#feel like shit just want her back etc etc

[thechaoticcherub]

Super touch deprived dbf Joel in forced proximity to reader? She has to sit on his lap in the car or share a tent while camping etc!? Love your writing so much!! X

Hi! Thanks so much!!!!

I got stuck on this one so much but I think it turned out besides it being kinda ramble-y. Please enjoy!

LMAO i totally missed the DBF part of this. I hope you like anyway!

Cumulonimbus

Pairing: Touch starved!Joel x Reader

Summary: You and Joel get stuck out in the woods while on patrol because of a storm.

Warnings: 18+ please, age gap, P in V sex, handjobs, camping, touch starved Joel, Joel apologizes a lot, UNEDITED, Daddy kink(only near the end), size kink, cum play, cum eating, creampie

Word Count: 3.5K

Notes: I'm terrible at editing, I just wanted to get this out there lmao. enjoy!

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You were already supposed to be back in Jackson, it was supposed to be a one day patrol shift for your first time out but a thunderstorm had gotten you and Joel all turned around and night had fallen. There was no point in trying to keep going in the dark and downpour so you set up to camp overnight. To your relief, Joel had a tent packed in one of his saddle bags and you tied up the horses while he worked on setting it up. 

The day had been mostly silent, which was typical for Joel, but you had tried your best to fill some of the silence with your own brand of sweet questioning. About the area surrounding Jackson, asking for tips on riding horses, wondering if Joel liked going out on patrol, to which he answered, ‘usually’ with a significant look at you. You caught his drift but you also caught the smirk on his face as he looked away. So as the afternoon went on you felt comfortable asking about the thick, dark clouds forming overhead and if they meant a storm or if it was just normal clouds. 

“I mean…I think they’d need to be like cumulonimbus clouds if it was goin’ to storm and these look too uhhh sparse to be um, storm clouds.” he said, sounding completely clueless. You looked up at the piles of dark clouds in the sky and raised your eyebrow. “Shit, I ain’t an expert.” he snapped, kicking his horse to get her moving again. Twenty minutes later it was pouring rain, you were soaked and already shivering. 

“Not cumulonimbus, eh?” You called over to Joel, he glared at you. 

Now he was letting out a stream of swears as he worked on getting the tent set up and you came back from the canopy of trees where you had tied the horses to give them a little cover. 

“Grab that end of the tarp there, help me get it over the top,” He said to you over the steady sound of the rain. You picked up the end he indicated and you both shook some droplets off of it before covering the top of the tent which was small, barely big enough to stand in but at least it would provide some respite from the rain. Joel went to the horses and came back with his pack that had been tucked in the saddle back, huddled over it to try and protect it from the rain. He unzipped the tent and chucked it in there. 

“Come on, let’s try and get dry,” he said. You watched as he ducked underneath the tarp that jutted out a bit from the actual tent, providing some shelter and untied his boots, toeing them off before stepping all the way into the tent. You followed suit. Joel had to duck his head slightly inside the tent but you could stand up straight. It was a small space inside. Once you both were in there, there was barely a foot of space between the two of you at any given time. 

You shivered, your teeth chattering as you stood by the entrance, dripping wet. Joel was already stripping off his jacket and then his flannel, laying them both in the corner of the tent, taking up more room and making things feel even smaller. Your eyes caught on him and you couldn’t force them away as he started to pull the black t-shirt he had on under the flannel up and off of his body. 

You had been attracted to Joel for a while, ever since you had first come to Jackson and met the gruff, older man but now you were alone on patrol with him, in a too small tent and he was stripping out of his clothes. 

You were frozen in place, unsure if you could stop staring at him, or move your arms away from being crossed over your body, keeping any body heat that was left as close as he could. Joel glanced over his shoulder, sitting your chattering teeth and the way your lips may have been starting to go blue. 

“Take that wet stuff off,” He instructed, maybe he sensed your hesitation because he turned away from you. “Nothin’ I aint seen before,” He said as he undid he belt buckle. You swallowed and then stripped yourself of your jacket and shirt, making sure to lay them out so they were in a pile that would never dry at all. You heard the shift of denim and knew Joel was taking his jeans off, you followed suit so you were finally just in your underwear and old tank top that was thankfully not soaked all the way through. You were still shivering but at least there weren’t cold, soaked clothes rubbing against your skin anymore. 

When you turned back around, Joel was knelt over his pack, pulling stuff out. First two compression sleeping bags and with a jolt you realized he packed one for you and you hadn’t even considered packing something like that just in case. 

Then a water bottle, his gun, a knife, and a bag that had beef jerky and crackers in it. You were shivering so badly you could barely think of anything else. Joel rolled out the two sleeping bags, with your piles of wet clothes, both of you standing there and the two sleeping bags, there was no room in the tent anymore. Joel looked back at you and he almost dropped the water bottle that was still in his hand. 

You watched his eyes flick down your body, and despite how frigid you were, a spark of heat ignited in your belly. “You can get in your sleepin’ bag, kiddo,” he said. The sound of the rain on the plastic of the tent was loud and you felt overwhelmed with cold, tiredness and something more so the words spilled out of you before you could stop them,

“Can we put our sleeping bags together and sleep close? I’m going to freeze to death otherwise,” You said. You watched Joel’s Adam’s apple bob at your suggestion and you caught his eyes glancing to your chest. A weird mix of arousal and shame stoked the tiny spark in your navel when you realized your nipples were hard, poking out of the thin tank top you were wearing. 

Joel cleared his throat, blinking and quickly looking away from you, “Oh…uhh yeah might be a good idea,” He went about opening up one of the sleeping bags, laying it out on the ground and then opening the other one to go on top as a blanket. You were still for a moment and he looked at you again, “Go on,” He nodded to the blankets and you scrambled over, sank down on one of the sleeping bags and pulling the other up and over. 

Joel went about laying out his gun, his knife, the food and water within arms reach of the sleeping bags. It looked to you like he was avoiding joining you even though it was so cold out there and there was no way he was comfortable. 

“Joel,” You breathed, looking over at him. He glanced around towards you and again you were struck with how good he looked in just his boxers. He was broad through his chest and shoulders, he had muscular arms and a soft belly. You were shocked by how attracted you were to an older guy. Your eyes swept lower, taking in the dark, course hairs peppered with grey and white that led from his belly button and disappeared into his boxers. “Come get warm,” You finished and you watched him swallow. Joel edged closer to the sleeping bags and finally knelt down peeling down the top layer of sleeping bag. Chill crept in, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps, your nipples tightened even more. Joel crawled in and you immediately felt his body heat sweep over to you under the blanket. 

He settled down as far as he could from you while still being entirely under the blanket. You could still feel his heat and his presence so close. Your heart rate ticked up and you found yourself longing to reach out to him. 

Joel was so aware of your body so close to his it almost hurt. It had been so long since he had touched anyone and now you were both under one blanket, attempting to keep warm and he could smell your skin so close. You scooted closer and looked up at him, there was something in your eyes burning, and it was mirrored back in his. He knew that he shouldn’t do what he wanted to do, he knew that you were too young for him and that he was just a sad, touch starved old man who would do anything just to feel you. But you were moving closer to him, you were looking up at him with eyes that seemed to say, ‘please, touch me, Joel.’ but maybe that was just his hopes. 

Your breath hitched as Joel moved his hand up, towards the side of your face. He paused his movements as he heard your breath. Joel’s hand hovered just above your cheek, not touching you, the heat from his skin radiating from his fingers down onto your cheek. You were longing for it, the slightest touch but he seemed so hesitant. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted but the words were lost in your throat. 

The heat under the blanket was so comforting, the sound of the rain outside was lulling you both into a feeling of security, Joel’s fingers finally made contact with your cheek, skin against skin. Course fingertips caressing soft cheek. Joel sucked in a breath at the feeling. He had forgotten how warm and soft women were, so different from him, so inviting. And you. You were particularly warm, particularly soft, particularly sweet, like a cinnamon roll. Or what Joel remembered of cinnamon rolls. He wanted to taste you. His hand against your cheek wasn’t enough. His thumb grazing along the skin of your cheekbone wasn’t fulfilling enough. 

He wanted both hands on you, lips on you, he wanted his taste to mingle with your taste. He wanted to be drunk on skin to skin. Joel let out the breath he had been holding, the scent of him washing over you. He cupped your face and then reached up with his other hand and cradled your face, unable to keep his hands off of you now that he’s touched you. You leaned in towards him, looking up into his eyes and then you heard him whisper,

“Fuck,” Under his breath, he said it like it was an admission of guilt, like it was release of pressure. Like a sudden wave across still water he swept over you and his lips attached to yours. Your heart rocketed into your throat, your hands flew to his sides and you tugged him into you. Joel kissed you deeper, his mouth opening, addicted to your taste, addicted to the feel of you already. 

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses, “I’m so sorry,” his lips brushing yours as he spoke. You shook your head, trying to make sure he knew there was nothing to apologize for. He let out a moan, as if he hated himself but couldn’t contain it anymore. You ran your hands up his sides, feeling his skin under yours. 

Joel broke away from your lips, pressing his forehead into yours, “I…I shouldn’t do this,” He spoke so softly, you could barely hear him, but his kiss had ignited something in you, something that wasn’t going to be extinguished by his stupid guilt. 

“Why not?” you asked, grabbing his hand and pulling it up your body towards your chest. His muscles flexed, trying to stop his hand. Joel looked pained, he shook his head, 

“Because you’re…” he couldn’t finish, you had dragged his hand over your breast and he let out a shaky breath. “You’re just a baby, you don’t know-“ he tried to finish but your lips crashed into his and you kissed again. Joel’s hand flexed over your breast and you pressed your chest up towards him. 

“Shut up, Joel.” you said. He ignored that, still pressing his forehead against yours as his hand touched your breast. You craned your neck and pressed your lips into his, trying to convince him by kissing him. He kissed you back and you felt his thumb start to stroke over your nipple. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I need it, darlin’ He mumbled and grabbed the hem of your tank top. It was like he was giving in, his body was forcing him to give in. You were so beautiful, so soft and you were practically begging for it. You helped him pulled your tank top off up over your head, throwing it out of the sleeping bag and Joel’s eyes fell to your breasts.

“God, Darlin’, you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off by cupping your tits in both hands, thumbs still stroking over your hardened nipples, “i’m sorry,” He said again. Joel shook his head, and you reached up and stroked his hair back, looking up at him while he gazed down at your bare breasts. “Beautiful,” He breathed out, his thumb and forefinger pinching. That spark in your belly that had been ignited by him stripping burned brighter and lower, heating your sex. Your brow furrowed in pleasure and you sighed and nodded. 

“Don’t stop, Joel.” You whispered and he groaned. 

“Not goin’ to, baby,” he breathed, kissing your cheek and then your chin, jaw and neck, spreading warmth all throughout your skin. You rolled on top of him and Joel let out a groan, “Oh god, alrigh’ baby, you want it?” He asked as you pressed your hips into his, feeling his crotch pressed into yours. 

“Yes,” You breathed. It was happening so suddenly but you desperately wanted him and it was clear how badly he needed it. You could feel his cock hardening in his boxers, pressing into you. You rocked your hips forward again and he groaned. You reached down towards the waistband of his boxers and pulled on it, your fingers were trembling so it snapped back down against his tummy. Joel groaned again, his brows pinching together, you giggled at his reaction but then tucked your hand into his boxers and finally got your hand around his cock. 

It was stiff and big, your fingers wrapped around the base and you stroked it, following its length down  towards his tip. 

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Baby, you do that so good,” he breathed into your cheek, placing a kiss there. You started to stroke him more earnestly, squeezing around the head, your finger stroking over the slit, his precum sticking to the pad of your finger. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you’re too fuckin’ young to know how to do that this well,” He moaned. You giggled again and tugged his boxers down, releasing his cock from the restraints of the fabric. You stroked his cock up and down, relishing the feeling of his thick manhood in your hands. Joel moaned, you watched his eyes roll back and you couldn’t help but giggle more, your fingers tightened more, stroking faster. Joel quickly put his hand over yours,

“St-stop,” he laughed, “I need to feel more of ya and if ya keep touchin’ like that i’m goin’ to come,” He said. Your grin was devilish as it took over your face, part of you wanted to watch him come all over himself but at the same time your pussy was begging for it. 

“Joel, I want your cock,” You said, your voice dripping with fake innocence, you watched a smile spread over his face. 

“Gotta warm ya up first, darlin’” he said his hands reaching to your undies now and tracing along the waistband of your undies this time. You didn’t want to wait, you were already wet, needy and wanting his big cock inside of you. “Can’t jump right in, you’ve probably never-“

“Don’t be dumb, Joel.” You said to him, smirking, his fingers found their way into your undies and stroked once up your slit, feeling how wet you were. His face flashed slight confusion and then he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“You’ve done this before, kiddo?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and he reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of your head, dragging you down to be level with him, his lips hovering near yours. “Be honest,” He breathed. 

“Yes, Joel, I’ve done this before and I need your cock, now.” You whined and rubbed your hips forward, feeling his cock pressed into your underwear clad pussy. Joel reached up and tugged your undies to the side, and you moved up higher on your knees and he lined his cock up against your entrance, the head barely starting to penetrate you. You gasped. He was big. Bigger than you had, had and suddenly you were slightly worried about taking it. You looked down at his face, his brow furrowed, his lip was sucked into his mouth. You let your hips drop some, pushing his cock inside of you, the head seeming to split your lips open and then opening your cunt. 

“Good God,” Joel moaned, feeling your tight heat enveloping him. You let out a whine as you took more and more of him inside of you. He was much bigger than anything you had tried before and you suddenly felt  in over your head but the stretch was so good. You stuttered to  a stop with him halfway inside you, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding himself into you. Your breathing was hard and you rocked your hips forward, trying to grind yourself against him and open yourself up for him. 

“Joel!” You moaned, the stretch, the burn, the fullness was so good. It heated you through and through, you took him deeper and Joel grabbed at your hips. 

“Good girl, that feel good?” he asked. You whined and babbled nonsense, unsure if it felt good or hurt too much. You weren’t used to being on top and being in charge of how much you were taking was overwhelming. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, ’s’been so long since I…fuck! I’m sorry, baby, I need this.” Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and flipped you over so you were on your back, your legs around his waist and his cock plunged farther into you. You gasped in pain and pleasure. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” Joel moaned, pumping his hips forward, watching the place where your bodies connected as he fucked into you. You could have screamed but you knew that you were out in the woods and you needed to be semi quiet. Joel leaned down over you, stroking your hair back, finally looking into your eyes, “Wishin’ you let me warm you up?” he asked teasingly. You gritted your teeth and shook your head, 

“No,” you gasped, “No, I love it,” You whined and it was true. He pumped his hips faster and nodded as he cupped your cheeks, 

“I know babygirl, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to need this so fuckin’ bad,” he breathed into you. You tried to shake your head, you tried to do anything to tell him how much you wanted it but you were stupid from how good his cock felt filling you, stretching you and pounding into you. So you let him apologize while he fucked you. You wanted more, more, more but his thrusts were becoming faster, less steady, more needy. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m going to fuckin’ come, I know…I know it’s wrong,” he whispered to you. “I’m so sorry, just…a little…god, please.” Joel pushed your knee up and back, opening you further for him. You were whining, 

“Oh god! God! Please! More!” You said. Joel’s body pressed into you, his cock slamming into  you once more,

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I need to come in ya,” He said, “I’m sorry! Take Daddy’s come like a good girl,” he breathed and you felt his cock spasm as he came deep inside of you. Joel kept himself inside of you all through his orgasm and then he collapsed against you, pressing as much of his body into you as he could. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, peppering your face with apologetic kisses.

“Joel, stop…stop apologizing,” You mumbled. “I wanted it,” You whispered. Joel pulled his cock out of you and pushed your legs back again to watch his own spend slip out of you. 

“Fuck,” He breathed. “I know you wanted it, but-“ He reached down and stroked his fingers up and down your abused pussy. “I-it’s so wrong how badly I needed it, darlin’,” he whispered. You wriggled and moaned as his fingers stroked over your clit. 

“N-No…I need it too, Daddy.” You said, using the name he had called himself before. Joel smiled almost sadly as his fingers gathered his come on his fingers and brought it to your mouth. You obediently opened your mouth, accepting his fingers. His eyes lit up as you sucked it down. 

“I know, darlin’, you’re naughty, jus’ like your Daddy,” he said. 

[luvfae]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a female reader x Thanos.

What about reader and thanos we’re close before the games both harbouring feelings maybe, but they both have mental health struggles and she is someone who dose things with out thinking of the consequences because she doesn’t care so anyway when they find each other in the games thanos is aware of her tendencies and is like kind of babysitting her.

Like in the first game she makes zero move once she finds out you die and he literally drags her across, and maybe the second game she is always his first choice but she just lays there depressed and cynical and makes sarcastic comments while him and nah gy go around finding team mates or in mingle she makes no move but ofc he always saves her ass, until one night he gives her a rude awakening a harsh pep talk feeling confessing etc. u can put your own spin on it ofc ofc!!

I DON’T CARE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, mental health issues, death, blood, typical squid game stuff

You and Thanos had always been a little fucked up.

That’s what made you close.

You met him at a party two years ago—one of those loud, suffocating nights where everyone was either high, drunk, or trying to be. He was leaning against a balcony, smoking, watching the chaos unfold like it was a movie he’d seen a hundred times before.

You had walked up, grabbed the cigarette from his lips, and took a drag without asking.

He had let you.

“You look like you want to jump,” you had said, staring down at the city lights.

He had snorted. “You look like you wouldn’t care if I did.”

That was the start of it.

You weren’t exactly good for each other, but you understood each other. The reckless, self-destructive tendencies. The numbness that came in waves. You never had to explain why you did the things you did—skipping work for days at a time, getting blackout drunk just to feel something, making choices that could ruin you without thinking twice. Because he got it.

And maybe that was why, despite all the tension, all the times you nearly crossed the line from friends to something else, you never did. Because you knew the second you let him have you, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Then he disappeared.

You heard the rumors—he got into drugs, got into trouble, owed money to the wrong people. You had reached out once, maybe twice, but you never pushed. And eventually, you stopped trying.

Until now.

Until you saw him again.

Your head was pounding. Your body ached. You barely remembered how you got here, only that you had woken up in this fucking tracksuit with the number 067 on your chest and some masked freak telling you to follow the others.

And then—

“No fucking way.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his voice.

You turned.

And there he was.

Thanos.

He looked like hell—bruised knuckles, tired eyes, the same cocky smirk that always made you want to punch him in the face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flickered over you, as if making sure you were real.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Same.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then he snorted. “I should’ve known you’d end up in some fucked-up shit like this.”

You crossed your arms. “Takes one to know one.”

He huffed a laugh, but there was something behind it. Something tight. Something that made your chest ache.

“How bad?” you asked, voice quieter.

His jaw tensed. “Bad.”

You nodded.

He nodded back.

You didn’t need to say more.

Because he knew what you were asking. And you knew what he wasn’t saying.

And when the sirens blared, when you were herded outside for the first game, when the blood started spilling and the bodies started dropping, you froze.

Gunshots rang out. Bodies collapsed. Screams filled the air, and yet you just stood there, frozen.

You weren’t scared. No, fear would mean you actually cared about living. You simply didn’t see the point. What was the point?

You stood there, staring at the massive doll, blinking slowly as the words “Green Light” echoed in the cold air.

Around you, people were rushing forward, sprinting, their eyes wide with desperation. The tension was palpable, the sound of rapid heartbeats almost deafening as they tried to make it to the end before the next “Red Light.”

You weren’t scared. You weren’t anything. Just numb.

You could hear it—the gasps of fear, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and then—gunshots.

Someone screamed.

But still, you didn’t move.

The moment it hit you, like a wave crashing over a brittle shore, was that you weren’t just standing still because you were numb. You were standing still because it didn’t matter. If you died here, it wouldn’t matter. If you made it out, what would it change?

Nothing. Everything was pointless.

And that’s when you felt it—Thanos’s hand, strong and relentless, grabbing your wrist, yanking you forward.

“The fuck are you doing?” His voice was a low hiss, filled with fury, but his grip on you didn’t loosen.

Your feet stumbled as you were dragged, fighting for balance. Your mind was foggy, distant, numb to the fear that gripped everyone else. The bloodshed, the screams, the flashing lights—it was like you were standing outside of it all, watching it happen to someone else.

“Move!” Thanos barked, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tried to jerk away, feeling the weight of his grip only tightening.

“I—” You blinked, but your voice felt hollow. “I don’t care.”

The next whistle blew.

Your body jerked with the momentum of his tug, and for a moment, you didn’t feel the ground under your feet. Thanos’s arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you, pulling you through the crowd of bodies that were tumbling and falling like leaves in a storm.

Gunshots rang out in the background. You could see it now—people, falling. Bodies collapsing like ragdolls.

But you didn’t care.

“You wanna die?” Thanos’s voice was harsh, just an inch from your ear, filled with raw anger.

You blinked slowly. “I don’t care,” you repeated, though the words felt strange in your mouth. Almost like a lie you’d told yourself for so long that you’d forgotten what it really meant.

Thanos’s grip tightened. He wasn’t listening, not to your words. He wasn’t letting you slip into that void again. His eyes were wide, jaw clenched, the muscle in his neck pulsing with barely contained frustration. The whistle blew again.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, lifting you off your feet entirely now, dragging you forward like you weighed nothing.

He didn’t give you a choice. He didn’t care that you didn’t care. He was going to keep you alive, even if it meant forcing you to fight against the numbness that consumed you.

By the time the countdown ended, you were nearly at the finish line. Your heart thudded in your chest—not from fear, not from adrenaline, but because of the strange, foreign sensation of being pulled back from the edge.

Thanos pushed you across the line. He was breathless, chest heaving from the physical strain of pulling you. His grip on your waist loosened only when the game ended, and the crowd’s screams faded.

When it was over, when the air cleared, you leaned back against the cold wall, your body sliding down to the ground, exhaustion settling in.

Thanos stood there, staring at you, chest heaving in rhythm with yours. His eyes narrowed with something dangerous, something you hadn’t seen before. Something deeper than anger.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he spat, but it lacked the usual humor.

You didn’t answer. You just sat there, staring at the floor. The adrenaline was leaving your system, and all you had left was the heaviness of everything—the gunshots, the blood, the screams.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

Thanos crouched in front of you, eyes intense, searching your face for something he didn’t know how to find. Something that he needed to fix.

“No,” he snapped, his hand reaching out to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “We’re not doing this. Not anymore.”

His fingers dug into your skin, the intensity in his gaze so powerful that you couldn’t look away, even though part of you wanted to. His voice softened, but there was no less fire in it. “I won’t let you throw yourself away.”

Your chest tightened. Something deep inside of you stirred, but it was fleeting. You felt vulnerable, stripped bare in front of him.

“I won’t let you die,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his thumb gently brushing over your skin like it could erase everything you were running from.

You felt the ache in your chest then, the crack that began to form from the pressure of his words. The weight of his care.

And for a second, just a second, it felt like you were actually seen.

—

The next day when the guards announced the next game, you didn’t bother to move. You just sat there, your arms resting on your knees, watching the other players scramble to form teams, trying to sort out the chaos of who was going to be their partner. You could hear the shuffling of feet, the anxious whispers, the desperation in every movement. But none of it touched you. You were past it.

“Get up.”

Thanos’s voice cut through the haze of indifference surrounding you. He was standing over you, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you tilted your head back, staring at the high ceiling above, your mind drifting. He could wait.

“I’m not asking, sweetheart.” His voice was firm now, sharp like a warning. “Get up.”

You sighed, the weight of the world pressing on your chest. This wasn’t even the worst of it. You glanced at him briefly, and for a second, something flickered in your chest—a feeling, a pulse of something that made you almost want to smile. Almost.

You dragged yourself up from the floor with exaggerated slowness, not bothering to hide the way your limbs felt heavy, as if your body didn’t belong to you anymore. The sound of the other players forming teams, their voices blending into the background, became distant.

Thanos didn’t wait for you to make a move. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you with him toward the group that was gathering to select their partners.

“You’re with me,” he said, without asking, without giving you any say in it. His words weren’t a request—they were a demand.

You raised an eyebrow, raising your free hand to smooth your hair back. “Thanos, you need five people, not just one. Go find your three others.”

He didn’t even look at you as he grunted. “Get up. We’re doing this.”

You weren’t sure why it annoyed you. Maybe it was the way he thought he could just make decisions for you like that, or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t want to give a shit about anything anymore. But instead of arguing, you flopped back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh. “You’re so bossy.”

“I swear, if you don’t—”

“You’ll what?” you asked lazily, watching the other players scramble like rats. “Let me die?”

He stared at you, jaw clenched, clearly fighting the urge to snap at you. You saw the anger flaring in his eyes, the protective instinct swirling beneath the surface. But he said nothing. He didn’t yell at you. He just turned and walked away, a look of frustration flashing across his face.

It was strange. Normally, you’d see that and feel some sick satisfaction. But today, it left you empty, like the familiar edge of tension between you and him had dulled.

After a few moments, he came back. You didn’t look up from where you were sprawled on the floor, your legs stretched out in front of you.

Thanos took the spot next to you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, silent, his eyes scanning the group. You could tell he was waiting for you to make a move, to show some sign that you were still capable of caring about something.

But you didn’t. You didn’t move.

And maybe that was why, when he spoke again, his voice was softer, quieter. “Come on. We’ve got to find one more person.”

You didn’t answer him. You just kept staring ahead, your eyes unfocused.

Thanos cursed under his breath. “Fine. Stay here. I don’t give a shit. But we’re playing this fucking game.”

When you didn’t react, he stood up, dragging a reluctant Nam-Gyu over to form the rest of the team. You could hear them talking quietly for a moment, but it barely registered in your head.

You hadn’t realized how much it hurt, how much the detachment had taken a toll on you, until you felt him next to you again, the weight of his presence a reminder that something—someone—still cared.

It was just a fleeting moment, but it stung.

“You with me or what?”

You finally looked up at him. The frustration in his eyes hadn’t faded, but there was something else there, something deeper, almost like he was begging you to show up.

You stood without a word, dusting yourself off as you followed him to the designated area.

Thanos didn’t say anything else as the game began. He just watched you, his eyes never leaving you as you moved through the tasks. His hands were steady, precise, but every time you stumbled, he was there to catch you. His grip on your arm was always firm, as if he were trying to anchor you to this world, to this moment where you were still alive.

Every time you fell behind, he didn’t yell. He didn’t berate you. He just pulled you up and kept you going.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel like you were fighting the game. You weren’t fighting him either.

You were fighting with him.

And as the game stretched on, the realization hit you: this wasn’t just about survival anymore. Thanos wasn’t just keeping you alive because of some unspoken duty or because he had no other choice.

He was doing it because he wanted to.

You couldn’t quite understand it, but you didn’t mind it. Not anymore.

—

The next game felt like a cruel joke.

You stood at the edge of the group, your mind numb to the urgency that seemed to swallow the others whole. The guards had explained the rules—nothing complicated, just survival—yet your body remained unmoving, despite the chaos unfolding around you.

Most of the players immediately scrambled, eyes wide, feet shuffling as they sought safety. You could hear the hurried breaths of your fellow players, the scrape of shoes against the concrete floor, the soft sounds of bodies rushing and tumbling in all directions. Yet, you just… didn’t care.

Everyone else seemed like they were fighting for their lives, but you?

You were waiting for it all to end.

And then, just like that, you felt the heat of a body next to yours. His scent—leather, sweat, something familiar—struck you before you even saw him.

“Nope,” Thanos muttered under his breath as his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could even process what was happening.

You blinked, the numbness in your mind finally starting to fade as he yanked you toward him, pulling you into his space like he’d done countless times before. “Not today,” he said firmly, his voice low with that undercurrent of protectiveness that you had come to know so well.

You didn’t fight him. Not this time. His grip was strong, secure, and for once, you allowed yourself to lean into it. You didn’t want to make the effort to run or find a spot of safety. So you didn’t.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered, looking up at him, your voice quieter than you intended.

Thanos glanced down at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, I fucking did,” he replied, his tone hard, his grip never faltering.

You stayed quiet as he pulled you into an empty room, positioning you closer to the wall, where the guards couldn’t reach as easily if for some reason they decided to kill you. But it was more than that—he was keeping you close, making sure no one else could get too near, too close.

You hated how much it comforted you.

The minutes ticked by, the guards’ voices harsh in the background, and still, you stood there, pressed against him. His body was warm, solid, like a shield. You didn’t think about how strange it felt to have him act like this—to be the one protecting you. No, you just let him, because for once, it felt like you had a reason to stay.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but it was enough for the panic to begin to settle. Enough for you to breathe again. You weren’t entirely safe, not yet. But for the first time in days, you weren’t just surviving; you were simply existing.

And it felt like an eternity before the sirens sounded, signaling the end of the game. The crowd around you began to move, restless and relieved.

Thanos released his hold on you just slightly, but he didn’t step away. His fingers lingered for a moment before dropping to his side.

“Think you can make it on your own?” His voice was quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, suddenly aware of how close the two of you still were, the heat between you both suddenly charging the air in a way that made your chest tighten.

“Maybe,” you muttered, looking away. “But you’re not exactly a bad guy to have around.”

Thanos snorted, a dark humor creeping into his voice. “Don’t get used to it.”

But you could feel his eyes on you, and despite everything—despite the absurdity of it all—you felt something inside shift. The games weren’t over, but something between you and Thanos had already changed.

And you weren’t sure if you could go back.

—

That night, Thanos snapped.

“I can’t keep babysitting you,” he growled, pacing in front of you.

You sat on the floor, arms wrapped around your knees, staring ahead blankly. “I never asked you to.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Then what, I should’ve let you fucking die?”

You didn’t answer.

That only pissed him off more.

“You act like nothing matters. Like you don’t give a shit if you live or die. But guess what, sweetheart?” He crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, forcing your eyes on him.

“I give a shit.”

Your breath caught.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck happened to you. I don’t know why you’re like this. But you do not get to throw yourself away.” His voice dropped lower. “Not when I—”

His grip faltered. His expression twisted.

Not when I care about you.

The words never came, but you felt them.

Something deep inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard. Your throat burned. Your chest ached. The weight of his words, of everything you’d been avoiding, came crashing down on you all at once.

For the first time in days, you felt something.

And you weren’t sure if that terrified you more than the games themselves.

But one thing was clear.

For Thanos, you’d try.

Even if you didn’t know how.

Something had changed.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Thanos didn’t say anything after that night—no more lectures, no more scolding. He just sat with you in the dark, his shoulder pressed against yours, and let the silence stretch between you.

But you could feel it. The weight of his words. The rawness in his voice when he said, I give a shit.

And maybe, just maybe, you had started to give a shit too.

Because the next morning, when the guards announced the next game, you didn’t drag your feet. You stood up. You followed. You let Thanos find you in the crowd without him having to pull you by the wrist.

You saw the way he looked at you—like he noticed the change, like he was waiting for you to slip back into that numb, hollow state again.

You didn’t.

Not yet.

[acexsmhking]

GUESS WHO IT IS

Because my feelings on Toby are completely normal *cough*

Wrestler Toby x Wrestler reader

Fem ofc

BUT REAL WRESTLING NOT LIKE THE STAGE WWE STUFF

basically it takes place in like just a normal AU where Toby and the others never became pastas n shit-etc. They're still aggressive and bitches, Etc. Toby is in a wrestling team, right? Pretty damn good, CIPA and his strength makes him virtually undefeated

Until this lady shows up, who's not only the only women in the opposing men's team, Toby's weight class, but also completely catches Toby's eye

And suddenly, Toby isn't undefeated anymore, whether it's Toby losing just to get manhandled by a big hot buff woman, or that he genuinely just lost, it's anyone's guess.

But he's obsessed, stalking her social media, etc. eventually he is absolutely delighted when she transfers to his team (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

OKAY THATS IT

MANY KISSES FROM A DEVOUT TONY DROOLER

𝐀𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚

(𝗻.) 𝗟𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹

: ̗̀➛ Toby x FEM!Wrestler!Reader

Summary: Toby had built a well maintained reputation for himself in the wrestling world. He was undefeated since he became pro and graduated. That was.. til he saw you, shaking his world both figuratively and literally.

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, p n v! sex, sub-ish Toby, dom-ish Reader, mentions of blood, mentions of physical harm, descriptions of excessive drooling, descriptions of stalking, Odaxelagnia

He hadn’t a clue of what happened, it was all really a blurr. His mind had blanked out completely during that fight, blinded with adrenaline and.. something else. Your team stood around you, patting you on the back and congratulating you while he sat to the side dumb founded. He..lost? He didn’t even know, not a single thought on his mind as he stared at you.

His eyes trailing all over your curves, the glow on your face. Mostly from sweat but also happiness. Not to mention tracking the flexion of your muscles. He couldn’t stop looking you over, as if he was watching an angel. He hadn’t even noticed when Lyra and his mom sneaked over to him, rubbing his shoulders and checking his limbs. “Oh sweetie are you alright?” His mother tilted his head, gently pouring water in his hair to cool him off so he didn’t overheat. He flushed at the embarrassment, heart still touched at his mother’s care. “Connie, he’s fine. He held himself up!” Tom chuckled, firmly patting Toby’s shoulder. “You did good.” He smiled, playfully nudging Toby.

His family stayed fretting over him all the way to the car. He was leaning against the car door as Lyra looked over his knuckles. They both paused at turned as someone called out. “Hey! Uh, sorry just.. wanted to say hi and,” You shuffled awkwardly, mostly from Tobias intense stare. Your cheeks flushing noticing him checking you out. “Just that, it was a good game and really cool to compete with you!” You smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. His mind was completely blank, he was cool? Oh god, you thought he was cool!

Lyra had that shit eating grin on her face watching you both, awkwardly and embarrassingly compliment each other. You briefly shared your socials with Toby before waving goodbye and heading off with your own family. “You like her!” Lyra exclaimed, pushing against Toby with glee. His eye snapped open as he covered her mouth, shushing her. “I n-never said that!” He groaned, slumping against her.

Getting home he took a nice shower, staying in there far longer than usual. He was.. pent up. But also to wash off the sweat others had spread on him and germs. His mother seriously would never stop coddling him. All he could think about was you. Every little detail. How you were just a bit shy of his height, maybe one or two inches. When you smiled shyly you had dimples, the curves and dips of your biceps when you shook his hand, you smell mixed with a sweaty musk that made him dizzy. He felt.. hot?

He tried playing everything cool as the day went on. Though.. he couldn’t stop himself from checking your socials. It wasn’t anything really.. he just liked a few posts of yours, commented a “good game” on your most recent and that was all! .. for all of ten minutes before he was going through everything. Your follows, followers, even found your parents accounts. Screenshotting pictures of you, saving some post where you were at the pool.. nothing really! He was cool.

By the end of the month Toby had basically put together your whole astrology chart. He had began texting you only a week ago, nothing extreme just casual. It was all casual. Not like he was desperate or had a massive crush on you, no absolutely not. You started the chat so clearly you liked him! Toby had been fiddling with his wrapping when the coach gathered the team together. He was starstruck watching you follow behind, just in casual clothes. But you looked gorgeous to him, he flushed when you waved at him. Giving you a small wave back as the coach started speaking.

“Listen up, I know this is a little sudden however, there will be a new student here.” He motioned to you, who gave a small wave to the onlookers. “Y/N here will be joining our location.” You shuffled as more and more eyes stayed glued on you, clearly everyone had remembered how you cleared Toby out. The coach left everyone to socialize for a short while before you had to leave. You moved closer to Toby as people talked to you, since he was the one you were most familiar with.

Toby was sure he could launch through the roof right now. You were with him, uh them! He’d get to see you at practices, he’d get to practice with you. His knuckles and neck popped at bit more, a very obvious failing attempt to seem calm. Everyone was thankfully nice enough, maybe a few who were clearly a little socially distant. Toby had been walking you to your car before tugging on your shirt a bit. “I was-was wond-der-ing if maybe you uh.” He shuffled his feet, he’d never asked a girl out, plus what if you didn’t like him? “I got this movie, the n-new one you were talking about. We cou-uh-ld watch it.” He attempted to play cool, gosh what was he doing. That was so stupidly lame. But you only giggled, nodding before getting into your car promising to text him your schedule.

 Thankfully, Lyra covered for Toby making some lame excuse to lead the parents out the house and away for the early night. His nerves had been all over the place, especially when you knocked on the door. You were dressed absolutely adorably. Not to mention the shirt with short sleeves.. showing off your arms. Or the skirt flaunting your legs, and that styles hair that framed your face perfectly. He could feel the heat radiating from you as you both sat for the movie. Occasionally making sarcastic remarks about the movie, or making jokes. At some point both of you ignored the movie as you chatted, tension becoming less and less as you both relaxed around the other.

Maybe.. too relaxed. Or by now too tense? He felt like both with your arms wrapped around his neck. He felt so light and warm, arms wrapped around your hips. Your thighs pressed against him as you straddled him. Your lips were sloppy as you both tried obtaining more and more of each other. His hands were harsh as he gripped your ass, pulling you closer to him. The shift breaking your contact, a string of saliva connecting you both.

Toby whined, shifting up to try and capture them once again. You playfully dodged his lips grinding yourself against his growing erection. Grabbing a fist full of his hair you tilted his head, kissing along his jaw. Toby sighed, hands still feeling up your ass as they tried moving the thin fabric of your panties. You nibbled his neck in retaliation, angry red marks quickly forming on his delicate skin. Gently, Toby felt your slit which was gradually becoming more and more slicked. A stutter caught in his throat when you ground back against his fingers, causing him to accidentally rub on your clit.

Toby gulped as he kept going.. he hadn’t the faintest fucking idea what he was doing. But he craved you, the scent of your perfume made his sensitive nose twitch. You pulled back from Toby, reaching down to slowly maneuver his hand. “Like this, baby.” You cooed, leading his fingers to your clit. He gave it an experimental pinch, gently between his knuckles. That caused a yelp out of you. He heeded your advice, learning to rub her just how you liked. He listened to your every whim and command, a cute look on his face.

“Let’s do this on your bed.” You giggled, catching his ear lobe between your teeth as you got off him. He hurriedly scrambled after you. Excitedly he took your hand, leading you to his room. You didn’t even have time to look around, his lips crashing into yours. Hands hurriedly roaming bodies as you both fumbled with the other’s clothes. Desperate for the other to be naked. Lying on the bed, you cupped Toby’s face leading him to your aching heat. Toby gaze was absolutely captured, he thought you looked beautiful. Both of you. So enamored with your cunt, running a finger down the middle to collect your essence.

You hummed, encouraging him to explore. His fingers gently spread you open, your scent hitting his nose as a whiny moan left his lips. What if he didn’t please you? And you just left? Toby shook the thoughts from his head, leaning in to place his tongue on your clit. Simply savoring your taste and smell. He was growing furiously hard just at the mere taste of you. And gods did you taste good. Better than anything ever, he was certain. Pulling back, he place gently kisses on her, one of his fingers teasing your hole before pushing in.

“That’s it, good boy Toby.” You moaned, hand gripping his hair as you arched your back. He was pretty sure he was going to nut just from praise alone. Toby tried his best, listening to all your praises and every moan that left your mouth. His eyes looked drunk as he sloppily sucked on your clit, fingers scissoring you open. Muffled moans sending vibrations through you, only stimulating you that much more. His hips lazily grounded into the edge of the bed, your free hands interlocked together. A sweet and intimate gesture he initiated.

He was, surprisingly a very fast and eager learner. You were more than happy that this was becoming a very well placed gamble. Toby loved when your legs would wrap around his head, the hard flex of your muscles threatening to clamp around his head. You’d always spread yourself back out but he wouldn’t mind if you kept them locked around him. Forced to be buried by the nose in your cunt. He already was, honestly. The weight of his head pressed against you, completely giving you his all. He pulled back only briefly to switch his position, his tongue lapping at your hole while two his knuckles pinched your clit. His thumb rubbing quick motion on the now secluded bud.

Your hips jerked very eager to feel more and more of him. His chin long since being covered in your juices, his nose occasionally bumping into you and his fingers causing more pleasure. His tongue explored you with a furious pace. He was absolutely drunk off your pussy, mouth latching back onto your clit. Giving her a long, harsh suck as he pulled back. Releasing her with a pop. Your free hand combing his hair as he watched, watched how your hole stretched when he fingered it.

He gave you a hooded, teary look. His cock ache, horribly. “Aww, poor thing all neglected?” You teased, raising a mocked brow at him. He nodded, hips grinding more desperately. “Puh-lease honey, lemme in promise I’ll do good.” He pleaded, moving up to be nestled between your hips. His cock rubbing against your folds, catching on your hard clit. Your hands gripped his hips, stopping his frantic movements as you guided his cock to your hole. He hastily met your lips as he began sliding into you. He tasted like you, causing an embarrassed flush on your cheeks.

You groaned as he pushed more and more into you, he was not small or thin by any means. He was thick and long, your toes curling as he began immaturely pumping into you. Movement still needy and quick. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to slow him down but he just shushed you. His tip brushing against spots that drove you crazy. “So good! Fuh-fuck-eel so good!” He whined, pace becoming more and more rapid as he held onto your thighs. The wet sound of your thighs meeting were like music to your ears. Especially as you looked down, watching how his cock entered you. Toby seemed to have the same idea, eyes glued to watching your conjoined sex’s.

“Wanna n-nut in you baby, make yo-u feel good promise.” He stuttered, words jumbled and rushed as he pressed wet, sloppy kisses to your cheeks and lips. You moaned, wanting to say anything, but you could. He felt too good, so good that your words caught. Strangled sobs and moans being the only thing to leave your lips. Winded gasps as you tried breathing. But his pace was brutal, and you were sure you could feel him everywhere. “Fuck! Right there!” You yelped, he brushed across a spot that made you see stars. Spit escaping the corners of your lips as he drilled into you. He felt like he was in heaven.

You were so soft and wet, the velvety grip of your walls. He was sure he was going to cum. Was it too soon? He wanted so badly to cum with you, to feel that sensation with you. He was elated to have you in his bed, surrounded by his scent, covered in the marks of his teeth. He had bitten you all over in a haze. Marks on your cheeks, neck and chest. Currently he teeth stayed sunk in the fat of your shoulder, hips jolting you which cause his teeth to sink in deeper occasionally.

You were not going to last much longer, not with how reckless he was going. You could feel that coil in your stomach, you so desperately tried to hold on and wait for Toby but you couldn’t. You came with a loud sob, broken and hoarse as you jolted. Walls clamping around him furiously, a stuttered choke leaving him. He gave you a few more hasty thrusts before stilling in you, teeth leaving your shoulder to kiss you. Both of you shoving your tongues in the other mouth, not even really a proper kiss. Just a wet mess much like between your legs.

For a long moment both of you stayed there, Toby pressing flutter kisses down your chest as you held onto him. “So.. now a ba-bad time to ask for another date?” He said sheepishly, a nervous grin on his lips as he looked at you. Cock slowly slipping out of you. You chuckled, nodding your head. “Yes, we definitely can.”

: ̗̀➛ Let’s go guys only have like four more requests after this one. I’m also working on another surprise for you all so that’s why request might start coming out just a tiny bit slower, but don’t worry I’m still working on them! Love you all<3 — Ace

[schwanemannsland]

Can we see Mona's parents? Like...theirbpersonality and who does she resembles the most (looks and personality)

(This all pertains to my AU version of Mona)

(TW: heavy shit)

Saying Mona's parents were shit at their job was an understatement. They both failed her miserably in their own unique ways. They were stable enough to have Mona when they did with her being a very regrettable accident. They're where Mona got her lifelong addiction from since they were intense users of meth and such (the two originally met through the same dealer and found each other the only person they could relate to). Mona's mom was fairly detached from her role as a mother due to both never wanting to be a mother and finding her circumstance in life too shitty to not dissociate from. At most she saw herself as "the breadwinner" and the main keeper of their home since she was the only one out of the two that tried to find stability within their lives. She actually worked two jobs throughout Mona's childhood which is the reason why she had any sort of food, clothes, running water, and every other basic physical need she required. Emotionally, she was out. She never attempted to relate to Mona on a deeper level which resulted in Mona never feeling any sort of motherly love (later one, Mona's mom highly regrets this and beats herself up everyday for not trying harder). She suffered from Postpartum depression that she never got properly treated which is why she dissociated as hard as she did. The most she did as a parent was form all the house rules and punish her when she broke them (which was just her repeating the corporal punishment her mother did towards her). Their relationship only got even more strained once Mona grew up into her teenhood with them constantly fighting every moment they could. This was one of the leading reasons why Mona ran away at fourteen and never looked back.

Mona's dad was less of a dad and more of a monster the two women had to deal with. He didn't try in the slightest when it came to parenting nor providing for his small family. He continued his self serving life as if nothing had changed after Mona's birth with him spending all his unemployment money on meth and inviting his equally selfish friends over to use right in front of Mona as a kid. Due to both his horrible personality and his brain deteriorating from constant drug use, he was an explosive person. Mona getting in the middle of his fighting was normal to her may it be with him beating up his friends, his wife, or even Mona herself. She just learned that to survive it was best to ignore his existence and stay out of his way. The only form of affection she obtained from her dad was sexual abuse starting from an early age and only stopping once she ran away at fourteen. Despite this going on for over a decade, she did try to tell her mom several times what was exactly happening, but due to both Mona's mom being in denial about her husband being even worse of a human being and not wanting to face the consequences of trying to force this man out of their lives, she would dismiss her. Only did she come to terms with this once she left her husband shortly after Mona ranaway and she can never forgive herself for not believing her. Mona's dad is the biggest reason why she's the way she is; her anger issues, her hypersexuality, her BPD/NPD, etc. He was also the main reason why she ranaway and why she's been on the edge of suicide ever since.

Mona got a lot of her main features from her dad (her high cheekbones, deep, wide eyes, pale skin, and oddly lanky frame) and got her dark hair from her mom. You can imagine how much she hates how similar she looks to her parents.

Mona has zero plans seeing her parents once again since she doesn't think they have changed in the slightest. Her mom is tempted to search her out, but she doesn't know how to find her and what benefit re-entering her life would have. Mona's dad doesn't give a shit and enjoys his solitary life.

[acynicalsweetheart]

Can you please write teen reader pointing a gun at Jimmy's head and forcing him to eat her out. She keeps calling him "daddy," which eventually morphs into "dad," and by the end of it, she's sobbing a saying dad over and over again.. Please and thank you

hai sorry this took forever umm. and sorry it’s so terribly ass LOL don’t know how to write anymore… wanted to do this from jimmy’s perspective but i don’t think it would’ve worked so yah. no idea what this is

content warning: 18+, dead dove do not eat, faux incest, non/dub-con, gunpoint, daddy kink, daddy issues, etc etc

“Just do it, Jimmy, please.” You add the nice word to lighten the situation a little, granted you’re holding Jimmy at gunpoint as you speak. “I’ll use it if you don’t.” 

You’re trying to be stern but your words come out so meekly. Probably ‘cause you’ve never held, let alone fired a gun before. Ever. 

He huffs, arms crossed over his chest confidently, not up in the air—palms open to prove he’s not a threat like they should be. Almost like he’s amused. “You’re bluffing.” 

It’s loaded, unsafened and your finger is resting on the trigger. Well, Jimmy should watch you ‘bluff’ this. 

Your hands shake as you pull the trigger with a deafening bang!, narrowly missing Jimmy by a couple of inches and landing a shot in the wall behind him. 

“Shit!” Jimmy jumps out of his skin like the man in the box, covering his ears. “Fuck—fucking… crazy bitch.”

You can’t help but giggle a little. Not bad for a first time. 

“Where’d you even get that?” His scowl exaggerates, still very obviously trying to catch his breath. 

“Do it…” stalking closer still aiming at him, you lift up your skirt ever so slightly in an attempt to entice him, “Jimmy.”

‘Cause he’s not the type to give head out of his own free will—you know him that well. 

“Fine! Jesus fuck.” Jimmy snaps once the firearm nears his chest, getting down on his knees and starting to pull down your panties like a good doggy. “Goddamn insane,” he mutters, glaring up at you. 

The barrel of your (daddy’s) gun is pointed right to Jimmy’s dampening forehead. 

One shot—another simple flick of the trigger and he’s as good as dead. 

Feels like forever before Jimmy finally licks an angry stripe up your slit. Again, not bad for a first time. Your first time—not Jimmy’s. You don’t think. But you certainly hope, would make you special. 

“Oh!” You yelp, half-surprised and half-pleased, the other word just slips out so nicely. “Daddy…”

“You’ve mfucking losht it,” is spoken into your pussy, sending vibrations through you—oddly makes you wish Jimmy would keep talking. 

For the first time in your life, you think you understand pornstars and their excessive moaning. ‘Cause you’re having a really hard time shutting up. 

“Deeper, daddy, or I’ll pull the trigger, I swear I will.”

And Jimmy has the fucking audacity to pull away. Just to be snarky. “Who’s going to eat your pussy then?” 

“Shut up!” You grip the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair and forcing him deeper between your thighs. Till his prickly stubble gives you rug burn. 

Jimmy’s munching away at your cunt like a starved bulldog—letting his nose scrunch up against your mound and letting his spit drip down your legs. 

His tongue stretches you out, licking so far up you see Jesus Christ. 

Eyes rolling so far back into your skull that you can see your brain, you repeat it over and over like a mantra. “Daddy daddy daddy…” 

You can’t stop yourself from humping Jimmy’s face, hiccups of pleasure interrupting your moans. Like you’re drunk on Jimmy’s mouth on your pussy alone. 

“Dad—“ you’re so far gone you barely even notice what you just said—well, what a hitch of your breath technically made you say.

Jimmy doesn’t stop. Neither does your orgasm. 

“Dad,” you gasp, body tensing up as his blunt nails dig into your ass, helping you hump his face, “dad, fuck…”

You practically explode, cumming so loud you give opera singers a run for their money. 

It doesn’t last very long. Post-nut clarity hits you harder than dad’s belt. A smack to each cheek and another smack straight in the face for good measure.  

Jimmy shoves you away from him, leaving you shuffling and stumbling across some factory floor while he gets up on his feet. 

Where even are you? What are you doing? 

“I’m sorry,” your gun drops to the floor, hands clutching everywhere on yourself you can reach. “I’m so sorry, dad, sorry…”

You’re given a look by Jimmy that tells you he wants to beat the shit out of you, whoop your ass real hard—but he doesn’t. Just judges you silently. 

You can’t stand to look at Jimmy any longer. The spit - possibly your cum - gleaming in his stubble, the indent of your gun to his forehead, the growing bulge in his pants. 

Before you know it, you’re on the floor, gripping your head in disbelief and sobbing like a baby. You should be in fucking jail. 

He probably thinks you’re a freak. So desperate to get your pussy eaten that you’d hold someone at gunpoint for it. That’s exactly what it looks like. 

For some reason Jimmy is still there. Not calling the cops, not even walking away. 

“Nasty bitch,” he kicks at you like you’re a sad old dog, then most likely has an epiphany ‘cause he gets down to embrace you. Jimmy’s grip on you is tight like restraints, petting your hair hard enough to almost flatten your head. “Daddy did this to you, huh?”

You shake your head, covering your face with your hands—getting them all snotty and wet with your tears ‘cause you don’t want to be seen. You don’t even know which part of this shit-show he’s referring to. 

You grab onto Jimmy’s shirt to pull him closer so he can hold you just a little longer, dirtying the fabric and calling him dad over and over like it’s the only word you know. 

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[skrunksthatwunk]

ok soooo im like 5 episodes into dear brother and i need you guys to know how much i love rei so far if only for her staggering around like a rain-soaked stray dog just haggard and unseeing all the time. like we know very little about her thus far except that every scene she's in she steals the show by flopping and wilting all over the frame

[scattered-winter]

made the mistake of reading through the political discussions on my big family groupchat that I usually keep muted. you must never do such a thing.

[schizowitchic]

also like i partially found out i might be intersex because i was looking at trans stuff and there was like "(however many) months on t and finally seeing some bottom growth" and like pictures of t-dicks and i was like.... um.... that's kind of just what my clit looks like anyways. so i was like "hey google give me a quick rundown on this" and learned what clitoromegaly was and then i was like. hm. intersex resources. and it's like a sign? symptom? side-effect? of certain intersex conditions

[tenwhiteandalusians]

is episode 8 the domitian arc ? more on this and EVEN MORE narratives i’ve been ignoring that the show said “actually,,,” about in 5

[sickfreaksirkay]

cant believe i left my copy of le morte at home (6 hour journey away from university) i feel so empty without it... i basically only ever read it on gutenberg anyway but it's like a safety blanket to me (unwell individual)

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[watermelinoe]

my niece once got upset w my dad bc he wouldn't buy her some overpriced drunk elephant skincare product. she was freaked out about getting wrinkles. at age eight. i wish her mom had never bought her that damn smartphone

[courtillyy]

ohno have to rework a whole ass section bc i forgot slack is a fucking bouncer. could just not have it be so. but my guy deserves this <3 secretly buff slack is real and true to the canon. it would be a disservice to not include it

[llycaons]

while I enjoy an AU where sect cultivators stood by wwx in his defiance against the cultivation world or supported the wen remnants with him, they can't hit like canon does bc they always feel a little...hm. like if the author is super invested and insists THIS is what should have/would have happened its like they're missing the point of all the characters and their arcs?

[clancyycat]

missing the 2010s like a mf rn