved to see his own seed seep from your spent pussy and down your trembling thighs.

When you’re set back down, you forget how to stand. Your knees buckle underneath you in an instant and you plummet, only stopped by Thanos’s arms suddenly hoisting you up from underneath your shoulders. He pulls you to him, your face rubbing drool into the chest of his tracksuit. The ‘O’ patch scratches your face but you can’t be damned to care. You’re too focused on wondering how the hell you’re supposed to walk at all after this- fucked out and completely drunk on sex. Useless and sore and swollen.

You’re sticky, you’re sweaty, you’re fucking exhausted and barely managing to stay awake now that you’ve settled and the drugs are still in effect. Pretty soon now, when you’re able to stand upright without having someone supporting most of your weight, they’ll have to sneak back out of the room and saunter away to their beds. You’ll have to wash yourself off, again, and figure out how you’re going to get back to your little corner of the dormitory without limping.

But for now, you just hum out a sound dripping in satisfaction. Your eyes are shutting, all the tensions and the nerves slipping away in the white noise.

“I have to ask,” You slur. “How long have you guys been planning this.”

Thanos’s chest rumbles with his reply. “You don’t want to know.”

“You should have done it earlier. That was…” You start to laugh. It’s a drained, weary sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “Fuck. That was nice. I’ve wanted that.”

You can practically hear it when Nam-gyu shoots a wide-eyed glare at his friend.

“I told you!”

#nam-gyu #nam-gyu x reader #thanos #thanos x reader #thanos x reader x nam-gyu #squid game #smut #imagine #player 230 #player 124 #namgyu x reader #thanos x reader x namgyu

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allpiesforourown · 7 months ago

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Hello..If you don't mind, can I ask your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from SVSSS? And why you loved them? And your top 5 favorite moments from the series?

Also, if you don't mind me asking (again), what do you think are Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe's greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

Okay that would take FOREVER so I'll just do my top 5 fav characters and my fav scenes with them

5. Ning Yingying - she's sooo silly... it was so wonderful being introduced to her and seeing her as a dumb airhead who unknowingly gets people in trouble (the pendant incident) and watching her overtime become someone responsible.

OKAYYYY QUEEN i just know she would run Qing Jing peak like it's the navy.. Also very important to me that although she gets serious when the time calls for it, her personality still has remnants of that silly girl we were first introduced to (for example during the return to childhood extra where she assumes a grown ass child is Shen Yuan's baby)

4. Original Luo Binghe

i could spend HOURS talking about how tragic his life was but honestly my reason for liking him as a character is really simple. He gets horny for people who are nice

The fact that he knew the original goods for YEARS and then Shen Yuan gave him cuddles and Bingge went "wait actually Shen Qingqiu is kind of hot??" Real as fuck . I just know after he returned to his world it was like

Bingge: you would be sexier if you were sweet and kind

Sha Hualing: im sorry do you KNOW who you're asking this of

3. Shang Qinghua is... way too real. I feel like everyone can relate to him, especially with how terrible the world is right now. He can't do anything to go against the plot he himself wrote. He's the painful mixure of "if only I had done that differently" and "I can't do anything at all" that everyone experiences.

Moments like this, such as Shang Qinghua interrupting Bingqiu's honeymoon really make his character even more tragic. Without Mobei-Jun, he doesn't really have a place to go... he didn't take the offer to return to his homeworld because there was no one waiting for him there. Even when he's having dinner with his friend, he knows he can't ask for more because sticking around would annoy Binghe. Just kind of wandering around alone and seeing other people be happy together and have a place to go sucks ://

2. My second favourite scene and my second favourite character: Luo Binghe

This scene really made me love SVSSS because it's so rare to find media where characters are actually allowed to be human and insecure. Like I know we call Binghe manipulative and toxic (and he is!) but EVERYONE has at some point in their life felt like they hate them self and no one loves them.

The fact that Luo Binghe has these emotions and they're relevant to the plot is so special to me. It's so disillusioning when a character goes through trauma after trauma and it's never talked about. Binghe going "shizun I hate myself and I want to end the world about it" was just.. *chef's kiss*

My favourite scene byfar: Shen Yuan hugging Binghe in Shen Jiu's memories

I think this was the final nail in the coffin for making me love Shen Yuan.

For all that he insists, "I'm just farming points so the protagonist won't kill me!" when he's put in a situation like this, he's more loving than ever. He can't touch Binghe, but all he wants to do is wipe his tears. It pains him so much to see his dear disciple hurt and vulnerable that he can't do anything but kneel down and try to hug an image of the past. He knows Binghe can't hear him but still tries to comfort him.

"Shizun will never hit you again." is a line that absolutely makes me go crazy, because Shen Yuan was never the one who hit Binghe, that was the original goods. He doesn't care if Binghe knows that it wasn't him who hurt him. All he cares about is making sure Binghe knows it will never happen again, and that Shen Yuan will love and protect him.

Shen Yuan tries so sooo hard to come across as a "reasonable" character but he can't hide how sentimental and emotional he is. He'll complain about how the characters in PIDW don't use their brain, but then you show him a memory of a crying child and say "this happened in the past and there's nothing you can do about it" and he'll still try to hug that child and tell them to stop crying and that they'll be okay. God I love Shen Yuan

#long post #svsss #shen yuan #luo binghe #shang qinghua #luo bingge #ning yingying

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danmeidiaries · 6 days ago

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Why I love Shassie

'Psych' is one of my comfort shows. I absolutely adore it and it is one of the fews show I have seen that I consider to be PERFECT. That being said, I still wish I could see a cut of the show where Shassie were the endgame pairing. I know why it never happened, I do like Shules well enough, but Shassie just has so much comedic and compelling potential in this show. They're a fascinating AU and What If scenario that I do sometimes wish I could have seen play out.

There wouldn't have been so much drama about the 'reveal' that Shawn isn't psychic. Jules was the only character in the show who 100% believed that Shawn was psychic. Everyone else ranged from actively helping the lie (Gus & Henry), sceptical but accepting of Shawn's methods (Vick) to flat out refusal to believe (Lassiter). If Shassie had gotten together, then I think that it would have been a fun quirk of their relationship. They both KNOW that Shawn isn't psychic, but Shawn won't tell him the truth (because it's less fun) and Lassiter wants to work it out by himself anyway. So it could have just been a "I won't tell you the truth but if you ever figure it out, I'll tell you if you're right" through-line. Plus then we wouldn't have had the awkwardness of Shawn having to maintain such a big lie in his relationship with Jules (even Abigail - his other main love interest - didn't seem to buy that he was really psychic) and the drama after Jules worked it out. (That stretch of episodes after Jules found out were some of my least favorites due to this plot point hanging over everything.)

The "Oh God, no. Why him????" realisation comedy - especially from Lassiter - when they realise they like each other. Lassiter is canonically pansexual but he's definitely 100% Spencerphobic. Lassiter would have zero qualms about liking dudes but liking Shawn is probably where he draws the line. Shawn would also probably have a similar reaction and the comedy would be GOLD.

Gus' reaction. If Shassie's reaction to liking each other would have been comedy gold, Gus' reaction to if the two started dating would have been comedy platinum. Henry also would have probably had a really funny reaction as well. To be honest, everyone would have, but Gus' reaction would have been spectacular.

It wouldn't have even really changed their dynamic. I can 100% see Shawn and Lassiter being EXACTLY the same with each other while working - because they're both competitive about case solving and bickering is their form of flirting honestly - but burning off all that at work and having an actual functioning relationship when they aren't working. It would probably confuse the hell out of everyone else but it would be a hilarious contrast to their working/home life.

The episodes where Lassiter and Shawn work together are some of the best in the show anyway and would have been great stepping stones to a Frenemies to Lovers kind of story. Seasons 3 & 4 are peak Shassie with 'Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing', 'The Head, The Tail, and the Whole Damn Episode', 'Gus Walks into a Bank', 'Shawn Gets the Yips' and 'Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark' being some of my favorites in the entire show. 'Last Night Gus' in S6 is also particularly standout for Shassie content.

Did I mention that the theme song 'I Know, You Know' is basically Shawn singing to Lassiter?

I know, you know, that I'm not telling the truth, I know, you know, they just don't have any proof, Embrace the deception, learn how to bend, Your worst inhibitions tend to psych you out in the end!

Lassiter is the one who learns how to bend and embrace the deception over the course of the show (he breaks that disk in the season finale because he's fully accepted it and doesn't need to know the answer.) And he is the only character NOT in on the lie who 100% doesn't believe Shawn and doesn't just embrace and accept what he's doing.

So, in conclusion, Psych is perfect, but Shassie is that one extra nugget of gold I wish could have been unearthed within it. If you haven't seen Psych, please do. It's such a fun show and one I revisit every once in a while. The entire cast is clearly having an absolute blast making it and the mysteries are always really fun to watch play out.

#psych #shassie #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #psych 2006 #comedy

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doveywovy · 3 months ago

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do you have tobiizu recs? i feel as though i’ve read them all 😔

i've been slowly working on a tobiizu rec list and its not done yet tbh. here's what it is so far!

Fanfics that are explicitly tobiizu:

Ghost marriage is a collection of multiple fics where tobirama gets haunted by izuna, gets driven a little bit crazy, and then talked into marrying him. And goes on to a life of wedded bliss that’s only mostly insane. Madara is there and also crazy. Izuna is having the time of his (un)life. Really delightful read with a surprisingly happy ending. The whole relationship has a haunting vibe to it that’s really enjoyable to read.

bloodline thieves is not tobiizu in the first part, but it does become tobiizu eventually. personally the vibe is there from the start to me and it's a fun read on its own. you get tobirama whump AND izuna feeling weird about him!

To dwell inside a hearthfire heart: blessed au! Worldbuilding! Izuna’s life getting saved twiceover! Izuna being a smug little rat! Tobirama and the “if peace is possible,i’m allowed to find izuna extremely sexy” pipeline! Such a good read.

Unthreading the needle is a slow burn on tobirama and izuna realizing they view each other as ‘people’ and perhaps….people they….like? Delightfully, the slowburn starts with their marriage (When they’re both convinced the other one is a monster) and they take a good long while the get anywhere from there. Izuna is deeply possessive without noticing it; tobirama has many deeprooted biases that she rationalizes as logical. My favorite plot thread within it is that izuna is, to some extent, a service top, and he spends the first 3/4th of the fic being denied the ability to service.

Death do us part: matrimony! Murder attempts! Matriomony-vibes for the murder attempts! Murderous vibes for the matrimony! Divorce is OFF the table! Izuna and the consequences of his own actions!

A soft green glow: tobirama saves izuna’s life, and they are both so bitchy about it the entire time. This is a compliment. Izuna’s perspective while dying is so funny & tobiramas put-upon annoyance just adds to the fun. Love that tobirama never underestimates izuna throughout. Love when tobirama starts dragging izuna’s body, unwillingly to risk any of the more romantic ways to carry him.

Don’t give up the ghost allows for izuna and tobirama to slowly come around to the idea of eachother, ending up somewhere close to “old married couple”. Izuna is, of course, dead the entire time.

Footprints in the snow: the author is kind enough to skip the slowburn setup and give us the “Finally they get together” stage. Tobiizu had an arranged marriage, both fell in love, and took far too long to realize it was mutual.

Gift horse: Tobirama saves izuna’s life in a moment of strategic diplomacy. Izuna cannot help but be a little bit wooed. Favorite line: tobirama would be the wife.

Can’t seem to shut my eyes: a collection of short light-hearted tobiizu fics, all of which are a fun time.my favorite is kagami’s fan :)

there are also, of course, all my of my tobiizu fanfics (shameless plug) that if you leave nice comments on perhaps i will feel inspired to work on new ones. Perhaps if you leave nice comments on all of these tobiizu fics i’m linking more authors will feel compelled to write more.

My fics: knifepoint , trouble brewing, powerplay, will you come into my parlor

gen fanfics that are not tobiizu but you can very easily imagine become tobiizu (or at the very least do not outright reject the possibility):

eyestealer is a delightful romp mostly about hashirama & tobiramas brotherly relationship, but it absolutely includes lots of opening for tobiizu and the author tagged it as open to a tobiizu interpretation. my favorite bit is the exchange izuna and madara have by the river, in which the audience knows what they do not- and what an eavesdropping hashirama fails to piece together.

Hide & seek: We don’t get izuna’s perspective directly, but a blessed au is always ripe for imagining and the worldbuilding on this one is SO fun. The implications that izuna is religiously-minded and struggling with the situation immensely really adds to the potential.

--------

i'll add a disclaimer that i don't have access to most of the chinese & japanese tobiizu fan creations bc they're primarily on twitter, which i do not have and refuse to get. if you do have twitter you can probably find a lot of cool tobiizu there and i will be very jealous of you (Except for the fact that you are suffering the existence of twitter to see it).

pixiv has lots of amazing art, and you can mostly understand what's happening in the comics even if you can't understand the language. i love this comic were birdboy izuna breaks tobiramas wing and then takes care of him. artists on the platform tend to do "dump posts" so you'll have to scroll past other ships/general fanart to get to the izutobi stuff, but it's worth it! that's how you get great stuff like this izuna upskirt photographing tobirama. and remember on pixiv that the name order is important! tobi/izu is top tobirama and izu/tobi is top izuna on there :)

you should also check out (and comment on!) all the comics slurmdog's made, especially since we have another longer project in the works :) library comic, bravest knight, multi-part comic "Cheaters never prosper"

#tobiizu #izutobi #this took me a while to compile pls use it fkldajfdsa

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justcruisingaroundrevived · 1 month ago

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Yandere Pete love letter if the reader dies in some way

More Than Just a Corpse to a Psychopathic Clown

Summary: Even in Death, you can’t escape Pete…

Word count: 715

TW/CW: Yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, mentions of animal bones, blood, implied murder of reader’s boyfriend, corpse, Pete being a creep

A/N: God, Pete would be an absolute creep to reader, even if they died </3

Reblogs are appreciated!

Heyyyy, Y/N!

Gosh, last night was the time of my life! Sure, all we really did is lay there on the cemetery ground, watching the stars above us (personally, I found it very faggy. Besides, it was about to rain, so all we really saw was just dark clouds looming over us)….whatever. It’s what you wanted, so we did just that.

It’s weird, y’know? I still have your address scrawled somewhere in an old textbook that I stole from the library. Still have your chewed food, accessories that you wouldn’t miss. Fuck, I still have an overdue library book at hand. I never really got to reading it, but it still smells like you. Just one look at it instantly brings me back to the time we met. Well, when I met you.

You were the Morticia to my Gomez; the bride to Frankenstein; my Ellen to Nosferatu. It was a dream come true. Sure, you didn’t notice me (always talking to those normie friends of yours), but still! Talking about your favorite Giallo films with them while they pretend to listen. It was so pathetically charming!

…I have a confession to make. Yes, I was the one who sent you those taxidermy animals (you have no idea how many hunting shops I had to go to figure this out). I also sent you some animal teeth and bones (at least I remember your favorite animals, unlike those jock type boy that always snuck their way around you. They’re all a bunch of sissy fags who just play sports to prove “how touch they are”. Meanwhile, all that contact and getting hit from the head means those dudes don’t know shit about being a romantic. I do. Forcing myself to watching every horror movie with some kind of sissy romance plot in order to get it right, and yet)

*The letter shows a huge line of scribbled out text. Like Pete was going off track for a significant amount of time. Almost as if he was holding these feelings for a long, long time*

…I fucking hate you sometimes, ya know that? You never even knew me until that night. Watching you get changed in the locker room, covered in blood of that faggot who you called a “boyfriend”. He was no man or even boy. I saw him at the coffee shop drinking a latte instead of actual coffee. What kind of cuck can get a babe like you?

Some nights, I can still hear your screams while I try and explain myself. Ya should’ve been fucking happy I got rid of him for you. FOR US. IT WAS THE MOST SELFLESS FUCKING THING I’VE EVER DONE AND YET YOU SHAT ALL OVER IT, TALKING ABOUT “Killing the love of your life” OR SOME BULLSHIT.

NO. NO. NO. I WAS RIGHT HERE, BABE, AND YOU JUST THREW ME AWAY. THREW ME AWAY LIKE YESTERDAY’S FUCKING TRASH.

IF YOU HAD JUST ACCEPTED, THEN MAYBE THAT FUCKING 18 WHEELER WOULDN’T HAVE HIT YOU, FLYING YOUR BODY 18 FEET IN THE AIR BEFORE HITTING THE CONCRETE.

…and despite all that, I still love ya….

I still remember the funeral. Police couldn’t prove any murder happened (thank you, Texas Chainsaw), but that doesn’t change the fact I was behind the crowd, watching them being all hushed as ya body was viewed on display. Even in this sterile environment, you were smokin’. Probably even more so than in real life, if that’s possible.

That’s where we are today. Our one year anniversary. You’ve sure changed a lot from the wake to now. Your skin’s slightly sunken in, making your eyes protrude out more. Your hair feels more like straw than any bounce or volume it once had. You practically lose your left index finger and right pinky finger. Your mouth hangs ajar, revealing what’s left of your teeth and a tongue that looks more like my ma’s coin purse. Your funeral outfit was scuffed and ripped, and you lost one of ya shoes, revealing that all five toes were eating by maggots.

It’s whatever, honestly. I just know that I have something special for you. When I’m big at Hollywood and have the bucks, I’ll show you a good time. You’ll never leave my side again…my final girl <3

#the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #eltingville club #eltingville #pete dinunzio #eltingville pete #pete dinunzio x reader #the eltingville club pete #pete eltingville #yandere tec #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere character #yandere

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rainrot4me · 15 days ago

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haiii!!! feel free to ignore this but could you walk us through your writing process, or just give some writing tips in general? your characterizations and style just hit SO hard :3

Thank you!!! I swear my style/theme changes like the weather, but I will try my best to explain my process! (used small font so it doesn’t take up so much space, lol)

── .✦

Firstly, and it may sound lame, but I stare at Pinterest for hours on end (lmao). I get the most of my inspiration from visual things like aesthetic collage boards, tiktoks, quotes, and color palettes, so Pinterest is a good way for me to get an idea of the vibe I want for something I want to write. I save aesthetic images for each of the Creepypasta’s, so whoever I want to write for, I just russian-roulette and scroll until I find an image that makes me go “omg, that would be such a good vibe for a story,” and go from there.

Secondly, word vomit. All the main points (things like specific dialogue, environment descriptors, or important plot-points), I go ahead and write out before I’ve even decided what the end of the story will be. I get all of my main themes jotted down, and then write the rest of the story around them. (For example, in ‘My Muse’ (the Ticci Toby Halloween story), I wrote out the house-party scene before I even wrote the actual first paragraph in the story because I knew that’s what I wanted the turning point of the story to be).

Lastly, editing *pukes*. Once I’ve gotten down the general just of everything and lined up the story, here comes the exhausting process of reconstructing and reshaping it into something legible for others. All of the tiny little details that you all enjoy so much in my writing usually doesn’t show up until this part, this is where all the transitional and most visually rich content comes from. Even though I may hate this part and it may take the longest, there’s no doubt it’s the most important.

Finally, here’s some tips!

Jesus Christ, just have fun!!!!!! Fanfiction is a community activity, so treat it like it was intended to be enjoyed! If you’re writing something hoping and praying it gets 100k hits and 10k reblogs, then you’re going in for the absolute wrong reasons. Fanfiction is like the weird games you used to play on the playground at school by yourself. You’re alone, until someone comes up and asks if they can join. From there, more and more kids join in your game, and you’ve got yourself a great community of like-minded people all enjoying one thing. Don’t treat it like a job, or an investment, but as the fun, community-rich, positive-focused thing it was meant to be!

Learn what your strengths and weaknesses are. For me personally, I have a terrible time with trying to write dialogue that doesn’t make me cringe, so I find myself rewriting paragraphs over and over again. However, I find I am good at environmental storytelling! So, to combat one thing with another, I make my ability to write out a detailed scene my key element. As many of you have told me, my scenery is what you know me for/enjoy the most, so I am always aiming to improve that. But, I am also taking time to work through my dialogue issues as well! It’s all about balance.

For big projects, make a Pinterest board. Seriously. Visualization is key to keeping things constant from start to finish. (This can be the same for music playlists and tiktok favorites).

Read other fanfiction. You find yourself really liking a creator? Well, what do you like about them? Find whatever draws you to their writing and try to incorporate those themes into your own works (not plagiarizing, obviously). Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so pick apart all the good aspects of someone’s writing abilities and work on them yourself!

Lastly, be kind to yourself. This should be fun. Why would you want to spend your time stressing yourself out about writing for a special interest that makes you happy? You’ll just end up making yourself hate that thing. Have fun!! Make friends who enjoy the same things as you! Dish compliments like you’ve got unlimited to spare, because guess what, you do!! Kindness and community are never meaningless, so don’t be afraid to show some compassion!!!

Love you all, happy reading and happy writing!!

꩜ .ᐟ

#rainsbrain #rainnotif #fanfiction

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goldensunset · 15 days ago

Text

there are several pokémon games now whose stories have absolutely microwaved my brain (positive). but black and white is really unique in that out of all of them, it feels the most like it had to have been a pokémon game. not even in the sense that it’s my absolute favorite but it’s probably the most creative when it comes to making a compelling plotline out of pokémon-specific game and story assets.

most games feature being a trainer, bonding with pokémon, learning about them and catching them, often times getting up to some insane stuff with the region’s legendaries, etc. pokémon are obviously always present- as characters, tools, or narrative devices- but the core conflict about the game is about something else. those staples of the series were only one possible means by which that sort of story could have been told. you could keep the core characters the same and change details like the method by which they fight each other and it’s the same thing.

in some games, these classic narrative/gameplay tools even sort of clash with and distract from the main conflict. battles that in any other story would be to the death are much like a fun little competition. that’s sort of just an innate thing to the game series’ turn based combat that is obviously based on pokémon, and most games are guilty of it. but there are ways to make it work in-universe, such as really emphasizing how any given pokémon is stronger than any given human and therefore whoever has even a single one of their soldiers left after the battle is holding a weapon against a defenseless target. in any case really it's generally up to the player to suspend their disbelief and allow themselves to get immersed in the aura of danger. but i would really love more games to make battles feel like a threat to the trainer as well… usually it's about trying to scare you off or maybe rob you, at most.

and my true pet peeve… in certain games, you awkwardly take turns between stopping the big bad and collecting gym badges and often even if there’s a story excuse for why you need to go get the badge or whatever, it’s kind of weak. you want to go after the evil team leader but first and foremost you want to become the champion and play with your cute little pets and these different desires rarely come up at the same time. the main antagonist might not even be the final boss; you’re expected to all but forget about them by the time you get to the pokémon league. the story is cool, yet not the point. ok yes this is me vagueing about dppt again listen platinum means the whole entire world to me but it hurt me to wrap up the cyrus plot at seven gym badges and get just a few lines of gratitude from cynthia for it later

but that aside. even in games where there’s no story-gameplay dissonance, where the story might be absolutely one hundred percent golden and the gameplay might be incredibly fun and work perfectly. you at the same time might be like 'wow, this is about pokémon? it didn’t even need to be.' (not to say that’s bad, obviously! people who are here to collect and play with cute creature friends deserve some insane banger plotlines too. the children yearn for existential angst and childhood trauma. i love unique storytelling devices and i hope these games have super cool utterly wild storylines that go way crazier than the child friendly marketing would indicate for the rest of the series.)

but like. black and white is so fascinating in that the core conflict is about being a trainer. it’s about the relationship between humans and pokémon. most games have a couple lines thrown in here and there about how anything is possible if you bond with your pokémon as equals, but this concept is central to black and white. team plasma are such good villains because they’re not another round of unhinged terrorists, they’re a sociopolitical advocacy group that legitimately challenges ways of life that most of the people of unova have never thought critically about. they ask the question of whether these norms and traditions are right and good. it’s like an attack on the whole entire series!

now obviously team plasma is like. wrong.., of course,,, both in terms of what they’re promoting and how they carry it out… but the fact that they make you think. the fact that they start a conversation. the fact that they hold assemblies in public and stand proud and don’t hide and even convince some people… that’s terrifying. their original plan was to rise to power not by force but by changing hearts. and through that they arguably got closer to winning than any other evil team.

and there is absolutely dissonance between the way they talk and the actual gameplay which requires you to pokémon battle them. but this dissonance is intentional. it's proving them to be a bunch of hypocrites who think that they alone know how to treat pokémon right and are therefore justified in training them. and it's meant to be obvious that behind the scenes (not even truly in secret, just like anywhere on any path outside of the big towns and cities) they are abusive bullies. but though the player can figure out what kind of people they really are right off the bat, most of unova might not. either news of the sorts of theft and threatening they do travels slowly, or certain people are being manipulated and swayed into believing it really was for the greater good. truly team plasma has a level of power that no other evil team has ever had.

then there's n.... n knows it feels wrong and hypocritical but he doesn't know any other way. or perhaps he also justifies it to himself by saying it's fine as long as he lets them go afterwards (which is, ironically, arguably even more like using them as tools for an intended purpose than properly being their trainer.) but after chargestone cave he commits to what he believes in and swears he won't battle again other than in the few cases it's absolutely necessary for his goal.

and of course. the way he's also trying to become the champion, the way interrupts your journey through the pokémon league, is so iconic. but he did tell you that quite early on. 'I need power... Power enough to make anyone agree with me.' and then 'I'll defeat the Champion and become unbeatable, unlike any other! I'll make all Trainers free their Pokémon! Just try and stop me! If you want to be together with Pokémon, your only hope is to collect the Badges from each area and head for the Pokémon League! Try and stop me there, if you dare! If your conviction is not strong enough, you will never be able to defeat me.' you see how neat that is? see how narratively awesome and efficient it is to give the player yet another, more serious reason to do the gym circuit? it's one of your personal dreams, like those of your friendly rivals. but now you have a not so friendly rival. not in the sense that he's some neighborhood jerk but in the sense that he's a madman running for public office.

but seriously, it's very important to me that they broke the tradition of the region's official champion being the final boss. they show you the league in all its glory as usual, and then make a big deal out of having team plasma show up and summon a whole entire castle that absolutely disrupts everything. they made it loud and clear that they knew what they were doing as far as breaking tradition. they said 'i know entering the hall of fame is very cool and important to you, and maybe you can do that later, but we have bigger problems right now.' alder is no idiot. he just got defeated! sure he could heal up with some revives and hyper potions but let's get real, he's in no mood to fight you, and it would be irresponsible for both of you to battle at a time like this.

like. now n has all the accolades he needs to set himself up as some sort of god king that no one would dare argue with, and basically the evil new york branch of peta just won the election by a landslide and took over all three branches of the government, and that's sort of a problem maybe. sure they aren't killing anyone or destroying the world (yet) but. they are a much more realistic type of threat. it wouldn't matter if alder was the coolest champion in the series (and i do like the guy as a character); i would not have been able to care even a tiny bit if we had battled him at that moment. and i would have been actively frustrated and let down if we had gotten to battle him after the epic climax of the plot and n's heartbreaking farewell. it was a very unique creative risk to save the championship for postgame, but it worked out so well.

but see like! when n does battle you it's not even because he actually wants to win. every single time, he wants to battle you because he wants to get to know you and to understand the strength (and accuracy) of your convictions. from the very first fight in accumula town to the grand showdown between the two of you. n never wanted victory. he wanted truth. he wanted righteousness. and slowly he learns that he wasn't the one who had either of those. his external journey was a facade for his inner one, which he can only bear to admit to you after everything has unfolded and he's finally safe and free from ghetsis and team plasma.

that's all to say, when it comes to him, pokémon battling is the only appropriate gameplay mechanic by which you ought to interact with him. unlike other antagonists he's not fighting to tell you to get lost, or to rob you, or to kill you, etc. he specifically needs to hear the voices of your pokémon in battle to realize you are a good and kind trainer and that he was lied to about battling. this specific conflict wouldn't work in another piece of media. of course, a more general theme of having been lied to about truth or justice could be done, but black and white specifically wants to talk about the ethics of pokémon training itself (to which there really isn't a real-world equivalent, since making animals fight is usually either rare and specific, or outright illegal. as far as i know. it’s definitely not a public sport that children are encouraged to participate in. and we don't have pokéballs so we can't verify irl how comfortable and fun it is to be digitized and put in a machine. it's probably fun for them but idk.) and that's so fascinating.

now of course, ghetsis is a more typical antagonist who actually wants you gone. dead, even. but for him, i think a pokémon battle as a final conflict still works. for one, they don't overuse it. in lots of cases, you battle evil team leaders or their admins multiple times- the majority of those times being an attempt simply to get you to stand down. when they finally 'get serious', sure the battle may be harder later on, but you're still doing the exact thing you were before. and like. you probably expected this, right?

ghetsis, however, doesn't even seem like a pokémon trainer at all until the very last second. it doesn't take you too long to figure out he's rancid and a manipulator, and that team plasma is trying to capture pokémon in order to have a monopoly over unova, but for all you know, he really might not use any pokémon himself. maybe only the king and the grunts do the whole battling thing but it's the sages' job to just walk around and say cryptic poetic things. and then. boom. he whips out a full killer team of six. he goes from 0 to 60 real fast. you've had zero experience with battling him thus far and therefore have absolutely no idea what he's packing and it's scary.

and of course, how could i not talk about his actual team? his infamous ace is a few levels too low to be a legitimate hydreigon, implying something fishy or forced. and in the sequel it's got frustration in its moveset, executed at maximum power- first of all, what kind of sicko even runs that move in the first place? unless you're like. working with buneary or otherwise doing something really specific. and what kind of sicko is so abusive to their pokémon that they lower its base friendship from 35 to 0? of course, that's a rather low base friendship value to begin with. but see, with this entire evolutionary line being vicious in its lore, you'd think it would be perfect for a guy like ghetsis, right? they're both brutal and also irrational- being geniuses, and yet knowing nothing but destruction. hydreigon is a killing machine and ghetsis flies into a genuine insane rage upon losing. point being you'd think they'd have fun together. we've seen villains legitimately bond with their pokémon before. but instead they're two toxic haters that don't mesh. ghetsis is so evil even his own partner hates him. and he delights in that and actively chooses to benefit from it via the use of a particular move. ugh i love when pokémon battles subtly say something about trainer npcs through gameplay mechanics...

also did i mention he's trying to Kill You. other villains are probably fine with doing that if necessary but scaring you off or taking away all your pokémon would also work. ghetsis implies that he specifically needs you dead because you know the ugly truth, and that knowledge makes that battle a lot more chilling than usual. that is a case of a true pokémon battle to the death. it doesn't feel cheap or like a relatively casual competition there, it's not a fight where either side is trying to prove anything, etc. and you can tell his bloodlust was genuine because he does not give up or admit defeat. he tries to murder the next protagonist too and goes to even more extreme measures that time.

ghetsis is using his pokémon as weapons against you because they're the most efficient way to murder you. that's all he wants. and you can tell he needs them because purely visually you can see he's gotta be kind of an old man with at least two physical disabilities, and he's not really dressed for physical activity- he's dressed like a big shot noble (or thinks he is. that fit is so ugly) who could never get his own hands dirty. and thematically it's perfect for the big bad leader of all hypocrites to use pokémon as tools, as opposed to any other type of weapon. like he could go get a gun or something if this was rated higher, but i think the sicko probably delights specifically in lording power over his tormented pokémon, if choosing to run frustration on hydreigon when there are probably better move options available means anything. i think he'd choose this means of battle in any universe he could.

in conclusion! the generation 5 games, more than any other games, absolutely needed to be pokémon games in order for the story to work. they closely examine fascinating aspects of the pokémon universe that are otherwise taken for granted. they seamlessly merge the goal of travelling and working to become the champion, and the goal of stopping the villains, instead of having these be awkwardly separate storylines. the gameplay is relevant to all three tiers of antagonist- grunts, main antagonist, and true mastermind villain- in different ways. i would love for another set of pokémon games to have such a focused, unified plotline that also feels relevant to the overall series. very swagful. something something mic drop

#wow i said so much.#pokémon #bw #pokemon black and white #pokémon black and white #pokeposting

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sineala · 1 month ago

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Hii! What do you think of the new Iron Man run, written by Ackerman?

Thank you for asking! I was hoping someone would ask me about what I think of Ackerman's run so far! I have a lot of opinions. (As I type this, seven issues are out. When I started typing this, six issues were out. It has been a while. I wrote most of this a couple months ago and am dusting it off and posting it. The delay on me replying to asks is apparently 6-8 business weeks.)

I have complicated but mostly positive feelings about the Ackerman run. I think he has clearly done all the reading (absolutely all the reading! it's amazing!) and has a basic idea of who Tony is as a character that aligns with mine, which is something you cannot take for granted as an Iron Man fan. I feel that, given his professional background, he's going to be taking Tony on a journey to some interesting places, thematically. But I do have some reservations about elements of the run that most people would consider small and nitpicky details, that continue to bother me more as the run goes on. I also feel like they have now become bigger problems now that the run has launched into its bigger arc.

So I think it's pretty interesting that Marvel hired Ackerman to write Iron Man. I am not very familiar with his work, but I know he's a journalist focusing primarily on national security. The other week, I watched him appear on a webinar about Iron Man and Resisting the Military-Industrial Complex; he is clearly both fond of the character -- he recced some of my favorite Iron Man comics -- and also very familiar with the world he's putting Tony into, and the themes and concerns that this run is going to address, like tech companies supplying surveillance equipment to the military. Turns out there's a whole bunch of things Tony can make that aren't actually weapons that can be used for evil! So it seems like the run is going to deal with questions like that.

I think that emotionally, Ackerman has Tony down. The run opens with Tony getting dropped really hard from a great height more than once, rehabilitating himself very slowly, and refusing to take any painkiller stronger than Advil. Also a lot of the time he looks like some kind of sad wet cat.

This line from issue one is pretty much how I like Tony to suffer:

Look, I read Iron Man comics for the whump. I want horrible things to happen to Tony. But they have to be the right horrible things, though. And I think these are, generally, the right horrible things. So that's very nice. So I think Ackerman is getting that right and I am certainly glad we have him writing this rather than, say, Cantwell. The big picture is right.

But the thing is, I think he's getting the details wrong. I think he's writing an interesting story about the things one can do with money and power, and the morality of the surveillance state, and I think he's not stopping to ask himself whether Tony, specifically, would do these things with with his money and power. Whether Tony would consider these things moral. Not the big things, though. The little things. But it's a whole lot of little things.

I don't think Tony would be in favor of a lot of the things he's expressed support of in this run. At first I thought these were all just bits. Things that were happening because they're funny. And I'm sure most of them are even supposed to be funny. But they keep coming up in contexts that suggest that Tony sincerely likes them.

Basically, I think he's making Tony a techbro. And I don't like that.

This started in issue one, with the gambling. The gambling is not the only plot element I hate -- and it's certainly not the worst plot element I have ever seen in an Iron Man run -- but I think it's emblematic of a larger narrative problem.

In an issue that I otherwise very much enjoyed, part of the plot is that Tony is trying to take back his company from people who have been using it to make Sentinels, and he of course wants them out of the weapons business. So he has to offer them something to do instead, and he suggests that they get into supporting gambling on superhero fights:

At first I thought this was a joke, or something he was just saying because he thought the villains running his company were going to go for it and then he could reveal his true plan, but he seems to sincerely be into it:

The commentary from Ackerman at the end of the issue also frames Tony's gambling idea in a way that sounds positive about gambling:

And it comes up in more issues! Here it is again in #3:

I think we are actually supposed to believe Tony seriously thinks this is a good idea. And I don't think he would.

I think that Tony, as an addict, would be incredibly conscious of the fact that people become addicted to gambling and it ruins their lives; I don't think he would support that. When we've seen Tony gambling in canon it's mostly as some high-stakes undercover James Bond kind of deal where he's there for plot reasons (e.g., Vegas Bleeds Neon). And we know that the Avengers do in fact have team poker night etc etc (viz. Cap #700). So he's not entirely opposed to the practice. To me, he seems like probably the kind of guy who has acknowledged that gambling is a fun activity for him and the price tag is whatever amount he's willing to lose for the night. We don't see him having a problem with gambling addiction, and we have absolutely seen what he looks like with an addiction. This isn't it.

But I'm sure he knows it's addictive for others. And we do see Tony, in general, having compassion for other people he knows with addiction problems. He's Carol's AA sponsor! Sure, he's not personally addicted to gambling, but I think he would be very aware of the harm this would cause other people. And I don't think he'd want to be the cause of that.

Since he's a superhero himself, he would also be involving his friends and teammates, and basically monetizing and profiting off what they do to save the world. Generally, in canon, he has been portrayed as saving the world because it's the right thing to do. Now he'd be saving the world to make money off it. It just seems like a weirdly exploitative thing to do with his friendships. And Tony has never struck me as an exploitative character.

(Also, since all these people are his friends -- and him! -- how would anyone know whether people are getting paid to throw fights or whatnot?)

And also I think that morally, Tony would think that profiting off gambling isn't right -- it would be exploiting the bettors, because that's how a gambling operation works. In the long run, the house always wins, right? If anyone had a foolproof way to win, the bookmakers and casinos would not be letting you use it. Which Tony, being a guy who has definitely taken a statistics class in his life, understands. He knows what the odds of winning are like. He can calculate them. Tony would, essentially, be making money by taking advantage of people who don't understand probability, and who sincerely think that they have a good chance of getting rich. And Tony doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wants to take advantage of people who know less than he does; he generally wants to help people understand, to share knowledge with them. He's not going to profit off their naivete. That's scummy.

At this point, you might say, "Well, you're a massive Tony fan who just wants to see Tony painted in a good light" and, I mean, yes, in a sense, I am. But I understand that Tony as a character has a lot of flaws. It would be fine by me if canon represented them; my actual favorite Iron Man run is one where Tony is drunk and has lost his entire company and is living on the streets. It's just that I liked the flaws he already had, and it seems weird to give him new ones that seem to run counter to his character.

And the thing is, it's not just me who thinks that -- it's other Marvel writers! Pretty soon after Ackerman's Iron Man run started, Jed MacKay's Avengers run had an arc where the Avengers -- including Tony -- had to pull a heist at a space casino. So there's a lot of gambling happening in the background of the issue, and it's one of the themes of the overall narrative. At one point, as they are running the heist and it's looking like it's going to be a success, Tony says they've been very lucky so far, and Carol says something about how she hopes their luck will hold.

And then Tony goes on for an actual page and a half about how the problem with casinos is that, essentially, luck isn't real and won't hold:

This, right here, is pretty much exactly the opinion I was expecting Tony to have about gambling. So, you know, take that, current Iron Man run! The guy writing Avengers agrees with me!

Also, while I've got you here, please enjoy this moment from Avengers #23 where Tony fights a villain who is a giant floating baby who makes his deepest wish come true.

Hey, Steve/Tony fans, you will never guess what Tony's deepest wish is:

They're just two guys, one of whom possesses the desire to be the other one as the deepest wish of his heart. Just regular friend stuff.

So, yeah, there's that. Back to the gambling!

I will say that as someone watching American professional sports, the legalization of gambling over the past couple of years has been absolutely wild and also terrible. The companies that run the sports betting sponsor basically everything they can -- and, sure, every ad says there is a number to call if you have a gambling problem, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they make a lot of money on the people with problems. The sports news sites will list the odds. The TV will give you live odds during games! Not just gambling commercials; this is part of the game broadcast. The commentators will actually read the odds out loud! People tweet death threats to players who they've bet on who have lost! Shohei Ohtani's interpreter stole his money and used it to bet on sports! This is not good! None of this is good!

So at this point, I had arrived at the conclusion that this run was going to be generally pro-betting. Again, this is not a stance I personally think is great, but every time it comes up in the run, Tony seems to sincerely think this is a good idea. There's no sign that he actually hates it. The narrative seems to endorse this idea; nothing undercuts it, and Ackerman's joking comment at the end of #1 is positive.

So I figured that what was going on here was that Ackerman unironically thinks sports betting apps are great and has decided to pass this same desire onto Tony, because as far as I can tell, that's how it's being portrayed. Okay, sure, it's not my personal opinion, but I guess this is the thing we are doing in this run.

Except it turns out that we're… not doing this?

Because it's taken me forever to write this post, in between the time I started writing it and me getting to this paragraph, Spencer Ackerman actually did an AMA on /r/ironman, and while I am not brave enough to ask an actual Iron Man writer anything when my account's comment history definitely demonstrates that I read and write erotic Iron Man fanfiction, other people did in fact ask about the gambling.

Ackerman's reply was as follows:

"After watching practically all of sports media transform over the past 3-ish years into gambling portals or adjuncts, I had the idea rattling around in my head. From a narrative perspective, I like the idea of a Not-Good Thing (creating a gambling market for superhero fans) that is a solution to a Worse Thing (weapons manufacturing/acquisition by villains in league with netherbeings). And you clearly see the temptations such a thing poses with a character like Iron Man, so we can leave that there!"

And I just. What?

None of this is evident anywhere in the run. No one good in the comic has in any way indicated that this gambling idea might be bad. Tony likes it! The only people who didn't like it, so far, are the villains, who expressed enthusiasm but didn't want to pivot the company into gambling! Reading the jokey note from Ackerman at the end of #1 did not suggest, in any way, that this plotline was going to be about Tony doing a Bad Thing. We didn't even get to Doing A Bad Thing For A Good Reason! That's… not there. It's not being shown as bad at all. You actually have to tell us, at some point, that this is the thing you are doing in your story. You have entirely failed at conveying this!

Also, you have failed to sell me on the idea that Tony finds gambling personally tempting -- as I said, I don't think this is true, and I think he would find this business plan even more morally abhorrent if he did find it personally tempting -- but I feel like failing to show me that this is a story where gambling is supposed to be bad is a bigger narrative flaw. I literally had no idea that this was the intended plot until I read that AMA.

I can only judge the story as it is written on the page. I cannot judge the version that Ackerman intended to write in his head. He has written a story that suggests that everything about Tony getting into the sportsbook business would be great, because Tony thinks it's great, and the only people who don't like the idea are the villains. Typically when a hero in a comic book likes something and the villains hate it, that thing is supposed to be A Good Idea. But apparently it is, in fact, not a good idea! This is maybe not a great narrative choice.

Tony's other interests, much like the gambling, also seem to be very techbro, and they are once again not being presented in a way that suggests that we are in any way supposed to think these are bad. Tony has once again run out of money and has built himself a very steampunk-ish suit that is basically supposed to be extremely cheap. Instead of having his suit run by some really cool computer, he has… ChatGPT. This is clearly intended to be a joke, because it's giving him wrong information:

So I figured, ha ha, funny little joke. We have now made the joke. We are done, right?

We are not done. Tony is still using it, apparently seriously. This is weird for a couple reasons: one, being a fan of generative AI in the real world is not exactly a value-neutral choice, and if you're seriously going to have Tony use it, I would at least expect to see some argumentation for why he thinks this is a good idea. You have to sell me on why Tony believes in this and is willing to, say, discount the harm it does in the real world. Maybe this is also a thing Tony believes that we the audience are just supposed to know is wrong, like the gambling. But I have no idea, because the story is not going to tell me!

The other reason it's weird is that, universe-internally, Tony should not need this. LLMs like ChatGPT are basically the cutting edge of AI in our world. This is not the case on Earth-616. 616 has actual sentient artificial intelligence that is truly intelligent. Tony has created and/or repaired a bunch of robots and AIs. He has a lot of AI friends. He could, literally, right now, ask Jocasta to come help him run his suit, and if he looked sad enough she would probably say yes. Settling for ChatGPT is absolutely inexplicable given the resources he has! So why is he doing this? Just because it's funny?

(He also never used to need to run AIs in a lot of his suits, and honestly I would have expected that a low-tech suit would be controllable without AI just like the old ones. So it's not even clear why he needs one.)

Similarly, issue #6 begins a series of One World Under Doom tie-ins in which Tony decides to keep selling weapons to defeat Doom -- more on this in a sec -- and he is considering doing so by funding, essentially, terrorists. But the thing I would like to draw your attention to is that he is offering to fund them by offering them crypto.

Why in the world would Tony think crypto was a good idea? If this is supposed to be some sign that this (like funding terrorists) is some moral compromise on his part by doing smaller bad things to avert a larger bad thing, this is not evident in the text at any point. As far as I can tell, nothing about this particular part of the deal is supposed to be questionable. Why would Tony like this?

But the big sword? The big sword is amazing. No notes.

I think a lot of the problems in this run stem from Ackerman not primarily being a fiction writer. He's come up with a complex, detailed, thoughtful plot that clearly draws from a set of topics he knows a whole lot about. But this isn't supposed to just be worldbuilding. You have to also give me character. I want to know how Tony feels about what he's doing and what motivates him. The plot has to work on an emotional level and I don't think it is. It'd be a great, IDK, series of blog posts set in a fictional world. It's not a great narrative.

I feel like, from my perspective as an Iron Man fan, the way Ackerman talks about his conception of Tony is a portrayal of Tony I like, and he likes all the same runs I do -- but I don't think he's good enough at writing fiction to actually convey his view of the character, and I don't think he's aware that what he wants to say isn't coming across. His heart is in the right place wrt the character, as far as I can tell, but he's not actually pulling off the plot because you need to actually nail the character to do that.

In the current Doom arc, we are given zero internal access to Tony's thoughts. Ackerman has said that this is intentional. I understand that thought bubbles are passé, and not using direct narration is a choice, but then you have definitely hit Hard Mode of fiction writing. If you're not going to tell me how Tony feels about what he's doing and why he's doing it, you have to have that come up at some point in the story some other way.

And we have now hit a plot that is clearly What If Tony Had To Do A Wrong Thing (selling weapons) To Stop A Worse Thing (Doom running the world). Okay. Great. This is clearly an Iron Man theme. This is Armor Wars. This is Civil War. But if you're not writing this with any kind of emotional access to Tony, then you are basically recreating the situation where everyone reading Civil War thinks Tony is a fascist asshole and they don't read the two comics where Tony explains that actually this is all a front to save lives and he feels miserable about it. Except you aren't telling me how he feels about it. If you want anyone to have sympathy for the character, you need to actually make the reader Feel Feelings. So this isn't working for me. It could be made to work for me, pretty easily! But that's not how it's being written.

So, yeah, that's what I think so far: he has intentions that align with my conception of the character (both personality-wise and in terms of the amount and flavor of personal suffering that Tony endures), but I don't think he's good enough at fiction to actually write the plot he wants to write.

#replies #dreamofme9

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