#sorting through rough shit and got to the center of it coree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacedace · 1 month

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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

#batman #batman au #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #dc penguin #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd robin #dick grayson robin #bruce wayne #the joker #tim drake #dc robin #gotham city #open season au #i don't go in for Jason being the 'angry' robin or the 'violent' robin #he was the lil chainsmoking ball of sunshin robin that made sure to do his homework first before going out to fight crime #dick was the scariest robin because he was BOTH incredibly violent & full of rage AND a ball of sunshine & unrelenting hope #Jason was a Gotham kid (an Alley Kid) and I think a lot of the rogues would have respected that #dick got his respect by teaching them how many of their bones a tiny 9 year old could break in a single kick #feel like there's a scene in the extended au in which Tim gets kidnapped but instead of being held for ransom or threatened #it's just the Rogues aggressively mother-henning him and trying to make sure he's alright #Dick gets a call from Harley later that the newest Robin is fine he and Riddler are coming up with deadly traps together #No she doesn't see anything wrong with that - it's just some enrichment activities for them - why do you ask?

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tojiverse · 3 years

Text

JUST FOR FUN pt 2

read pt 1 here part 3 here

toji fushiguro x f!reader

warnings: smut degredation swp creampie uhh just rough sex in gen overstim (lmk if i missed any!!)

After what you would like to call an incident, things between Toji and you weren’t the same. He now had a habit to quickly put you in your place, all with a smirk which was irritating to say the least. You found yourself trying to avoid him, any time he came too close you’d quickly put distance between the two of you, not wanting to deal with him yourself. Toji made it difficult for the distance to be kept, he truly enjoyed being able to make you squirm with just his presence. You were locked away within your office, which was the only moment you were Toji free.

“Come in,” You said softly as you filled out paperwork from your latest bounty, which was a success.

“Who knew you’d be stuck here all of sudden,” Toji said in a playful tone and you continued to do your work.

“What is it that you want Fushiguro?” You said, making sure your tone was dull, as you didn’t want to entertain him any longer.

“Why so cold all of a sudden? Am I bothering you that much?” He asks, faking a hurt look as his hand went over his chest, a small frown on his face.

“Truly, if you have no business with me then fuck off, God you’re annoying,” You said dismissing him with a small shoo motion and going back to work.

“Someone must need an attitude adjustment again, you’re being such a fucking brat,” Toji said in a growl, and you felt your face warm up.

A quick flashback of your previous intimate moment with him replayed in your head causing you to clench your thighs together.

“You’re a pervert Fushiguro, now get out. Don’t make me repeat myself,” You said, quieter than you had planned but you still meant it.

He smirked and went towards the door turning around to face you once again.

“I do hope I get to hear you whine and beg for me again,” He said before exiting your office.

You put your head in your hands groaning as he had worked you up and you weren’t going to chase after him. You sighed shifting into a comfortable position and then finishing for the day.

Several days went on like this, he’d invade your personal space, fluster you only to leave before you could think of a witty comeback. You took in a deep breath as you heard footsteps approaching your office once again. You got ready to pay him no mind, keeping your eyes focused on your work as he approached you.

“What do you want?” You said sternly, obviously not in the mood for his antics.

“Aw, come on don’t be a brat now, do you need an attitude adjustment?” He asked leaning over your whispering into your ear.

Your face flushed and you focused on your work, which led to Toji letting out an amused laugh. You felt his hand grip your face firmly and tug your face up so you’d look at him. He loved the innocent look you had in your eyes, doe eyes brimming with need and confusion. Toji could only smirk, seeing how much you needed him he leaned down slightly.

“You’re such a brat, but I know exactly what a needy slut like you needs, isn’t that right? You just want someone to break you until you’re crying fat tears isn’t that right sweetheart?” Toji asked and you found yourself nodding slightly. “Ah, use your words.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” You said quietly and Toji only looked at you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t quite hear you, speak up, and maybe, I’ll reward you,” Toji said and you flushed.

“Please Toji, that’s what I want,” You said a bit louder this time, it seemed to satisfy him.

He quickly picked you up, placing you on the desk, grabbing your wrists, and pinning you down. You remembered what he said last time and you kept your hands there. Toji noticed and smirked while calling you a good girl. Toji began to give you rough kisses on the neck, making sure your neck would be painted in a dark purple. You left out soft whimpers which only served to fuel his pace. He moved between your legs and you could feel his hard-on pressing against your core. Your back slightly arched, wanting to feel him more but a quick slap to your thigh and you stopped.

“You’re such an obedient whore for me, isn’t that right? My cute little fuck toy, that’s all you’re good for anyway,” He said in a condescending tone, and you felt it go straight to your core.

Toji’s hand slowly made it down, teasing touches along the way until he got to your pussy, which was already wet in anticipation for him. He ripped your stockings down the center and your eyes widened in shock, you were upset he had ripped them but knew better than to say anything. Toji moved your underwear to the side and began by easing a finger in, prepping you. You loved but hated the way his fingers made you feel, full —he managed to reach spots you couldn’t even dream to reach, on your own. Toji eased another finger in curling them slightly against your sweet spot, which caused your walls to flutter around him. You were babbling nonsense, nothing that came out of your mouth was coherent, just pleas for more.

“You need to lower your voice, or else someone might hear you and come in, oh? You must like that, you just clamped around my fingers,” Toji said and your eyes widened before looking away.

Toji quickly forced you to look back at him, eyes glaring down at you.

“Look away from me again and I’ll ruin every one of your orgasms, do I make myself clear?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, yes yes I’m sorry Toji,” You stuttered out remembering what he told you before.

“Good whore, You must love the idea of being found out hm? Anyone could come in at any moment and all they’d see is your gushing all over my fingers, maybe even creaming around my fat cock,” Toji whispered in your ear, which caused you to moan out softly.

Toji continued to finger you by using his thumb to play with your clit, causing your abdomen to tighten. Toji could tell you were close and only looked down at you with the same shit-eating grin as the last time.

“No, please, please, please, I promise I’ll be good please let me cum,” You pleaded with a whine following and his fingers only began to slow down.

“Who does this pussy belong to, hm?” “You!” “Oh? And who’s the only person who makes you feel this good hm?” He asked while picking up the pace.

You choked on your saliva, his fingers hitting the perfect spot.

“You! Only you Toji please,” You pleaded desperately, stuttering his name as if though you were praying to him.

“Yeah, that’s right you whore, I’m gonna wreck yer cunt to the point where only I can pleasure you, you’ll only crave me,” He said, and he meant it as not only a threat, but a promise as well.

Right after, you reached your peak, gushing all over his fingers as your hips shook slightly from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. You only whined and mindlessly babbled incoherently, words not making any sort of sense to you while drooling slightly. Toji helped you ride out your high, taking his fingers out and tasting you with a smirk.

“Always so sweet for me,” He said and you whimpered.

Toji pulled his pants down followed by his boxers and your eyes widened. You honestly didn’t remember him being this big. His cock had a bit of precum flowing out as it slapped his stomach.

“Aw come on, don’t tell me you can’t take me? Such a shame too isn’t it?” He said going to pull his pants back up but you quickly shook your head.

“No, no I can I promise, please,” You pleaded and he smirked.

He lined himself up with your core before slipping himself in a fluid motion causing your back to arch, you swore you could see stars. He gave you a second to adjust to him before he began to just abuse your pussy. All that could be heard within the room was skin slapping and your whines. Toji quickly stuck his fingers in your mouth in order to silence you, as he didn’t feel like getting caught. You could only whine as he hit your g-spot repeatedly, you felt your orgasm rushing at you.

“‘M so close Toji, please,” You pleaded and he shook his head.

“Aw, it’s too early for that isn’t it? You cum when I allow you to,” Toji said and you let out a desperate whine.

This only further encouraged him to bring his thumb over your clit and began to play with it which caused you to clench around him even harder.

“So tight for me, fuck, your cunt was made for me and only me, shit, so good for me baby,” He said and you whined softly.

He began to pound roughly into you while gagging you with his fingers, ensuring that you wouldn’t get loud. You felt your high quickly approaching as you clenched around him tightly causing him to groan.

“Yeah, that’s it slut, cum all over my cock, wanna see you gush all over me,” He said, and with that, you squirted on him while moaning loudly.

Toji looked down in shock, soon smirking and looking at you. He continued to thrust roughly through your high helping you ride it out. As soon as you stopped twitching he began to thrust again causing you to look up at him.

“Aw, you didn’t think we were done did you? I know you have one more in there for me, now be a good fuck toy for me,” He said and you nodded.

Toji picked you up from the desk and put his hands on your waist and began to fuck you while standing up. You felt like he had somehow reached deeper into you and you dug your nails into his back as you moaned quietly.

“So good Toji, so so so good!” You said loudly at the end when he had reached your g spot.

You quickly took this opportunity to leave him with the same hickeys he gave you which caused him to curse under his breath.

“You’re such a bad girl hm? I guess I should fuck you like a whore then,” He said and you tightened around him, aroused by the idea.

He only smirked and began to thrust harder into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You began to chant his name like a mantra, not caring who could hear you at this point, you were too lost in what he had to offer. You quickly felt your third high approaching and Toji could also feel his.

“You cum when I do, don’t forget that,” He growled and you desperately nodded.

Toji’s thrust became sloppy and you both reached your highs at the same time, you gushed around him as he looked down watching his load seep out of you with a smirk. You both caught your breath and you quickly realized the situation you were in. Your eyes widened as you quickly put both your hands against his chest and you pushed against him.

“Let me down, you have to leave,” You said quickly while Toji only smirked.

He pulled out stuffing his cum right back into you with a smirk, before slipping your underwear back over. You whimpered at the empty feeling and carefully unwrapped your legs from his waist, your legs shaking as you stood. Toji could only laugh which caused you to glare at him, eyes swimming with hatred once again.

“Get out Toji,” You said firmly and he only looked at you.

“You have to admit it, you don’t really hate me, you love the way I fuck you, I can tell,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

Before leaving he grabbed your neck and leaned down giving you a rough sloppy kiss, which only left you wanting more. He left throwing a wink in your direction and you felt like screaming. God this man frustrated you but he fucked you so well you couldn’t help but want more. When you got home to your estate, your clan advisors were waiting for you. Your heart was in your throat as you quickly walked in with them and they began to prep you for your meeting. When you walked through the doors in there waiting for you was Kai Satoru and a representative of the Zenin Clan. You felt your heart drop, as this only screamed some sort of marriage proposal. You sat down across from them, your advisors behind you, and the meeting began. You felt as if time had dragged on, it honestly felt like the meeting had gone on for hours when in reality you were only one hour in.

“(y/n) we want to offer an alliance between the Satoru clan and yours, but it would have to be fortified through marriage,” Kai said and your eyes widened.

If you were to get married Kai would become the head of the clan and you’d be fucked over for good, being stripped of all power and forced to be some trophy wife, and you would rather die than let that happen. Kai noticed your hesitation and spoke up before you could object.

“I know traditional marriage laws would imply that I would become head of your clan, but we can alter it completely so that you remain in power,” Kai said quickly and you stared.

“Although both offers I have been offered are enticing, I need time to work them over with my advisors, it’s getting late and I would hate for anything bad to happen,” You said and both men nodded.

All of you got up bowing and then two of the advisors helped the men find their way out. You followed and noticed a white-haired boy quickly join Kai, who only stared at you. It quickly clicked who the boy was, Gojo Satoru. You soon were dragged back into the room and sat in front of your advisors.

“So, which deal are you more inclined to take? Both the Zenin and Satoru clan are highly powerful, and marriage with either of them would clean the clan name,” One of them, Kaisa, said quickly, the others nodding.

“I don’t know the offer the Satoru clan ensures that I remain as head of the clan until an heir is produced and of age, but marriage right now is scary,” You said and they nodded.

“You’re going to have to get married soon,” One of them spoke up and you could only nod.

#toji x reader #jjk toji #jjk #jjk smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #smut #anime smut

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aureumjeon · 4 years

Text

hush (m) jjk

pairing; jungkook x reader

genre; established relationship, college au.

warning; public indecency, exhibitionism, exhibition kink, tit sucking, jungkook loves your tits, fingering, degradation, pwp really.

word count; 2598

summary;

➜ when you invited your boyfriend to a study date at the library on a Friday night, studying was your only intention. Of course, Jungkook always had a knack of ruining your plans.

a/n; now that this is out of the wayy, i will now be working on my money matters prequel! i hope you look forward to that one!

"For the last time, kook," you discreetly pushed off his arm around your torso, hand comfortably purchased on your clothed breast. "I called you here to study with me, not mess around."

He only let out a small airy grunt in reply, not caring about a single word you just said. The wooden legs of the chair he was situated on dragged across the gray carpeted floor as he moved closer to you, once again sliding his arm around your body and fixating his hand back to its previous position.

"J-jungkook..." You whined as you felt his slender fingers gently knead at your mound, even with a bra on, he could sense how hard your nipple has become at his lingering touch. The words that tumbled out your mouth said no but your body language says otherwise. The blunt edges of your teeth painfully dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip while you tried your best to suppress the needy moans wanting to escape.

"Tell me to stop." A hint of challenge lacing his tone with the slight curve of his lips. He knew how much he affected you; how his honey slicked voice crawled under your skin and shot straight to your core.

Exhibitionism wasn't on top of your list but it was on his.

Although no matter how much he wanted to do bad things to you under the prying and watchful eyes of those around you, your consent has always been and always will be his priority.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop." jungkook was growing impatient by the second, you can tell by how hard he was squeezing at your breast.

"D-dont--" you faintly mouthed, burying your face in the curve of his neck. His musky scent overpowering your senses and doubling the wetness forming between your legs. "s-stop..."

"Fuck" he cursed under his breath, you were too fucking good for him. He temporarily released his grip on you and plotted his next move.

At this point, the only thing you could do is hope your mouth stays close like your eyes.

You felt the hem of your skirt hitch up as his right hand roamed the expanse of your quivering thighs. Just as you were about to close it shut, he jammed his hand in between them.

"I don't think so, baby." It came out as a whisper and got you squirming in your seat. He scanned the premises of the facility, the number of people inside could be counted with the fingers on his hand. It was pretty empty considering that it was a Friday night, most college students would rather hang out at a party than study in library.

In the eyes of an outsider, the two of you only looked like a normal couple. A loving boyfriend letting his exhausted girlfriend take a nap on his shoulder. How sweet.

What they don't know won't kill them and if they find out, well, it'll only rile him up more.

At the back of your mind, you thank god that you chose a spot facing the wall. If you didn't, the person sitting on the table parallel to yours would have a front row seat to your dripping pussy.

"You like that?" Jungkook's hand found its way to your clothed core, trailing the pad of his fore and middle finger over the newly moistened patch. "God, you're always so fucking wet for me, y/n."

The heat and wetness of your aroused cunt have gotten to him, a noticeable tent forming at the crotch area of his sweatpants. He quickly grasped your hand and pressed it against his growing erection.

"Shit..."

You shut your eyes even tighter and braced yourself for what was about to come next when he began pushing your underwear to the side.

A breathless whimper was all you can utter at the sensation of sudden intrusion, his middle finger shoved inside your hole down to the last knuckle.

"Always so tight, you dirty slut. Clenching around my finger like vice grips."All his words came out as a mumble, barely audible, still it sent shockwaves of electricity throughout your entire body. Nobody does it like him, only jungkook has got this much control and power over you.

"Be good a girl for me and unbutton your shirt, I want to suck on those perky nipples of yours."

Somehow your breath gets caught up in your throat, and you're suddenly gasping for air. How can his presence be so suffocating and enticing at the same time like you're drowning in a deadly sea with a lifeboat next to you but you decided you’d rather die and be enveloped by the waters.

You do as you're told, unbuttoning your blouse half way through just enough for your boobs to poke out.

"Damn," Jungkook kissed your forehead, giving you ample time to hold your head steady after leaning on him for a while.

He then laid his head cradled by his arm on the surface of the table, his face conveniently positioned in front of your chest. With his same hand, he hooked a finger under the front band of your bra and tugged it downwards. Your plump breast bounced deliciously against the force and you can see the way his pupil blew up with lust and fervor.

"Will never get tired of these." Jungkook confessed, dipping his head closer and taking in one pert nipple in his mouth. Slowly and surely, he was taking time sucking at your sensitive nub. His idle hand took note of the nipple he physically couldn't reach with his mouth and did its purpose. Pinching and tweaking.

The wet feeling of his mouth, tongue and fingers on your burning skin had you bucking your hips into his stagnant finger. Whining and yearning for any sort of friction.

"Oh," he smiled while still latched onto your nipple, "I'm sorry, I forgot." He sunk his teeth into your hardened bud; the ardent sting has got you curling your toes inside your shoes and hands gripping at the edge of your seat.

"They don't call you golden tits for nothing," he proudly boasts, not his fault that his girl was one of the hottest chicks in the entire university.

He slid another finger in you, pumping it at a leisurely pace while his hot mouth was still connected to your breast. Lapping and nipping at the bud and the skin around it, eliciting goosebumps to emerge on every square inch of your body.

"J-jungkook.."

"Yes?" He cooed, slightly tilting his head up and peppered your collarbone with kisses. Occasionally stopping and sucking at a certain spot until a purple bruise blooms.

You deduced Jungkook was certainly taking his time. His digits stroked your aching walls at an excruciatingly timid pace, thumb not even meeting your clit once. At this point getting caught was the least of your worries, the only goal you wanted to achieve was to come.

"Please, please, please..." You lowered your head and rested your burning forehead against his cheek while he continued marking your unmarred skin. "I w-want to cum,”

You almost choked on your own spit as you fought the sob crawl from your throat when he shoved his digits deeper into you, the tip of his finger caressing the rough spot inside your sex. Your back arched on the backrest of your chair and you held your head from falling back too far.

“Hmm?” his hooded gaze stared at your face inches away from his, a recognizable grimace inscribed on it. Your brows furrowed, almost meeting at the center of your face; eyes shuttered, scantily masking the ache you were feeling; cheeks flushed hot, dusted with a carmine tinge. Your lips trembled, even when set in a thin line. Jungkook knows this ‘face’ of yours all too well, he’s well aware of what he needs to do.

“Please…” this was too much, you could feel every muscle in your body tense up and knot to the point where it started to hurt. Your hands shook uncontrollably when you clutched onto Jungkook’s shoulder, nails digging into his jacket, pleading, begging.

“Jungkook…” Tears began gathering at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill if you were still denied of your craved orgasm.

“Y/n,” You opened your eyes only to see Jungkook staring intently at the distraught mess you’ve become. “Hush.” With a lecherous smirk etched on his pink lips and an amorous glint in his deep-set brown eyes.

His wrist snapped and his calloused fingers recklessly propelled into the deepest depth of your pussy. The clogs in the pit of your stomach finally began turning, and you felt your strained shoulders loosen up as he continued to assault your starving cunt with his straight jabs.

You steadied your breathing as best as you could and carefully observed those around you. Thankfully they were still busy minding their own business to notice yours. You leaned back in your seat and angled your hips so that your boyfriend’s fingers can sharpen its thrust into you. A relieved and blissful sigh escaped your lips as you revelled at the new and exhilarating emotion this was bringing you.

“Such a needy slut.” Jungkook chuckled, watching his digits get sucked in by your narrow cavern and every time he pulled out, it got even more coated with your slick juices. He suddenly pulled out completely, making you clench painfully around nothing and you wail a little too loud. Your hands came flying straight to cover your mouth.

Jungkook’s clacked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, eyes piercing through yours “If we get caught, you won’t be able to cum, understand?” He inserted his two fingers drenched with your essence inside his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking on it until it was bone dry, releasing it with a lewd pop. “Now, be a good slut and shut that dirty mouth of yours or else.” You know Jungkook well enough to know what me means with ‘or else.’ He’d have no trouble depriving you of your orgasm and walking out on you this instance if you commit even the slightest mistake.

You obediently nodded without hesitation.

“Good girl.” He gently stroked your tear stained cheeks with his thumb and placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose. “Now,” This time he advanced three fingers past your dribbling folds and the stretch is indescribable, divine even. The way his long digits mercilessly scissored inside you, going against the natural reflex of your walls to constrict them has got you soaring near your anticipated high.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the way your balmy velvet walls wrapped around him perfectly. “You’re even tighter than before, fuck.” He imagined his dick in place of his fingers being hugged and milked by your incredible pussy for all it's got. The mere thought of him pounding into you made him harder. Shit, he can do that later. Now, he needs to give you what you want, what he came here to do.

His lips found your neglected stiff nipple, latching onto it and sucking like a starved infant.

"J-jungkook.." You sighed, droplet of sweat forming at your temples. The library was fully air-conditioned, but you were sweating buckets like you've been sitting in a sauna for the last ten minutes. Damn this boy and what he does to you.

The force and accuracy of his fingers pushing into you and abusing your sweet spot while suckling on your bud has sent you spiraling into a delirious state. It's so tight, the coil in your stomach. "I'm so close…"

"Then come."

He coaxed, tripling the speed of his digits rubbing against your convulsing walls. You never ceased to amaze him, if you were already tight before, he doesn't understand how your pussy is still clamping down on his fingers. "Fuck… Your cunt is fucking amazing..."

It doesn't take long before your eyes start rolling to the back of your skull and images of white stars fill the back of your eyelids. Relief, sweet relief flooded your body the moment you came.

Before any of your juices got the chance to dribble down your thigh, Jungkook slides his finger across your swollen slit, scoops it up and shoves it back into you making you squeak in surprise.

"You're not gonna let any of that go waste until I eat it out of you, understand?"

A sly wicked grin appeared on Jungkook's face and you knew exactly what that meant.

The jog from the library to Jungkook's apartment was the longest five minute in your life. Every part of your body, even the backs of your knees were coated with a thin sheen of sweat. Fuck all of this, you couldn't wait any longer. You slithered your body between him and the door and attached your hungry lips to his jugular. Your manicured fingernails scratching and digging into his back with much impatience.

"Fuck baby." Jungkook groaned as you nibbled and licked the expanses of tense his neck. Tasting the concoction of his sweat mixed with his favourite scent from Hugo boss. God, you loved how he tastes. How hot his skin becomes when it collides with yours, and how he makes you into the horny mess you are now. Fuck, you love everything about this man.

"So impatient." He fumbled with the keys for a few seconds before finding out it was unlocked. Hyung must have left if unlocked since he knew I was coming home, he thought. Paying no mind to it, their apartment building had great security anyways.

"Kookie," you moaned, desperately trying to peel off his restricting clothes from his body while he did the same to yours. "Want you now." You mumbled, gliding your hand over the taut muscle of his abdomen.

Jungkook captured you by the waist, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. Taking a handful of your plump ass in his hand and then giving it a harsh slap. He trod the ten step walk from their front door to the living room couch, gently setting you down on the soft furniture.

"Want you, too" He couldn't wait either. With hooded lids, he marvelled at your immaculate image sprawled on his sofa. Supple skin glowing under the fluorescent light, tits barely contained by your lace bra, and your hair acting as a halo around your radiant face. You looked fucked up as ever, and he lives for it.

As he was about to unbuckle his belt and finally stick his dick into you, he was interrupted by a cough.

"Um, excuse me?" Jungkook's platinum blond haired roommate started.

"Oh shit, Yoongi-hyung."

You bet yourself you were faster than flash, grabbing the decorative pillow next to you and concealing your exposed body.

"I-I thought you were..." anyone in the room can hear the sound of Jungkook gulping. "out with Namjoon-hyung?" He gave a crooked smile, side-stepping to the left just enough to cover you with his own naked self.

"Last minute cancel," the elder shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn't seen something he shouldn't have. "Don't worry about me. I'll mind my own business. You love birds can continue." He retreated back to his genius lab.

Jungkook looked at you, blush creeping up to the curve of his ears. "Sorry about that," lips curling into an innocent smile "where were we?"

Your fit of giggles we're unstoppable as you threw the pillow you were holding onto, aiming for his face. “Shut up, Kook.” You couldn't believe the audacity of this boy.

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Note

I just wanna say I love you and your writing! ❤️ You are a blessing to me, I always start freaking out whenever I see you post a new thing. YOU DESERVE WAY MORE ATTENTION JFHDJEJHEHE but may I have a smudge of virgin! dabi or shiggy with a dom! reader? Handjobs, blowjobs, deepthroating , riding them, the whole SHABOOM SHABANG PLEASE AND THANK YOU

daw, my love! you’re amazing & tysm for your support, it means so, so much to me. like, i can’t even tell you how happy i am to hear that.

& of course you can! i opted to go with Dabi, since i haven’t explored this topic with him yet & ever since i saw this ask i cannot get the fumbling, blushing, asshole that he’d be outta my mind. seriously, the topic of this ask has lived there, rent free, for dayyyyys.

warnings: SMUT/18+ only, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, blowjobs and general fuckery

Things between the two of you had never been slow, or usual, or sentimental. Actually, love hasn’t come into the equation at all. It’s more like, easing an itch. But if you scritched and scratched it just right, god, it was divine.

Dabi never let things get too far. He’d always bat you away, or roll to his side of the bed, broad back shutting you out, keeping you firmly in your own lane. Oh he’d kiss you and cup at your curves, but he never let you return the favor, snapping and snarling a string of curses and threats when you got too close.

He was like some sort of feral dog.

You could place the food down and leave the blanket out, but if you got too near, too comfortable, then the teeth would inch forward, keen, ready to bite.

At first, you’d figured it was simply who he was. He was short tempered and brittle and this extended to all members of the league. Not even Shigaraki was spared his jabs. It’s a miracle he’d let you step within sniffing distance.

His fingers are always warm when they touched you, warm and calloused, whittled down to cinders and dark ash. He’s never gentle. Each caress is a challenge, some sort of task that needs to be dominated, beaten, acquired. It’s almost like he slips into some other mindset when he presses into you. He’s got to keep ahead, must win each pairing until there’s no question of who the victor is.

Once, you’d managed to pin him under you.

He’d relented the second your clothed center brushed against his burgeoning hardness, breath stolen, cerulean eyes wide. You’d never seen him like that before and you’d paused, hips lingering over his, head cocked to one side.

“What?” you’d asked, voice soft in the darkness. He hadn’t answered, but his fingers trembled when they reached for you, urging you back into that age old shift and grind. When you passed over that bulge again he’d groaned, fire bright eyes slipping behind his quaking eyelids.

Your hands cupped at his marred face, digits tracing over his too hot staples, awed at his unbidden reaction and the dusty stain of his blush. The rhythm you’d started began to deepen and he’d nearly arched under you when you rose up on your knees, but, unfortunately, you’d forgotten something vital as you let yourself be swept away by his ragged eagerness.

It’s dangerous to let your guard down when you’re petting a wild thing.

As soon as your eyes winced closed, the world toppled to bits around you and Dabi shoved you from him, coiling away. “Get out,” he’d growled, eyes sharp as flint, arms wrapping around his bent knees. “Get the fuck outta here, before I...before I throw you out.”

So, you’d left; but you hadn’t forgotten.

Days later, he’d stormed back into your room, eyes wild, skin blazingly hot to the touch. You’ve never seen him like this and you shift from your bed, pressing him to sit on the crumpled sheets. He looks like he’s seconds from shattering and his hands keep combing over his inky mop of hair, pricking the edges until they bristled from the static.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hands patting over him, searching for the hurt. His skin feels damp and you splay your fingers over his heart, bewildered by the frantic pounding of the muscle.

“Nothing,” he begins, voice tight, eyes refusing to meet your own.

Liar, you think, plucking at the white fabric of his shirt and shifting your touch to his back, praying your hand doesn’t come back red. He’s shit at taking care of himself and there’s always some fresh burn or loosened staple that’s etched across him each time he comes back to the hideout. It’s almost like he’s trying to mar and maim himself.

“Dabi, you’re burning up...”

“It’s not...at least...I don’t think that...It’s not my quirk.”

“Okay, then what is wrong? This isn’t normal, so don’t tell me I’m overreacting. If you’ve pushed yourself too far you need to–”

“I just said it isn’t my quirk,” he snarls, and his eyes finally lift. The sight almost knocks you backwards. They’re vivid, despite the low light, but his pupils are blown and the black is eating away at the familiar shock of blue. He looks hungry.

“Dabi...Dabi what were you–”

“I tried to forget it,” his voice is dissonant, hollow, and you can feel your breathing kicking up as your heart starts to thrum against your breastbone. “I thought that I could...take care of it...but it’s not...it doesn’t work. I can’t...I can’t...look what you’ve done. Look at what you’ve fucking done!”

Fingers curl under your bent arms and he hoists you onto his lap, slotting you over spread thighs, his mismatched lips dragging across your own. He’s sloppy and teeth clink as you settle, arms wrapping around his broad neck, digits coiling into his hair. He sucks and nips at your bottom lip, pressing until he’s lured a few moans from your throat, smirking as they vibrate into the chilled air.

You know what he was doing now.

How could you miss it, when it’s jutting against the swell of your ass, poorly concealed under the thin material of his sweatpants. Popping up on your knees forces him to break free of your kiss shined lips and you chuckle at his disgruntled scowl.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” your voice is quiet, but he startles at the question, body quaking as a hiss leeches through his clenched teeth.

“Get on the bed.”

“I am on the bed,” you retort.

He clicks his tongue and you find yourself forfeiting your top position as he knocks you off of his lap, tumbling you onto your mattress. His lean body is bracing over you and he stills your protestations with another kiss. This time he’s smoother, tongue pressing past the barrier of your lips, twining and urgent. Warm fingertips tease along your dips and curves, pinching at your skin. He greedily swallows each gasp that you give him and keeps the pressure up, one hand cupping under your neck, tugging you closer.

Distractedly, you start to pull at his tattered shirt but once you touch his rippled stomach, he yanks himself back. Not again, you inwardly groan, head flopping against the sheets. You can see him a little clearer from this angle and you study his abashed continence, unable to hide the smile that pulls at your lips.

“Don’t...” he trails off, nose wrinkling as he looks away from you once more.

“It’s okay,” you bargain, fingertips tickling up his sides, delighted with the sheer heat of him. “We can just do this. I don’t–”

“I don’t want this,” he grits, jaw tense, hands fisting into the bedding.

“Alright,” you sigh, still toying with his shirt. “What do you want?”

“More.”

It’s a simple demand, almost comically cliché, especially considering who’s uttering this from his scarred lips, but it still makes you shudder, a slick clench passing over your core.

You bite your lip and he gives you a gleaming smirk, teeth shining in the moonlight. He’s tempting, but he’ll always be a danger; it’s too bad that’s part of his charm.

He moves with an agility that leaves you breathless and his fingers are unfastening the ties of your sleeping pants so quickly that you swear they blur. In an instant, cool air is lapping against your dampened curls and he’s already pressing a curious finger over you.

One arm is braced beside your head but his attention is wholly focused on the mysteries he’s finally revealed. You can hear his breath, hitching and panting as he blunders his way into your folds. His touch is rough, too rough, and you arch away, fingers knocking him from you.

Dabi sucks his teeth at your impudence, jerking you back to him as he slides closer to his prize. You can feel his exhales as they ghost over you, so close it makes you buck toward the tempting warmth. He notices and shifts downward, lining his inquisitive nose with your slit.

“You smell good,” he informs you, sucking in a heady lungful, a lazy grin stretching his staples. “Didn’t know that was a thing.”

That prodding index finger is back and it’s just as clumsy as it slips and skids across your flushed labia. He tries to slide it forward but he’s over estimated your entrance and it fumbles into nothing, a lone nail scratching as he passes. Your thighs instinctually clamp around him and he lets out another frustrated huff. “Stop that! How am I supposed to feel you up if you keep scooting away? Stop being such a bitch about it. It’s not–”

“It hurts you jackass. That’s why I’m moving. How would you like it if I just started pulling and clamping my fist on your dick? You’ve got to slow down. Here...” Your arms slip beside your ribs and you sit up, spreading your legs as your hand moves to your cunt, granting his wide eyes a good view. “It’s one thing to touch me, it’s something else entirely if you’re going to literally poke at me. Give me your hand.”

Dabi balks at your request, a dark glower breaking over his face. “I can do it on my own. I don’t need your help–”

“If you really think that, then you can fuck right back off to your own room. Go on. Gloomily masturbate yourself to sleep, hoping that the scent of me on your fingers will be enough to push you over the edge. But I don’t think you can, not when you know what you can have instead of your fist.”

His nostrils flare at the lewd bluntness of your words, but he doesn’t protest further, slipping his calloused and burned hand into your grip, submitting himself to your control.

You pry his index finger from the others and lower it to yourself, gliding him against you, showing him how you like to be touched. As you crest his finger tip over your clit he gasps at the shudder you give him, jaw askew and pupils blown.

“Pay attention,” you scold, hips arching forward as you repeat the motion. “Use your thumb too. Yes, like that. Ah– very good. Think you’ve got it from here?”

He doesn’t give you any kind of verbal response, opting to swipe his pink tongue over his lips and scoot closer instead. As soon as your hand drops from his, he tests out his freedom, fingers inquisitive, almost gentle. He’s learned that it only takes a few swift tweaks to have you bowing under him and if he adds a circular pressure to the motion you’ll call out his name.

When his tongue swipes up your budding arousal you keen for him, hands grabbing for the side of his head, fingers tugging against his hair. “Ouch! That’s not fucking fair,” he grumbles, the jagged texture of his lips sucking at you. “I can’t be rough but you get to do whatever the fuck you want, huh?”

“Shut up,” you gasp, marveling at the speed of his touches. He’s gained some confidence and each time you praise him the tips of his fingers heat up, applying a sinful warmth to your dripping pussy. “Oh, fuck, yes! Do that again, that felt so good. God, you’re perfect Dabi, so fucking perfect.”

The groan that escapes him creates a marvelous vibration along your folds and your legs shake beside his broad shoulders. When he lets out another choked moan you belatedly notice that the edge of your bed is shaking. It’s a cadenced motion and you tilt your head to one side, searching for the source.

Oh.

It’s Dabi. His legs are half propped against the bed and he’s worked his hips against the corner of the mattress, rutting himself in time with his slurps and pulls. When he yanks himself back you can see the spidery thread that’s attached itself to the sheets, strung from the deepening saturation that’s expanding across the front of his sweatpants. The sight of him, so lost in your taste and smell that he’s humping himself off, makes your cunt tighten, rings of muscle winking and closing against nothing.

“D-Dabi,” you eke out, eyes rolling back as he seals his lips around your clit again. “Use your...your fingers.”

“What?” he murmurs, voice disjointed and thin.

“Put your fingers in me.”

The demand has him shifting upward, slick chin and lips glistening in the moonlight. He gives you a few blinks, but then the full meaning hits him and he leers down at you. “I wanna put something else in you.”

You shake your head at him and his grin shifts to a scowl. “Why not?”

“You won’t last.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, wiping his mottled arm across his face, smearing your arousal off. “The fuck do you think you’re talking to? I’ll–”

“Stand up.”

“What?” His brows furrow and his lip sets into a tense pull.

“Stand up,” you repeat, already pulling your bare legs from under him.

“Why do you get to give all of the orders? You’re not the boss. I don’t have to listen to any of this bull–”

“Dabi, stand up and I’ll suck you off. It’ll make it easier, trust me.”

The words suck and off appear to leave him in the lurch, but he sways backwards all the same, hands already digging into his sopping pants. He rattles out a low whimper as he unsticks himself from the loose fabric, and you can’t help but smile at his renewed blush. Seconds later, they pool at his ankles with a quiet shush and you scoot forward, fingers itching to touch him.

He’s an impressive specimen.

The length and girth of his swollen cock curves haughtily upward and you eye the rosy tip ravenously. That long string of precum has broken and it coils thickly against his velvety skin, so bright that it shines. You look up at him before your hand curls around his cockhead and he looks absolutely lost. In a matter of minutes this imposing man has gone from feral stray to placid pup and it’s all thanks to you. Awash in your own power, you wrap as much of him as you can in your grip, squeezing and pulling as you ease up to his sloppy cusp, gathering the cables of his want as you go.

When you start back down he lets out a very un-Dabi like yelp, eyes fading behind tensed eyelids. “Feel good?” you ask, adjusting your hold, repeating the upward slide.

He nods, clenched teeth bared as he tries his best to contain his wanton grunts and groans. “Dabi,” you taunt playfully, holding at his tip, dancing your finger pad over his bubbling slit. “I can’t hear you. I asked if if felt good?”

Cerulean eyes crack open and he fixes you with a blazing stare, but he ruts his hips forward all the same, his body oblivious to his outward need for control. Your fist clenches around him and the whine that leeches out of him is heavenly.

“Answer me, now.”

“Ye-yeah,” he stumbles over the word, bottom lip quivering. “I want more though.”

“Oh? Think you deserve that? You couldn’t even focus enough to get me off a second ago.”

“What? You told me to stand up!”

“Mmm, yes. You’re right. You’re such a good boy, Dabi. So obedient and ready for praise.”

He tries to pull himself away, but another cant of your wrist has him stopping dead in his tracks, upper thighs shaking as you renew your tugs. “There we go,” you croon. “Look how big you get when I tell you how well you’re doing. You’re so hard baby, I know you wanna cum for me. You want me to swallow it all down? Think you can give me enough?”

Dabi flops forward at your last question, shoving himself into your tightening fist, doing his best to get close to the sinful temptation of your lips. When you surge onto your knees his hands snatch at your shoulders, blindly yanking you to his parted lips.

His kiss is so distracted it can hardly be called a caress. Your lips merely rest against his and he breathes into you, sucking up your exhales with a frantic need. “Suck me off,” he gasps, eyes blearily meeting your own, the blue a glassy haze. “Suck me off, suck me off, suck me off.”

It’s like he can only ask for one thing now, hips pistoning forward as a long burst of precum oozes from him. The heat of this pre release is so hot it feels like it’s scalding the back of your hand, but you hardly notice the pain, too wrapped up in his trembling malleability.

“Ask me nicely.” The request is whisper quiet and he instinctually shakes his head, forehead lowering to rest against the flat plane of your collarbone. “No? That’s too bad love. You were doing so well, being so good and so nice.”

When your hand starts to loosen that hard earned pressure he relents, own hands grabbing your upper arms as he holds you to him. “I want you...fucking damn it...I want you to let me fuck your mouth. I wanna fuck you. I want...I–”

“None of that came with a please.”

“Hnnnng,” he groans, lifting his head to sink his teeth into the dip of your shoulder, biting and nipping, vainly attempting to distract you.

“That won’t work,” you say melodically, listening to him slurp up some of his excess drool from your newly dampened skin. “It’s just one word. Say it and I’ll get down on my hands and knees. I’ll wrap my lips around this fucking perfect cock and suck on you until you can’t think. I want your cum. Fuck, I want it so bad. So be a good boy, hmm? Be my good boy, my only, and I’ll let you–”

“Please! Please, please, please, please! Fuck! Please suck on me, put your fucking slutty little mouth on me! Plea– oh...fuck!”

He tastes like the sea, all salt and brine. It lingers deliciously on the tip of your tongue.

You dip yourself lower, mouth voraciously edging forward, sliding your seeking appendage under his length, tracing up the long sets of veins you find. Dabi curves himself over your head, fingers cupping behind your ears as he forces you into a quick rhythm. You’d dictated his movements earlier, so it’s only fair you give him a little leeway of his own, at least, for now.

The mixture of suction and wet heat soon proves too much for him. His hips are already faltering, hesitating on each outward and inward lurch. It’s too much, but it’s also nowhere near enough.

His voice is broken and his staples snag against your hair, but he refuses to let up, not until he’s gotten what he wants. He can feel your abused throat seizing around him and he’s intoxicated by the feeling. He wants you to choke on him, to gag on him, to run yourself raw.

He might have said some of these wishes out loud. He’s not sure. Not when the world is so torrid and sloppy and searing with a lure that he can’t live without, not anymore.

Why had he waited so long?

This isn’t even your cunt. God, you’d smelled so fucking good and the taste, fuck, it’ll be years before he can wash that flavor from his lips, or his mind. Goddamn it, it’s not enough.

Dabi cums with a shout. The feeling of his release, as it singes the back of your throat, is abrupt and you sputter, hands doing their best to get you away from the otherworldly temperature of this man. He’s too blissed out to notice your lips slipping from him and some of his cum splatters over your bent knees, sizzling as it hits your unprotected skin.

You wipe at the remainder of him and collapse backwards, head hitting the cool sheets with a dull flop. As you catch your breath you listen for him. He’s still perched at the end of your bed, but you can hear his breathing as it steadies. He’ll likely leave, you think, arms curling beside your head. He’ll grab his pants and go back to his room and that will be–

The grip of his hand startles a hiss from you and you soon find yourself blinking up at his leering grin. He’s jerked you downward again, but this time he’s slotting himself between your thighs, warm fingertips already teasing at your budded clit.

“I’m not done.”

tags: @libiraki - since i teased you with some of it earlier :3c

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on dabi and his bad attitude #virgin dabi #eeeeeee #dabi #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #drabble #it's too long #again #whatever #:P

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winchestershiresauce · 3 years

Text

Be a Good Girl

Summary: After Dean finds out that you drank the last of his good whiskey, your boyfriend Sam decides he knows just how you can make it up to his brother.

Dean x Reader, slight/implied Sam x Reader (no wincest)

2215 words

Tags: NSFW, smut, kinda looks like dub-con, oral sex (male receiving), bondage, language, mild degradation, mild praise kink

A/N: I have so many more ideas for this, so please let me know if you’d like more/a sequel. <3

My Masterlist

You knew you shouldn't drink Dean's nice whiskey, even after the way it called to you. However, with the brutally long day you'd had and the boys asleep, it just looked so inviting. Admittedly, it probably had something to do with the way Dean had warned that anyone other than him who'd touched it would "seriously friggin' regret it." You knew being his brother's girlfriend allowed you some freedom from consequence but certainly not all, and part of you wondered if you could get away with it. Maybe you'd even wondered what would happen if you did get caught.

As Sam crawled under the table in the library to check the knots holding you in place, you thought to yourself that while you’d expected some sort of punishment or having to make it up to Dean, you were a bit surprised at the situation you’d found yourself in. This wasn’t the first time Sam had tied you up (and it definitely wouldn’t be the last), but the way his rope work had you spread eagle on the library table was very new. Sam emerged from under the table, satisfied that his knots would hold you in place, and stood to admire his work. Despite the chilly air, heat blossomed within you with the way he raked his eyes over your wholly exposed body.

“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” Sam asked as he lightly ran his finger down the center of your chest and to your navel, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yes, sir,” you answered. Before stripping you bare and positioning you as a work of art in the library, Sam had hinted at what would be happening. He’d mentioned that Dean was upset about the whiskey and that you’d be making it up to him somehow. You’d thought maybe you’d buy him a new bottle, or wash Baby, or something like that, but Sam had something much more exciting in mind. You felt yourself getting aroused at the thought, just anticipating what would happen when Dean got back.

To put the final touches on his masterpiece, Sam stuck a bow and a gift tag to your lower belly, just above your ever-so-inviting pussy. ‘Dean, take what you want. - Sam’ the tag read. Sam nudged your thighs further apart and placed the brand new bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the table between them. He smirked and pressed it firmly against you, rubbing it slowly between your lips and over your clit before he pulled it away and positioned it for display. You lifted your hips, seeking more pressure against your now-aching clit, and let out a small whine.

Sam tsked disapprovingly, reminding you that you were to be seen and not heard. “Be a good girl, Y/N,” Sam warned. “Remember that Dean’s in charge. He knows your safe words and that you’re just desperate to make it up to him for finishing his whiskey. Be good.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before slipping the black satin blindfold over your eyes. You groaned internally -- you wouldn’t dare do it out loud -- knowing that not being able to see would only increase your anticipation and drive you crazy.

You heard the large metal door of the bunker slam closed and your body tensed. While the likelihood that it was Dean was incredibly high, you hated not being able to see what was around you. Footsteps echoed through the library as they approached.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Dean’s voice asked directly behind you. Some of the nervous tension in your body relaxed, leaving only the tension of excitement and anticipation. You felt a tiny gust of air on your face and you guessed that Dean was waving his hand over you to test if you could see through the blindfold. When you didn’t react at all, there was a quiet chuckle just inches away from your right ear.

“Looks like Sammy left me quite the gift, didn’t he?” Dean continued. You knew you weren’t supposed to talk -- you were just a fuck toy today -- so you didn’t answer. You heard him approach the opposite end of the table, feeling his eyes on you as he moved. When he picked up the gift tag, you felt his warm and calloused, but somehow soft, fingertip ghost across the exposed flesh below your belly button.

“‘Take what you want’? Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” His laugh was a bit dark and, though you couldn’t see him, you could sense his arousal. Your own excitement began to really bloom and you felt yourself getting wetter by the moment. When he picked up the bottle of whiskey between your thighs, you wondered if he could see how soaked you were, just imagining what he might do to you. You heard him open the bottle and take a couple swigs. “That’s the good stuff,” he sighed. “I wonder how well it pairs with this sweet pussy of yours, princess.” He ran his finger along the inside of your thigh before gliding it through your slick folds. You writhed in your bonds, wishing desperately that you could get more, or even just touch him, but you knew it was no use. Sam knew how to tie a knot and you weren’t going anywhere until he or Dean decided to free you.

You heard the wet ‘pop’ as he pulled his finger out of his mouth and groaned. “Shit, Y/N, that’s divine. You’re sweeter than a 15-year single malt.” You could hear the smile in his voice and fuck, you wanted him. Talent for the art of teasing must run in the family. He moved to the head of the table and you couldn’t help the pleading look you gave him when he removed the blindfold. He slid his hand gently down the side of your face and pushed your hair away so he could get a better look at you. Though you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound, a small devious smile made its way across your face. Dean mirrored the expression before pressing his lips against yours. It started gentle, maybe a little tentative, but didn’t take even a moment for the kiss to escalate to rough and full of want. You kissed him back hard, lifting your head off the table as much as your position would allow, and Dean slid his hand under the back of your head. Using his grip, he pressed his mouth against yours like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted. He licked into your mouth and sucked and bit your lips with such fervor that you were sure you were dripping on the table.

He pulled away with that devilish grin back on his lips. For just a moment, he paused to drag his eyes over the sight before him. Your pleading eyes staring up at him, your ruddy kiss-swollen lips, your gorgeous hard nipples… He groaned, knowing that everything before him was his for the taking. You let your eyes wander from his face down his body where you could see his erection absolutely straining against the denim containing it. You thought it looked so desperate to be freed, to be touched, that maybe it was almost as desperate as you were. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try to calm the lustful need bubbling up through every fiber of your being, but it didn’t do much good.

Dean dropped his red plaid flannel to the floor and tore his t-shirt over his head. When he pulled his belt through the belt loops of his jeans, you couldn’t stop the low, desperate groan from escaping your throat.

“What? You want this cock, sweetheart?” Dean chuckled. He dropped the belt and undid the button on his jeans, and every move he made to lower the zipper and push his pants and boxer briefs over his hips was so slow and deliberate that you tried with everything in you to press your thighs together.

“Yes, sir. Please,” you whined, knowing any punishment for talking would be worth it at this point. You needed him and you needed him to know that. Luckily, Dean seemed to enjoy when his fuck toy replied, because he bit his lip and smirked. He dropped his jeans and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them. He wrapped one large, perfect hand over the hard, thick object of your desire and took deliberate, purposeful steps to approach you again.

“Open up, princess.” You obeyed immediately, opening your mouth and letting your jaw muscles slacken. He grinned and teased the tip of his cock around your lips, and your tongue reached out to taste him. Your tongue caressed the needy red head of his cock and lapped up the bead of precum leaking from his slit. Dean let out a low groan that came more from his chest than his throat and reached up to stroke your cheek. “Be a good girl for me,” he whispered before he thrust his hips forward to shove all of himself between your lips. Once the briefest moment of surprise passed, you greedily took him in, engulfing his throbbing cock with your wet, hot mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him down and running your tongue along the underside of him as he found a rhythm. It didn’t take long for him to begin truly fucking your face and you wished so much that your hands were free so you could touch yourself while he did so. With every thrust, you felt him hit the back of your throat and you couldn’t help but think how good it’d feel to have him pounding your pussy like that. Your clit throbbed and your pussy clenched around nothing, both so eager and needing to be touched.

His grunts were sinful and you swore you could feel them in your core. He held the side of your face in place as he used you, used your mouth like he deserved to. Your mouth had been what disobeyed him, giving in to the temptation of taking something that didn’t belong to you. In return, he got to take something that didn’t belong to him. You were the prize that Sam Winchester had to offer, and you loved it. Tears escaped your eyes as Dean slammed into your throat, sliding hard and fast between your soft lips. You gagged a bit when he went deeper and you felt his rhythm falter. You hummed around him, and only you knew that it was a sound of disappointment, as you’d been wishing, despite how well he was fucking your face, that he’d slide his beautiful, throbbing, delicious cock into your pussy and thrust into you with every bit of force he could muster.

“Just like that, baby,” Dean grunted when you hummed, “Such a good girl.” You hummed again, only this time the praise swept over you and you wanted to make him cum by any means necessary. You could be a good girl and you’d show him. You let your jaw hang slack as he slammed into your mouth, as the subtle vibrations of your humming threw him over the ledge into his climax. With one hard thrust sending him impossibly deeper into your throat, he came. His gentle hold on your face was no longer gentle as he pushed you toward him, keeping your head in place as thick ropes of his sweet release spurted down your eager throat. When he finished, he loosened his grip on you and pulled his softening cock out of your mouth slowly, like despite the post-orgasm sensitivity, he never wanted to leave the perfect warm cavern beyond your lips.

He sighed, taking a deep breath to bring himself back to Earth, and you licked your lips to get the stray cum that had smeared there when he pulled out of your mouth. He grinned and you grinned back at him.

“Sam was right,” he started, “You really are an even better fuck toy than you are a hunter. I didn’t know that was possible.” You blushed, but couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He may have gotten his release but you were still aching and needy for yours. However, you knew that this was about making your transgressions up to Dean, so you wouldn’t say anything. This would make incredible fodder for the next time you played with yourself, or you’d think back to it when Sam took you to bed and reclaimed you later like he did after every time he’d shared you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “Glad I could be of service. Did it make up for stealing and finishing your good whiskey?”

“Oh we’re nowhere near finished, princess. I haven’t even gotten to feel that tight, pretty pussy squeezing around me.” He smirked and your cunt clenched, pulsing with arousal, excitement, and anticipation.

“Are you gonna fuck me good and hard, Dean?” you asked, your expression a combination of puppy dog eyes and a sly grin. Dean ran his fingers through his hair and groaned.

“You have no idea, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you til you’re not sure you can cum anymore and you can’t remember your name. We’re just getting started.”

tags: @hobby27 @akshi8278 (Wanna be tagged?)

#dean x reader #spn fanfic #spn smut #lemon #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #smut

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uhgood-dooghu · 4 years

Text

The Contradiction of the Century [M]

Pairing Dancer!Hoseok x Dancer!Reader

Summary Hobi’s duality is unparalleled, and nowhere does it come out more than in the bedroom. Needless to say, he leaves you sore as much as practice does.

Genre Smut, fluff, crack, dancer!au, gratuitous porn and that’s it

Warnings Unprotected sex, oral (female), face riding, dom!Hobi, edging/orgasm denial, mirrors, dirty talk, lots of begging and (non-serious, sexually frustrated) threatening, everything’s consensual & they’re in love

Word Count 5.2k

Cross-posted to AO3

“Yo, we should have a dance battle!”

You lift your tired head to find your best friend grinning as she hooks up her phone to the sound system. Upbeat music fills the studio, and she rounds on the small crowd, bouncing lightly on her feet.

“Eh?” She prompts, wiggling her eyebrows. “Guys versus girls, losers treat winners to, I don’t know, food?”

A murmur of interest runs through your teammates as they clamber to their feet. You, however, groan and arch your back, cringing when your spine cracks. A familiar chuckle filters down, and you crane your neck, rolling your eyes at Hoseok's cheeky grin.

“Shut up, Hobi,” you mutter, but allow him to pull you to your feet.

His suggestive wink does not go unnoticed as you massage circles into your lower back, still sore from the way he contorted your body in half and buried his head between your thighs barely 8 hours ago. You shudder at the memory, but before he can comment, Jimin has him in an iron grip, dragging him across the room and letting out some sort of high pitched whine about needing to win because he is just shy of broke.

In a matter of moments, the studio is echoing with a chorus of cheers and taunts as Jungkook moves to the center, driving your pain from your mind. You can’t help but grin fondly at the collective enthusiasm. Leave it to your friends to get way too hyped over the prospect of free food.

You wait until most of the girls have danced their part before stepping out. As if on cue, the group falls back slightly, leaving you and Hoseok to face each other in the middle of the studio.

“Finish it off, lovebirds,” Jimin sings, and your lips tug upwards in a smirk directed at your boyfriend.

“Ready to lose, baby?” You taunt, starting to move as the music transitions.

With a grin, he shoves his hands in his pockets and tips his head back. “Do your worst.”

Keeping your eyes level, you run a hand suggestively through your hair and lick your lips. Instantly, all signs of his normal, bright playfulness disappear, replaced by a steady, calculating gaze that follows your movements with a searing intensity. You are known for your intricate footwork, and you temporarily lose yourself in your movements, barely registering the high pitched cheers as your feet fall in sync with the beat.

A moment later, however, you catch sight of Hoseok and smirk. He has a slightly glazed expression on his face as he watches your feet move, looking up with a heated stare only when you begin to move towards him. You wet your lip again as you push into his personal space, dancing around him until you are pressed into his back, and lean up so your breath ghosts over his neck.

You wrap your arms around him and feel him up, your hands finding their way to the waistband of his sweats. Dipping your fingers below the elastic, you snap it against his hips, and a loud “ohhh” rips through the room. He tenses under your touch, making you grin into the back of his shoulder before slinking back around.

You drop and spin your body low to the floor, locking your gaze with his smoldering eyes. As you travel up his front, your fingertips brush over his thighs and taught stomach until they tap a rhythm against his chest. Leaning in, you brush your lips against his.

“Your turn,” you breathe, then you are giving him a rough push and sauntering backwards.

If he is affected, he does an impeccable job of hiding it, because all you get is a twitch of his jaw and the faintest quirk of his eyebrow as you slide smoothly across the floor amidst a chorus of whoops and whistles. When you slow to a stop, you feel your best friend hissing in your ear.

“Damn, girl, he looks like he wants to eat you alive.”

You catch your tongue between your teeth with a grin, but your face quickly turns pensive when you see the darkness in Hoseok’s gaze. As he starts to move, you catch the glint in his eye, and your stomach flips. He only gets that glint when he’s dancing…

Or fucking you senseless.

A shiver runs up your spine. You can’t tear your eyes away even if you wanted to, his stare commanding your attention. And as he twists his body to the beat, you are transfixed.

Sure, you are a good dancer–hell, you all are great dancers–but Hoseok exists on a whole other level of the dancing stratosphere, miles above you. The way his limbs seem to go boneless, feet almost floating above the floor, body conforming seamlessly to the music, divides the room into ecstatic cheers of excitement and groans of defeat.

“Fuck yeah, J-Hope!”

“Goddammit, we should’ve left him out of this.”

“Hell yeah, that’s my boy!”

“We lost.”

Suddenly, the song morphs into something slower and more sensual, and every few beats Hoseok inches closer, keeping his gaze fixed on you. You narrow your eyes, widening your stance and straightening your posture to brace yourself. But then he drops and closes the distance, sliding on his knees until his face is centimeters from the apex of your thighs. A cry rises from the small audience, and you can feel his breath through the thin fabric of your shorts. Your head goes light as you blink down at him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in a silent “what the fuck are you doing?”

He just smirks and runs his hands up the back of your thighs, groping your butt and nuzzling into the juncture of your hip.

Through the roar in your ears you can hear your girlfriends squeal behind you, but before you can react, Hoseok is standing and pressing his weight into your back, hands digging into your hips. He pulls your bodies flush and grinds his hips to the beat, moving one hand to wrap around your jaw. Forcing your head against his shoulder, he licks at the shell of your ear, and blood rushes to your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, clutching his wrist.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, voice laced with warning, and he hums in your ear.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, hips still moving against yours.

“Did you forget we have an audience?” You hiss, refusing to look anywhere but at a fixed spot on the ceiling.

His chuckle vibrates against your shoulder blades before he spins you around just as the music fades, his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back.

“Of course not.”

His dark eyes sear into yours, a devilish smirk playing across his lips, and if you weren’t so flustered, you would smack him.

“Oh yeah, we definitely lost,” you hear your best friend breathe, as you clutch Hoseok’s biceps, heart hammering in your chest.

Almost immediately the glint in his eye disappears, and his face melts into that wide trademark smile, eyes crinkling as he loosens his hold on you.

“Looks like we got a free meal, boys,” he calls, prompting a rather insulting cacophony of joyous shouts in response. Leaning down, he catches your lips in a quick kiss, grinning cheekily at your red face.

“I love you.”

“Holy shit, you two, get a room,” Jungkook grunts in annoyance as he passes. You hide your flush with a scoff, pushing away from Hoseok.

He laughs, turning to follow Jungkook, and you hang back for a moment to cool your cheeks on the backs of your hands. Feeling a presence by your side, you turn to find your best friend holding out your bag with a knowing grin.

“What?” You groan, grabbing your belongings and falling into step with her as you walk out of the studio.

“Nothing,” she says simply, earning herself a bruising punch on the arm.

30 minutes later, you are sitting next to Hoseok in a ramen shop amidst the buzz of your friends when you feel his hand drop heavily to your thigh. Dangerously close to the hem of your shorts, his fingers massage your flesh firmly, and you bite your lip, stealing a glance at his bright expression. The contrast makes you shiver.

And when his lips pressed against your ear, you nearly gasp aloud.

“Cancel practice tomorrow. You won’t be able to get out of bed.”

You barely pass over the threshold and discard your bag and shoes before Hoseok slings you over his shoulder, kicking the door to your shared apartment shut with a frame-rattling bang. You yelp in surprise and clutch at the back of his shirt as he carries you straight into the bedroom, depositing you unceremoniously on the bed. You bounce on the mattress, sitting up and brushing your hair out of your face. He towers over you with his arms crossed, the glint back in his eye and a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Now that I have the chance to ask,” he begins, eyeing you down, “what the hell was that?”

You let out a loud scoff and cross your arms and legs, half-mirroring his stance. “I don’t think you have the right to ask that question,” you shoot back.

He shrugs. “I was just returning the favor.”

“By dry humping me in front of all of our friends?” You ask through an incredulous laugh.

“I was just dancing.”

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes and lean back on your hands. “That’s your favorite way to fuck me.”

Hoseok throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Maybe…” He drops his arms and steps forward, running his hands over your thighs. “But they don’t know that.”

You roll your eyes again, even as your core twitches involuntarily at his touch. “I’m sure they do now,” you grumble under your breath.

He chuckles, gently uncrossing your legs and leaning down so his lips graze yours. “Good,” he mutters before crashing forward and pushing you into the mattress.

You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, making you sigh and briefly debate whether or not to challenge him. A quick test of the waters and a sharp nip to your lip later, you let out a soft whimper, lowering your guard and allowing him to take complete control.

His mouth trails across your jaw and down to your neck, taking your skin between his teeth. A moan slips out when his hand dips beneath your shirt, cool fingers sending shivers down your spine. Pushing the fabric over your ribs, he dives down and leaves open mouthed kisses across your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel before dragging it up the center of your torso. Pulling back, he yanks his shirt off, and you gaze up at him with hooded eyes, biting your lip as you raked them over his lean form.

Smirking, he reaches out and nearly rips your shirt off your body before making quick work of your sports bra, swearing only slightly when the tight fabric catches around your arms.

“Smooth,” you comment with an airy laugh as he tosses it to the side.

“Fucking hate those,” he growls, descending on your lips once again to suck the air out of your lungs.

His hand trails over your skin, and you whimper when he runs a fingertip softly over your nipple, breaking away from him with a moan. Endless nights of exploration have enlightened him to the ways your body responds to his touch, and by far his favorite is the way you completely lose control at the lightest and most gentle caresses to your chest.

“Hobi,” you sigh, feeling the heat pool between your legs as he rolls your nipple slowly between his thumb and forefinger.

He hums and kisses his way down your sternum, peppering the flesh of your breasts with flicks of his tongue and soft nips of his teeth. Your back arches when he closes his mouth over a sensitive bud, tongue moving in mind numbing circles, his hand never leaving your other breast.

Desire burns in your core, and you rub your legs together, hissing as your shorts tug against your arousal. You let out a needy moan and give his shoulder a light push, trying to get the message across.

His chuckle against your chest makes you bite your lip. “Alright, alright,” he chides, pressing a soft kiss to each of your nipples before locking eyes with you and dragging his tongue down your body to the hem of your shorts.

Your breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the ticklish space just below your stomach. Eyelids fluttering, you watch him grip your shorts and tug them, along with your underwear, off your hips.

Staring between your legs, he bites his lip and runs a finger between your soaked folds, making you whimper.

“Damn, babygirl,” he mutters, licking your slick off his digit. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You kick him in the arm none-too-lightly with the side of your foot, and he grins as he dives in, dragging his tongue up the length of your slit. He swallows down your arousal and gives your clit a harsh suck before pulling back in time to watch you let out a moan that twists your face in a way that makes his dick twitch noticeably in his sweats.

Licking his lips, he gazes down at you, holding you steady under the heat of his eyes. Then something registers in his face, and he suddenly pulls you up and off the bed. You shoot him a curious look as he takes your place with his head towards the foot of the bed.

“C’mere,” he says, motioning at you lazily with two fingers.

You comply and allow him to manhandle your legs until you are straddling his stomach. His hands run up your thighs, thumbs massaging circles into the junctures of your hips, before one hand grazes over your stomach, up to your chest, then back down. You yelp when he presses into your clit without warning, rubbing slow circles that have you rocking your hips against his abs as you brace yourself on his chest in a way that pushes your breasts together obscenely.

“Damn, what a view,” he remarks, and you can’t hide your flush at his downright predatory grin. With a slight cock of his head, his smile grows wider. “Look up, babygirl.”

You gasp audibly when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror that stretches the length of the bedroom wall, hair mussed, cheeks pink, and eyes hazy with need. He chuckles at your reaction and nudges you up his body until you are hovering over his face. With a touch of uncertainty, you glance down at him, but he just strokes your thigh soothingly.

“Don’t look so stressed. I got it.”

“But Hobi–“

“Just keep yourself up,” he cuts in, a slight edge to his voice.

You swallow and nod, resting your hands backwards on your waist as he shifts your thighs further apart until his nose is touching just above your slit. His breath on your wetness makes you shudder, and you aren’t prepared for the way he darts his tongue into your entrance, gathering your arousal before swiping his way up to your clit and circling it with your juices.

Your stomach clenches and you almost fall forward off the edge of the bed. You have to fight to stay upright as he repeats his actions twice more, leaving you a moaning mess above him.

“Goddamn, you taste so fucking good,” he groans, moving his hands to your ass and massaging the flesh.

You whimper, hands dropping to curl in his hair. His tongue slips over your lips and he nibbles on the flesh, making you keen. It’s almost painful the way he flicks between your folds, dipping into your entrance and kissing everywhere except where you need him. When his fingers come up to spread you so he can drag his tongue flat over your core only to stop just short of your clit, you cry out.

“Fu-uck, please,” you pant, legs shaking furiously, and you desperately want something in front of you to hold yourself up. “Hobi–“ your breath catches your throat when he slips a finger inside you, curling it at just the right angle to have you dropping down an inch.

Almost immediately he removes his hand and stares up at you with raised eyebrows. You protest at the loss of contact, but he merely pinches the back of your thigh firmly. “You better not suffocate me if you wanna come.”

You look down at him, forcing away your frustration, and nod, catching your lip between your teeth as you shift back up. Fighting away the burn in your legs, you fix your gaze on the apex of your thighs in the mirror. With a hum of approval, he pushes two fingers into your folds, and you let out a cry, flexing your stomach as you force yourself to stay upright.

He pumps his fingers at a rapid pace, drawing your clit into his mouth and sucking relentlessly. Moans fall freely from your lips as the coil of heat deep in your core grows to an unbearable ache.

“Hobi, fuck, I’m gonna–“

But just as you prepare to ride out the waves of your release, he drops his hand, and you tumble backwards down the mountain of pleasure. You gasp in frustration, looking down at him helplessly.

“Why,” you whimper, barely refraining from smacking his head and pulling some of his hair out.

He tilts his head to look at you, fingers tracing your thigh and dragging your wetness over your skin. Without responding, he holds your weakening gaze and presses kiss after kiss to your clit, making you pant through short shocks of pleasure. Core clenching around nothing, you run a quivering hand through your dampening hair as your heart pounds and your thighs scream.

“H-Hobi,” you say, voice audibly shaking.

“Yes, babygirl?” You can feel his breath, hot against your inner thigh.

“I n-need to hold o-onto something,” you breathe, the burn in your legs bordering on nauseating.

“You need it?” He inquires, and you let out a whimper of affirmation. “And I need a new sound system for the studio, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

His retort has you whining in protest, but you are cut off by his tongue once again licking into your folds, and your mind flatlines as you fight against the cry of your muscles. His tongue draws figure eights along your entrance, and you can’t help but rock your hips across his face, whimpering every time his nose brushes near your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, long and drawn out, when he moves north and abuses your nub with quick flicks, pace increasing and decreasing randomly. The pace of your hips quickens, and you bury your hands in his hair, eyes fixed almost unseeingly on your reflection.

He grunts into your folds, and the vibrations sending your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure builds for a second time. Tightening your grip on his locks, your moans grow louder and more earnest as you chase your high, rutting your core onto his tongue.

But just as you begin to tip, he draws back, and this time you crash down from your almost-climax, slumping forward until you are precariously supporting yourself on the edge of the bed with a shameless whine.

“Hobi!” You wail, shudders wracking your body.

“I’m here,” he shoots back, almost mockingly, but you are too far gone and desperate to attack him with any of the hefty handful of comebacks you have stored away in that special compartment of your brain.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters against your skin, and you force your eyes back on your reflection, taking in how your stomach clenches and your thighs shake around his head. Your eyes look completely gone, and the image makes you dizzy. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this, do you really think I’m just gonna let you come?”

You can only whimper, eyes squeezing shut. “Please, Hobi, please,” you beg, trying to push yourself into his face.

A harsh smack bounces off the walls as his palm comes into contact with your ass, making you cry out loudly. “Nuh-uh,” he growls, gripping your flesh, “Stay. Up.”

Gathering yourself, you try to steady your breathing. “Hobi…”

“Hm?” His tongue licks a stripe over one of your outer lips, and your head spins.

“Hobi, I s-swear to god, I really will suffocate you i-if you don’t let me h-hold onto something.”

You feel his huff of silent laughter against your clit. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you–“ you break off with a cry as he latches onto the sensitive nub and sends stars across your vision.

Your thighs begin to give out as you grind your hips into his tongue, one hand tangling in your hair, the other grasping at your breasts, desperate to hold onto something, anything. As his tongue continues its onslaught, your stomach tightens. Your breath catches in your throat as you lose control, letting your full weight fall on his face as you chase your high.

Another sharp slap lands against your hip, ripping you from your haze as the pressure disappears, and you sob as the pleasure ebbs to a dull throb, core clenching violently. You quickly shift to the side when he gives you another smack, revealing his highly unamused expression boring into you as he catches his breath.

Equally winded, you fall against the sheets with a broken moan, legs screaming in painful relief. “I warned you.”

In a split second, his sweats and briefs are on the floor. You whimper as he yanks you back onto quivering knees and spins you to face the mirror, forcing your chin up so you can see him hovering behind you. His tongue runs up the side of your neck until he is sucking at the spot behind your ear, making you keen. Taking your lobe into his mouth, he rolls the flesh between his teeth.

“You really want to come that bad?” His grip on your hip tightens.

“Please,” you moan out, fingers bent around his forearm, thighs shaking. There is no way you will be able to keep yourself upright.

He chuckles into your ear, smoothing his palm over your quivering thighs. “I got you,” he whispers before hooking his arm firmly around your waist, supporting you.

Dropping his hand from your chin, he reaches down to dip into your entrance, feeling your wetness between his fingers. He lets out a groan, and you are suddenly aware of his hardened cock pressing into your ass. Normally, you would have given your hips an experimental wiggle, but the cloud in your mind is heavy, and your limbs are too strung out to do anything but submit. Instead, you let your head fall forward, panting as he drags his finger between your folds, circling your clit lightly.

But then his hand is gone, and you cry out. “Fuck. You. Hoseok,” you sob, flinging your head back and digging it into his shoulder, doing your best to glare at his reflection.

“That’s more like it,” he hums, before latching onto your neck and sucking a hickey into the soft skin. His hand dives back down, barely grazing your clit before plunging two fingers into your wetness.

You clench around the digits, moaning when he curls them into your walls. The arm around your waist shifts, and you feel pressure on your nipple as he rolls the bud gently between his fingertips the way you liked it, the way that has your breath leaving you in needy whimpers. The sensation is intense, but it is not enough, and you whine.

“Hm? What is it? What do you want?” His voice is low, taunting.

You can’t formulate a response, eyes rolling back as he removes his fingers to rub tight circles over your clit. A loud moan fills the room as you buck your hips into his hand.

“You want my cock, babygirl?” He breathes, nuzzling into your ear. “Want me to finally fuck you?”

You nod violently against his shoulder, digging your nails into his arm.

“Please.”

With a growl, he grips your hips and guides you down onto his cock in one swift motion, groaning into your ear when his hips meet your ass. The sound you let out is a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort as he stretches you, and you clench around him, making him hiss.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, and you can feel him swallow as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Hobi…” Your voice is ragged, and you meet his eyes in the mirror so he can see the unfiltered need in your own, mustering just enough coherency to push your hips back against his.

He draws back in response before snapping forward roughly, and you let out a long, drawn out moan as he starts a relentless pace. The arm around your waist tightens so he can bounce you on his cock, while his other hand roams your body, slipping over your curves.

“Shit, Hobi,” you gasp and reach up to thread your fingers in his hair, eliciting a pleasured groan from his lips as they find purchase on your shoulder.

Your eyes glaze over as you watch the scene in the mirror, barely recognizing the flushed and completely fucked out person staring back at you. Hair plastered to your forehead, crimson marks painting your neck and shoulders, body trembling from the force of Hoseok’s thrusts, you can only gaze at the image and whimper loudly, eyes inevitably falling shut.

For what feels like the millionth time, the pleasure begins to peak, and your voice cracks with the telltale sign that you are close, his grunts in your ear spurring you on.

“You close?” He growls.

“Yes,” you choke out, tightening your grip in his hair. But then his hips slow a fraction, and your eyes snap open. “No, fuck, god, please, don’t stop, I’m going to kill you,” you sob, voice broken and slurred, your entire body vibrating with the need to find your release.

Grunting, he suddenly pushes you forward until your ear is against the mattress. With your ass in the air, he resumes his punishing pace, his hand traveling up your back to find purchase in your hair and press your head further into the sheets.

The fabric muffles your cries as the new angle allows him to hit the sensitive spot within you, each thrust leaving you breathless and begging as your nails dig into your palms.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as your cheek ruts against the mattress.

Hoseok growls above you, landing a sharp, but not painful, slap on your ass. “Words, babygirl,” he pants, voice low and gravelly.

You can barely form a coherent thought, but you manage to force the words out of your ruined lips. “Please,” you breathe, “please make me come.”

“Good girl.”

You barely registered the pleased smirk on his face in the mirror before his hand is snaking around you and locating your clit.

It is barely ten seconds before you are crashing headlong into your orgasm, convulsing around his cock with a broken moan. The pleasure blinds you, flooding your limbs, and you clutch at the sheet, knuckles white and legs shaking violently. He continues to thrust into you as your body goes limp, chasing his own high, and you sob at the stimulation, prompting him to pull out and finish himself on your back with a strangled groan. You whimper as his release hits your skin, a shiver running up your spine.

Stars dance behind your closed lids as you try to catch your breath, too spent to even pull your legs out from under yourself, though they scream at you. But you feel a palm run soothingly over the side of your thigh, and you let Hoseok stretch you out until you are flat on your stomach, relief surging through your muscles.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and you feel his lips press into to the back of your thigh before his weight lifts off the bed.

You are slowly slipping into unconsciousness when a damp cloth runs over your back. Opening your eyes, you see Hoseok toss the cloth into the hamper before returning to help you roll onto your back. He fixes you with a smile and falls with a thud next to you, shifting so he can hover and press several kisses to your lips. You sigh, wanting to reach up and touch his face, but your arms refuse to cooperate.

“You ok?” He inquires, cradling you against him, trailing a hand up and down your limp arm.

You exhale heavily, eyes flitting shut. “I can’t move.”

He smirks against your shoulder. “I’m sorry…I warned you,” he murmurs, and you roll your eyes behind closed lids.

“Shut up,” you retort, mind slowly starting to clear. Opening your eyes, you come face to face with his huge, cheeky grin, and you can’t fight the weak “fuck you” that leaves your lips. But that just makes his smile grow, and he captures your lips once more before moving to locate his briefs.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, pulling the fabric up his honeyed thighs, and even though you are completely spent, the image still sends a jolt between your legs.

“Not gonna lie, Hobi, I’m not much of anything right now,” you reply in complete deadpan, and he laughs loudly.

“Well, I’m hungry. Do you want me to stay with you?” His question comes with a serious crinkle of his forehead, and you manage to shake your head.

“No, do what you want,” you mutter, closing your eyes once again. You really just want to sleep, even if you knock out completely exposed on top of the comforter.

“Ok.” Hoseok chuckles. “Find me when you can move again?”

You hum, peeking at him through your heavy lids.

His smile paints his face once again, and he pulls his sweats on before bending to cradle your face between his palms, pressing gentle kisses across your face until he reaches your lips, lingering there for a long moment.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, and your own smile tugs at your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, and you swear he radiates sunshine as he pecks your forehead and prances out of the room.

A split second later, you hear him belting out a terrible rendition of something you’re sure is a Top 40s track you didn’t recognize as he shuffles around the kitchen.

Letting his chirping voice wash over your lead-like body, you stare up at the ceiling with a weak incredulity, forever unable to process how the man-child outside the room is the same man who can leave you wrecked and unable to move on your own bed.

It is truly the contradiction of the century.

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mintseesaw · 4 years

Text

kapag lasing malambing | myg

translation. (you’re) only sweet when (you’re) drunk

chorus. verse i. verse ii.

pairing: indie musician!yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, light angst, light smut, est. relationship au

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, hints of arousal, yoongi being touchy and straightforward af, light dry humping, yoongi ft. his fingers // rating: 18+

note: hello!! This is my first entry on the Paraluman Project a.k.a. Tagalog-titled drabbles/fics. You may also submit requests for the drabble game: Paraluman Playlist until the end of August. ✨

pending drabble requests will be posted in the coming days huehiehue. Enjoy!

Few bottles in and Yoongi started whining a bit more than usual. In fact, he’s never one to ask for your attention in sobriety. Nevertheless, he is needy but would rather save his pride than admit it without the alcohol clouding his state of mind.

You’re always the one between the two of you who initiates any form of skinship. And most of the attempts you did in public, your success rate— had unfortunately dramatically slumped at 0 in a scale of 1-10.

However, when the situation permits him no other means but to set his so-called reputation aside, Yoongi would willingly participate on displaying his tender feelings in public. One of those rare moments was on your first year anniversary. He had no choice but to pull off a move to make up for the damage he had unintentionally inflicted on you when he almost didn’t show up to the restaurant you personally reserved for dinner.

He never once called you that day, his phone was strangely out of reach and the lack of interaction led you to believe he was gonna surprise you for he would never not return your call nor would turn his phone off without giving you a heads up.

He came, which was three hours too late for you to remain delighted for the occasion. When you stood up from your chair, swallowed the tears that were threatening to spill out, you didn’t beat around the bush and impulsively told him, “We’re done.” before walking passed him even though you didn’t mean it at all. You were just so hurt that night that it was the only thing you have managed to say.

Shocked by the abruptness of your decision, Yoongi ran after you and kept you secured in his hold, cupped your face with his palms and pulled you in a sweet kiss. Perhaps it was the first time he ever did more than just a peck on your forehead with an actual audience gawking at the two of you. He didn’t care nor stop murmuring apologies while he peppered tiny kisses all over your face until you stopped crying.

Turns out, he did have a surprise for you. It was the keys on his palm he fished out from his pocket that he forgot in his apartment on his way there. Apparently, he drove back to his then-apartment to collect his surprise and got stuck in the Metro traffic. Keys of a new apartment that you two now share for the past two years now.

Another time was that new year’s eve party some months ago when he had already chugged down alcohol passed his limit. You lost track of how frequently he had planted pecks on your shoulders and even refused to let go of your hand as if you were being held hostage in his captive. He was just so touchy, at the same time, extremely attentive of you.

It’s not everyday that you are showered with his oddly affectionate treatment so when these rare instances ever occur, you let him spoil you with his generously sweet attention.

Yoongi is naturally caring without him even trying it. And at times, he may show it through his rough facade or fatherly scolding. He shows his affection in a different language, that you once mistaken as some sort of coldness or indifference. Yet, no matter how inwardly warmhearted he is when it concerns you, he would never initiate nor let you advance to the first base in public. Of course, your guy has a reputation to keep. You don’t even understand why his cold exterior, seemingly rude around the edges attracts more women than you deem amusing to witness first hand.

Tonight, you’ll surely entertain yourself while he unravels a thick cover of his facade just from the looks of his glassy eyes and red face. He’s way beyond the tipsy state which only means one thing. Either he’d be extra sweet or needy.

To prove one of your assumptions, you suddenly heard his provocative voice, snapping you out of your reverie. “Baby, come here.” He slurs, his drunkenness more profound with the radiating crimson tinging his dumpling cheeks.

Your eyes roll before scooting closer until your sides are flushed against each other. Both of you are sitting on the floor across the table with your backs leaning against the foot of the couch. Yoongi drapes his arm over your shoulder, then leans on your side to nuzzle your cheek with the tip of his nose while his palm idly scurries on the expanse of your thigh.

You caught his wrist, stopping whatever intention his hazy mind has. Groaning, Yoongi buried his face on the crook of your neck, yet refusing to utter a word.

“Yoongi,” You hiss, retreating back to create some safe distance before he kindles something that should not be stirred awake while you’re here at Jin’s place. His friends are pretty much wasted so the close proximity and his extra provocative hands do not really bother you, except for the fact that your body quickly reacts to his feverish touches.

“Fuck! Let’s go home.” He proposes.

You chuckle, “You’re so drunk, babe.” You say, pinching his beet-red cheeks.

“So drunk, I wouldn’t mind fucking you here in—“ Your eyes widened suddenly hearing such vulgar words coming from him. Your palm met his mouth in a smack.

“Shut up!”

To your dismay, your boyfriend obnoxiously smirks, pulling your other wrist and placing it, out of the blue, on top of his semi-aroused crotch. You lightly jump taken aback and quickly collected your hand back when you felt his clothed cock twitches the second your palm comes in contact with it.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He purrs, sniffing your hair.

Instinctively, your eyes briskly scan the room to see if anyone caught what your boyfriend did. It only took one glance at Jin who is clearly amused at the two of you before your face profusely heated up in embarrassment.

Unlike everyone else in the living room, he seems to be the only man standing aside from you and your boyfriend who can hardly recognize his own name. Jungkook is literally sprawled, face flat on the floor. Hoseok is snoring on the single seater couch on you right. You could hear a faint sound of puking from somewhere, wild guessing it was Taehyung and Namjoon must be helping him out in the bathroom. Jimin and his girlfriend are nowhere in sight.

Jin teasingly winked in your direction before he stood up and disappeared from one of the doorways. Maybe in his room.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend seems to be unbothered, and proceeds to bite the shell of your ear sensually. You try to push him away for the second time of the night. If he continues this tempting advances, it won't be too long before you give in to his bidding.

You sneered, “Your friends are here.”

“We can use the bathroom or something.” He murmurs suggestively.

“No thanks!” You answered back too quickly, somehow taunting him in vengeance of the countless kisses he had turned down from you in the past.

“Babe, come on.” Whines Yoongi as he hovers your mouth with his fingers holding your jaw to his advantage.

“Not here.” You prompted.

“I don’t think I can still drive.”

“I will drive—shit!”

Yoongi pulled your tube top down, exposing one of your mounds.

“No one’s awake.” He reassures, smirking down at the delicious view served in front of him. You shot him a glare, ignoring the surge of heat washing through you.

While you’re busy pulling your top back, Yoongi’s arm curls over your back on your waist, hurling you on his lap facing him without a single inch of difficulty. Your denim skirt bunches up on your hips as your thighs parted.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?!” You exclaimed, while shooting peers sideways to make sure no one can see you two in a compromising position.

Yoongi paid no heed to your panicky voice, baring your mounds once more all the while wrestling with your arms when they tried to cover your beautiful breasts from his ardent stare. He shifted you further close so that your center directly presses against his prominent bulge.

Your lips parted in a soundless gasp, sparking your senses alive and Yoongi used your momentary shock to capture a peak with his mouth. The palms digging on your hips coaxing you to move against him.

Your eyes fall shut, “Fuck Yoongi! I said not here!”

“Should I stop then?” He teases.

No! Your corrupt mind objects.

The friction down your soaking mess of an aching core against his crotch eliciting tiny yet unmistakable whimpers from your agape mouth, head thrown back when pleasure immediately starts to build up in your core.

“Yes, baby. Just like that. You will be good and come for me, right love?” He purrs next to your ear. The hoarseness of his natural voice and the low register of his tone made possible by his alcohol-filled system increasing the heat in your body.

“Yoongi, please…” You wail breathlessly, needing more stimulation to give what he wants.

In the midst of your supposed blissful momentum, you have failed to sense the nearing sound of footsteps in the living. It was only when Yoongi cursed under his breath, and shoved you flushed against his chest that you snapped out of it, while the sparks ebb away into actual nerves. He hurriedly shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, draping it over your back to cover your nakedness due to your top slipping down to your waist.

With your face buried on the curve of his neck, you panted heavily as your ears perked up at the sound of his friends approaching the room. He kisses the side of your head, and right away rubs your back to soothe your nerves.

“Hyung, Tae and I are lea—oh! Is she alright?” You heard Namjoon ask, probably surprised at the sight of you resting on Yoongi’s body.

“Yeah, she just fell asleep is all. Go on, the kid looks like he’s about to pass out any second.” Yoongi says coolly.

“Sweet. We’re gonna head out, lovebirds.”

As soon as you heard the sound of the door closing, Yoongi’s hand snaked in between your bodies, pushed your lace to the side and started thrumming your clit. Your arms instinctively went around his neck for leverage, helplessly sobbing against his sweat covered skin.

For the next few minutes, your muffled delightful cries took over Yoongi’s senses while his fingers worked their magic on your center, and to the muscles of your drenched hole, skillfully driving you to oblivion.

At least, he’s sweet enough to let you come despite the situation you two are in, with his pretty wasted friends who could’ve heard your scandalous moans should they have not been sleeping the entire time.

#yoongi x reader #bayanihanboost #paralumanproject #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff

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animebw · 3 years

Text

Binge-Watching: Beastars S2, Episodes 7-9

In which I identify a bizarre shift in the show’s priorities, the call for integration grows louder, and there is suddenly a lot of gay subtext.

Over 9000

I’ve been struggling for a while to sort out my thoughts on this season. Something’s felt off about it ever since the start, even beyond the loss of the central trio that was core to season 1′s success. And I think I’ve finally figured out what’s going on: in season 2, Beastars has completely inverted its genre. Season 1 was a shoujo romance through and through, with all the drama and worldbuilding and themes centered around the tangled love lives of a scarce few central characters. Season 2, on the other hand, has shifted gears into a full-on shonen battle anime. Legoshi’s storyline this season is essentially just a training arc preparing him to square off against increasingly tough opponents, right down to a “Oh, I can use my limbs instead of my jaws to fight!” power-up that feels straight out of My Hero Academia. And in typical shonen fashion, the scope has balooned outward to spend time with the countless side characters hovering around. This is no longer an intimate, tightly woven story driven by romance and relationships; this is now a sprawling, increasingly action-packed story exploring the entire world and everyone in it.

And look, that kind of genre shift was always going to be weird. Selling an audience on Kimi ni Todoke and then turning into Gintama would be a hard sell no matter how well the transition was handled. But even by those standards, Beastars really did not pull this off well. It shoved the romance off to the side, it sidelined the relationships that defined it, and it made so much of the first season’s emotional development feel pointless or stalled out. It didn’t just change the kind of story it was telling, it did so at the expense of the story it already told. And that’s without taking into account how confusing some of the worldbuilding still is (Seriously, what the hell even is the Beastar?) or how awkwardly the editing this season has been. Too many episodes just feel like a loose collection of random manga chapters thrown together with no regard for cinematic flow or cohesion, and in come cases, it feels like we skip important events altogether. Like, why do we not show the moment Legoshi gets captured by the Leo gang? One moment he’s free and clear an chatting with Gohin, and then the next time we see him he’s already being roughed up in a warehouse with no indication how he got there. It can be hard to pinpoint what good story flow looks like sometimes, but when it’s done poorly, it’s really obvious. And too much of how the second season is put together is very noticeably off in very distracting ways.

Separate, but Equal?

Still, putting that aside, there’s still interesting things happening in this season, even if they could be structured and integrated better. This set of episodes in particular raises a very interesting conundrum: at the end of the day, carnivores still have the potential to do serious harm to herbivores. Is it worth integrating the two groups when it puts one of them at such risk? Sure, we apparently have the medical tech to restore limbs that have been ripped off (how that works, I don’t even want to know), but that doesn’t change the fact that holy shit you just ripped someone’s arm off. This isn’t like the real world, there is serious risk involved with integrating these social groups. And it’s a fair question to raise if the outcome is worth that risk. Certainly, Juno believes carnivores and herbivores are better off separate. And plenty of concerned parents are scared enough to try and segregate Cherryton all over again. But there are just as many people who believe integration is worth the risks regardless, that carnivores and herbivores are better off together, learning from each other, being part of each other’s lives.

And what’s particularly fascinating is that in the case of Cherryton’s students, so many of the loudest voices calling for integration come from herbivores who’ve already been put at risk by carnivores. The anteater who gets his arm ripped off is understandably freaking out by carnivores in the moment, but he quickly returns to sympathizing with the panther who did it and promising to still be his friend (Which, by the way, that panther breaking down in tears when he realizes he’s being forgiven was so fucking powerful, oh my god). Els has every reason to hate carnivores for killing Tem, but she’s so determined to keep the drama club together she just about makes herself faint from screaming (”We get to see the good and bad! Isn’t that what clubs are for?!”) And in a shocking twist, it turns out that even Tem fully accepted the bear who ate him, refusing to let his fear overcome his desire for connection. Riz wasn’t even stalking Tem to kill him, but Tem encouraged him to embrace his true carnivore self regardless, and that’s just what he did. Far from being scared out of integration, these herbivores’ brushes with danger only seem to convince them even more that integration is important. And there’s something really powerful about that sentiment. Where Beastars is taking it, I’m not sure but I’m definitely interested to see how it all plays out.

Kiss from a Rose

Actually, you know what the most unusual thing is about all these herbivores sticking up for carnivores? The fact that so many of them are absolutely dripping with homoeroticism. Like, good lord, this season plunged headfirst into the gay subtext pool. Riz and Tem’s final conversation feels like a love confession, the cheetah and sheep who shop for clothes together in episode 8 are absolutely girlfriends, and I swear Juno was two seconds away from smooching Haru during their conversation. Hell, Legoshi and Louis’ reunion is somehow the most romantically charged moment of the entire season. Dude straight-up asked Louis to run away with him like they’re the protagonists of a BL manga. And my god, Legoshi not being able to control his wagging tail was priceless. It’s so weird, because the first season was incredibly straight even with the intense emotions between Legoshi and Louis. But now that Legoshi and Haru’s romance has been left by the wayside, it feels like the show it taking every opportunity it can to hint at love blossoming between same-gender characters. Will it amount to anything? Who can say, really. At this point, I have no idea what to expect from Beastars. All I can hope for is a finale that makes this season’s awkwardness seem worth it. Don’t let me down, show!

Odds and Ends

-Legoshi, you are lucky as fuck no one walked in on you drinking everyone’s water bottles.

-I do appreciate how the reveal that Riz is the killer isn’t played for too big a surprise. We could pretty much tell it was him from the silhouette in episode 1, so there’s no need to do a big song and dance about it.

-I am very confused what Pina’s deal is. Why get involved with the Riz situation just to do nothing about it and let him stew in rage? I don’t have a feel for him at all.

-Yeesh, the bears are drugged to lose strength? That’s not cool.

-”Maybe I’m growing old...” skdjfhdsf god dammit Legoshi stop being me

-”Don’t worry, I’m always risking my life for the sake of slacking!” HARU I MISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK INTO THIS SEASON

-OH GOD NO NOT THE CROCODICK

-”Punishment isn’t always the road to peace. The world isn’t that simple.” I like Gohin a lot.

-YO HOLY SHIT HE GOT DEM MOVES

-”The school needs you now.” Jesus, Legoshi, stop pinning all your hopes on Louis. You’ve got what it takes to be a hero too.

-”I had a go at channeling the equipment’s feelings.” WHO ARE YOU PINA

One session left to go. See you next time for the end of season 2!

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #beastars

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kornfreak78 · 3 years

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A lifestyle change...

HELLO TUMBLR!! I know it’s been quite awhile since I last made a post on here. Life kind of got in the way and I needed to take a step back. I have gone through a whirlwind of shit over the last several years in my absence. For starters I lost my Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa which really shook my entire world to it’s core... They were the ones that raised me. I was always super close with them, especially my Mom... It’s been REALLY rough going on without them in my life. When you lose family members that you love more than life itself, it has a way of changing you and not for the better! Thing is, the punches didn’t stop there. My health has gone downhill and as it turns out, I inherited the heart problems that killed both my Mom and Grandpa.. you gotta love genetics! I’ve just been taking things one day at a time. I moved out of state and have been trying to pick up the pieces and start my life anew. However, over this last year that has proved to be rather difficult due to Covid-19 and the entire world shutting down and coming to a halt. So needless to say life hasn’t been the best.

This leads me to the reason that I came on here to make this post in the first place. Despite the last few years being rather shitty, I did recently manage to find inspiration in the form of actor Ethan Suplee. He has a podcast called American Glutton and he talks about his journey from being almost 600 lbs to losing a massive amount of weight and getting in shape. He’s now down to 255 lbs and he’s jacked! He told his story of how he did it and he started off with riding a bike non-stop all the time. He said he went at it and just refused to stop. That lead to him dieting and lifting weights. Seeing his transformation really inspired me to want to try to better my own life. So this is where I need your help. If you happen to have your own YouTube channel and are willing to take a moment out of your day to help me out, I would greatly appreciate it. I need to reach 100 subscribers in order to be able to personalize and customize my new YouTube channel. I have 857 followers here on Tumblr and if even a 1/4 of you subscribed I could pull this off in no time.

On this new Lifestyle Change YouTube channel of mine, I will be posting videos centered around bicycle riding, walking, and just getting outside in nature. My goal is to try to get into better shape documenting my progress over time and hopefully help inspire other people the way that I was inspired! I have allowed myself to be beaten down by depression and have become stagnant, overweight, and out of shape. Add to the fact that I have heart issues, I’m certainly not doing myself any favors by sitting around waiting to die. I figure I need to get out there and try to make some positive changes and perhaps prolong my life a little longer! I just want this to be something positive to show those willing to go on this journey with me that life can change if you want it to! I realize this isn’t going to be for everyone and you may not want to watch the videos that I will be posting, and that's fine, I would just appreciate the sub.

I apologize for not having any videos posted right now, but I don't have my bike yet. I plan to start when I get the bike. Just fair warning though, It's probably gonna be hard to watch. I know with being out of shape this is going to be tough for me at first. I'm just wanting this to be real, showing how it is starting out and progressing over time. I am hoping to stick with it and build up some stamina over time and get to a point where I'm not all out of breath. I hope my old ticker holds up for me... I'm definitely concerned about that but I'm putting my mind to this and sticking with it. If I can take this far enough I want to incorporate some kind of healthier eating, right now I have NO IDEA what that is but I need to figure that out sooner than later! I also would like to be able to get to a point where I can go to a gym and get into lifting weights.. but I know right now that's FAR OFF! One thing at a time! I'm definitely going to be taking it slow at first. I just think this is a good thing for me to do. In a way it'll help keep me motivated to get out there and do this. By making videos and having people watch them, it'll sort of hold me accountable to my viewers. They'll get accustomed to me making update videos and if I don't keep up on it, people will be like WHAT'S UP!? So yeah.. I just think this is a good thing for me. But as I've said, This is not just for me, but for others as well. The overall goal is to try to get in shape and help inspire others to do the same. So if any of you could help me out and subscribe to my channel I would greatly appreciate it! Thank you in advance! I do hope you come along with me on this journey! If you do? I'll see you all out there soon! Videos will be posted as soon as I get my bike! I plan to start ASAP. You can get to my channel by clicking the link below:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChQzYrbmQVUEKHEcR-VcLeA

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jornthur · 4 years

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Jail Time

John Marston x Abigail Marston, Low Honor 🐺

(Thanks to my friend @liars-and-cheats for helping me with this idea!)

Summary: John is in a terrible mood and finds himself in jail, what’s he going to do to release his frustrations?

(Warning: Smut ahead, hanging sentence if you read)

•••••

John sat on the hard bench inside the jail cell he currently occupied, silently fuming as he stared down at the trail dust covering his worn boots. He let out a hard sigh, lifting a hand to take off his hat. Lowering it to his lap, he stared at one of the last reminders he had of his old friend.

He knew he'd gotten drunk last night at the saloon, but he could barely remember a damn thing. All he could recall was that he’d been in a dark mood, some moron had talked shit to him, a fight had ensued, and now here he was.

Oh, he was definitely still angry alright, and he was going to make sure everyone else that ran into him knew it, including that piece of shit deputy.

He lifted his gaze from Arthur’s hat, looking up through the iron bars at the deputy who was leaning back in his chair across the room. The man was piggish, and there was no doubt the dumbass had an inbred lineage, his own features giving off his overbearing ugliness and stupidity.

Those small eyes glittered when the man realized John was looking at him, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Oh, they gon’ hang you for sure, amigo!” He lowered his eyes, “I already called dibs on dem boots a’yers.”

John said nothing, his eyes narrowing into slits. He wanted more than anything to take this bastard out here and now with one of his guns, but considering they were hanging on a wall opposite the room at this very moment, he willed the boiling venom inside him to a simmer.

He stroked the brim of the hat, trying to calm himself down.

“Dat’s one ugly-ass hat ya got theres,” The deputy taunted, “When yer hanged, I’m takin’ all yer stuff, but I’m gon’ burn that old rat trash.”

The venom came back to a raging boil, but John absolutely refused to give the idiot any sort of satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to get out of this cell so he could strangle the ugly man with his bare hands. There was so much anger built up inside of him, and he knew he needed to release it, really soon.

Discreetly, he scanned his surroundings, seeing if there was anything he could use to his advantage.

Suddenly, the front door of the jail burst open, and in charged an angry, beautiful woman.

His wife.

Abigail looked absolutely livid. “Where is he?!” She spotted him and stomped over in his direction. “I’m gettin’ real damn tired of dealin’ with your shit, Milton!”

The deputy stood up from his chair, and John noticed how the fat man was staring at his wife, lust clear in those small beady eyes of his.

“Well, hey ther', beauty.” The man said in a low voice as he made his way over. He was clearly making a desperate attempt to make himself look good in front of John’s woman, but it was a vain attempt. The man rested a hand on his belt as he got closer, “Don’ you worry none, he’ll be hangin’ soon ’nough.”

Abigail noticed how the deputy was looking at her, and she decided to use that to her advantage. Recalling her old skills, she began to seduce the man. “Well, you seem like a tough man that takes care of his own.” She could feel John’s dark eyes on her as she made her move.

Those cracked lips stretched into a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, I can take good care a’ ya, beauty,” he said in a low voice.

“Is that right?” She got up close to the man, moving her body in a way that kept the man distracted. “I’d like to see that.”

Just as the man was close enough and about to touch her, she reached out and snatched the gun from his holster and aimed it at his head. The deputy froze, lifting his hands. “Open the cell,” she snapped, her tone completely flat now.

The man narrowed his eyes, “You dumb whore, I ain’t doin’ shit — ”

She swung the butt of the gun through the air, hitting him square on the head and knocking him out cold. The deputy collapsed to the ground with a hard thud.

“Serves the bastard right,” she snarled under her breath. Leaning down, she snatched the keys from the deputy’s belt and made her way over to the cell as John approached the locked door.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” John teased.

“Oh, shuttup, Marston, I’ve about had it with you.” She snapped, placing the key into the lock. With a loud clank, the thing gave way, and she opened the cell door. “Now c’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

He followed behind her as they walked over to the wall where his weapons were stored. As he put his equipment back on, he bore the brunt of his wife’s harsh words the entire time, all the while his frustration continuing to build. The fact that the man had looked at his wife the way he had, it was all he could do to barely control himself.

Abigail sighed, “What am I gonna do with you, John?”

With that, she turned away as if to walk out of the jail. But before she could take a single step, John reached out and grabbed her wrist. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

The next few seconds happened in a flash then. Before she could blink, John had her pressed up against one of the cells, his hard body pressed up against her small frame.

Abigail’s eyes widened at her husband’s unexpected actions, “John, what the hell are you d— ”

Those dry lips of his interrupted her next words. His breathing was hard, hot air hitting her cheek as he breathed through his nose and parted her lips with his warm tongue. She moaned, the familiar taste of coffee and him combined more than welcome, to hell with the situations. She closed her eyes, relishing the heat of him through the fabric of their clothes. How long had it been since she’d felt him like this? Too long, she knew, but — but now wasn’t the time. Her rational mind kicked in, and she pulled away in an effort to reason with him once more, “John, we can’t do this here.”

“Shuttup, darlin’,” he growled, and with that he pushed his lips back to hers, and she lost herself in his rough touch. She had no idea what was going on, but it was clear he was tense. He needed a release, and she couldn’t bring herself to deny him.

John groaned, running his hands up the sides of her body, relishing in the feeling of her soft curves. It had been too damned long, he thought. He’d missed this, the feeling of her, the wild and heated sensations. He tilted his head for a better angle, deepening the kiss further as he pressed himself against her even harder.

Abigail groaned, and John instantly pulled away looking worried, “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”

She let out a short laugh, looking up at him, “It’s these damn bars, they ain’t quite that comfortable, John.”

He let out a deep chuckle, and she gasped as he suddenly lifted her in his arms, carrying her over to the desk across the room. He sat her down on the edge of the hard wooden surface, and without wasting another second he picked up where they left off.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck as he leaned down and continued to kiss her. She would never get used to the sweet overwhelming feeling of being so close to him, this beautiful idiot man she loved with all of her heart.

He pulled away and began placing quick warm kisses on her cheek, and she leaned her head back with a sigh as he made his way down her neck, leaving a wet trail behind. As soon as he reached the hem of her blouse, he traced his way back up with his tongue, groaning at the taste of her skin.

Grabbing her hips, he pulling her towards the edge of the desk and pushed her skirt up until the fabric was pooled around her waist, then he pulled her hips flush with his and began to thrust his hips into her. “Oh, damn,” He groaned, grunting as he gripped both of her thighs and spread her legs further apart to give himself more room. Shit, she felt so damn good, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The tension inside him was at a breaking point, and he needed to be inside of her soon.

Abigail gasped as she felt the heat of him through his ranch pants, unable to help but notice the unmistakable arousal he had for her. He was so hard, so hot that she almost lost herself completely.

John pulled away and began yanking at her drawers, his fingers merciless as the fabric began to tear away. Cold air hit her center as soon as she was finally bare to him, and she looked up to see those brown eyes of his staring down at her most private area, looking completely lost at the sight.

“Abigail … ” his gravelly voice was so low, almost feral. It would’ve terrified her had she not known that he would never hurt her.

A silent moment passed between them, and she couldn’t help but give him a small smile. Reaching up, she grabbed the brim of his hat and placed it on the desk behind her, using her other hand to grab the back of his neck and pull him into another deep kiss.

He let out a deep moan, and without pulling away he brought his hands down between them, working at the fly of his pants until they were undone. Once his cock was released, he looked down and gripped it with one hand, placing the hot tip of himself to her wet core. Another hard breath passed his parted lips, and he looked back up to meet her gaze, as if he were waiting for something from her.

Without a word, she wrapped her hands around his neck, laying a single kiss to his cheek. John growled, and with that he moved his hips forward, slamming himself into her with a single thrust until he was buried inside her to the hilt. They both gasped, and Abigail threw her head back, digging her nails into the rough material of John’s gunslinger vest.

John lowered his head, nearly losing himself in the warm embrace of the woman he loved more than the world. He took in the feeling, the heat, the hold she had on him in more ways than one.

Finally, he began to move, pumping himself into her. Slowly at first, pulling his hips back and bringing them forward again and again. John bared his teeth in a hiss, “Damn, you’re tight, woman. I ain’t — I ain’t too sure about this.”

Abigail let out a short laugh, and his heart nearly skipped a beat at the soft sound. “Well, I can say the same about your size, Mr. Marston,” she teased.

He grinned at that, he so loved this woman. “I suppose you could, Mrs. Marston,” he teased back.

They both laughed, and John continued to thrust his hips back and forth, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to relish in the warmth of her, her soft sheath to his hard shaft.

After a while of slow love-making, he started to pick up the momentum.

Soon their bodies started to sweat from the heat they created, and before too long, he was hammering her into the desk, the heavy piece of furniture creating scraping sounds as the thing inched across the floor with each of his thrusts.

The sex then became furious. It was wild now, and John was no longer holding himself back, pumping himself in and out of his wife’s soft core, releasing everything that had been pent up inside of him over the past several hours. Abigail had to keep her legs wrapped around his waist to keep from being pushed off the desk.

He was getting so close to release now. Everything felt so damn good in this moment that he didn’t care about anything else but her. “You’re mine, Abigail,” John growled into her ear, rocking his hips forward hard to emphasize his point.

Abigail gasped and nodded, “Yours,” she agreed.

John grinned, and continued his relentless hammering, grunting with each push as he plunged his cock deeper and deeper into her heat. A white hot fire slowly began to grow in his gut, a familiar burn he knew all too well. He sped up his thrusts, ready for the explosion to come.

Suddenly, there was a low groan coming from across the room. Halting his hips, John looked over to see the deputy’s head moving around, realizing that the man was slowly coming back to reality.

To hell with that.

Snatching his gun from its holster, Marston shot a single bullet into the ugly man’s skull.

Without being bothered, John went straight back to what he’d been doing, the heat building up once more inside his body. Abigail gasped at his actions, but she was unable to care at that moment in time, completely overwhelmed with the hot pleasure coursing through her entire body.

John gripped her hair in one hand, using the other to keep her hips in place as he thrust into her harder and harder, the slapping of flesh on flesh the only sound in the room next to the moans of pleasure coming from the both of them.

At last, John threw his head back and let out a loud, long groan, like a wolf howling at the moon. Abigail felt his release shooting into her as she came at the same time, hot rays of pleasure shooting from her core to every single part of her body.

Finally, he collapsed onto her, his head going limp as they both panted hard.

“Oh, John,” she sighed, closing her eyes as he lowered his head into the crook of her neck. His hot breath tickled her skin, and she reached up to run her fingers through his long black hair.

She said something under her breath, and John lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. “What’d you say?” He asked.

She let out a small laugh as she smiled, reaching over to his hat and placing it back on his head, “You’re my sexy wolf-man.”

•••••

The End

(*This was my very first smut entry, I hope y’all enjoyed. Please lemme know what you guys thought!*)

#jail time #john marston #abigail marston #john marston x abigail marston #john marston x abigail roberts #smut #romance #low honor #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #arthur morgan

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tiredstressedemotionalmess · 3 years

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Seeing Ghosts (a fun ghoul centric fic)

Seeing Ghosts

read on ao3

word count: 4325

warnings: major character death, descriptions of blood/injuries

summary: Fun Ghoul can see ghosts. Not many people really believe him, but it's not that big a deal, right?

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For as long as Fun Ghoul could remember, he could see ghosts. At first, they terrified him. He couldn’t understand why other people didn’t see the things he did. Once he grew a bit older, and he understood that the people he saw were dead , he became even more afraid. But, as the years went on he became more accustomed to the idea of death. The ghosts stopped scaring him and instead served as more of a reminder that he needed to focus on living his life, as he never knew when he would find himself as one of the transparent figures that he saw roaming the desert.

Most of the spirits didn’t talk. He tried talking to almost every one he’d see, but a lot of them did not respond. The majority just wandered through the static. Some would stay in one place, usually where they died or where their home had used to be. Once in a while he’d see some following specific people. It broke his heart knowing that their loved ones were right next to them, and they didn't even know. Still, every once in a while, the spirit he spoke to would answer back, and it was through these conversations that Ghoul learned many of the universe’s untold truths.

For starters, he gained a vague idea of what was awaiting him after he died. The ghosts told him that the Phoenix Witch let those with unfinished business stay behind on this plane of existence until they made their peace. One thing Ghoul learned very quickly about ghosts is that they loved to talk about themselves. They’d tell Ghoul their story at the slightest hint of his curiosity. One told him that she was waiting for her girlfriend, not wanting to pass on without her by her side. Another told him that he wanted to see BLI get taken down, that he wanted to be on the front lines of the action dead or alive. Ghoul listened to so many stories over the years, about having to grow up in the city, or being an ex-exterminator, or being a drug-dealing asshole who was filled with regrets.

He was glad he could offer a slight relief to the ghosts by listening to them, and while he never asked for anything in return, some of the spirits still felt the need to thank him. They did so by giving him information. Locations of safe-houses, stored food, BLI codes, warning about an oncoming drac attack. He never asked for the information, but he was grateful for it all the same.

When he finally accepted the offer to join Party, Jet, and Kobra’s crew, he didn't really make an effort to hide his abilities. He would share with the others some of the more helpful tips the ghosts had, and he would even talk to the ghosts in front of the others. The first few times, they had assumed he had a little too much cactus juice and he was just seeing things. Then, when they realized he still did it while fairly sober, they thought it was some strange joke they just didn’t understand. Ghoul did have a sort of odd sense of humor sometimes. They only realized he wasn’t trying to be funny, after he broke down crying in the middle of the diner once. It was the first time they had ever seen him cry, and it was for seemingly no reason. Through shaking breaths, he explained his ability as best he could. The others didn’t know how to respond.

Party still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t just joking around. Being able to see ghosts? What type of insane bullshit was that? Part of them figured he was trying to be funny, the other part though he was just doing it for attention. Ghoul just wanted to seem cool and special. They were still gonna help him calm down, but they didn’t think for a second that Ghoul could actually do what he was claiming to do.

Kobra didn’t really believe him either, but he also didn’t not believe him. Sure, it sounded crazy, but he had learned over the years that anything was possible. Maybe the Witch (if she was real like Cherrie said) had decided to give Ghoul a superpower. Maybe he’d use it to do something great. Or, maybe he was just delusional. Either option seemed pretty plausible to Kobra.

And Jet, well, Jet was skeptical but not rough to really care. Did he believe in ghosts? No, not really. Did Ghoul believe in them? Yes. Was Jet gonna be a piece of shit and try to make Ghoul feel bad for what he believed? Fuck no. The way Jet saw it, Ghoul wasn’t hurting anyone, so he shouldn’t care.

After Ghoul had calmed down, the incident was pretty much forgotten. Ghoul continued to speak to the ghosts without hesitation, although he was careful to avoid conversations that would make him feel more emotional in front of the others. Years went by, and it just became a part of Fun Ghoul’s personality. He talked to shit that wasn't there, it honestly wasn't the weirdest thing a joy’s been known to do. Party would sometimes try and make fun of him for it, still not believing his claims, but for the most part it didn’t bug him. Although, if he was in a bad mood, he would definitely go off on Party if they said he was faking.

It was after one of these fights that Ghoul and Party found themselves running in a panic to the Trans Am. They had been on opposite ends of the diner, the radio in the center of the room tuned into Dr. Death Defying’s station to try and diffuse some of the tension. It had started out as a stupid argument over something niether even remembered, but with Jet and Kobra gone on a supply run it had quickly escalated into something bigger. They knew just how to push each other’s buttons; the exact words to get the other riled up.

“Crawl back to the City you filthy Batt Rat!”

“I hope you outlive everyone you love!”

They only stopped when their throats were raw and their voices were hoarse.

The music filling the silence felt cold on their ears as they stared at each other, then it came to an abrupt stop and Dr. D’s voice took its place.

“Bad news from the zones, tumbleweeds. It looks like Jet Star and the Kobra Kid got in a clap with an Exterminator that went all Costa Rica and, uh, got themselves ghosted, dusted out on Route Guano. So it's time to hit the red line and-”

The two were up out the door before they could hear the rest of the broadcast. They drove in absolute silence, time seeming to move in a loop as it seemed the same surroundings passed them every few minutes. Ghoul barely registered the sign indicating they had reached the road as they passed by.

They sped down Route Guano, and for the first time, Ghoul felt like the Am was the slowest car in the zones. He pushed it to its limit, its engine roaring like it never had before. Outside the windows, the desert blurred into streaks of tan and blue. It became almost impossible to tell the sand from the sky, and yet it still felt too slow.

In the seat next to him, Party was shaking. Their eyes were glued to the dashboard, and they had their arms wrapped around their core like they were hugging themself. Ghoul wanted to hold them, to tell them that everything was going to be alright, to sing them to sleep like he had done so many nights before, but comfort wasn’t Party’s priority at the moment. All they cared about was getting to his family, and so Ghoul kept driving on.

In the distance, he saw what looked like a BLI van with smoke floating up out of the hood. As they got closer, he noticed the bodies. A dozen draculoids were scattered across the ground. An exterminator Ghoul vaguely recognized was slumped against the side of the van, a blaster still in his hand. There weren’t any ghosts. Dead dracs never had a ghost, their spirit still trapped in the mask, and exterminators’ spirits rarely stuck around long. Ghoul figured they didn’t wanna deal with the potential guilt of seeing their true impact on the lives of those in the desert. He kinda hoped that the Phoenix Witch would show them anyway.

They drove on a bit further, finding a pathway of bodies and cars that lead to the center point of the clap, the place where all the realm action went down. Sighing, Ghoul stopped the Am and turned to Party.

“You ready?” he asked in the gentlest voice he could.

“No,” they replied as they opened the door and stepped out into the sun.

Ghoul quickly followed, and together they walked through the field of bodies. Dracs, a few exterminators, and as they got further down the way, fellow killjoys. This is when the ghosts started popping up. There weren’t many, not everyone who died had unfinished business, but the ones that were there looked lost and confused. They were staring at their bodies in horror, some shaking their heads or reaching out to try and touch themselves. Ghoul couldn’t blame them. He couldn’t imagine how freaky it must be to wake up and see yourself lying motionless on the ground. At least, that’s how most of the ghosts he’d spoken to described it. “Like waking up from a bad dream, then slowly realizing you’re not even breathing.” When he saw newly dead ghosts like this, he normally would go over and try to explain to them what had happened. He had a feeling that there wouldn’t be time for that right now.

Party gasped sharply, grabbing Ghoul from his thoughts.

“That’s Kobra’s bike,” they whispered, pointing to what was indeed the Kobra Kid’s prized motorbike, yet Kobra himself had still yet to be seen. Ghoul knew they were both thinking the same thing, Kobra would never just leave his bike lying in the dust like that.

Party surged forward faster than Ghoul had ever seen them run. He cast one more glance at the ghosts around him before running along with them. They passed Kobra’s bike and two other cars before finally finding what had to be the worst aftermath of a firefight Ghoul had ever seen.

This must have been a coordinated attack , he thought, no way they could get this many dracs here on a whim.

A strangled cough drew Party and Ghoul’s attention to one of the cars. They rushed over to hopefully find one of their friends alive. To their surprise, the Phoenix Witch decided to bless them by a having them stumble upon-

“Oh my fucking god, Jet!” Ghoul cried as he saw the condition his crewmate was in.

He was lying on the ground, slightly twitching, with his hands slowly grasping at a large wound on his abdomen. His visible eye was glassy, filled with pain as it flicked around the battlefield. It honed in on Kobra, who was leaning against the tire of a SCARECROW patrol car, his eyes and body unmoving in cold silence. It made Jet shiver. The tears flowing down his face mixed with the blood, creating an aura of red that veiled his face and neck. The others followed his gaze to Kobra’s body. Party’s stomach dropped, their breath faltering.

“Oh, god, no. No, no no, no,”they whispered, shaking their head. “He’s knocked out. He’s only… he’s only knocked out, right?” They crumbled into Ghoul, his arms reaching out to hold them close, but only part of his attention was on Party. Ghoul’s eyes were fixated on Kobra, not his body, but on the Kobra Kid’s spirit. He stood a few feet away from his body, staring down at it with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, he looked up and his eyes met with Ghoul’s.

“Hey, Ghouligan,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face, “I guess you really weren’t kidding about the ghost thing.”

Ghoul’s throat felt dry. There were a thousand things he felt like he should say, but all that came out was,

“Yeah… you, uh, you get used to it after a while.”

Kobra laughed. “I just can’t wrap my head around it, man.” He ran his hand through his hair, a common thing he’d do when he had too many thoughts crowding his mind. “Like, I knew my chances weren’t great with the amount of dracs on us but I thought…” he sighed and looked around at the wreckage, “I mean, we usually make it out, y’know? Killjoys never die and all that shit. I know we’re not actually immortal but, after all the close calls, it was easy to feel that way. It made me feel better about living so reckless, even if it was a lie.”

He turned his gaze down towards Jet, his mouth twisting into a deep frown.

“Hey, tell Jet this isn’t his fault, okay? The clap went on for so long. When I went down I saw how much of a fight he put up to try ‘n save me. He’s gonna try ‘n blame himself for all this, you can’t let him. He did all he could, you have to tell him that.” Kobra said sternly, a hint of desperation in his voice. His bond with Jet was strong. He would have gotten killed a thousand times over if it meant Jet would go on without guilt.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him as soon as I can, I promi-” Ghoul began, but was cut off by Party.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Party’s face turned red and they shoved Ghoul away from them. Their eyebrow twitched with fury and their left hand was clenched into a fist, while their right hand was trembling over their raygun.

“For once can you just stop your stupid fucking act? Everyone already knows that your ghost-seeing powers are horseshit. I know you want everyone’s attention all the time, but not everything is about you! My brother’s dead, Jet’s fucking dying, and instead of doing anything helpful you’re just standing there pretending to talk to ghosts.” They waved their hands around angrily, punctuating the last few words with an aggressive flap.

Ghoul winced. “I- it’s not what you think dude. I’m…” he looked up at Kobra, silently pleading that he would help him explain the situation.

Kobra’s spirit started towards the two killjoys, not even attempting to step over the bodies littering the ground, as his spectral body simply passed through them anyway. He stopped in front of them and stared at Party for a few moments. He then turned to Ghoul and said, “Can you ask them if they still remember that song we’d sing back in the city?”

Ghoul, while slightly confused, repeated the question to Party. Their eyes widened and they shook their head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” they demanded, the edge of their voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Kobra says there’s some song the two of you would sing in the city at night when your parents couldn’t hear you. He wants to know if you still remember the words.”

“How do you know about that?” Their voice was shaky as they spoke, and Ghoul could tell they were trying keep themself under control.

“He just told me. He’s standing right there-” he pointed to the spot in front of Party where Kobra was, “and he wants to know if you remember the song or not.”

Party looked between Ghoul and where he was pointing, a look of confusion and disbelief on their face. They shook their head and sighed, their eyes finally resting on where Kobra would be.

“Yeah, I remember,” they let out a shaky breath to try and even out their strained voice, “of course I remember. I’d sing it to you every night, Kid.”

“Sing it with me?” Kobra asked softly.

Ghoul repeated the message to Party, who made a small noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh in response.

“Alright Kid,” they whispered. Party took a deep breath, then started slowly, “ Does anyone have the time to bring me down? And can I sleep all night long… ”

“To the drums of the city rain? ” They sang together, a strange but beautiful contrast in their two voices.

“Just make it up 'cause I'm awake all night long to the drums of the city rain.”

“And brother if you have the chance to pick me up? And can I sleep on your couch to the pound of the ache and pain- ” Kobra began slowly swaying his head along with the words “- oh, in my head. 'Cause I'm awake all night long to the drums of the city rain-”

As they began the next line, Party’s voice cracked and a hand flew to their mouth. A sob racked their body. Their shoulders shook as more choked sobs came out.

“No, No this isn’t, this can’t fucking happen, I-” they shook their head, gasping for air like they were drowning. Honestly, drowning is exactly how they felt. Each time they inhaled, the air felt thick and unbreathable, making their throat seemingly close up and leaving their lungs empty.

“You are not dying. You’re not fucking dying, you can’t, you’re not, you...you…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kobra said softly, stepping closer to his sibling. He reached forward and placed their hand by Party’s face as close as he could without actually touching them. Party inhaled sharply and glanced down at Kobra’s hand. Shakily, they raised their arm and matched what Kobra was doing. Their breathing became more intense, and in between breaths they whispered,

“Kobes?”

“It’s gonna be alright, I promise,” he smiled as he spoke. Glancing over at Ghoul, he nodded. Ghoul sent him a small nod back, tears now freely falling down his face. Kobra set his hand by his side, a ghost of a smile still in his lips as his legs started to dematerialize into nothingness, then his torso, then his arms… until Kobra was gone.

Party fell to his knees as a wave of grief crashed into him like a tsunami, and they screamed. It was a gut wrenching cry of anguish that tore Ghoul’s heart to shreds and made him feel almost as hopeless as the one making the noise felt. They screamed until their throat burned, sending flashes of sharp pain through their entire body. They gripped their hair as their scream turned into sobs, and their sobs turned into whimpers.

After an eternity of minutes passed, Ghoul decided to go up to Party. He hesitated, not knowing if they were still angry at him or not, but ultimately his desire to comfort Party finally won. He walked a little closer to them and kneeled down. He looked at them for a few seconds, then slowly placed his hand on their shoulder, rubbing small circles into it with his thumb. They turned to him, and for a second Ghoul thought they were going to snap at him again. He was pleasantly surprised when they swiftly pulled pulled him into a hug, wrapping their arms right around Ghoul’s back and burying their face in his shoulder.

They sat there for what felt like hours until a pained gasp brought them back to reality and drew their attention to a nearby Jet Star.

“Oh shit, Jet!” Ghoul cried.

He met eyes with Party, who nodded and slowly began to stand up with Ghoul’s support. The two didn't talk as they carefully picked Jet up and brought him back to the car. After bandaging the worst of his wounds and making sure he wasn’t about to bleed out, they headed back to the heart of the clap to get Kobra’s body. When they came upon it, though, they just stopped and stared. It made it too real, actually having to move their best friend’s corpse. Ghoul knew it was unrealistic but he thought, maybe, if they just waited long enough he’d wake back up. If the Witch could give him the power to see ghosts, then surely she could bring Kobra back. He knew she could, but he also knew that she wouldn’t. Death was inevitable, he knew that better than anyone.

“It just doesn’t feel real,” Party’s hoarse voice pulled Ghoul from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Ghoul agreed, nodding his head solemnly.

“I just, I feel like I wanna scream now but when I try no sound comes out. I wanna cry again but I guess I used up all my tears or something,” they mumbled.

They crouched down next to their brother and sighed. They opened their mouth as if to say something, but instead they just shook their head and closed it again. They drew their attention to Kobra’s helmet which they noticed was lying a few feet away from his arm. They picked up the helmet, and stood up, staring intently at the thick white letters printed on the front. Good Luck . Kobra always joked that the words on the helmet were what kept him surviving all his stupid stunts. He’d said that the helmet was as lucky as a strand of wooden bad-luck beads made by the Phoenix Witch herself.

“ Looks like he was wrong ,” they thought bitterly.

A sudden thought was sparked in Party’s mind by the memories of Kobra’s dumb stunts. What were they gonna do about his bike?

“Is there a way to bring his bike with us?” they asked Ghoul, not looking up from the helmet.

“Uh, maybe? I think there’s some rope ‘n cords ‘n shit in the trunk of the Am. We could strap it to the back somehow.”

Party nodded. “We’re not leaving it here. He’d kill us if we even thought about it.” They chuckled quietly. They brought a hand to their face and wiped their eyes, which had begun to tear up again.

Now is not the time , they thought. The sun was beginning to set, and they didn’t wanna be this far from the diner at night. BLI had been increasing the number of night patrols as of late. They wanted to take out more of the nocturnal joys.

Ghoul bent down and grabbed Kobra’s legs. Party took his shoulders, then wrapped their arms under his arms and around his chest. Together, they carried him to the Trans Am, and placed him in the back seat next to the incapacitated Jet Star. Ghoul opened the trunk of the car to grab the rope while Party walked back to get Kobra’s most prized possession. Minutes later, the bike was secured to the back of the Am, and Ghoul and Party were climbing into the front seats.

They didn’t talk on the ride back to the diner. They were both too busy thinking. Party’s mind was filled with nothing but memories of their brother. Walking home from school with him, and playing games in the dead of night when BLI couldn’t tell them no. The way he smiled, for the first time when they finally made it out to the desert. The stupid pranks he’s pulled in the diner, the stunts that definitely should have ended worse than they did, the music, and the fights, and the campfire stories. They found it in themself to start crying again and they recalled all the time spent with their brother. They longed for the past, and the pain of knowing they’d never see him again was too much for them to bear.

While Party was looking back on the past, Ghoul was stuck thinking about the future. How he’d have to tell Jet what Kobra had said once he woke up. He worried that Jet might not wake up at all. If that happened he knew neither him nor Party would be able to handle it. They’d both be dead too within days. Still, if Jet survived they’d have to figure out how to move forward. It’d been the four of them for so long, he honestly didn’t know how they were gonna survive with just three. Party was sure to be a wreck, Jet would still probably blame himself despite Kobra’s parting words, and Ghoul...well, Ghoul knew he’d have to try and keep his friends together, he just didn’t know how. The task seemed impossible, and the never ending spiral of what-if’s that filled his mind only made it seem worse.

But he couldn’t panic right now. He needed to be there for Party, and to get the remaining members of his family back home. His grip of the steering wheel tightened as he increased the car’s speed.

Just focus on the road, worry about everything else later. It’ll all work out , he told himself that over and over. It’ll all work out . He whisked he was more convincing.

Next to him, Party began humming softly. He sent a concerned glance their way, but they weren’t paying any attention to him. Their eyes were trained on Kobra’s helmet in their lap. A faint tap, tap, tap, could be hard as their tears hit the yellow plastic.

“The lights we chase, the nights we steal, ” they sang quietly. They hoped that maybe, wherever it was the Witch brought the dead, that Kobra could hear them singing.

“The things that we take to make us feel. I can't go back, don't think I will-”

Kobra’s words echoed in their mind. Their promise that everything was gonna be okay. Party tried their best to believe him. The corners of their lips twitched slightly upward as they sang,

“I won't sleep tonight as long as I still hear the drums of the city rain.”

Maybe everything would turn out okay.

#party poison #fun ghoul #kobra kid #jet star #danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days #danger days fic #the fab four #killjoys #my writing

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ayankun · 4 years

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The Asset

so I’m making my mom watch Agents of SHIELD (obviously) and today we watched eps 1x03 - 1x06. That’s The Asset, Eye Spy, Girl in the Flower Dress, and FZZT.

THEN I ACCIDENTALLY SPENT LIKE FIVE HOURS DISSECTING MY LEAST FAVORITE EPISODE YOU’RE WELCOME

First off, full spoilers ahead, of course.

1x03 is, hands down, the worst episode of the series. PERIOD. I didn’t give it my full attention when I did my rewatch, because I remembered it well enough for some reason and the guy that plays Quinn looks too much but not enough like Tahmoh Penikett to seriously irritate me. DODGED A BULLET THERE.

Giving it your full attention does not do it any favors. I was physically discomfited, squirming in my seat and dropping snide remarks every 12 seconds. It’s bad, you guys.

First off, we have this guy, who is, for now in S1, the one and only “Agent Mack.”

THE SIMILARITIES ARE UNCANNY.

Then this big rig gets dropped like 50 feet and I’m supposed to believe that this guy strapped in the back only had his glasses knocked askew?

Ok then we go see what the team is up to, and lord, three episodes has not been enough time for Chloe or Brett to Figure Their Shit Out. They’re so awkward and dumb looking.

After a passable briefing scene, where we learn that Baldy McGlasses is a valuable asset (and beloved advisor to FitzSimmons) who was being transported with maximum security before being kidnapped, we get this wildly wild “we have to put something on the screen while exposition happens” shot:

Which cuts contemporaneously to

Thanks I hate it

Where did the atmospheric smoke go? Was that highway always there? What time of day is this supposed to be where the ambient light changes so drastically over a matter of seconds? They couldn’t have kept the camera on the left side of the lane marker?

But it gets worse because Simmons has a line and the coverage for this is basically just a matched jump cut over to the other half of the line up and back again.

I can’t stand it.

So Agent Mack survived the fall and is still on the scene of the accident. My mom was pretty incredulous that he was alive, and I was thinking it was too bad that he had to sit there for hours waiting to be debriefed instead of being taken to a hospital.

THEN there’s some FitzSimmons pratfall-adjacent sci-fi nonsense that my mom really got a kick out of. But I was too distracted by Iain’s decision to play Fitz as a douchebag so far this season so I wasn’t in the right mood to be impressed.

Ok then we go back to the lab to do some science on the MacGuffin, and I will admit my favorite part so far is Skye challenging Coulson on the existence of the truth serum, and Coulson plays it so Coulson-y it’s truly chef’s kiss.

BUT THEN May comes along and drops 100 pounds of print media for Skye to review (oh yeah, there’s a key subplot about there potentially being a mole inside SHIELD, which is how McGlasses got got) and MY MOM who REGULARLY prints out things like Facebook posts to keep for posterity rightly pointed out that they have high-tech on this plane like holograms and stuff, so printing out all this correspondence in order to go through it page by page makes 0% sense.

Also we never see it again.

OKAY THEN COULSON AND WARD ACCOST A COWBOY RIDING A HORSE THROUGH THE WOODS. Said cowboy also just happens to have the incriminating bag of gold on his person, which Coulson and Ward straight up steal. That’s it. That’s the whole concept for the scene. Coulson’s just parked his car along a narrow woodland path, just waiting for a cowboy to come riding along so he can accost him/steal his gold.

Check out how whack this scene-setting shot is, too. We have Coulson on the left, facing the Cowboy on the right. At this trajectory, you can see that Lola and the horse are basically pointed perpendicular to one another.

Yet cowboy pulls to a stop without banking and addresses something dead ahead of him.

Surprise! Coulson’s over there now and Lola and the horse are facing dead on.

To really drive this home, cowboy spends the rest of the scene on the left, addressing Coulson who remains on the right.

Anyway so yeah, this scene is about roughing up an innocent civilian for intel and then stealing his legally acquired wealth.

At least they can’t take the sky from him.

The purpose of the cowboy gold is that it’s directly traceable back to Quinn Worldwide, which is hilarious considering that one assumes the under-the-table transaction used this method of currency in order to not be easily traced.

Coulson name drops Quinn like he’s some off-brand Tony Stark that we should be impressed with, and we are immediately shown that Ian Quinn’s defining characteristic is that he has an assistant to hang up his cell phone calls for him. We are not impressed with Ian Quinn.

OKAY AND THEN WE GET THIS COMPLETE MIS-READ OF SCRIPT INTENT IN THIS SHOT

why why why why why why would you ignore a character’s line like that. Why are you choosing to TELL me that a man is tied up when it would be SO EASY to SHOW me.

Especially since the narrative so far is that McGlasses has been skillfully kidnapped by a very determined adversary, and this moment, this interaction, is where that assumption is proven erroneous. Quinn’s line is a very specific cue that we are meant to SEE that he’s restrained, per our expectations following a kidnapping, specifically to introduce the twist that Quinn is just that budget Tony Stark who actually has no malicious intentions towards his former colleague.

A super close close up of McGlasses fails to achieve that moment the script was hunting for. I’m feeling that the intent was to keep the focus on this dude because of the upcoming secondary twist where he is revealed to be the SHIELD mole who masterminded his own kidnapping, but this guy is So Bad at acting I don’t think keeping him front and center is ever going to pay off.

(ok I just checked and it turns out Ian Hart is a prolific English actor. this makes me feel like I ought to chalk it up to “difficulty emoting while doing a fake American accent” but guys this performance is so bad I’m really not willing to believe there’s a good excuse)

anyway it turns out Quinn’s good guy!

.....but then he’s on the wrong side of the shot all of a sudden for no good reason and HEY maybe this set up with the wide angle on the lab and a clear look at McGlasses’ physical situation within that environment would have been an alternative for, you know, maybe some sort of establishing shot? Maybe? No?

Also here let’s take a moment to let the “plot” really sink in. These two chuckleheads are former classmates and colleagues, even though one of them looks about 20 years older than the other, and Quinn discovered that “an asset” was being moved, “deduced” that the asset was McGlasses, and wanted to bring McGlasses in on his semi-nefarious science plan. So to avoid SHIELD interference in his schemey scheme, Quinn

kidnaps McGlasses directly from SHIELD custody,

in the showiest manner, not only using but LEAVING BEHIND the exact product at the core of his scheme,

and pays a local cowboy with easily traceable gold in exchange for just some regular backhoe to bust open the big rig transporting McGlasses, instead of, I don’t know, using his massive wealth and influence and in-house R&D products to not massively incriminate himself

He couldn’t have just invited McGlasses over without calling attention to himself?

There is the way that “the asset” was being “moved” makes it sound like McGlasses was on top secret lock down with no civilian rights or means of making/receiving contact with people like old colleagues. But this is never clarified, like, the only other thing we know about him is that he evidently advises classes at the Sci-Ops branch of the SHIELD academy.

ALSO we have yet to learn that McGlasses personally staged “being moved” and leaked the hints regarding the identity of “the asset” to Quinn just so that Quinn would do all these nonsense things he done. He couldn’t have just invited himself over???

Also the conversation they have at this point is real rough, with non-sequiturs, shambling exposition, and garbage jokes that wouldn’t float even if you didn’t have a log and a ham struggling to mimic human behavior.

Also Quinn bought the PRIME MINISTER OF MALTA’S old manor specifically because it has a huge underground lab???? What about Malta do I need to know about before this makes sense?

Let’s move on. FitzSkimmons have an only-mostly painful scene of exposition in which Iain is still having a hard time with the lines/characterization the Powers That Be are forcing Fitz to be at the moment. I’m going to say it. Season 1 Fitz is Utterly Unlikable.

However, this rant has given me the opportunity to 1) stand corrected and 2) appreciate this understated joke:

She’s still on page 1 of 1 billion LOLOLOLOL

The other nice thing to come out of this scene is the casual validation that the public school system may not be right for everyone, and that being a high school drop out does not mean you can’t also be an intelligent self-starter who finds value and satisfaction in picking up a trade skill on your own. *coughs in Robbie Reyes*

UGH but then we go back to McWooden and Bargain Ham. Their story is UNINTERESTING and their performances are HARD TO STOMACH. Also it ends on a mirror of the shot we started with (so there is some evidence of intelligent design at play here after all)

But this framing makes me so uncomfortable like, I’ve shipped for less don’t put weird ideas in my head that no one wants least of all me--

Ok. We’re a third of the way through. It doesn’t stop getting worse.

So here’s the correct way to reposition your characters if you want to change up the eye lines without making it super jarring! The start of this scene is actually really textbook-nice, just look:

The pre-mission planning is already in full swing, but we follow Skye, the outsider on the outside, approaching the scene with some amount of hesitation.

She starts on the right, facing left, and crosses across the path of the camera as it follows her towards the meeting, ending up on its left while the folks currently giving lines are framed over her right shoulder. Your eye line and sense of positioning has fluidly followed hers, and this makes sense.

From this establishing shot, we do a real nice punch in on Coulson as he’s speaking, using a really action smooth cut as he does a bit of business with his hand.

We’re still coming into this scene from Skye’s POV, and this shot reflects that -- close enough to focus on the important action, but distant enough to show Skye’s current position (literally and figuratively) relative to the rest of the team.

The reverse shot is ... fine. It’s fine. I don’t like that she’s framed on the right hand side of the screen (exactly where Coulson was a split second ago), but the eye lines still match up and it does give the impression that the camera is the avatar of the audience and we just turned on the spot to look at her as she quietly invites herself to this scene and starts putting that big beautiful brain of hers to work.

Then we leave her to it! Feel the difference this cut has, emotionally, from the last time we looked over at Coulson:

We’ve left Skye’s aloof POV and now we’re all up in his biz. This framing tells us he’s no longer the subject of Skye’s contemplation and has gone back to being a character of the TV screen doing TV character things.

The remainder of this scene holds onto that “normal” shot-reverse-shot framing of the team as they give their opinions and work through the plan.

This laudable result of thoughtful camera work is almost instantly ruined by Fitz yammering on about using a brave little monkey to do their serious spy business and HOLY COW Iain does his best with the dreck he’s been given but there is no universe in which I will find this type of dialogue acceptable.

The valuable plot point here is that Skye is finding her footing on the team, doing hacky stuff on her phone and putting herself out there as -- wait for it -- an asset to Coulson. Ward responds to this with bafflement, being generally supportive of her known abilities while also being doubtful that she’s a complete package, and turning to Coulson for advice on how to round her training out.

This results in yet another JARRING AF transition (read: there’s no transition) from Ward and Coulson’s heart to heart to Ward pointing a gun at Skye at some indeterminate amount of time later.

Look we haven’t even had time to ingest Coulson’s line yet and BAM we’re here.

This scene’s fine. It’s doing double duty and that’s admirable. Triple duty, even. Many duties are being performed in this scene. We have

fledgling Skyeward

the introduction to the gun-manipulation maneuver Skye will use later on

Skye’s irreverence butting heads with Ward’s need for brass-tacks

at least one solid joke at Ward’s expense

Ward valuing Skye’s er, assets -- I’M TALKING COMPUTER SCIENCE YA PERVS

a very competent conversational segue into Ward’s Whole Deal, wherein we are introduced to the concept of his childhood trauma (lolol and man does Brett just fail to deliver these lines in any sort of a way that inspires human empathy wowowo he’s so bad in this one)

a callback to an earlier conversation as well as a set up for a future joke

SKYE STEALING WARD’S GUN FROM OUT OF HIS PANTS A++++

Now we go into pre-heist plan-walkthrough mode, and it’s so boring and lifeless that Skye’s actual summary line is “Plan, green, drop, walk ... pie.” To be honest, she got more out of the discussion than I did.

May has an interesting character moment where she’s complaining about going into the field and then immediately regrets it because she was never going to be sent in, but that means Coulson’s going in instead and that worries her. I keep thinking back on this season as being unfocused, but that’s because I forget that the sales pitch for this entire shebang is “we killed Coulson in Avengers but now here’s a show where he’s the lead because everyone loves him so much” and the subsequent focus of the inaugural season is everyone’s burning curiosity to find out how they undid his murder.

Aside from the sci-fi/Marvel/generic spy show gimmick of the week, these early episodes never fail to prioritize the interpersonal dynamic of their team while simultaneously teasing out the Coulson mystery with these nice little regular hits.

I let it keep playing while I was typing, and we flew over some whatever business where Skye goes to Quinn’s party, and Coulson and Ward land their little raft on the beach, and the other kids are watching from the Bus and FITZ IS AGAIN TERRIBLE

I feel you, Jemma.

(Also, am I wrong in hearing him give in and say “boobs?” The Netflix subtitles have it as “oops” but that can’t be it.)

Anyway so Skye’s busy using her Assets to win Quinn over, and Chloe’s shining moment in this scene is the delivery of the drivers test joke.

Back to stuff that’s gratingly awful, we’re supposedly on Malta, right? And you know how Hollywood generally and the spy show/movie genre specifically tries to stretch their location budgets by putting on color filters to “evoke” distant lands?

We go from the above, washed out and unfiltered, to this sepia-toned nonsense:

This is supposed to be taking place basically right outside. Why not just keep the filter on for the interior scenes, too? There’s plenty of searing Maltese light coming in through that wall of windows.

(They must have had a hard time on location for the manor shoots, though, it’s just as washed out in the earlier scene set outdoors that I didn’t show you because it was boring but I’m showing you know because it’s not even the same color filter as the Coulson/Ward shots

)

((Also, yeah, I get it. You can’t fly to Malta for a day for a television shoot. But how many people are you fooling when you put the Santa Monica mountains in the backdrop of every exterior shot?))

So we go back and forth between these high-grain-low-saturation beachfront stuff to these holy angelic light of judgement shots and I hate it.

Like, why choose to shoot against this nuclear-blast light? It’s not doing your actors any favors.

Especially when you’re ALSO choosing to depict that same “natural” light with a whole different palette and then continue to give us the opportunity to compare and contrast.

Also I hate the Ward/Coulson business because it’s just generic spy stuff where some guards come out of nowhere and I guess maybe it’s implied that their cute boat was found but it could just as easily be that it was explicitly stated that there were guard patrols and I forgot.

But then they fight and defeat the guards in literally under 8 seconds and that’s that. End of stakes.

The character moment that validates this trivial obstacle is that Coulson tries to do something with a gun and finds that May’s concerns weren’t entirely unfounded. He’s a little rusty.

Also Ward’s response to this is to chuck the gun into the laser wall and I don’t know why. In any case, the energy from both of them in this screenshot really resonates with me.

So then Skye Does The Thing with her Assets and if you’ll let me be picky again about plot holes, why does the wireless access MacGuffin need to have an interface for Skye to check that the connection is possible, and THEN have that connection activated by LITERALLY dropping it on the table. They couldn’t have set it to auto-scan and then tell her through her earpiece to stay still when the connection activated itself?

Whatever. Success! Immediately followed by ... INEXPLICABLE OBSTACLE

WHO, praytell, is on the other end of that walkie talkie? Because the downed man is the man you see. Typically, it would be like a survivor of the scuffle who radios for backup, but here we see the scene of the scuffle and some unknown unseen ADDITIONAL MAN who I guess is just spying on them from somewhere and radioing still more unseen men?

Instantly hearing this news, the Unseen begin a sniper assault on Coulson and Ward, and we get to see their bullets getting evaporated by the laser wall. Remember those guards walking along the sea cliff towards the sign? There’s no place for the snipers to be sniping from, unless they have some kind of invisible floating island.

This scenario is made even more hilarious once Fitz brings down the laser wall and Coulson and Ward dive through like they think they some kind of James Bonds and then the wall goes back up and the snipers keep sniping.

Why aren’t the guards on the inside of the perimeter of the compound which they guard? This laser fence is now protecting the intruders. Minor design flaw.

Anywho, Quinn is still talking about how he doesn’t trust SHIELD and SHIELD doesn’t trust him, so it’s like, what are we supposed to believe about this guy anyway? Why did Coulson introduce him as bargain bin Tony Stark if he was known to be bargain bin Justin Hammer all along?

So now that snipers have failed to snipe the intruders, some Seen Guards come to alert Quinn so he breaks the wireless MacGuffin and turns a gun on Skye. (Just sayin, if it had been some secret device that was still in her bag, she’d have plausible deniability)

I think, at this point, I have two conclusions

Team Coulson has no extraction plan for getting McGlasses out of the compound since they don’t have a Plan B to get back through the laser wall, no firepower to use on the Seen Guards, and no available land-or-sea getaway vehicles.

There was never any sort of extraction plan for Skye even if the laser wall and the Seen Guards were not an obstacle.

Here’s where it gets the messiest.

Coulson busts in on McGlasses but is told no rescue is required.

AT THAT SAME TIME

May has just popped open a tablet over in some room by herself, evidently disinterested in whatever FitzSimmons is probably doing right now in light of this drastic turn of events, and she’s randomly googling up on the SHIELD leak mentioned earlier, only to discover that it was MCGLASSES ALL ALONG.

Keeps a cool head, our May.

Yeah, we know, we .. he ... he just said ... you know what? We didn’t actually care, though? Who the mole was or that it was McGlasses. We certainly didn’t spend the last half hour watching May diligently tracking down some breadcrumb trail of clues to get to this dramatic reveal, only to find out a second too late. We didn’t even see her checking up that Skye had/didn’t have this angle covered.

Did she print out the contents of the four-foot binder as some sort of eco-terrorist cruel joke since she was just planning on spending three seconds on the computer to complete the same task?

Ok so Coulson misinterprets McGlasses’ decline of his rescue operation as collaboration with Quinn until May clues him in. We then go to commercials and come back and have to go over all this info again just in case we didn’t follow that super exciting double-cross the first two times.

At which point we figure out where all the pre-production time was sunk -- somebody had to spend a lot of effort envisioning how they were going to do the wacky-gravity scenes. My feeling is that fun challenges like that are what stand out to people who are working on a thing, and sometimes the prestige of “pulling that off” can overshadow the need to pay attention to other, less exciting aspects of filmmaking, like making sure your eye lines stay coherent in a scene or that your color gradings aren’t super distracting.

Anyway I do really like the load-bearing scene where Quinn threatens Skye at gunpoint because it is one of those many examples this season has of laying ground work for and paying off character moments.

Skye’s flip and smart and completely not ready for this level of field action, but she remembers her training, remembers how earnestly Ward wanted her to be ready for this defining moment, and gets the gun!

That “nOPE” when she can’t shoot the man is also Classic Skye and we Love Her For It.

Anyway oh yeah, McGlasses reveals his master plan to get kidnapped, so that he could get on site and ruin Quinn’s everything because he’s a Bad Justin Hammer. His performance is SO PAINFUL and his reasoning has yet to make sense. Coulson doesn’t ask “why did you have to be kidnapped to get in, though” but he does ask “why didn’t you try reasoning with him” as if that were the question we needed an answer to.

Also it turns out FitzSimmons has been pretty chill this whole time since their agents lost their extraction plan (well, they’re smart, they probably knew all along that there wasn’t one) and are just puttering around the lab working on what looks like their regular day-to-day science, talking excitedly about gravitonium rather than panicking that the whole plan’s gone to shit.

Unflappable.

COME ON PEOPLE the mission wasn’t “throw McGlasses into the gravitonium and do high-fives” it was “rescue McGlasses from Quinn’s grasp.” From the way that this plays out, there is 0% indication that their initial plan was ever expected to succeed.

WE DON’T EVEN SEE HOW THEY GET OUT OF THERE, WE JUST LOOK AT SOME MCGRAVITONIUM AND THEN SEE COULSON ON THE BUS INSTRUCTING THE CONTAINMENT FACILITY ON HOW IT SHOULD BE HANDLED.

Oh well, the gratuitous plot is disposed with after this point.

In the denouement, we get to see May and Coulson interact over his experience in the field and her experience being stuck watching him in the field. She’s finally ready for combat, but strictly for his sake. And he’s at the point where he’s ready and willing to take her up on her offer instead of trying to prove that he’s everything he was before he died.

Following that, we get some Skyeward with some really gross romantic comedy type music. Bear, you’re better than this!! But the scene is nice, Chloe really brings it (almost brings too much) and Brett is there to support her.

It’s a really on-the-nose admission from Skye that her allegiances lie with SHIELD, but its an organic continuation of that bit from earlier where she wandered all up on their meeting, the outsider, and pushed her way into the heart of it. She wants this. She wants to feel like she belongs here. And now she’s been trusted with some opportunities and tools to prove it!

This early in the season, we’re still doubtful that she’s on the up and up, what with that Rising Tide plot thread hanging so loose and tantalizing over our heads. Due to the potential of a storyline revolving around her betrayal, there are a lot of fun little moments in the next few episodes where Ward gets to say some betrayal-related stuff that is absolutely excellent in retrospect.

I was watching some old interviews and while it is very clear Brett did not know the fate of his character in advance, it’s also distinctly implied that no one knew and the arc of the season may have developed episode by episode. That’s so nutty to me, considering how strong the structure of the season is, how there are so many satisfying call backs and payoffs later on.

I think I’m more likely to applaud a well-plotted narrative, in which foreshadowing and a deliberate order of events slowly unravel to great effect. But I can definitely appreciate the ability to force the illusion of the same by being crafty and attentive and not letting any usable threads go to waste.

Ultimately, whether by design or by providence, Season 1 is successful in pulling it all together. It’s just that episodes like this one don’t really inspire you to believe that that outcome is likely, or even possible. Episodes like this one cause a person to give up watching halfway through the season and walk away for years until cajoled into giving it another shot because “it got good somehow.”

But what this season has, every episode, especially ones like this one, is a pronounced, chaotic, relentless prioritization of Character over Plot. What is this show about? Who cares. That’s the wrong question. This show could have been about anything, and these early episodes are all too aware of it. What kind of story can you tell when every option is on the table and no one knows what to expect from you?

You find that story, step by step, episode by episode, through the eyes of your characters. The forward motion of the story isn’t “how did Coulson come back to life” but “what is life going to be like for him now?” It’s not “will Skye betray the team” it’s “what does she want and what is she willing to do to get it?”

Posing and answering these character questions generates the Story of Agents of SHIELD. Plots be damned. Remember how at one point in this episode, our heroes robbed a cowboy at gunpoint? Yeah. Me either.

And I can’t agree more with this approach. In my experience, PWP works best when its about the characters.

#agents of shield #aos

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agentwallflower · 4 years

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Supernova: Chapter 10

Hey, I made it to the end of August. Yay.

Good news on the writing front, I’m up to 16 out of planned 27 chapters. Just 11 more to go and this will be done! The back end of the book moves pretty quickly, so I’m probably going to get through it faster. Then again, that’s all new material so... I don’t know what the hell is going to happen.

That’s what happens when you’re rewriting the rewrite of something you wrote in 2012.

Also, I finished second round edits of my other novel. That’s right, I did it. I got past where I stopped in Blister. Maybe there’s hope for me yet. I’m going to let it sit a month before doing some more edits. Once it’s done, off to my readers it goes. Not y’all. This one’s a secret project the internet doesn’t get to see.

I gave up on my anthology draft, but not because I was frustrated. A friend pointed out it would do better as a longer work, so I’m going to possibly use it for my fall Nano material if I don’t feel like writing book 2 of the trilogy. I should probably do that one tho... we’ll see.

Anyway, I have strep throat and I should be in bed so I’ll stop blabbing. Next chapter is going up on September 5. You’ll get it in time for Labor Day if you’re in the US, yaaaay....

Thanks for reading as always, and I’ll see you in the next chapter.

“So, are you ready for your first training session?”

He was still getting used to being awake at this hour, forget being ready for anything at this point.

Angel yawned underneath his visor as he wished he could rub the sleep from his eyes. It wasn't really all that early – just after 9 in the morning. Problem was, he was a college student. He was pretty sure those hours were against the Geneva convention.

Across the table from him sat Ember, geared up despite the fact it was her day off. Normally around the base she could be a little more casual, but something about a new face had everyone pulling out the stops. Even Scanner had their mask and visor on, which had become something of a rarity since stopping on the ground duty.

Honestly, it was kind of weird. Being paranoid about masks was his thing.

“I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be.” He yawned again, eyes watering. “Whose bright idea was it to make this so damn early?”

His team leader frowned, and the room felt a little cooler. That was typical with pyrokinetics, even with one as well trained as she was. Their emotions were often tied to their powers, so it didn't take a genius to figure out something was bothering her. It wasn't big enough to cause an ice age, but it was something.

“That... would be Andromeda's mother.” Ember hesitated as she spoke. “She is...”

Angel didn't even need to read minds to finish that one. “A massive control freak?”

“A lawyer.”

Same thing.

Scanner was already pulling up family records on screen. “The lawyer who defends the idiots we have to beat up, to be exact. It's a miracle she let the kid come in at all. Don't you know her from when Nova was around?”

There was that name. Ember winced and the temperature took a sudden spike before settling down. It was enough for sweat to bead on the back of Angel's neck as he adjusted his position. Scanner didn't exactly look comfortable either – they rolled back a bit.

“Sorry, I know - “

Ember shook her head. “It's been 20 years, it's time to adjust I suppose. And yes, I know her from back then. She wasn't nearly as bad as she was now, but I guess dealing with a marriage breakup and being stuck in Bear Paw can't be pleasant.”

Oh, Angel could see plenty of arguments about that as the psych part of his brain overloaded the psychic center. His adviser would have had a field day with that one, it was practically her research topic. Then again, to even bring it up he would have to explain a lot of weird shit. That was probably off limits.

Damn, and he loved giving Dr. B something to chew on for her next book. He was so close to getting some credit.

“So she's deflecting her bitterness over her career goals onto her kids, good to know. Bet that's why she's a defense lawyer.” Angel shrugged. “Whatever, as long as she gets Andy here on time I don't care.”

Thanks to the visor blocking his line of sight, he got an eyeful of Ember looking at him as though he had two heads. Scanner was used to this shit by now, so they kept typing on the keyboard like they always did. They were a good friend that way.

“Speaking of, I spotted her and PT on a nearby cam. They should be coming up soon.” Scanner was grinning at him. “Have fun schooling the newbie, SR.”

Oh, loads. He was only dealing with a alien, how hard could it be?

---

“Did you sleep at all last night? And don't give me that thing you do when you're trying to avoid revealing biological facts to those scientists, I know you. I've stepped on your leftovers.”

Jeez, you leave crumbs once...

Still, Andy shrugged her shoulders as she adjusted her seat belt. It wasn't bothering her, but her shoulder spike was definitely sharp enough to cut through the material. Honestly she didn't need it either; if she got thrown from the car, she'd break the road rather than actually damaging anything. The only reason she kept it on was the fact her aunt was a sticker about this sort of thing.

“Not really. I kept thinking about today.”

Her innards were bubbling up in a way they didn't often do. It wasn't the way she felt when faced with the scientists and their tests. If she had to guess, she was excited. It was understandable, given what was waiting for her.

Though... how were they going to control her?

Andy looked down at her hands as her aunt continued to drive. Miri was probably saying something, but it wasn't registering. She could still feel the power coursing through her entire body, and just how explosive the shot had been. Then she had been outside, with plenty of room to aim. As far as she knew, the Union was inside.

And what if that feeling came back?

That was really what had kept Andy up that night. If she could avoid anything, it would be the numbing sensation of being out of control of her own body. Something about that just left her feeling cold in a way she couldn't put words to then. Maybe she would learn them in time, but until then... cold worked just fine.

“You paying attention?”

Miri's voice broke Andy out of her thoughts. She picked up her head and turned to face the hero. Somewhere in the midst of her mood, they had stopped driving. They were in the city now, in a part she sometimes saw on aerial shots. It looked... normal. There were buildings and sidewalks, with people walking by and cars driving past. Nothing about it hinted at what it held in one of those fronts.

Leave it to the Union to design their base well.

She shrugged her shoulders and unleashed her seat belt. “Sorry, did I miss something?”

“It's rare for you to be acting like a space cadet.” Miri smirked a little as they left the car. “I was saying we're here.”

She wasn't wearing her mask, but she did have something in her hand. Andy followed along as they walked down the sidewalk, eyeing the buildings. One of them had to be it, but which one was it? Maybe it was the one with the red flowerpot, or the closed windows. It could have been the one that looked darker than the rest. That seemed thematic, right?

“Here we are.”

Or maybe it was the completely freaking normal looking one that didn't stand out at all, smack dab in the middle of the block.

Her aunt smirked as she stopped moving. “I love when people do that.”

She slid her hand down a lock near the doorknob – Andy caught the flash of a white plastic card with her motion. The lock beeped, and then the door swung open. Inside, it looked like any normal entry way; there were heavy looking winter boots lining the side, left over from the winter. Someone had left a bright blue umbrella there, and a mirror on the wall reflected back at Andy as she stepped through the door.

And then all that went away the minute the door closed behind her.

'Yep, she's your niece. Must have ice in her veins or something.'

They were in an elevator, one that was rising quickly. A voice from a speaker brought Andy back to the present. She had heard that voice before, usually calling her aunt away from their time together. The tech; it had to be them.

“She's got a killer poker face.” Miri's tone was bland, but there was a light in her eyes that the camera wouldn't pick up that was just for her. Andy's shoulders shook a little as she waited for the door to open to wherever they were going. It was easier to focus on the joke than the closed space.

Unsurprisingly for someone of her size and background, but she really hated small spaces. Elevators were probably her worst nightmare. She wouldn't start hyperventilating like a human with claustrophobia, but her core was bubbling uncomfortably as she kept her eyes on the door.

Just a few seconds... she could handle that. The walls weren't totally closing in or anything.

It felt like a lifetime, but the door eventually slid open. Andy was probably a little too enthusiastic to get off, which was what earned her a frown from the woman behind her. A comforting hand snuck around her spike to find her hard, bony shoulder.

“You ok?”

Her concerned face and tone made Andy's core stop bubbling as much. The alien nodded as she carefully turned to face her aunt. Had she been a little too rough, the woman's hand might have been shredded. Not a good look, especially when she was still playing human.

“Yeah. I'm still not big on small areas.” She shrugged. “Of course when you're me,all areas are kind of small.”

Miri patted her shoulder as she pulled her hand back. “There's stairs you can go up next time once we have you keyed into the system.”

“I hope that's not by DNA or anything...”

The silence was deafening as the two walked the short hall. Andy probably would have been sweating by then if she was able to do that. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the door in front of her. On the other side was the Union.

She was so close.

Miri opened the door for her. Just as she thought, on the other side were the heroes, waiting for her. The one by the computer wall had to be Scanner – they were smaller than she expected, even with the chair. And they didn't turn to face her, just kept working.

“Good to see you PT.”

A woman approached, in her full hero gear. Even if she had been in plain clothes, Andy would have known who she was. Her amber eyes were practically glowing, and she seemed to radiate warmth in a way that the alien couldn't manage. Hers was just hot – this was authority and self-assured know how in one.

Just what the leader of the Bear Paw Union needed.

“Took us a while getting here with construction and all. Nice not to be the one causing it for once.” Miri gave her a nudge forward. “Got her here in one piece so you can make the introductions.”

Ember smiled at her, and Andy felt a weight in her nonexistent gut dissolve. One thing she hated was being a burden – she was unfortunately good at doing that. “Nice to finally meet you, Andromeda.”

“Just Andy is fine.” She nodded her head. “Nice to meet you too. Aunt Miri says a lot of good stuff about you.”

Seeing her aunt turn pink and duck out was worth it, as was the smile she got from the pyrokinetic. The room felt a little warmer, but it was in a comforting way. People on the news had said Ember's ability was linked to her emotions, but feeling it was completely different.

Definitely someone nice.

“Probably nothing she'd repeat in front of me.” She laughed a little – it sounded like a bell. “You can call me Ember. I'm afraid I can't give you my actual name at this time per the rules.”

Andy nodded at that. “I know, I grew up around Aunt Miri and Uncle Leo. They drilled it into me.”

Even mentioning the man got the whole room to straighten up. She swore she heard the tech's spine snap into place like Lego bricks, and Ember grew a half inch even though she was standing pretty straight. The only one it didn't seem to affect much was the one on the couch. Sky Rider was still sitting there, like nothing was going on.

He... looked ok, at least by her guess. In full costume it was hard to see if he was bandaged or in pain, but he was at least in one piece. Whether or not he blamed her for all this she didn't know, but she was probably about to find out. If he tried to slam her into a wall during their training, that was probably a pretty good sign.

No pressure, right?

“Well, then we won't have to go over much then.” Ember was good at moving things along. “You know Sky Rider, and this is our tech Scanner.”

The figure in the chair never turned, but raised a hand. “Don't get mad I'm not looking at you, I don't do new people well.”

That made two of them. Andy nodded her head in their direction, before turning back to Sky Rider. He had gotten of the couch and was walking over to them with a laid back pace. His steps were even, so at least he wasn't limping.

Then again... she had heard gun shots. Maybe they had missed him?

Sky Rider was still short, but she was used to people being shorter than her. The lack of visible emotions because of the helmet was honestly helpful in this situation. With all these people, her head was starting to spin a little.

Ok, it wasn't a lot of people... but it wasn't like she got to meet a lot of people. Most of the time, anyone new was wearing a lab coat and trying to get data out of her. They could forgive her for being a little people shy.

“Don't worry, Scanner only eats Cheetos.”

Scanner's typing got a little harder. “Very funny, SR.”

“Just trying to make the new guy comfortable.” His body language suggested he was enjoying this. “I can take it from here, Ember. You can get going if you want.”

Ember's body language relaxed a little. “Are you sure? I can stick around if you want.”

Ah... someone was in on their day off. Andy hadn't considered that. A weight dropped into her gut once again as she tried to figure what the woman might have been missing. Miri's days off were rare and far between, so... she had given up a lot.

Was there a family waiting for her? Shit... she was already screwing things up.

Sky Rider gave them both a thumbs up. “Get out of here and enjoy your day off. We'll let you know if she blows anything up.”

That was probably the least likely way to get anyone to leave, in Andy's opinion. She opened her mouth to assure the woman she wouldn't do anything like that, but there was no need. Ember was chuckling a little as she headed towards the door.

“I'll hold you to that. It was nice meeting you, Andy.”

And then she was gone, leaving a very confused alien in the grips of a bunch of weirdos. Still, she was there. It was probably better to just make the most of it. She still didn't feel entirely comfortable as the masked hero motioned for her to follow him towards a door off to the side.

How the hell could they keep her contained in a residential building anyway?

===

If you like my writing and want to help keep making it happen, I have a Ko-Fi!

#Supernova Collision Trilogy #Writing #novel #Ember's gonna go home to her girlfriends now #Gee Ember how come your mom lets you have two- shit sorry

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minaminokyoko · 5 years

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Toy Story 4: A Spoilertastic Review

*huge sigh of relief* Disney/Pixar, y'all had me worried.

Truly. Honestly. Not that you guys aren't amazing, but the Toy Story films have a legacy that almost no other franchise period has: three perfect movies, and movies that improved with each sequel. Most of the time, trilogies can't pull that off. Sometimes you get three that are good, but there's a straggler in the bunch, like the original Star Wars trilogy or The Dark Knight saga. Like a lot of folks, I was sweating bullets when they announced TS4 because this is one of the only trilogies where each sequel was friggin' better than the last, and TS3, imo, might be the best Disney/Pixar film period. Honestly, it stands at the top of just animated films period, and so I was very nervous to think about trying for a fourth one.

I am very pleased to say TS4 is a worthy sequel. It's not empty, it's not lazy, it's great. I personally put it on the same level as the first movie. I do consider TS2 and TS3 to be better than this one, but not for a bad reason, simply because it's attempting something different from the previous films. This is another all-positive review for me; all I've got are nitpicks, no cons at all. Disney/Pixar did a great job creating what a friend of mine referred to as an epilogue story. That sounds about right to me. It's like there's a trilogy and an epilogue now to the Toy Story saga.

Overall Grade: A

Spoilers ahead.

-I really want to dive in to talk about the fact that while it might upset some people, this movie is about Woody, almost exclusively, and I actually like that a lot. I don't mind at all that this is a snapshot of dealing with change through Woody's perspective, and you know why? Man. Woody is a fucking great character. Really. To his core, he's a phenomenal, landmark, memorable character. I think as the years pass and people reevaluate what films will stand the test of time, animated or otherwise, people will realize that Woody is such a well-written, well-acted character. One of the things that I think got everyone ugly sobbing in TS3 was the way that Andy described Woody: "He'll never give up on you." That's it. That's why Woody is just such a charming character. He will do whatever it takes to do the right thing for the kids. Every time. No matter what it costs him. And that's why this movie took a big risk in breaking up the Toy Story family, but at the same time, it's giving Woody a path that allows him to do something he loves and that is important to him, and for him to be happy in the process. It's a very surprising and unique but realistic idea that Bonnie, while a great kid, wasn't the kid for Woody. But he cared so much for her that he wanted to make sure she got the right toy that will help her learn and grow. That's...fucking amazing, man. I got choked up. I really did. Woody's heart is so huge. And I love that this movie showed that he's been through some rough stuff and that it was time for him to be able to find his own happiness while still being able to help kids, because that's who he is. He's a leader. He cares to a fault. Woody is such a rich character and I'm really glad they got to focus on him and gave him a good send off. It's quite touching. I hate the idea of the gang breaking up, but the movie does an excellent job of explaining change. I like this motif. Things change. Something you always dreamt of might be different. Or things end and you have to move on and try something else. It's a great lesson for all of us to learn, and it took some serious courage to do that in a franchise so known for its ensemble cast and family. I dig it. I truly do.

-Bo and Woody had me all up in my feels. Oh, man. When she was taken...my fucking heart...oh, that hit me right in the feels. I love how they filmed the reunion, too, that the first time he saw her again they were both having to be inert at the time. That was so cleverly done, and it's so apparent how soft they are for each other. It's really sweet. I enjoyed getting to see their dynamic, even with things being strained between them. The hat thing gets me every time. I love nuance, and Bo pulling down his hat is just the cutest little gesture that sells the entire relationship. I enjoyed Bo getting to be active and frankly badass, because it's super cool to see a girl's toy everyone would think is too delicate to be played with be at the forefront of the action.

-I enjoyed Gabby being a sympathetic antagonist. That's awesome. I always applaud movies that can pull it off. It's easy to write a one note villain. It's much, much harder to write one who has a story and who has something that they want, and that the hero is standing in their way. I also think it's a GREAT lesson for kids growing up. Sometimes the thing you think you want isn't what it seems. There are going to be SO many moments in a kid's life where they've been dying to get something, and it's a big disappointment in the end, or they don't get it at all. Wow. Powerfully done. And the scene with the little lost girl damn near made me shed actual tears. That was nothing short of beautiful. Because that is what it's like for kids. Kids get scared, and sometimes the smallest thing encourages them. It hearkens back to what Woody did on Bonnie's first day, getting her the supplies to make Forky and getting her confidence and creativity up. Fuck, that melted my heart. Gabby's story was fantastic, and touching, and a really good use of an antagonist. I was very, very satisfied with how they handled it.

-Centering everything as one big chase scene, kind of Mad Max: Fury Road in a weird way, was a lot of fun. It kept you guessing and it kept things fresh. I also am really impressed that they managed to unnerve the unholy hell out of me with Gabbie and the puppets. I'm actually not scared of puppets, but the way that they moved was very, very creepy, and I would never have expected it from Toy Story. Nice job, guys.

-Forky is the right balance of being a naive, hapless character without being annoying. I was worried his antics would get old, but actually, no. I didn't hate him. I like that Woody was frustrated, but he didn't hate the little guy and he wasn't jealous of him. He did the right thing and he helped Forky understand what toys are all about, and it's very heartwarming.

-Duke Kaboom was such a treat. I'm really happy everyone is now on the Keanu boat, because I've been a stan for that man since the fucking 90's and it's so satisfying to see others join me. He really is a fun, sweet human being, and his character is delightfully over the top. I loved him. It worked really well with the rest of the film, and I am all about the Keanussance/Reevessance that's going on right now. Keep it up. You're breathtaking.

-Goodness me, I just need to note how gorgeous the effects are. I mean, it's Disney/Pixar, it's always gorgeous, but for instance, the rain sequence in the beginning was incredible. That water...man...they are so exceptional at details and realism all while still creating their own look. Bravo, man.

-The payoff of the little guy getting his high five finally was fucking adorable. This is what makes me love Disney/Pixar so much, too. It's the little things that put a smile on your face. How cute.

Nitpicks:

-Key and Peele were annoying. There. I said it. I fucking hate them both, and they were annoying. But thank God, they were more cameo characters than main leads. Throw them both in the trash, though. Ugh.

-I don't like that Gabby needing to switch out the voice box had zero consequences. That was...odd. And kind of like cheating. I got really excited when Woody allowed it to happen so he could get Forky back, but then nothing bad happened. I thought that maybe Woody's voice would be damaged, go in and out, or he'd be mute, and it would show what a sacrifice he made for Bonnie. Nope. It had no negative consequences, so it almost makes me wonder why they did that. It ended up a moot point, and invalidated the conflict.

-I'm waffling on how I feel about Bonnie just forgetting about Woody entirely. Mind you, this is realistic. This is how small kids work. They move abruptly and often without explanation. But thematically, I sort of wanted her to notice him gone, if only to tie off how I felt about how far Woody was willing to go to make her happy. But at the same time, that's kids for you. Things happen fast. She's going to be happy, and so will the rest of the toys, and that's the most important thing in the end.

-I did actually want a longer scene of just Woody and Bo together, catching up. I don't feel robbed, but I was letdown because I wanted to know more about them since they seem to truly click and feel strongly for one another. I'd have liked to see them just sit and talk for a moment, but the film had too much urgency, so unfortunately we had to keep moving.

I only just got home, so I don't know if other reviews are out, but let me go ahead and say that if anyone is shitting on this film, I guarantee you it's people who don't like change. This film is different and it takes risks and in the end, it is about Woody and not the rest of the toys, so it is going to step on some toes. However, it has earned a spot on the shelf next to the other movies. Trust me, its heart is in the right place and it's still keeping our legacy of films on par with each other. I don't feel that it takes anything away from them, and is simply a send off to a character I think will stand the test of time as one of the greats. I'm glad it was just as worthy as I hoped it would be.

#toy story 4 #toy story #movie review #film review #spoilers #spoiler alert

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