#ITS BULLETS DAY MOTHERFUCKERS

[larrythefloridaman]

maybe J0hn for the character bingo? owo

love this man ive been attached to him since he first showed up <3 dont have too much new i can think of to say about him though

#the 'literally me' one is only filled in because the discord kin-assigned me j0hn #and because i look at his issues with empathy and how he likes the company of unhinged people and go Same Hat #that said i still think its so funny that people in-universe seem to think he's nicer/more normal than larry #we warned him abt prism and what does he do? immediately seek her out. let her vent to him. and then left to talk shit abt her with us asap #hell outside the nccts he didnt even apologize for the sephiroth incident. he asked the guy he almost got killed to call his girlfriend #to sub in for the guy that tried to kill him. and then larry apologized on behalf of both of them the next episode. #larry's mean but hes nice and j0hn is nice but he's mean. you go to an appointment with them and larry's playfully antagonizing you #but then you leave and larry's like 'love that guy.' bc he was trying to make you laugh #and j0hn's like 'most annoying motherfucker.' because he was being professional and fast bc he was trying to get you to leave faster. #but i do think if we got to know whats going on in his head more directly #there'd be a bit of the phoenix wright effect. he's so nice. but if you heard his inner monologue #you'd hear every bitchy little comment he thinks about everyone every day that he just doesnt verbalize because he Chooses To Be Nice #until someone gives him good reason to be mean at which point the snippiness comes out see: orange intros #where crimson makes one (1) snide comment about his relationship and j0hn totally changes his tone with him #j0hn voice 'if anyone is mean about/to my clown the cyberbullying begins i dont care if you're god' #also larry has more of a self-preservation instinct than j0hn. larry gets a gun pointed at him and says 'hey HEY lets be reasonable here' #and j0hn says 'do it pussy you won't' and completely bluffs his way around it while making you feel like an idiot in the process #because he noticed you like. loaded the bullets wrong or some shit so the gun wont fucking work anyway #note: his kindness is real i just think his willingness and joy in being a lil mean sometimes is fun and interesting #larry abt peppermint: 'eh she not the most girl ive ever met' #j0hn: pitbull snarling sfx blasted through body speakers

[dolliestfairy]

Кᥱᥱ⍴ Y᥆ᥙ Ѕᥲ𝖿ᥱ ୨୧ ٬ ࣪ . ، ₊ ˖  ་ ݁٬ ࣪ ، ִ ۫

Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers fanfic with chubby!fem!reader ଘ(੭´ ꒫`)੭

ཐིiཋྀ A/N : sorry for the break, i was run out of ideas and even if i had some ideas, idk which fandom should i choose so i really really conflicted about it.

ཐིiཋྀ Warning : Bullet Mark, Extreme Violence (not towards reader). reader almost getting gangr4ped (not by the slasher) kidnapping (i think..) stalking in jason part. Murdering, Massacre And yeah thats it. Reader skin color is not Announced

ʚဗီူɞ Jason Voorhees

• first time he see you at the crystal lake with your so called companion. he see you wandering alone confused and scared only to find out later that your friend has left you alone in the crystal lake.

• he felt emphaty however. so he goes after your friend group and killed them.

• after he slaughter your friends he goes back to you. he sees you from direction where you can see him to make sure you didnt run.

• he approach very very slowly but since he's a quite heavy and big guy, his foot step is also heavy which makes you look around at the direction he's in.

• when you see him you.. stunned.. with a freezing expression only to be melt when you see jason covered his face with his big arms so you couldnt see his face and you wouldnt run away from him.

• you see blood covering him and his weapon he's carrying, so you assumed that this guy probably killed your friend which is true.

• but you also see a bullet mark on his neck and you insist him to go to the camp so you can heal him and he accept.

• after you healed his bullet mark on his neck, he ask you to hand a small book and a pen that was placed behind you. you take the book and the pen and you see he's writing something for you.

• he handed you a shattered paper with a writing that says "stay"

• you look at him after seeing the paper only to find a big dangerous male trying to not look at you. he must say that he's very thankful because his mask covered his pinkish cheeks.

• its only getting redder when he sees you nood at him. he swear on his mother thumb he would never leave you in danger like your shitty companion do.

ʚဗီူɞ Michael Myers

• meeting you when he was still in the asylum. you were one of the nurse that were brave enough to take care of him.

• he would rather die than admitting this but he really love how soft you are. you look really fragile.

• he love but he also hate how you were so gentle with him. he love being showered with your gentle and affectionate touch but he also hate to thinks that the reason you were doing this because you thought he was weak.

• one day in the asylum, 3 men workers have a bad bad intention to you. you were trapped in a small room, it was almost midnight and its time for you to go home, but this bastard was trapped you inside and one of them start unlocking the door to get inside with you.

• you were trying to run, but those 3 men were strong as well more than you could handle. your mind start shattering when they were trying to strip you to get naked.

• you know whats about to happen. you were gonna get used by these motherfucker.

• behind them, you see Michael seeing you. you at that time was crying and michael only stood there. when one of them want to close the door and lock it, michaels hand quickly grab the mans neck and literally crush it with such an ease.

• one has down, two more left. you at that time were half naked and you see how burtal and horrifying Michael Myers can be. Michael pushed one of the mans head and threw it against the wall repeatedly until the mans face bloody. the one left trying to run but Michael quickly grabbed the mans leg and quickly throw him outside the window. you were at the 3nd floor you assumed that poor yet bastardize man was nowhere alive.

• michael look down at you and grab your waist and take you to somewhere else. somewhere far from the asylum.

• you woke up in a small room in some place you didnt know, you see Michael literally sitting beside you with his stoic expression. you were kind of terrifying seeing his expression but after you remembered what happened last night you were kind of relief.

• you grab his harsh hand softly and you look at him in the eyes and says "Thank you Michael." you see his darken eyes kind of lightened up a bit with some spark and you see his little tiny smile coming.

• you smiled at him and hug him soflty, when you two were hugging you felt your back was crushed and when you look back you see Michael big hands grabbing back at your back and you see his tensed muscles relaxing at your hugged.

• Michael, Silently promising to you that he will never let anything bad like that happen to you again. if someone dared enough to do it with you, Michael with no doubt will Disembowel them Alive. end of the story.

#chubby reader #fluff #plus size reader #chubby!reader #fanfic #plus sized reader #x chubby reader #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #slasher fluff #slasher headcanons #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #jason voorhes x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #jason voorhees smut #headcanons #smut #slash fanfiction #slashers #monster fucker

[mitsuristoleme]

I just saw your requests are open so I might as well jump in BECAUSE SKDNDNSN ok buttttt what about sukuna + his tummy having a mind of its own BEFORE you were their wife, like, you know nothing about this man but everytime you come in sigh you hear the most direct cat calling you've come across only to see a man with an expression of "God kill me now" so you don't know what's happening but it makes you really curious so you just... Provoke him? Like, use revealing clothing, put on an expensive perfume, etc. AAAH I Just love that hc of his stomach mouth having a mind of its own istg aaaa

a/n: ok so im gonna write this in a modern au because lets be real heian era Sukuna did NOT care about dating/courting

formatted into a bullet point headcannon post because im having way too much fun with this and nothing is connected in a cohesive form (pls forgive me for that but my brain is going ham with this concept)

cw: gn!reader, cursing, sexual content, bestie!gojo, Sukuna’s tummy mouth is a menace but wbk

imagine you’re a teacher at jujutsu high and a special grade sorcerer (because i enjoy feeling strong and this is a little self indulgent) (yall can choose if you want to be gojo’s classmate or nanami’s it doesn’t really impact anything)

Sukuna gets reincarnated without a vessel (dont ask me how it just happens ok) and to everyone’s surprise, he volunteers to be an instructor at jujutsu high

he says its to “make these pathetic kids somewhat decent sorcerers so they dont ruin the name of jujutsu”

for whatever reason, the higher ups assign him a spot among the teachers at the school

imagine your shock when this 1000 year old 7 foot tall motherfucker shows in the middle of your class to introduce himself as the new teacher

you’d heard about his whole situation but you didn’t expect him to show up in the middle of a lesson

you attempt to shoo him away but he doesn’t even move (i mean what did you expect really?) and you’re forced to end class early

weirdly enough he keeps a hand clamped over his stomach the entire exchange?? you chalk it down to a stomach ache or something (that night you do wonder if curses, or er, the king of curses, even get physical pains)

ok so before i get into the whole thing lemme just-

in my head, the tummy mouth has the humour of a middle school boy and the self control of the dog from ‘absolutely anything’

so yk. its a mess.

you see him the next day in the staff room

hes wearing a starched white shirt (it accommodates all his four arms and you question how he got one made in a single day) and a pair of fitted slacks, looking WAY too good for a curse

you realise you’ve been staring through the glass window if the staff room and finally enter

only to be greeted by a LOUD wolf whistle followed by a “OOOOH HEY HOT THANG” in the deepest, raspiest, most demonic ass voice you’ve ever heard

sukuna looks like he wants to kill himself.

he gets up and leaves the room immediately

you hear the a faint “NO GO BACK AND FLIRT WITH THEM YOU WIMP ASS HOE” in the same demonic voice as he stalks away

and you’re standing there

wondering what the actual fuck just happened

did you just experience harassment in your workplace?? but his mouth never even moved???

Gojo enters the staff room right after Sukuna vanishes and you IMMEDIATELY fill him in on whatever happened in hopes that he would have any explanation

hes confused, curious and amused all the same time

this doesnt mean hes of any help though

no, the piece if shit just laughs at you and goes off to terrorise the first years take class

before leaving he very unhelpfully reminds you that you have to share classes with Sukuna today

you enter the classroom a couple minutes before the students (you literally have 4 students and one of them is a panda god knows what the point of 2 teachers for such a small class is) and find Sukuna already in the room, leaning back on the chair, his legs resting on the table, eyes closed

once again

looking WAY too fine

just as you internally celebrate that nothing weird happened THE SAME OLD DEMONIC VOICE booms a “DAMN BABY YOU LOOK FINE, CMON LEMME TAKE YA HOME”

“wha- I- Eh??? I’m sorry what the fuhck?!?” you sputter, eyes wide

Sukuna has leaped up from his chair, a mixture of embarrassment and murderous rage on his face

he hisses a “shut the fuck up” in the vague direction of his abdomen before turning to you and apologising

“i am so sorry,” he says sheepishly “i owe you an explanation at the very least after two incidents”

���OI DONT APOLOGISE ASK THEM OUT THEY’RE HOT AND I KNOW YOU THINK SO TOO”

“I WILL LITERALLY FUCKING SEW YOU SHUT IF YOU DONT STAY FUCKING QUIET”

and once again. you’re standing there. shook.

Sukuna turns to you again with an expression that clearly says ‘Gods please strike me down right now’ and asks if you know about him having multiple body parts

you’ve heard of the legends and stories: four eyes, four arms and mouths he can will to appear wherever he wants, so you nod

“Well it just so happens that the mouth on my stomach is sentient, and extremely vulgar. Although i’m sure you noticed the latter.”

his voice is a wonderful contrast to that of his tummy mouth

deep, melodic and smooth

he just got even more attractive.

fuck.

you realise you haven’t given him a response and nod dumbly muttering out a quick “uh-huh”

thankfully the students enter at that moment saving you from any awkwardness

what you have recently come to identify as Sukuna’s tummy mouth stays blissfully quiet throughout the class and shockingly enough the silence on the belly front continues throughout the day as you discuss lesson plans with your ridiculously hot coworker

that night as you’re getting ready for bed, you remember the exchange between Sukuna and his appendage (specifically the part about Sukuna thinking you’re hot) and a mischievous idea forms in your brain (hey gojo satoru’s influence was bound to kick in at some point)

the next day you leave the top few buttons of your work shirt undone and put on some of the pheromone perfume you got as a gag gift in an (what you presume to be potentially successful) effort to rile Sukuna up (lets be real you think hes pretty damn hot too)

clap yourself on the back for that one bestie because the second you enter the staff room, Sukuna’s eyes nearly bulge out of his skull and the tummy mouth starts BARKING

and drooling apparently (how do you know? well maybe because the front of sukuna’s pristine white dress shirt is now sopping wet)

“WIFE THEM UP I SWEAR TO-“

the sound of a coffee cup shattering interrupts whatever was gonna come after that

you’re met with Nanami’s incredibly unimpressed gaze

without saying anything he leaves the room, muttering, “its too early for whatever the fuck this is”

well.

that happened.

yall get together eventually

gojo tells you “i knew you wanted to fuck him”

before you can come up with any sort of response, your boyfriend’s stomach pipes in with a “OH HE DEFINITELY WANTED TO FUCK THEM”

this is your life now.

good luck.

a/n: HI IM HERE TOO THIS TIME!! i left the ‘getting together part kinda up to interpretation because im shit at writing the ‘getting together’ arcs but we’re gonna pretend like it was because i want you to be able to go wild with whatever you want

please dont copy or repost my work without my permission

comments and reblogs are appreciated

check out my masterlist

dividers by @/vanillekiss

#kay gets requests #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna crackfic #crackfic #jjk crack #jjk crackfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen

[sunkiss3dlily]

to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part four | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5916

Summary: Time is running out for you in the fight against David. Joel comes to your rescue.

Note(s): Okay, so now it's become five parts. I should just never set a goal for how many chapters I'm writing because I always exceed it hahahaha but at least Joel and reader are reunited!! I'm not gonna lie this took so long to write because I hated writing for David. He is so creepy and I felt so gross. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and I promise this time, the next chapter will be the last haha! Thank you for all the love I'm so grateful! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981 @oscarisaac2099 @stilllivindue2spite @aspecialgreenie @amyispxnk @caitlynsixxx

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The bitter cold stole your every sense of direction in the relentless blizzard, pushing you to stumble aimlessly through the thick snow, much like you had the day before, only this time you were no longer the hunter but the prey.

All around, the storm howled, and your every step was one of desperation in the search for any sign of David and James' group.

"Stay alert, everybody; if this man's not already dead, he's dangerous." David's voice calling out from the other end of the street had you bolting to hide behind a fence, your rifle clutched steadily in your hand. "And the woman too; she can’t be fully trusted, either."

Clutching your rifle, you took a shaky breath, straining your hearing to catch the next set of orders.

“What about the little girl?” James' voice cut through the harsh wind, and a surge of protectiveness swelled within you at the mention of Ellie. You silently vowed not to let any of them get near her—not one step.

“We bring her back with us." David responds. "Her, and the woman.”

"Try it, motherfucker," you muttered, biding your time as they started advancing down your end of the street, where you remained safely hidden, at least for the moment. There was no need to risk wasting bullets and missing a shot; you had to be smart about this.

A loud scoff cuts through the air, and a voice that you haven't heard before rings out: "That woman will kill us all in our goddamn sleep if we let her stay with us."

"Yeah, I agree," James cuts in soon after. "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David, but we can kill the man and the woman and just let the little girl go. If we bring that little girl back with us, she's just another mouth to feed."

You peek out, taking your aim and squeezing one eye shut.

"If we leave either of them out here, they'll die," David chastises, still seemingly set on having you and Ellie come back with him.

As if you'd let that happen.

James scoffed, and as the group approached, you could now count their numbers.

Five.

You watched as James bitterly shook his head, and almost instinctively, you raised your rifle, focusing on the moving target. "Maybe that's God's will."

David's head snapped to look at his taller friend, but before he could speak, your first shot rang out.

James practically folded in on himself, the bullet finding its mark right between his eyes. Genuine shock registered on David's face before a darker expression replaced it just as swiftly. The other four members of the group looked around in utter bewilderment, raising their weapons and expressing a mix of fear, anger, and shock.

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck do we do, David?!"

"They killed James!"

Too preoccupied reloading your rifle, you didn't notice David's eyes settling on the neck of your gun, which was slightly peeking out from behind the fence.

"Split up. Find the house they're staying in and get that little girl back to me alive. I'll take care of the woman."

As the three scatter in different directions, you finally look up, and that's when you notice David approaching the fence, his own gun at the ready, aimed and dangerous.

You feel it before you hear it—the burning sensation as the bullet rips through your coat and shirt, sinking into the skin of your shoulder. The sickening whoosh of the bullet through the air is only heard after. Had your senses been more in tune, perhaps you would have dodged it. Instead, a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips as you slam them together, forcing yourself into a standing yet crouched position. Running along the back of the fence, you do your best to ignore both the pain and the sensation of your blood coating your fingers, compressing the wound as you move, the rifle held limply in the hand of your injured arm.

"Get back here!"

Your legs turn to jelly as you sprint through the snow, heading straight for one of the houses. Despite the intensifying pain in your shoulder, you strive to keep your cool. Bullets whiz dangerously close to your tattered boots, narrowly missing as you move just a fraction too quickly for David's shooting ability.

“It doesn’t have to be this hard!”

Gasping for breath, you reach cover at the side of a nearby house, pressing your back against the cold exterior. The bitter wind bites at your exposed skin as you take a moment to assess the wound on your shoulder, your fingers coming away stained with blood. You reach back, whimpering to yourself as you feel the unmistakable hole in your shirt and coat, realising that, for one small mercy, the bullet has gone straight through.

"I didn't want to hurt you." David's voice echoes chillingly close, urging you to retreat to the back of the house. As you hastily assess for an entry point, he adds with a sinister tone, "You forced my hand."

Despite the searing pain in your shoulder and the fear gnawing at your senses, a twisted sense of relief settles in as you reach the back of the house. The knowledge that it's you who David is pursuing, and not Joel or Ellie, somehow grants you a twisted comfort.

“There’s no need to keep fighting me like this. It’s pointless.”

With trembling hands, you fumble to open the door, your mind racing faster than your jittery heartbeat.

The wooden door creaks open, revealing the dim interior of the house. Staggering under the weight of pain and panic, you stumble inside, the world spinning as you navigate the all-too-familiar surroundings from when you were desperately searching for any first aid for Joel the day prior, so you already know there is nothing here that is going to help you. The urgency of your situation intensifies, and you quickly slam the door behind you closed.

The house offers a brief respite from the relentless blizzard and the immediate threat of David's pursuit. As you move deeper into the residence, your unsteady footsteps echo against the worn floorboards. The muted sounds of the storm outside contrast with the thunderous beating of your heart.

A narrow staircase comes into view, and with each step, your legs feel heavier, like lead. The ascent is a gruelling task, with your battered body protesting with every movement. As you reach the top, you catch your breath, realising the vulnerability of your situation. You're wounded and isolated, and you're at the mercy of your surroundings and David.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push forward, weaving through the upper floor. The pain in your shoulder becomes an unbearable companion, gnawing at your resolve, and your vision blurs. A distant bedroom beckons, and you stumble towards it, guided more by instinct than conscious thought.

With each step, the world becomes more of a blurry haze. You push the bedroom door open with a light swing, revealing your final refuge from the chaos. Collapsing against the far wall, behind a double bed, you sink to the floor, your breaths ragged and laboured. The room spins around you as you succumb to the exhaustion, your body finally finding a momentary sanctuary amid the turmoil.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The unmistakable echo of a gunshot reached Joel's ears, shattering the relative silence of the basement and snapping him out of the uneasy rest he had slipped into.

It felt like just moments ago that he had watched you leave, resolute in facing danger to protect him and Ellie. The mental image of you willingly sacrificing yourself for their safety wound around his heart like barbed wire, each beat accentuating his feelings of pain and helplessness. Staring at the closed door, he had been consumed by profound desperation, silently yearning for you to turn around and come back to them, to him. But, as the seconds ticked away, it became clear you weren't coming back.

Ellie's eyes had met his, her dark pools of pleading tears watching him as the weight of sleep threatened to pull him under.

"Joel! Wake the fuck up! We have to go!"

Suddenly, Ellie was gripping his shirt, the surge of adrenaline from the shock of it all combatting the heaviness of his slumber. The gunshot's resonance wasn't just a haunting echo of his nightmares about Sarah; it was the stark reality now centred around you. Whether you were the shooter or the one being shot at, Joel couldn't allow himself to stand, or rather lay, by while you faced danger, even in his weakened state.

"Joel!" Ellie repeated, shaking him just as furiously as before. "Fuck, wait a second."

She disappeared from his sight for a moment, peripherals included, and for some twisted reason inside of him, the thought of her leaving too made him even more scared. He couldn't lose both of you.

"Ellie," he called hoarsely.

She was back within a few moments, seemingly fueled by the sound of his voice as she kneeled beside him, syringe and medicine bottle in hand. "Yeah, I'm here. Just give me a minute. I've never done this before."

He held still, barely breathing as the needle pricked his wound once more, not wanting to freak the kid out any more than she already was.

"Ellie," he repeated. Her eyes fell to his as she continued to plunge the syringe slowly, just as she had watched you do so many times. Her dark eyes were still watery and held so much fear that she attempted to hide with her otherwise stoic expression, barring the slight trembling of her lips. "It's...it's gonna be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, though her gaze fell away from him as if she didn't believe him. "I know."

Silence settled between them, a void that you typically filled. As Ellie withdrew the syringe, returning it along with the medicine to her bag, the echo of a second gunshot pierced the air, prompting them to exchange uneasy glances.

The heavy footsteps from above spurred Joel into action, breaking the inertia that had held him for days. He staggered to his feet, his unsteady legs protesting disuse, and gently guided Ellie into the corner beneath the stairs. Pressing his rifle into her hands, he saw the horror in her eyes. A shake of his head preceded his retrieval of her knife from the bag.

"If anything goes wrong, you shoot and run, alright?" Her mouth opened, but he silenced any objections, his tone unwavering. "No. No questions, no smart remarks. You run."

Joel's voice carried a resolute authority, his eyes revealing a blend of concern and determination. Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the rifle as she comprehended the gravity of the situation.

The clamour above intensified, muffled voices now accompanied by the crash of furniture in front of the basement door. 

Time seemed to stretch as they waited, breaths suspended in anticipation. As the footsteps finally seemed to reach the top of the stairs and the door opened, Joel whispered one final directive, his voice barely audible. 

"Face the wall."

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

A tender touch, brushing hair away from your forehead, coaxes you back to awareness. Initially feeling numb, the haze lifts as you blink away blurriness, and the searing pain in your wound snaps into focus. A cry escapes your lips, and instinctively, you reach to cover the injury, as if the pressure could quell the pain. Surprisingly, a make-shift bandage is wrapped around the bare skin of your shoulder, and as you withdraw your hand, you find no fresh blood, only the remnants of dried staining from before.

A fleeting sense of relief washes over you when you suddenly realise someone is taking care of you; you've been saved.

"You were lucky; I'll give you that."

Anticipating Joel's deep, somewhat soothing tone, the sudden and chilling sound of David's higher voice jolted you. Startled, you looked up and blinked rapidly, only to find the devil himself kneeling in front of you, his hand resting on your cheek.

"Getting the jump on us like that. It was smart." He chuckled slightly, unsettling you further, prompting an instinctive flex of your fingers to search for your rifle. It must have been moved, and you think you can see the handle just behind him on the bed. The sheet on top of the mattress appears to be torn, evidently being what was used to conceal your wound. "I won't say it'll earn you many brownie points with the folks back home, but I understand. I understand why you did it."

You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to breathe through the pain and panic, while desperately searching your mind for any semblance of a plan.

David withdraws his hand from your cheek, replacing it with two fingers on your neck's pulse point, holding them there for a moment. "You know, I was worried you weren't going to wake up at all."

You make your best attempt to shrug him off, disliking the sensation of his cold fingertips on your skin. Despite your weakness, you glare up at him and retort, "You should be more worried than I was."

He smiles with a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you despise the gut-wrenching feeling of vulnerability blooming in your chest at the notion of being stuck in this man's presence. A chuckle escapes him, and he sucks his teeth before raising his hand, causing your head to snap to the side as the back of his hand connects with your cheek, a ring on his finger slashing your cheek upon impact.

Stunned to silence, you manage only a few heavy breaths as blood dribbles down your cheek. Eventually, you compose yourself enough to meet his gaze once more.

David releases a heavy sigh, observing you with a gaze that combines pity and satisfaction as he sits back on his knees.

“I like you. I do."

You glare back at him, biting back a snide comment.

He smiles, releasing a soft chuckle. “You’re so much different from the women back in my village. They’re so docile, complacent, and scared of their own shadows. You, on the other hand, are feral. Violent. A murderer.”

You swallow uncomfortably, unsettled by the excited glint in his eyes as he gazes at you.

“I like that. It’s realistic. A woman who does what she has to do to get what she wants. It’s the only way to survive, right?” David smiles, reaching out to clasp your limp hand that sits on your lap. “We’re very similar in that way. We do what we have to do to provide for the people who rely on us. No matter what, right?”

You fight the urge to snap his fingers in your palm, feeling his thumb stroking roughly over your skin, a poor imitation of Joel's comforting touch from only hours ago.

“You see, I’m not your enemy here.” He whispers in an attempt at a soothing tone. “I never have been. In fact, I am your equal, and in being that, I believe you would make the perfect addition to stand by my side in leading our people through the darkness that this winter has brought.”

You shake your head, but he raises a hand and emits a shushing noise.

“I know. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re in this fight-or-flight headspace. I’m sure you feel you won’t be accepted by them for all your sins and for all the heartache you’ve brought to our community, but they, as well as you, will come to understand, in good time, that reformation is indeed possible.” He squeezes your hand tight—so tight that it becomes uncomfortable very quickly. You breathe your way through the pain. “And if you can’t, then you can provide for our community in another way.” He lifts his other hand to lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My people are hungry, you see. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn't do what I needed to provide for them, despite sacrificing what would be the closest thing I have to my equal. You understand the necessity of that, right?”

A sickening feeling churns in your stomach. Whatever he has in mind for you is likely nothing you want to endure. You bite your tongue, resolved to maintain composure and conceal your fear.

“And then, I suppose, your daughter will be the one to take your place beside me.”

Your entire body tenses, and he seems to notice the fire blazing in your eyes at the mention of Ellie, a light smirk settling on his lips.

Quick to wipe it off, you wrap your palm around his middle finger and tug it back with all the strength you can muster, causing a sickening crack as it breaks, ricocheting around you. He lets out an anguished cry of pain, filling you with relentless satisfaction. As he releases your hand entirely, you shove him backward and use the wall to guide you to your feet.

Rushing for your rifle, your movements are short-lived as you feel his hand wrap around your ankle, grabbing hold of you. Swinging your arm around to hit him, he tugs you forcefully via your arm, causing you to flop face down on the floor beside him.

Releasing angry pants, he flips you over onto your back and uses his free hand to press down on your wound, keeping you down and eliciting a cry of unbearable pain from your lips.

“There it is. There’s that fight in you I like so much.”

You spit at him, aiming directly for his face, and raise your knee to strike him in the crotch. He releases your wound, and you take a sharp intake of breath, readying your hand to deliver a strike to his face. But he's too quick, grabbing your wrist and yanking it hard, exerting so much force that you feel your arm being ripped out of its socket.

A blinding wave of pain overwhelms you, bringing all your struggles to an instant halt. Your pain threshold has been entirely depleted. You're done fighting. It's all too much.

He clears his throat as he shifts to hold himself above you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he looks down at you.

“Is that all you’ve got in you?” He laughed breathlessly. “I’m disappointed. Underneath all that strong facade, you’re just the same as every other woman. Weak. I should’ve known you’d end up just the same: under my mercy."

Your strength waned, unable to conceal the overwhelming fear as his weight bore down on you, and instead, you opened your mouth, releasing a gut-wrenching scream.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

It was guttural—the scream that tore through the streets—and it sent a shiver down Joel's spine. Ellie was huddled at his side, his arm protectively encircling her, marking the first substantial contact between them. The moment he tensed, he felt her reaction mirror his own.

Joel held tight to Callus' reins in his other hand. Although logic dictated that he and Ellie should be riding towards your safety, the events in the basement lingered in Joel's mind. Forcing two out of three men to reveal your whereabouts, even with Ellie upstairs and out of direct earshot, it had been a traumatic ordeal for the both of them. Joel couldn't deny Ellie the comfort of being close to him after such a harrowing experience. Contrary to his initial fears, it became evident that Ellie wasn't terrified of him; in fact, the very opposite seemed true.

'"That's her," Ellie said through chattering teeth as the biting winds whipped around them. "We have to help her."

Joel nodded, his gaze firm and determined, tugging Callus along once more. "We will. We'll get to her."

Once again, your scream, fraught with fear and desperation, reverberated through the desolate streets. The chilling sound momentarily froze time, leaving Joel feeling utterly helpless about where to go or how to reach you. The haunting silence that followed became almost unbearable, casting an oppressive weight on Joel's chest, which he tried to ignore with every stride he took, Ellie in tow.

Abruptly, just as it had ceased, your screaming resumed, and Joel couldn't summon the strength to look down, yet he could feel Ellie's tears soaking his shirt. Each agonising note sliced through the air, and this time, it seemed to pierce Joel even more deeply than before. The raw, visceral sound of your distress clawed at his heart, dismantling any remaining walls that held back his emotions towards you. He despised that sound—the sound of you in pain, the sound of you scared, the sound of you broken—and silently vowed to do whatever it took to never hear it again.

However, amidst the torment, there existed a perverse sense of gratitude. Your screams served as a guiding force, leading Joel, Ellie, and Callus through the relentless blizzard in pursuit of you. A steely resolve tightened Joel's jaw, determination etched across his weathered face as you fell silent once more, only to start screaming again seconds later. The idea of you enduring suffering was unbearable, and an urgency to reach you surged through Joel's veins, propelling their movements forward through the biting cold.

Reaching the front of the house from which your screams echoed, Joel gently pulled away from Ellie's trembling frame. He tried to ignore the way she instinctively sought to move closer, holding her by the shoulders. "I need you to listen to me, Ellie."

Her face was pale, tear-stricken, and concerned, lacking the strength to argue. She nodded in response.

"I need you to ride Callus to the furthest house away, to the very last one in this neighbourhood, okay? Not one sooner. The very last one."

Her lips parted, wobbling, but your scream from above tore every word from the tip of her tongue. She made her way to Callus, placing one foot in the stirrup before Joel helped launch her onto the horse completely. He held back a wince as his wound ached with every movement, and raised his rifle for her to take.

"I'll come and find you as soon as we're out. You don't leave for anything. You stay right there, hidden, until we come back. Got it?"

Ellie took the rifle, slugging it onto shoulder, before gripping Callus' reins and nodding. "Got it."

"Good." He hummed, stroking Callus' side before meeting Ellie's eyes. "Go on."

She simply sniffled, murmuring, "Let's go," to the horse before she and Callus thundered off down the street.

Joel watched as Ellie rode away, his rifle slung over her shoulder, and as he turned back towards the house, it took him about a second to realise you were no longer making any noise, and it only took half of that time to send him into utter panic.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The carpet beneath your fingernails was the only sensation you registered as David's hand coiled around your throat, tightening its grip and stifling any more attempts at screaming.

You weren't fighting back anymore. You couldn't. You'd lost it all the moment David had you pinned down and injured. The likelihood of Joel succumbing to the brutality of David's men gnawed at your conscience. Imagining Ellie, now alone and convinced you were lost too, fighting desperately to escape their clutches added another layer of anguish to your already shattered resolve. You didn't want to risk that becoming a truth, and so you just lay there.

Time seemed to stretch with each agonising blink, your eyes lingering shut for longer intervals. As David's suffocating grip on your throat gradually released, you struggled to focus through the haze. His lips moved, likely weaving a twisted soliloquy, but the only sound that reached you was the persistent thud of blood coursing through your veins. Each breath you managed to draw felt like a desperate attempt to refill your lungs, your chest heaving with the effort.

His vice-like grip on your neck finally released, and as you dared to steal a glance downward, all you saw was his hand moving towards his zipper.

You clutched at the carpet, fingers digging in, and drew in a wheezy breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next.

David's face and body loomed over you, paralysing you with fear. Just as you thought it was all over, the sudden impact of your rifle against the side of his head sent his looming figure crashing to the floor beside you. Through the haze of your vision, you could vaguely make out a blurry figure in a brown coat gripping your rifle and ruthlessly slamming it down repeatedly onto what appeared to be David's body.

Unable to discern many words, you could only catch snippets of angry and pained sounds. Fear gripped you, but in a moment of reprieve, you managed to turn on your side. For perhaps the first time since you woke up, you felt a semblance of relief, as if you could finally afford to breathe again.

Your body ached, and your lungs burned with each precious breath of fresh air, reminiscent of a dog lapping up water on a scorching day. Curled into a foetal position, the only sounds that reached your ears were the haunting echoes of sniffles and whimpering. It didn't take long for you to grasp the painful realisation that those anguished sounds were escaping your own lips.

A hand gripping your ankle jolts you into immediate action, fearing the worst. A distressed wail escapes your lips as you kick out, refusing to glance at the person who has a hold of you. Slowly crawling away, you use your uninjured arm to support yourself, doing your best to fight the searing pain flowing through you.

The hand lets up, and then it moves to land delicately on your back. Gentle and light, it hovers, assuring you of his presence.

Everything seems to move once more in slow motion as you continue to kick out, eventually flipping onto your side and meeting your would-be assailant's eyes once more.

Except it's not David.

It's Joel.

His lips are parted, and he is speaking to you softly. His face is taut with concern, distress, and fear.

"..'s me; it's just me. It's me."

The sound of relief escaping you doesn't come close to the immense relief flooding your insides.

As Joel senses the realisation dawning in your eyes, his expression eases slightly, a fraction of his concern dissipating.

You can't help but avert your gaze, your eyes falling upon David's battered body lying a short distance away. The butt of your rifle, stained with his blood, rests by his side. It's evident that Joel has discarded it and hurried to your aid.

His touch on your cheek is gentle, coaxing you to meet his gaze once more.

"Look at me," he urges, his voice a comforting murmur. "You're okay. You're with me. Just keep your eyes on me. Keep focusing on me."

Your lip trembles. "J-Joel...he…he…”

"I know," he murmurs softly, his face etched with pain as he gently covers your hand with his own on the floor. The gesture makes you flinch involuntarily, and memories of David flood your mind. "I know, honey. I know."

Honey.

The term is uttered with such tenderness, so delicately, that it catches you off guard. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he regards you with the utmost care, as if he can hardly believe he's reached you in time.

Tears stream down your cheeks, unnoticed, until you feel his arms enveloping you. It's surprising the sheer gentleness emanating from a man hardened by years of violence, his fists having shed blood from countless adversaries. Yet here he is, cradling you as though you're the most precious gift, as if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as though he was born to love and protect you, no matter the time it took for him to realise it.

His hand finds solace in your matted hair, anchoring you to him as you weep against his chest. For a long while, he remains silent, allowing your sorrow to seep into him as if, by some miracle, it might alleviate your pain. You feel a shift in his posture, and then his chapped lips brush gently against your forehead.

Drawing back slightly from the comfort of his embrace, you meet his gaze.

"You're... you're alive," you breathe out softly.

The corners of his lips twitch up a little, and he nods gently down at you. "Your stubborn ass saved me, remember?"

"I... I had to. I couldn't... couldn't lose you," you respond, still teary-eyed. Your gaze darts around frantically for a moment. "E—Ellie? Where's Ellie? Did they get Ellie?"

Joel shakes his head quickly. "We... I got 'em, I swear. They didn't touch her. She's safe."

"They... they were really bad people, Joel," you whisper, a slight desperation in your voice, as if you need him to believe you, though you have no idea why you feel the need to justify it. "Really bad. They... they... the things he wanted to do."

Your gaze starts to drift back to David's body, but Joel gently redirects your focus to him with a tender touch on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the blood from where David's ring had cut your skin. "No, no. Don't look at him, alright? Just keep looking at me and listening, okay? Focus right here on me and me only."

You nod, your attention fixed on him.

“You did good, sweetheart. You did so good. You saved me and Ellie, and…and you’re still here with us. It was always going to be your life over any of theirs. You did what you had to do.”

Weakly, you nod and rest your trembling hand on his arm.

He glances down at your hand, resting his own atop it, and takes a breath. Using the next few moments to assess your condition, he notices the blood-soaked sheet wrapped around your shoulder, his face paling considerably. Then, his gaze falls on the swollen part of your arm where David has torn it from its socket.

He releases your hand and rises to his feet, prompting a soft cry of his name from you, as if he might leave you in that state.

"I'm right here. You're okay," he assures you, reaching down to cup your cheek. "I just need to... I need to help you. You're hurt, sweetheart. Just keep your eyes on me. I'm not going anywhere; I just need to..."

Glancing over to the bed, where the ripped sheet lies, he reluctantly lets go of you and strides over to retrieve it. Returning to your side, he offers reassurance. "See? I'm still here."

You watch him carefully as he tears the fabric apart with his bare hands, studying his every move.

"Joel," you say softly at first, catching his attention only when you repeat his name with a bit more urgency.

"Yeah, what's up?" He responds, turning to you.

"I'm... I'm glad you're here."

His worried expression softens, though concern still lingers in his gentle brown eyes. After a moment's pause, he replies, "Me too, honey." Taking a breath, he continues, "Now, I'm gonna ask you to do something for me, okay?"

You weakly nod your agreement.

"Just stay still while I see what I can do about your arm, alright?" he instructs.

He shakily reaches over to lightly press your swollen, deformed-looking arm, retracting his hand almost immediately when you cry out in pain. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own hurt, and once the wave of pain has passed, you grasp his coat with your uninjured hand, murmuring your apologies.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassures you softly, cupping your cheek and meeting your gaze with his intense one. "I need you to trust me for a second, okay? This is going to hurt, but you are going to be just fine, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."

Tears brim in your eyes, but you nod. "I trust you, Joel."

He smiles softly at you, leaning forward to press a kiss on your head before he reaches out and takes your injured arm's hand in his own. With a shaky breath, he asks, "Can you feel that?"

You nod with a sniffle.

"Good. That's good." He squeezes your hand gently. "And you feel that?"

Again, you nod.

He squeezes once more, meeting your eyes. "Still with me?"

Another nod.

Taking a breath, he squeezes for the third time, a nervous expression clouding his face.

It takes you a moment to process his confession as pain overwhelms you. But when you realise what he has said, everything stops hurting for a moment, and a relieved tear slips down your cheek.

He smiles weakly back at you.

And then he tugs.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

"Almost there, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his hand light on your back as he guides you through the blizzard, mindful of your delicate state. "I've got you."

Your injured arm is cradled in a makeshift sling, and a fresh bandage, fashioned from the same sheet, is carefully tied over your bullet wound. Despite the lingering pain, being with Joel feels like a balm to your soul, as if you're walking on air. The thought of being reunited with Ellie soon fills you with hope, giving you the strength to keep moving forward, despite the weariness weighing down your legs.

Every little noise puts you on edge, whether it's the howl of the wind or the thud of snow against a roof. But Joel is there, a reassuring presence, whispering words of comfort each time you tense up, trying to reach for a weapon and inadvertently causing yourself more pain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," Joel assures as you come to reach the last few houses on the road, the sight of horse prints visible in the snow-covered ground. "Look behind us; look around. There is no one here but us. No one is going to hurt you, I promise."

You look around nervously, seeing that he is right. You are simply overwhelmed by paranoia right now.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Joel repeats gently, a change from his usual tone but a welcome one. You've never felt safer.

You nod, scooting closer to him all the same.

The horse tracks lead up to the final house on the road, and Joel is grateful that Ellie followed his instructions this time.

He shuffles as slowly as you need up the short distance of the porch steps, and when you both reach the top and you begin to lose your ability to keep moving forward, he wraps your uninjured arm around his neck and keeps you moving. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re just tired, that’s all. You’re going to rest as soon as we get inside, alright? Talk to me; let me know you’re still in there.”

“Still here..." you assure quietly, though your vision is beginning to blur and darkness is beginning to form in your peripherals.

“Atta girl, stay with me.” He presses a gentle hand over your ear and pushes the other to rest against his chest. He raises his voice, though muffled to you, as he kicks the front door as he has no hands free. “Ellie! Open up! It’s us!”

By the time the door opens, you are halfway through succumbing to the darkness.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[rowretro]

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

WARNINGS: Blood, gunshots, death

✧CHAPTER 6✧

✧tag list✧: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark @strawbsj 

After a few weeks of staying indoors for days on end, Riki finally let y/n take the baby out. It's not because he didn't trust him or anything, there were just so many rival gangs now running after him. Riki really wanted to quit being a drug lord, maybe start a successful company that's harmless and no where near illegal, or a little dance class so he can lay low and do something he's passionate about.

But once you pick up a gun, it's hard to let it go. Y/n decided to take the baby to the park, as it seemed reasonable, she carried the littlun, as she walked through the garden areas "look there! it's a little squirrel!" y/n cooed, as she turned the baby to face the squirrel, the baby giggled, clapping. Riki smiled, following after. "You have any idea on what we're going to name him?... he's almost ten months old" Riki asked as Y/n thought.

She gasped as she turned to Riki "Let's name him Pluto! a small planet with a big heart~" Y/n smiled as Riki sighed "Sweetheart- you named a tree, a fish, a Heeseung and a stray cat Pluto when you ate that brownie- think of a real baby name" Riki explained as he laid down a picnic blanket. "You're one to talk, Riki Jackson, Rizziki, Junior Riki-" Y/n started listing as Riki stuffed a marshmallow in her mouth.

"You know the view here is so pretty... it feels like its been forever since we've been out-" Riki blurted as Y/n was choking on the marshmallow, somehow swallowing it down "Lawd- why did you get the massive ones- and why'd you shove it in my mouth while I was talking?..." The girl asked with a frown as Riki mischievously giggled.

"What do you think about the name Kyle?... baby Kyle?" Y/n asked as she smiled at the baby, the baby babbling back. Riki turned to face the duo, "You know what, Kyle sounds good, it's cute, and when he grows up it'll be cool too... Come to daddy baby Kyle~" Riki smiled, as Y/n placed the baby on the picnic blanket, Riki watched as the little one crawled to him, with a little help from y/n.

Smiling, Riki took the baby in his arms, rubbing his nose against the baby's nose, "My little Kyle~" Riki cooed as the baby yanked his hair. "Aaah- Kyle- Kyleee- Something tells me you're going to be a trouble maker-" Riki whined softly, as the baby giggled at his reaction, pulling his hair a little more As y/n giggled.

After a fairly long day, Riki drove the three home, the baby asleep in the back with y/n beside. The silent drive was interrupted with multiple, ear-piercing gunshots, making y/n jolt, Riki's eyes widen as he cursed under his breath, to their luck the car and windows were bullet proof. Those motherfuckers were everywhere. swerving every obstacle in their way, and driving off the road, taking a shortcut into a much more secure, area.

Once Riki finally lost them, he turned behind to see Y/n was perfectly fine, the baby still peacefully sleeping. In fact the baby was awfully silent the through out the whole commotion. That's when it hit them. Y/n checked the baby's pulse. "Fuck- Riki there's no pulse!" Y/n exclaimed. The girl lying the baby down on a safer surface as Riki called the doctor.

Sunoo immediately picked up, hearing Riki's hysterical voice as he explained the events. "Riki, stay calm okay? just listen to my instructions" Sunoo calmly instructed Riki to do CPR on the baby... but not a single change, he then changed to mouth-to-mouth, and yet again no change...

Not stopping, He continued, never giving up "Come on baby Kyle, you can't leave me, I didn't take you to lose you like this please." Riki begged, as he continued giving CPR to the littlun. The sudden sound of a baby crying finally reached their ears, the tears leaving Riki's eyes, and hitting the baby as y/n snuggled the baby close to herself, crying in relief "Congratulations Riki you have given birth!" Sunoo joked, despite the situation, but Riki didn't care to get mad or react, he was just so relieved to have his son.

Not wasting any time, y/n gently slipped the headphones on the baby, Riki engulfing the both of them in a loving hug. "God those fuckers..." Riki mumbled, as his fists clenched. Y/n softly held his fist, the anger that was coursing through his veins disappearing almost instantly as his teary eyes met her glossy ones, "Riki... you saw what happened... i-if we fight back- t-they'll only aim for the baby, they know your weakness now Ki... I didn't want to say this before, but maybe this is a sign Ki... you need to stop getting blood on your hands" the girl explained, her eyes hopeful as Riki pulled away from her, slowly.

She was right... If he continued, things will only get worse, but if he stopped, the consequences that follow his past actions would at least be lessened. Riki kissed her forehead, and the baby's forehead, staring back into her eyes as he held her hand. "For us, and our future... I will let go of all the mafia ties..." Riki sincerely told her. He's already seen a pure, little soul lose his everything and almost his own life, he's seen his mother get killed by his own father, and he's even subjected his dear y/n to all this danger. All of this NEEDED to stop...

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

#enhypen #enhypen ff #ni ki #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #engene #nishimura niki #enhypen niki ff #nishimura riki #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen riki #riki #riki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #riki x reader #riki fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen au #enhypen drabbles #enhypen behind #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki angst #niki fluff #ni ki enhypen #ni ki imagines

[mikhailwrites]

Wash the blood off my hands / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #20 - Showering (from the SFW prompt list)

Gaz looks at Soap’s worryingly pale face, then turns to Ghost, who lifts his gaze as well. “I cannot lose him, Kyle,” Ghost repeats, and there’s something in his eyes that chills Gaz to his bones.

“Keep the pressure on!” Ghost barks out as he frantically rips through the plane, searching for a medkit.

Gaz doesn’t say anything, but he does put his weight down on Soap’s chest more, pressing the bundled cloth to the wound. His hands are drenched in blood, glistening and slick with it. Soap’s life is literally in his hands. On them. Around them. Trickling down on the metal floor of the plane.

Gaz is thankful that Soap is unconscious. If he weren’t, he’d be screaming in pain now, perhaps trying to shake Gaz off. There are not many things worse than holding your brother in arms down, causing him an ungodly agony because it’s the only way to help him. To save him.

Gaz is doing everything in his power to keep the blood in, but it just keeps oozing out all around his hands. “Ghost!” he calls out, desperate. He doesn’t have to shout; the only way to hear each other over the hum and rumble of the engines is their comms. He knows Ghost is doing all he can, but that’s just not enough. Their help is not enough. For a terrifying moment, Soap’s laboured breathing stops, and Gaz freezes. Then Soap takes another breath. “GHOST!” Gaz shouts.

He feels hurried, heavy footsteps reverberating through the floor, and then Ghost kneels next to him. He’s found the kit and is now tearing it open, spilling its contents on the floor, rummaging through it for scissors. He finds them quickly and gets to cutting Soap’s tee. Once it’s done, he cleans the worst of the blood around Gaz’s hands, preparing to relieve him from his duty with a gauze and pressure dressing at the ready.

They quickly switch, Ghost applying the dressing just as they were taught. Stacking a few sterile pads on the wound, applying the pressure gauze, making sure the adhesive holds. Ghost moves quickly and purposefully, and soon enough, both Ghost and Gaz sit back, taking deep breaths to calm themselves.

Soap is very much not out of the woods yet, but they manage to stop the bleeding. His chances just went up significantly. They stare at their comrade with dull gazes. Adrenaline abating, the novelty of Soap possibly dying wearing out, becoming just another part of reality now.

“I can’t lose him,” Ghost admits quietly after a long, heavy silence. It’s weird to hear him in the comms, even when he sits so close to Gaz.

Gaz weights his responses. The first impulse is to say that they won’t lose Soap. He can’t know that, though, and in this line of work, nobody wants empty platitudes. “He’s one tough motherfucker, you know that.”

Gaz looks at Soap’s worryingly pale face, then turns to Ghost, who lifts his gaze as well. “I cannot lose him, Kyle,” Ghost repeats, and there’s something in his eyes that chills Gaz to his bones. He knows Ghost is attached to Soap. Price knows, as well. Hell, everyone knows. Soap and Ghost are a package deal. If you want one, you get the other for free. If you mess with one, the other will come and mess you up. Gaz is worried about Soap, obviously, but he also cannot help but be just as worried about Ghost. The fact that the bullet Johnny caught was meant for Ghost, and it would’ve, beyond any doubt, killed him on the spot, is only icing on this fucked up cake of theirs.

Soap makes it. It’s way too close a call as he flatlines two times, and even after that, it’s touch and go for two more days before the doctors manage to stabilise him. The only reason Ghost is still at least marginally functioning is because the moment they landed, Price barred him from seeing Soap, telling him that he would keep him updated.

Unfortunately, marginally functioning Ghost turns out to be a proper cunt. He’s downright insufferable. Gaz takes over his recruit training rotations because, on the first one after their return, three poor sods had quit on the spot. Anyone not required to talk to him gives him a very wide berth.

Well, everyone except for Price and Gaz, who do their best to keep their Lieutenant occupied. Giving him work to do, trying to convince him to go to a pub with them. They even go as far as to bribe the cook to make Ghost’s favourite food.

Nothing really works. At least about a week in, Ghost gets a little bit better. Soap is still in a medically induced coma, but he is healing and out of immediate danger.

Soap returns after a month. He’s lost some weight, enough to be immediately noticeable, is paler, and his smile is not quite as bright as usual. But he’s back.

“Johnny,” Ghost says in a way of greeting, but no matter how hard he tries to play it cool and casual, his voice wavers and his hands tremble.

“Simon,” Soap smiles, his gaze lingering.

Price groans, putting out his cigar. “Glad to have you back with us, son, but for Christ’s sake, I can’t stand your pining a minute longer. Do as all a service and work it out like adults,” he waves his hand as he turns around and leaves.

Gaz stifles a surprised laugh, but he grins as he gently squeezes Soap’s shoulder. “He’s got a point, you know,” he tells Soap quietly before he goes on about his business.

They do work it out. The exchange is so simple it’s almost comical. A pair of “Do you...?” followed by “I thought...” leading to Johnny laughing and Simon groaning. Neither of them is sure if the kissing is something Price wanted to include in the “work it out” phrase, yet they don’t care enough to stop.

Of course, they do stop eventually, and as they part, Ghost scrunches his nose. “You reek of a hospital,” he explains, seeing Johnny’s questioning look.

Soap chuckles. “Aye, guess I do. What’re you suggesting?”

“A shower,” Ghost says, looking at Johnny as if he half-expects him to refuse.

Soap, however, readily agrees. Simon helps him out of his clothes, wincing as he notices just how much weight Johnny really lost. He’s still captivating and devastatingly handsome in the boyish, rebellious kind of way. Furthermore, Simon is reasonably sure he’d find Johnny beautiful under any circumstances.

He only pauses once he sees the scarred, puckered skin where the bullet entered Soap’s body. Soap catches Ghost’s hand. “Come on, I’m cold,” he urges him on, even though it’s a lie.

It works, Ghost nods and leads them to the bathroom, closing the stall and starting the water. The injury doesn’t bar Soap from washing himself, but Ghost is not giving up any chance to touch him. In many regards, it’s like seeing Soap for the first time. Unlike communal showers or hurried washing during the deployments, he’s allowed to watch and to touch and to admire.

With a slight startle as Soap touches him in return, he realises that it works both ways. Johnny’s eyes are roaming across Simon’s body, catching on the scars, tracing the muscles with his hands. He knows his body is a lot to take in. Knows it’s off-putting to some. Not to Johnny, though. He never, even for a second, thought that Johnny would mind or be repulsed.

They’re both wet enough by now, so Ghost shuts the water and gets the soap. “Are you going to make that pun, Simon?” Johnny asks, a challenge clear in his voice. He’s tempted, of course, and Johnny is not helping. “Come on, I know you want to.”

“I’m better than that,” Ghost resists, pouring the gel into his palm and rubbing his hands together before he puts them on Johnny’s shoulders, gently massaging as he spreads the white foam.

Johnny closes his eyes and hums contentedly, relaxing under Simon’s touch. “I don’t think you are, Simon.”

“Fuck… alright. Time to put some soap on Soap,” Ghost grunts out, not even proud of himself.

Soap snorts. “Certifiably rubbish, sir,” he rates the joke, seemingly unimpressed. Ghost simply shakes his head and focuses on Johnny. Once he’s nearing some more interesting bits, he hesitates. It simply feels too soon and out of place. Soap is probably bloody clairvoyant since the next thing he says is: “Don’t worry, I don’t think I can get it up anyway. Kinda out of form, and some of the meds they gave me just fuck me up.”

Simon looks at Johnny, feeling his eyes tearing up. He doesn’t deserve this man, not by a long shot. He doesn’t trust himself with words, so he opts for a nod before resuming his care. It’s gentle and slow. It would be undeniably erotic, too, if not for the context. Maybe next time. Or the time after that. They do have the time now, Ghost realises. He carefully embraces Soap, their bodies sliding and slotting easily against each other. Simon closes his eyes, focusing solely on the feeling of Johnny pressed against him.

They don’t say a word. Not when Simon lets him go, not when he turns the water on again, washing the Soap off of them. Not when they step out of the stall, and Simon hands Johnny a towel.

Ghost looks at the scar again. It’s an eternal reminder of Ghost’s debt and of Soap’s devotion to him. Only then does Johnny speak again. “Ye ken, it’s nae gonna disappear if you keep staring at it,” Soap says lightheartedly, smiling and colouring his words with something warm.

Ghost tears his gaze away from Johnny’s chest, looking into his eyes. “I hope it did. I wish that…”

Soap shushes him, putting an index finger on Simon’s lips. “I dinnae wanna hear it, Ghost. It was my choice.”

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #soap mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #whump #hurt/comfort

[banananutsmuthie]

The Dangers of Owning a Smartphone

Idol(s): Yena [IZ*ONE]

Word Count: 5.1k+ words

Content Advisory: Titfucking

A/N: Dedicated to @friskyriskywhisky based off this ask. Sadly, I did not finish this fic in two sittings, so I guess I lost frisky's bet :(

need your cock so bad. Come to my place RIGHT NOW and fuck me

And just like that, any productivity you had for the day evaporates.

That’s the power of Yena’s texts. It isn’t just her words—you’re used to Yena’s frequent booty calls by now. No, it’s the picture she sends with it that drives you wild.

There she is in stunning high resolution, kneeling on her bed, playfully pulling on her high pigtails. Her gaze exudes the confidence of a woman who knows what she wants, screaming to be dicked down. Her tongue licks at those famous dick-sucking duck lips, further supporting just how bad she wants it.

Zoom in and you can see every minute detail of her sinful body: every ridge defined in her exposed midriff, every goosebump running up her glistening thighs, and even that perfect cleavage reserved for your eyes only. But what really commands your attention is her outfit and the lack of coverage it actually provides. There’s subtle holes in her purple knit top and skirt; the image at any lower fidelity would’ve missed the lack of clothes underneath. Thank God for smartphones then, to be able to capture Yena’s perky tits and pussy lips, visible through her knit outfit in all its intended high-def glory.

“Holy shit, is that Yena?! You didn’t tell me you were dating my ult bias!”

You should’ve known by his unmistakable musk that Wooseok was in the vicinity. You turn around to see him hovering over your shoulder gawking at Yena’s zoomed-in body.

That’s the danger of owning a smartphone when you date Yena.

“Wooseok, what the fuck! Why are you at my desk?”

“Seeing if you wanted to do lunch, but it looks like you’re already eyeing dessert,” Wooseok replies with a sly smile.

“Keep your voice down! No one’s supposed to know.”

Wooseok’s hunger can no longer be satisfied by lunch alone. His eyes widen, hungry to know more about that delicious Yena body. His firm hands grasp at your shoulders, playfully shaking you as a congratulatory gesture. “This motherfucker! Banging idols now? What’s she like in bed? Fuck man, you gotta tell me everything!”

“Dude, I’m not talking about this with you.”

“So I take it we’re not doing lunch today then?”

Wooseok already knows the answer. Normally, lunch out with the work bestie talking shit about the other co-workers is a welcome break from the monotony of writing a review for another tired 80’s-inspired title track overloaded with synths. But knowing there’s a full course meal of duck being served just for you superseded any previously agreed upon lunch plans. You get up and start to walk toward the elevator without even answering him, but Wooseok tugs at your wrist and holds you back.

“At least tell her that her biggest fan says hi!”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Dude. We work for a tabloid. An idol dating scandal? That’s a headline. That’s my headline. Just tell her I said hi and I won’t say anything. She’ll know who I am, I’ve been to all her fan signs.”

“Ugh, fine.” Wooseok finally lets go, allowing you to enjoy your lunch break.

* * *

“Yena?” you holler through her apartment.

“In the bedroom, oppa!”

As you approach her room at the end of the hall, you can hear Yena’s feet shuffling, then a thud followed by the coils in her mattress giving way. It all makes sense when you finally turn the corner and stand in the open door frame.

It’s almost like a murder scene in there. Her purple panties play the part of the victim, lying lifeless on the carpeted floor. Splotches of her bodily fluid splatter across various areas of the room, and of course, the weapon of choice, her bullet vibrator, still left at the crime scene next to Yena’s undergarment. The lone suspect sits atop the bed, her legs spread wide, face unable to hide her guilt and naughtiness, beckoning you to interrogate her insides.

But first, there’s the matter to resolve with Wooseok.

“You know, you shouldn’t be sending me explicit texts and photos when I’m at work, Yena.”

“Why not? I know you love it, oppa!”

“That’s not the point! My coworker Wooseok saw the text! He started asking what it’s like sleeping with his IZ*ONE bias and asked me to tell you he’s your biggest fan. It was kinda creepy to be honest.”

The speech falls on deaf ears. Yena lunges off the bed to pepper you with neck nibbles. As her hands grasp at your biceps, her perfect breasts press against you, allowing you to feel her perky nipples through her top.

“I know you didn’t come here to just talk,” she says.

Her fingers wage a war with your button down shirt, but it isn’t so much a war as it is a slaughter. Yena’s fingers are too skilled to even consider it an even fight, swiftly undoing each button with the precision of an experienced surgeon. Her lips follow the exposed skin trail left in the wake of her destruction, leaving pink lipstick marks down your chest until no buttons remain fastened. All it takes is a small tug at the hem, and your shirt becomes a useless decoration on Yena’s bedroom floor, joining her crumpled up panties and glistening vibrator.

“You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted this. Been thinking about your cock all morning.”

Yena’s knees crumble to the carpet with a soft thud as she firmly plants herself in front of you, licking her lips as she finally makes way to the spoils of her war. Your belt buckle doesn’t even stand a chance; Yena aggressively pulls down your pants and underwear with ease, her eyes lighting up like seeing a long lost friend when she finally sees your cock.

But then she looks back up with a look of mild frustration. “This won’t do.”

“What?”

“Need you to get hard for me, oppa. I want your big hard cock in me and I want it NOW.” Yena hastily pushes you onto the bed. “Close your eyes for me, oppa.”

Yena disappears behind your shut eyelids as you follow her command; the lack of a concrete visual aid only heightens your other senses. Shivers run down your back as Yena’s cold fingers wrap around your flaccid cock.

“I bet you imagine me under your desk secretly giving you a blowjob while Wooseok is in the next cubicle over, not knowing his favorite idol is giving you head. Go ahead, imagine it.”

Turns out she was listening earlier about Wooseok after all, but he becomes a distant memory as the subtle sound of Yena’s breasts clapping against each other from her aggressive handjob drowns out any other thoughts. As she swiftly strokes, Yena’s wet, pouty lips surround your tip, helping to evoke the image she’s attempting to paint. Your imagination finally conjures a representation of Yena to fill in the visual void: her face is full of cock, stuck between your parted thighs under your desk discreetly trying to milk you.

Her longing eyes meet your gaze, begging you to get hard for her, longing to feel what it’s like to be mouthfucked in such a public space. A tear streams down her cheek as Yena’s lips tighten, the confines of her tiny mouth shrinking until your tip manages to poke at the back of her throat. Unable to contain you anymore, she pulls off, her slobber trickling down your shaft as she continues stroking instead.

“Look at that, getting hard for me at the thought of office head. You like that, don’t you?”

“Mhmm. Go on,” you respond, eyes still closed, letting your imagination take you wherever Yena wants.

“I bet you thought of abusing your media privileges to get backstage at one of my concerts. But that’s not the only thing you’re abusing, is it? Catching me in the middle of a wardrobe change and abusing my used hole from behind. Can you hear that? That’s the sound of my fans screaming my name for an encore not knowing I’m screaming your name and chasing a different kind of encore.”

The office disappears. Suddenly, you find yourself in a dark corner backstage staring down at Yena’s sweaty bare back, her safety shorts pulled down to her ankles as she props herself up on some musical equipment cases. The sound of her clapping breasts serves as a proxy to the image of Yena’s ass cheeks rippling against your crotch with every imaginary thrust. Her pussy tightens as you thrust faster, but in reality, you know it’s just you getting harder to Yena’s maddening strokes.

“Mhmm. What else, baby? Fuck, keep going.”

“Bet you’ve jerked off in the office to all my teaser photos late at night after everyone’s gone home, even though you know you can get this pussy any time you want. You probably even imagine your idol girlfriend squirting all over your desk while you’re doing it. All of that while you try to meet your deadline for all those reviews you do for K-Pop girl group comebacks. But you know what, oppa?”

The room goes silent. The sudden lack of euphoria causes a blank image again, and so you open your eyes to see your fully-erect cock throbbing between Yena’s tiny hands. Satisfied with getting you hard, Yena’s hands have stopped stroking but continue to grip harshly around the base of your shaft.

“What?” you ask, praying that there’s more to this lunch break than just a quick hand job.

“None of them can sing the way that I do when you ram this big cock into my tight little pussy.”

She pumps one more time, putting your tip back into her mouth and giving the most sensitive part a lick. Her mouth delves deeper. Her hands fall off your cock, making way for those greedy lips that have now consumed the length of your shaft. Yena groans but refuses to come back up for air, then you see why: her hand reaches for your phone, placing it in front of her and propping it up against your stomach. After a few screen taps, she finally pulls off, saliva dribbling from between her lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You told me not to send you explicit photos, so I’m saving them instead so you can pull them up on your own time and jerk off to me whenever you want. See?” Yena turns the phone around, showing off the picture of your cock fully in her mouth, her eyes watering from holding it in so long.

That’s the perk of owning a smartphone when you date Yena.

“Fuck, Yena, you’re so fucking naughty.”

“Good. I’ve been thinking of shedding my bubbly image, maybe try a more mature concept.”

“Oh, yeah? How mature we talking?”

Her knees are an irritated pink as she gets up off the carpet. Yena arches down to give your tip one last lick before releasing you from her grip, finally backing up to allow you one final view of her outfit before it becomes one with the floor. Like your button down shirt, all it takes is a simple tug for Yena’s scratchy skirt to slide off her hips, and gravity does the rest.

Yena’s perfect pussy is always such a sight to behold. It was already unbelievable that she agreed to a date when you first met; it was meant as a joke to ease the tension when you first interviewed her. But to now have been to her apartment for the umpteenth time, to know the nymphomaniac hiding behind her squeaky clean idol image, and to have that body all to yourself whenever you wanted? This whole thing could’ve easily been mistaken for another one of Yena’s imaginary sexual concoctions.

This time, without your eyes closed, it’s clear all of this is as real as it gets.

“This mature enough for you, oppa?”

Yena’s hand sits just inches from her face. As she parts her fingers, you can see the look of excitement in her eyes admiring the strings of your precum and her earlier slick webbed between her fingers. She shuts them back together and sticks them into her mouth, sucking the cocktail off her digits and letting out a moan of satisfaction. She leaves a trail of saliva as she runs her fingers down her neck, through her cleavage, and across her tight core until her pilgrimage leads to her clit. Her other hand grabs at her chest, Yena now rubbing herself in her most sensitive regions, unable to hold back a muted moan even through a bitten lip.

“Mmm, I don’t think it’s mature enough. Still too much clothes. How about you take that top off?”

Yena chuckles. There is lust in her eyes, scheming a plan on how to best present her breasts. She doesn’t want to just take it off; she wants to make a show out of it, and so Yena finds a loose string in her top and tugs. The more she pulls, the further her top unravels, slowly stripping away the last of her decency and exposing her chest little by little. Her underboob starts to get exposed; her breasts look so supple in this teasing state, leaving you in a stupor. Yena catches you licking your lips, and she pinches off the long string of yarn before going any further.

“Why’d you stop?” you ask.

She doesn’t need words to answer when she can use her body. You prefer it, even, knowing just how well she’s used it in the past. Yena doesn’t even break eye contact as she moves toward you on the bed, once again kneeling between your legs and guiding your stiff member underneath what’s left of her top and in between her breasts. Thrust upward, and your tip manages to escape through the other side of her cleavage. Now you see why she stopped at exposing just her underboob.

“God, Yena, your tits are fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, bet you never thought of titfucking me, huh? I’m actually surprised we haven’t done this yet.”

Yena purses her lips, conjuring saliva that drips down to her chest below. Her fingers start to rub, lubricating her cleavage with her bodily fluids. The sight alone causes you to throb uncontrollably between Yena’s pillows. She finally gives the command when she’s finally done.

“Fuck me, oppa.”

The feeling is somewhat unfamiliar as you push and pull against her chest for the first time. It’s euphoric, not unlike thrusting between Yena’s pink walls, but it’s the velvety softness hugging your shaft from both sides that really makes it extra special.

Yena lets out a moan. It’s just as pleasurable for her as it is for you, it seems. You increase your speed with each subsequent thrust, causing Yena’s contained breasts to heave heavily with rippling waves forming on the surface.

“Tell me how much you love fucking my tits, oppa.”

It’s hard to even answer her with how much focus it takes to thrust between her chest, but she takes your grunts as a sign of approval. Yena smiles back up at you, and you can’t help but think of ruining that pretty little face, those perky lips, and that blessed chest. Grab at her pigtails like they’re handle bars, and Yena purrs like a Harley. It stabilizes you, allowing you to rev faster between her breasts.

“Fuck, Yena, you’re so fucking amazing.”

Yena winces, but it’s not like she isn’t used to rough sex. She loves it, only goading you on more.

“Oh, I see you like it rough,” Yena says in response. “I can play that game, too.”

She reaches for the bullet vibrator on the floor, turns it on, and tucks it between her chest, wedging it under your shaft for mutual stimulation. Yena’s words come out in a raspy vibrato: “You like that , don’t youuuuu~?”

The feeling is intense: muscles spasming, toes curling, fingers tugging tighter on Yena’s black locks. It’s almost a little too much, feeling like you could cum on Yena at any given moment with how mind-numbingly good it is. You respond back with a low growl, surprised that it comes out with the same pulsating pitch as Yena.

Keep going. Yena’s saliva has long been dried up between her chest, leaving her skin in a reddish irritated state where your skin roughly rubs against hers. Somehow, fucking her tits still feels as good as the first thrust: with every push, beads of sweat begin to percolate down her neck and upper chest thanks to the hot and humid action, flowing down her cleavage and starting the lubrication anew.

“Cum all over my chest, oppa. I want it everywhere.”

You want to be defiant to her words, to hold out just a little longer and enjoy every moment. Yena can see it in the way you bite your bottom lip, can feel it in her hair tangling even tighter in your grasp. You try to look away, hoping that avoiding eye contact with Yena will prolong the inevitable. You try to think of anything else other than fucking your girlfriend’s tits silly. You try everything, but it isn’t nearly enough.

“It’s cute that you think you can hold out any longer, oppa.”

Yena grasps across her body underneath her breasts with one hand, pushing her chest together and suffocating your cock even more. Her other hand grips at your tip; with each thrust between her chest, she strokes, only further stimulating you. With her bullet vibrator still wedged between her chest and the underside of your shaft, there’s not much you can do to prevent the inevitable, and so when Yena tells you to cum all over her chest, you do as she says—there’s no negotiation.

“Fuck, Yena!”

You toss your head back and thrust upward one last time, holding her in place by her pigtails to ensure she receives the full force skyrocketing out of your cock. Yena grabs at your exposed shaft that throbs in her hands, coaxing every last drop out of you. Each of Yena’s strokes beat in time with each explosion that sprays her chest in white until there’s nothing left to give.

Yena’s chest is a mess, nothing but a wasteland of cum. Even her lips are painted in white as it drips in globs down her chin and back into the used crevice that heaves heavily around your softening cock. She grabs your phone again, taking more pictures of the artwork you just painted on her, lips protruding and proudly showing off your cum like a trophy.

“These look so great, oppa. You’re gonna love jerking off to these later!” Yena takes a second to admire the photos she took before finally slipping out of her top and turning off her vibrator.

Yena desperately looks around for something to wipe off the sticky load you left her. There’s no towels or tissues to be seen. She debates even using her skirt but eventually settles on her panties to wipe herself down, the purple undergarment now a creamy white as she tosses it toward the headboard.

“Now it’s my turn. Need you to make me cum.”

Yena pushes you down onto the bed, swinging one leg over you and hovering over your softening cock.

“This won’t do,” she says again.

“I don’t know if I have the strength to go again, Yena.”

“Maybe this might change your mind.”

Yena lowers herself onto you, her glistening pussy rubbing against the underside of your shaft, gyrating against you to change your mind. Her lips part ever so slightly at just the slightest pressure your tip exerts, revealing just how wet she already is. You can tell she wants to push further, wants to fill herself up with your cock, but if there’s one thing that Yena enjoys more than sex, it’s the chase.

She knows just how hypersensitive your cock is after an orgasm, and so she grinds harder to get you erect again. Let her. It’s what she’s good at.

Slowly, your cock starts to grow again. She continues, letting your shaft glide between the smoothness of her outer lips. When your tip pushes against her clit, she lets out a moan, causing you to leak a little more cum, her rosy slit now tinged in a hint of your white glaze. Yena pulls away with a smirk seeing you at full erection. She’s done her job, sowing the seeds in your mind to sow your seed in her.

“I guess you can just go back to work if that’s what you really want.” She feigns disinterest, looking away as she starts to dismount. By now, it’s a game of chicken seeing who’s the first to break, but the thing about Yena is that she never loses. Of course not. Who would dare turn down sex with Yena?

Tug at her hips and pull her back in. You know how this goes. This isn’t some random one night stand, this is Yena: idol, sex extraordinaire, owner of your cock. And so the moment she feels your fingers gripping her ass and pulling her back in, she knows she’s won.

“Good,” Yena says with a smile, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“Shut up,” you playfully tell her.

“Fill me up, oppa. Don’t go slow, either. Hard and fast. I’m already so close.”

You thrust upward into Yena, penetrating her easily as she lets out a sharp exhale. It’s effortless with how much she already got off on her vibrator and with how familiar she is with your cock. It’s home for you, living between her warm, inviting walls. You’d stay longer inside her and enjoy the moment if you could, but Yena wants hard and fast, so you give her exactly what she asks for.

Pull out halfway, slam back in, then repeat. It isn’t hard; you’ve done it before. Each thrust sends Yena’s head back further as she shuts her eyes, letting you do all the work. The cum you left on Yena’s pussy lips earlier starts to lather your shaft, creating a warm, creamy mess that starts to drip out of her slit with each penetration.

“That’s it, oppa. Fuck, you’re so big.”

Your nails dig deeper into her hips, gripping her firmly as you mindlessly fuck Yena into oblivion. She sucks in through gritted teeth, soldiering through the pain and taking in all the pleasure of your ramming cock. Yena’s breasts, still glistening with a mixture of sweat and leftover cum, bounce wildly up and down, keeping time with your pelvis crashing upward against her body.

“Ugh! So fucking good! Can’t believe how fucking good this cock feels in me.”

It’s too much to handle, having to do all the work while Yena stays stationary above you, screaming at the top of her lungs like she’s riding a roller coaster. She isn’t gonna shut up any time soon with how much she’s enjoying herself either, so you roll and toss her onto the bed; you’re the one hovering above her now.

Yena giggles. For how commanding she’s been during this lunch break, she still loves getting forced around and used like a rag doll. Her eyes open, giving a signal to push her further, to use her like a sponge and soak up all your cum.

“That’s it, oppa, make me your cumdump. F-fuck, right there, oppa, right there!”

Turn her around, force her diaphragm against the mattress so she stops quacking. It still isn’t enough.

“Stop being a tease and stick it back in! Fill my hole with cum, oppa. Make me dripping wet.”

You grab her soaked panties, the one she tossed on the bed after wiping herself off—there’s no reason to let all that cum go to waste. Ball it up and shove it into her mouth. She did say to fill her hole with cum; that’s her fault for not specifying which hole.

“Mmpph!” Yena cries out.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

It’s a good pacifier and she loves it. Yena can only let out muted moans as you thrust back into her from behind. You push your hand against the small of her back, causing her ass to perk up for you and forcing any air out through her nose in an audible exhale. You give her ass a good slap; watch as it ripples against your crotch. Yena squirms and jerks forward, letting another moan escape between her cum-soaked duck lips.

She grabs at your phone again, unlocks it with a tap of “2909”—her birthday, of course—and starts to find the right angle for another photo to add to the growing collection. Leave it to Yena to make it Instagram-worthy, crawling a little to the left to make sure the sunlight hits her face just right, tilting her phone for the perfect shot.

“Mmm?” Yena asks as she lifts the phone up to let you admire the photo now saved for eternity in the cloud.

You like what you see on that tiny screen as you continue to pound her from behind. It’s the first time seeing her gagging on her panties between those protruding lips. Cum leaks down the corner of her mouth, catching between her cleavage in the bottom of the photo. The high angle also manages to capture her tiny, squishy butt and your tireless cock pistoning between her reddened cheeks.

“Looks so good, Yena. Such an obedient duck.”

You collapse onto her back; it’s exhausting trying to make your duck cum. One hand reaches underneath her, her nipples still hard as they’re pinched between your fingers. Your other hand grabs at her throat. She gulps, and you can feel that lump of cum going down her trachea. You run your lips on the side of her sweaty neck, tasting the tang of her sexual frustration.

“You’re so fucking tight, Yena. So close, aren’t you?”

Your hand releases Yena’s throat to reach out for her vibrator at the edge of the bed. You slide it underneath her, feeling around until it touches her clit. One flick is all it takes to turn her vibrator on, and she shudders, throwing her ass upward towards you when she feels that sensation pulsating against her sensitive hood. It’s too much for her. She tries to escape, tries to prolong the inevitable, but you push her back down with your cock and let her feel it, her own toy vibrating at maximum speed against her needy pussy.

“Ngghh~!”

Yena’s hands now grasp harshly at her bed sheets. Her crescendoing moans fight their way through her makeshift gag, back arching as her face drowns in her pillow—every telltale sign that Yena is close.

“It’s cute that you think you can hold out any longer, Yena,” you tell her, teasing her with the same sentiment she gave you earlier.

A couple more thrusts and Yena can’t take it anymore. She finally succumbs to her orgasm, her body convulsing, core tightening, pussy pulsating. You let her ride it out by continuing to thrust into her, but you start to feel yourself arriving at the same end as Yena.

Your grunts join Yena’s moans. Her walls constrict against your shaft. Warm bodily fluids flow out from between her pussy lips. You can’t tell if it’s yours or Yena’s. Doesn’t matter. You keep going until both of you are too drained to continue, stopping only after Yena’s flailing body eventually goes limp.

“Yena?”

You flip her around to make sure she’s still alive. Yena’s eyes stare off past the ceiling in a daze. Her breasts act as buoys, floating up and down with every inhale and exhale. Below, her bedsheets are marked with her essence in a huge puddle soaking into the polyester. Your own cum drips onto the bed sheets out of her pussy that’s almost unrecognizable behind the overflowing load.

You pull out the used lingerie out of her mouth. It’s completely clean, your cum now lining her stomach like the foie gras meal she is.

“That. Was. Amazing,” Yena manages to express, every word coming out in a drawn out breath.

You collapse once again, this time next to her, your arm reaching across her bare midriff for a quick cuddle. Yena grabs your phone one last time, taking one last picture from between her legs and capturing the collective mess.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, oppa?”

You glance at your phone in Yena’s hand noticing it’s been nearly an hour since you clocked out of the office.

You lunge out of the bed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Man, these photos came out great, too, oppa!” Yena’s eyes widen as she scrolls through your phone, admiring all the photos she took while you hurriedly put your clothes back on.

“Can you hand me my keys and phone, babe?”

“Sure thing, oppa. Let me just put these photos in a secure folder for safe keeping.” When she finally finishes, she hands you the phone along with your keys.

“Gotta go,” you tell Yena, kissing her on her cheek. “I’ll call you later, maybe dinner tonight if you’re not busy?”

“Sure. And tell Wooseok I hope he enjoys the rest of his day!”

“Cool, see you tonight.”

* * *

It’s nearly 3:50 PM before Wooseok finally comes back from his lunch break.

“Dude, where have you been? It’s almost 4!” you tell Wooseok as he walks past your desk.

“Holy shit, dude. Those pictures your girlfriend sent me were so fucking hot. Completely drained me. Almost didn’t come back to work.”

“Photos? What photos are you talking about?”

Wooseok pulls out his phone, making sure no one else in the office can see all the photos Yena took of herself with your phone. “She texted these to me from your number,” he says with a big grin.

You hurriedly pull out your phone and confirm that Yena did, in fact, send all of the photos she took while at her apartment to Wooseok along with a message:

Hi Wooseok oppa! This is Yena, hope you enjoy these pictures of me 😄 consider it fan service for being one of my biggest fans and a sign of good faith that you won’t leak my relationship. See you at the next fan meet xoxo

There isn’t anything you can do about it now except to pray that Wooseok’s loyalty to Yena is strong enough to not ruin her career as well as yours.

“Please, Wooseok—”

“Don’t worry, I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Wooseok says after noticing the look of horror on your face. “But I’m definitely keeping these photos.”

And to think this all could’ve been avoided if you didn’t use Yena’s birthday as your passcode.

That’s the danger of owning a smartphone when you date Yena.

#kpop smut #izone smut #yena smut #male reader #reader insert

[makeste]

BnHA Episode 122, a.k.a. NOBUHIKO YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN

THEY CAN'T KEEP LETTING HIM GET AWAY WITH IT!

oh my god.

so first off, let's just get the one big major criticism out of the way: this episode was definitely not up to the same high quality standards as the first third of this season. and hey, I get it! you're doing 24 episodes in all, you're on a time crunch, and you've only got so many animators to go around. and the quality of some of these earlier season 6 eps (118 and 119 especially) was seriously some of the best this series has ever had. by contrast, chapters 284 and 285, while still easily ranking among my favorite chapters of all time, definitely do not go as hard with the visuals as some of the other War arc chapters (that very last 285 page being the one standout exception).

anyway so yeah, it was still a slight disappointment, but I'm fine with it. it does mean Deku vs Kacchan 2 will still retain its crown as my all time fave, but the real meat of this episode was never going to be about the flashy visuals -- it's all about that sweet, sweet character development.

two more very minor criticisms before I get to the OMG nonstop gushing part of this post! one, they did cut out this scene from ch 282 where Tomura originally had TWO quirk-be-gone bullets in his possession and Kacchan actually destroyed the second one.

YOU THOUGHT WE WOULDN'T REMEMBER, BONES. BUT WE DID. so for everyone who is giving Kacchan his well-earned love, praise, and admiration today, don't forget to also give him props for saving Aizawa's other leg, or whichever other appendage this doubtless would have hit. my boy out here lowkey saving his sensei from being ReDestro'd.

and then one final nitpicky little quibble, which is that the anime subtitlers declined to use the "Catch-A-Kacchan" translation, despite it being the single cleverest translation of all time, and by far Caleb Cook's biggest and most important contribution to the BnHA canon. alas, twas not meant to be. BUT ANYWAY NOW ON TO THE GUSHING.

okay so first off, we all know that Aizawa is an absolute badass and the most metal motherfucker in this entire series, and that Shouto has by this point all but perfected the art of swooping in to save the day at pivotal moments, and that the U.A. kids all need ALL OF THE THERAPY GODDAMMIT, and that Deku is a COMPLETE LUNATIC who thinks that HAVING FUNCTIONAL ARMS IS OVERRATED ANYWAYS. yes and yes and yes and yes. and if you wish, you can read all about my thoughts on these things and more, here and here and here and here.

but you already know what I actually came here to talk about today.

first of all, YOU GUYS. the music. THIS FUCKING MUSIC, THOUGH. they used the exact same OST track that was used for the "why was I the one who ended All Might?" speech all the way back in DvK2. THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE "TIME FOR NOBUHIKO TO FLEX HIS VOICE ACTING CHOPS" MUSIC. A TRADITION HAS BEEN BORN.

anyway so if anyone needs me I'll just be sitting here playing this scene on repeat until the end of time. no big deal though. I can quit at any time. not like I'm obsessed with it or anything. I definitely love this scene and this character a perfectly normal amount.

All Might talking about how Katsuki understood from the get-go about how OFA was a secret that could put other people at great risk really hits hard in hindsight. especially when you realize that Katsuki really did know right from the start, and he willingly accepted that risk with no hesitation, and he absolutely did suffer consequences for it (it was his knowledge of OFA that led to him following Deku and subsequently getting involved in this battle). and I don't doubt that he has absolutely zero regrets.

okay but can we seriously just talk for a sec about the way Kacchan's anxiety is practically boiling over when he starts to ask All Might about the Fourth's cause of death?? I feel like this is one thing that kind of got overlooked at the time in the manga because we were so completely distracted by EVERY SINGLE OTHER DAMN THING IN THAT CHAPTER lol. but hearing it again here, you feel how worried he actually is about Deku, and idk why but it all of a sudden just hit me so damn hard.

"I'm worried about him. you are, too." because that truly is what this whole conversation is really about. or at least that's the driving force behind it. behind this whole episode, in fact. it's simple, when you get right down to it: Kacchan is afraid that Deku is going to die. it's literally been the biggest fear on his mind ever since Deku unlocked SIXQUIRKS. right from the start, his mind was immediately going to the worst case scenarios. he immediately deduced that OFA might have a deeper connection to AFO than any of them realized (shoutout to Kacchan for being the original "Deku is a horcrux" truther lol. ONE DAY HORIKOSHI WILL FINALLY REVEAL THE TRUTH AND PROVE US RIGHT). he instantly zeroed in on the sobering fact that all of the previous OFA users died young. and as he reveals here, he took particular notice of the fact that All Might seems to be hiding something about OFA IV's death, and he is goddamn PRESSED about it.

and I absolutely LOVE the way that Nobu voiced this part of the conversation. when he starts to question All Might, his breathing starts to pick up a little, and his voice starts to get louder, and the words start to spill out faster and faster almost like he's in a rush to get it all out, and his voice starts to crack just a little, and he goes from not looking at All Might to hesitantly, almost fearfully glancing at him from the side, and then finally turning to face him head on with his eyes all wary and his teeth gritted like he's bracing himself for the very worst (because he is).

and then he finally just asks him, "was it because you realized something?" and then he takes in this achingly hesitant little breath before finishing with, "...about One for All?" and just. the whole scene is just SO well done. like, he's seriously so fucking scared about this, though. but at the same time he just needs to know, and just. oh my god. and Nobuhiko manages to emote all of this so clearly, and that is such a difficult line to walk when you're dealing with a character like Katsuki who's always so hesitant to show his vulnerability. he has to portray these two separate layers of Bakugou at the same time -- the part of him that is trying his hardest to be nonchalant and matter-of-fact in order to hide his fears and emotions; while at the same time also portraying said emotions which are clearly seeping through anyway, regardless of his efforts.

anyway so yeah. I could talk about this for eighty years and never get sick of it honestly but let's move on.

let me tell you guys, I've been bracing myself for this scene for two full years, and it still kicked my ass. THIS SCENE HAD NO REGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE. literally RIGHT IN the feels. direct hit.

"he's always been that way." no, but guys. the regret when he says that. the way he states it with such simplicity and clarity. almost profound. this is just a truth of the world. this is just how Deku is. this is something that took him so long to understand, but now that he does, he can't fathom how he was never able to see it before. and then that ever-so-slight bitterness that creeps into his voice as he goes on to describe how he fucked it all up. ;_;

and then last but not least!!

"ijimeta." one word, in Japanese. it all comes down to that. and his voice gets so quiet. this whole last part of his speech is so quiet and so soft. but when he says this very last part, his voice wavers perfectly on that last word, and it just. sounds so resigned, somehow, but also just... almost faltering, for just a moment. you can hear the regret as clear as day, but you also hear the fear once again as he finally reveals this fact -- literally his biggest shame; the worst thing that he's ever done -- to All Might. his hero. just, damn.

anyway. so needless to say, despite my expectations being SKY HIGH, this scene absolutely met all of them and blew me away. as expected from the best fucking voice actor in Japan, according to me, a single lone person, whose subjective opinion is absolutely definitely not biased in any possible way.

back to the action! and Nobu getting to do his very best Deku impression lol.

can you believe this kid. one single nerdy analysis speech was all it took for him to start emitting such powerful Main Character Energy that even Endeavor got taken in and was just automatically following orders lol.

awesome choice of music here while Deku and Tomura continued to battle and Bakugou laid out his plan. you know it's good when they still manage to make you feel the tension even though this is basically just a generic action scene, and you additionally already know exactly what's going to happen.

I have no idea why, but that part with Deku's "Kacchan... my 'Deku' means 'you can do it!'" speech juxtaposed against the image of him going all out against Tomura with such fierce determination hit me like 100x harder than it did in the manga. I was NOT expecting that to be as powerful as it was. damn near gave me chills.

literally the only time I've ever been on board with the whole "FUCK YEAH, I'LL JUST BREAK ALL MY BONES AT YOU!!" deal lol. it literally makes no goddamn sense but this scene is just so raw.

THEN WE YEET THE ENDEAVOR!!!!

SO ON-BRAND. NO DEKU-INSPIRED PLAN IS EVER TRULY COMPLETE WITHOUT A GOOD YEETING.

and then the next few moments are some of the most legitimately unsettling of the entire series, as we have Tomura screaming at the top of his lungs while being burnt to cinders (and I mean, I love Tomura dearly, but I get it; he literally just Thanos'd tens of thousands of innocent people), followed by AFO's creepy fucking ghost hand reaching out all "LEND ME YOUR BODY~~~" which is a scene that absolutely NO ONE ASKED FOR but okay.

but then right afterwards though! when AFO finally did take over, and you hear that "TV shutting down" sound effect all of a sudden? and then the next few scenes with all the BKDK flashbacks are also weirdly TV-themed? I could not for the life of me figure this out at first, but now I'm actually thinking it could be a reference to the chapter 306 color page?

OR MAYBE NOT? I actually have no idea. anyway though it may have been random af but it worked for me, what can I say.

AND THEN THE MOMENT OF TRUTH AT LONG LAST.

THIS ACTUALLY IS SO PRETTY THOUGH?? LIKE I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT COLOR COMBINATION AT ALL?

AND IT HAPPENS SO QUICKLY!!!!??? YOU BARELY EVEN HAVE TIME TO BLINK?!?!!

oh. my. god.

THE WAY THE MUSIC SUDDENLY GOT QUIET. THE WAY HIS NARRATING VOICE CAME ON AND, PRAISE EVERYTHING, IT REALLY WAS DEEPER. THAT REALLY WAS THE ADULT HIM. SAME AS DEKU. MY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS ARE SO FUCKING MUCH RIGHT NOW.

AND THEN THE FLASHBACKS!! THE SCENES OF THEM IN MIDDLE SCHOOL!! AND GROUND ZERO!! AND THEN CUTTING TO THE TWO OF THEM AS LITTLE BABIES, AND THE TV SCREEN ALL OF A SUDDEN SWITCHING TO COLOR??? AND THE HANDS??? THE REACHING?!?!

AND THEN?!?!?!

"HEY MAKESTE, IF WE GO AHEAD AND ACTUALLY MAKE THE VOLUME 29 COVER CANON, WILL YOU FINALLY FORGIVE US FOR ALL OF THE HALF-BAKED PAINFULLY OOC FILLER EPISODES AND OVAS?" WELL, STUDIO BONES, YOU DRIVE A HARD BARGAIN, BUT HOW CAN I POSSIBLY REFUSE.

AND THEN THEY FULL ON MURDERED ME!!!!!

that's right bitches. DREAD IT. RUN FROM IT. THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ARRIVES ALL THE SAME.

holy shit. and then THE END CREDITS oh my freaking heart. words can't even describe.

Studio Bones out here not resting until they've succeeded in making EVERY SINGLE PERSON feel the MAXIMUM AMOUNT OF SADNESS THAT A HUMAN BEING CAN SUSTAIN. their callousness truly knows no bounds.

anyway so there we have it! part one of the spectacular season 6 Bakugou Katsuki Redemption Saga. I laughed, I cried, I cried, I cried, I cried a little bit more, and then I cried a little bit more after that. final verdict: yeah, it was pretty good.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha season 6 #bnha episode 122 #bakugou katsuki #bakugou meta #makeste watches bnha #okamoto nobuhiko appreciation post #and I feel character development in this chili's tonight

[curious-sootball]

Rewatching the beginning of a campaign with the Deadlands lore and Q&A in mind is An Experience™️

First, Johnny's hints become increasingly hilarious; they're trying so hard to give the rest of the party hints on what's going on while maintaining the bumbling old man persona its a show in itself (also, is it just me or is Jane hell-bent on not metagaming things? She played Deadlands before, she's clearly aware of the meta, and I had no idea until watching the Q&A)

One big, nay, giant "what if" idea that keeps nagging on my brain is Garnet, Nate and Delacy being more social in Dead Man's Worth(ep. 2 and 3) - what if they talked to the other contestants(more than just Slim Hawkins) and tried to tilt the odds in their favour? Like, Andy straight-up said he had written the backstories for all the contestants, and since I watched a good chunk of "The quick and the dead" thanks to this campaign, I have a big thick suspicion about some of them(especially those of Hattie McGuill, Rosa Conamerania and Big Bill). Imagine if all of them decided to talk and agreed on making Ben Bellows's day an absolute nightmare - how much faster and funnier the contest would've been? Andy could even keep the tone whiplash from planning to troll and trolling Bellows to him still straight up slaughtering his opponents anyway(e.g. Delacy shooting the gun out of Rex Randall's hand to rightfully eliminate him from the contest, and Bellows shooting Rex through the throat in an all-out gunfight later anyway. Bonus points if he would've came back as a Harrowed and complained about the bullet wound fucking up his vocal chords).

Also, other contestants could've had clues that Bellows isn't as human as he'd like to appear to tip the players off about what was really going on, and I'm kinda surprised they hadn't tried that line of investigation. (Also#2 - was the bartender supposed to be suspicious??? Because "The quick and the dead" has both a cowed saloon owner and a guy shot in both hands the exact same way The Jewel's bartender is - except the second guy was a cocky trick shooter who falsely claimed credit to one of the villain's kills while being in said villain's hearing range. That guy fucked around and found out; and while I'm reasonably sure it wasn't the case for The Jewel's bartender, was this detail supposed to be a clue that cast decided to ignore???).

Third thing about Dead Man's Worth - I love how Andy tweaked the contest rules from "The quick and the dead" - Bellows gives contestants a clear reason to fight each other over teaming up and fighting him directly(a pre-drawn elimination brackets instead of anyone challenging anyone else and killing being optional and becoming mandatory halfway through the contest). Combine this with the prize and the only way to sow more discord among the contestants would've been to yeet a gilded apple with "for the sharpest aim" written on its side into the crowd on day 1 of the contest. This absolute motherfucker of a character(also, I strongly suspect that his bodyguards/gunmen are people from his cavalry unit and most of the other population of the town is their families). I can see why Andy brought him back in the finale.

One more thing: after I looked up the lore, Johnny's reaction to the Dishonourable judge M.T. Boudreau became comedy gold(judge himself also became funnier, but he's not in the spotlight now). Like, they played Nate so fucking smart in that arc, I love it. (Also - imagine if judge could actually kinda see demons attached to the characters and tried threatening Garnet's demon with arresting them for swearing/murdering their huckster after the trial?). Also - am I the only one that looked up the official illustrations of Hangin' Judges and found it kinda underwhelming? Those tiny blades really don't fit the "sword-gun things that he's trying to shoot you to death with" description; Andy made them sound so goddamn cool and the official illustration didn't live up to hype (to me).

#oxventure #oxventure deadlands #oxventure deadlands headcanons

[sonofthesaiyans]

A 21-Gun 'Fuck You' to Isayama's little bastard child....

Well guys, another day, another birthday in the Attack on Titan canon. But there are no warm wishes, no fond feelings to be had for this one. Nothing but the blood of the innocent innocent all over her hands. And the beginning of the end of Titan as we knew it.

For it is none other than the biggest mistake in all of anime, GABI BRAUN.

There's the look of a girl who's out to fuck an entire franchise.

To have to put her face on my profile truly makes me feel uncomfortable; I would feel better off if I never had to acknowledge the existence of someone as unlikable and as forced as Gabi, the character who has singlehandedly ensured that I will never EVER watch the series again from start to finish.

Still not enough words to describe my hatred for this bitch. Ever since her debut in the manga, Gabi has been nothing but poison to damn near every aspect of Attack on Titan, and while fans and critics may remain convinced that Eren Yeager was still the focus of the story after the ocean, that for a time was nothing but a motherfucking lie, as everything seems to shift its gears towards forcing Gabi Braun as the new hero of the franchise, a similarly overpowered, out of her depth suicidal bitch who Hajime Isayama REFUSES to let come to harm under any circumstances, and in fact seemed to take a perverse pleasure in how much he could defy the fandom's hostile reactions to her obnoxious, overzealous, and aggressive personality.

I've spoken at length about how truly awful Gabi is, for how much she takes over the story out of the blue and how far her worst fans will go to defend her, with Isayama himself and his overly defensive fans and critics pushing this nonsense "redemption arc" that some still insist was critical to Titan's final resolution. Right, a character who was only introduced in the final act of the story is the one who takes priority over everyone whom we've followed since season one, over her own fucking cousin Reiner, over Eren, over Mikasa, over Historia.....And that's not even getting into the biggest victim of all of this yet.

Yeah, this is the girl so many deluded fans will rush to defend, you take one look at this and you realize right out the gate she's nothing but bad news. An overly toxic character who by herself makes the story increasingly more uncomfortable to sit through, and yet gets a free pass because, say it with me now........"SHE'S JUST A KID"......

Yeah. A kid who regardless of upbringing clearly is NOT right in the head.

And yet THIS is the character we push this goddamn "break the cycle" message with, this is the kid who we have to thank for that "children of the forest" horseshit. Well maybe some people are not worth rescue from the forest......

Gabi just an open condescension of the audience, and Isayama does everything in his power to frame us as being in the wrong for following our natural inclination to hate her guts, and to force sympathy for her when she's done nothing to earn it, and has never received lasting consequences for her actions.

Any sympathy I could have POSSIBLY felt for Gabi went out the window years ago. And it all comes down to one fucking reason:

It doesn't matter how much time passes, it does not matter how many excuses I hear, it does not matter how many self-righteous little fuckheads I square off with online who try to hit back at me with "You just didn't get it!" ..........Absolutely NOTHING will make me forgive what Gabi did to Sasha. A character who had all the potential to be something so much more and who was so profoundly iconic in the series, just to be cruelly cut down like garbage to move the plot of an unwanted newbie who's name has since become synonymous with "garbage".

Never ever can I forget that horrifying from Assassin's Bullet, where Gabi stole Sasha from us. Gabi Braun is the only character in fiction to actually cause me lasting emotional and psychological damage. Of all the horrifying scenes Attack on Titan has given, that ISAYAMA has given us, Sasha bleeding out from the mouth and sent out on the most inappropriate and insensitive last words possible is the one scene I DID NOT NEED.

ALL BECAUSE OF GABI BRAUN!

The fact that that bastard Isayama would be sol deluded to think he can force sympathy for Gabi after having pulled a stunt like that, a scene so emotionally manipulative and disrespectful, the fact that he would have us tolerate her existence after such a spectacle....And the fact that she survived to the end after what she did to Sasha, and after all she did to provoke Eren's assault upon the world, again after facing no lasting repercussions for any of it.

And let me tell you something, looking up these images, seeing those disgusting scenes of Assassin's Bullet still brings great anger to me, reminding me how badly I still wish to see Gabi die for all of this, how much I hate Hajime Isayama, and how much I still wish to personally rip the man a new one for everything he's done since the day he published the chapter that brought on this VILE piece of animation.

And the fact that some fans have the AUDACITY to imply that Sasha and Gabi are anything alike, right down to their physical appearance, a notion that the anime and manga themselves promoted in their tasteless attempt to draw a parallel between the two of them in their encounters with Kaya.....It's a lie and a farce that I find personally offensive and stomach churning even now. There were so many ways they could have executed Gabi's story, and if it had been done any other way where she didn't have such egregious plot armor and wasn't so clearly overplayed and overpromoted by Isayama for the entire final act, MAYBE somewhere in my heart I might've found a speck of sympathy for Gabi.

If the story had made room for her AND Sasha, things might have been very different around here......

But it's far too late. The damage is done, and for me the damage is lasting. And there is absolutely NO number of excuses today by the few fans Gabi does have that could ever make me see things from her perspective, let alone wish her anything other than a cruel demise to match the one she dealt to Sasha and the billions she got killed by provoking Eren with her recklessness. And to this day, I will NEVER understand what the hell Falco ever saw in her. Nothing good can come from a relationship with someone with the kind of of blood on her hands that Gabi has.

So no sympathy points for Gabi, let alone a 'Happy Birthday'.

And as a parting gift to her and her fans....

A little souvenir from a friend of mine...

If you haven't figured out who I got this from yet....... let's just say she manages to make a chainsaw headed dog a lot cuter than any living soul could have accomplished voicing Gabi Braun. And for her, I have a lot more respect.

And if you know who I mean Gabi fans, sorry to tell you I got to say my piece first. Chew on that.

And speaking of chew.....

Happy Birthday, Gabi Braun.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #gabi hate #gabi aot #i hate gabi #gabi braun #gabi snk #garbage braun #anti gabi braun #fuck gabi #fuck attack on titan #fuck isayama #fuck eren #anti mappa #aot mappa #mappa studio #mappa #hajime isayama #anti hajime isayama #anti attack on titan #anti snk 105 #snk 105 #anti assassin's bullet #fuck assassin's bullet #snk anime #snk spoilers #i hate isayama

[smartycvnt]

Over It

Title: Over It

Pairing: Albert Wesker x Reader

Summary: Ash gets sent out to go after Wesker in Africa, but their meeting doesn't go according to the plan.

Word Count: 781

Warnings: some fighting

As far as anybody was concerned, Ash was ready to be deployed. She had been briefed on the trade of bioweapons in the area, the locals, and the potential big game players. Excella Gionne's money had bought the best of the best, which meant that Albert wasn't Umbrella's bitch boy anymore. Now, there was someone new calling the shots. Ash wasn't as nervous about Excella as she would have been one of the sociopaths running Umbrella. A spoiled rich bitch was still within Ash's paygrade.

"There are some spots up ahead that look kind of spotty. We might lose communication." Ash heeded the warning. That made her a bit nervous, but she had done solo missions before. She was one of the BSAA's best agents, and before that, Ash had been a STARS prospect.

"Copy that. I'll keep my head on a swivel boss," Ash answered back. She knew that if she sounded nervous, the big bosses back home would start to sweat. Kijuju wasn't technically hostile territory yet, but Ash knew that their soldiers had been given some shit. Some of the reports had been weird, but nobody wanted to make a big deal otu of it yet.

Ash tried to think of a way to calm herself as the vehicle approached the first checkpoint. She pulled her personal gun out from its hiding space in the chest of her body armor. She popped the magazine out and counted her bullets. Not all bullets were created equal, but Ash had picked the cream of the crop for her baby. It had never jammed on her, and she wasn't willing to let that start on this mission.

"Why did we just stop?" Ash asked as she slipped the gun back into her armor. Her question was answered in the form of her driving screaming before his throat was ripped out. Ash could see the blood spray the window before the doors were unlocked and opened. Ash's heart was racing as she waited for whatever took the driver to come for her.

"You know, I had always hoped you'd be the smart one, Ash. I mean, Chris has always been a bit of a meathead, and Jill's too stubborn for her own good, but you? You could have lived a long, healthy life working at the Pentagon or something. You should have taken a page out of Kennedy's book," Albert said. Ash grit her teeth and clenched her jaw to keep herself from saying anything to him.

Albert circled around Ash like a hunter circling its prey. Ash tried to look away from him, but Albert seemed to find his way into her field of vision no matter what. Things weren't supposed to go this way. Ash had hoped that she'd be so full of anger and hatred for what Albert did that her emotions wouldn't be a factor in this. Instead, she felt nothing except for conflict.

"I was hoping that it wouldn't have to come to this. I'd have to see such a good fuck killed in the line of duty, but I guess you never were overly intelligent," Albert said. That seemed to set something off in Ash, who lunged at him to attack. She tackled Albert down to the ground and started wailing punches on him.

"You motherfucking bastard!" Ash screamed. All of the betrayal and pent up emotions from the Spencer Mansion incident came pouring out. Albert had accepted the position of STARS captain knowing what it meant with the intention of leaving everybody for dead. He had no integrity, and if Ash's orientation had been a few days earlier, she would have ended up like the rest of their unit.

"Are you sure that this is what you want?" Ash stared down at Albert through the sights of her handgun. It was the personal one, and not her primary BSAA weapon. Albert recognized it immediately as the bribery gift towards ASh to get her to join his unit instead of continuing with her Spec Ops training. "Is this how it's going to end for us? I always thought we could be more."

"Fuck," Ash sighed. "Fuck! Goddamn it!"

"You can't do it. I've always known that you were weak," Albert sneered. Ash pulled the hammer back on the gun and shut her eyes. Albert was smirking as he watched Ash's hands shake. She wasn't going to press that trigger, and he knew it. On top of that, she had made it even easier for Jill to come and grab Ash from on top of him. "I do hope that you'll learn to behave on your own. The serums and scarabs have some pretty nasty side effects."

#my writing #one shot #resident evil x reader #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Baby, You’re Like Lightning In A Bottle

Touching Bart is like getting struck by lightning.  It’s addictive, and Jaime doesn’t want to stop.

     The first time it happens, Jaime brushes it off as a heat-of-the-moment desperation for comfort on Bart’s part.  

     Not that he can really blame the speedster for being clingy.  The battle was intense, and anyone would be shaken up after being shot in the leg.  Hell, he’s pretty shaken up by it and he wasn’t even the one who got shot.  The loud rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire and Bart’s pained yelp are going to haunt him for a long time.

     Luckily, the bullet went straight through, so they don’t have to worry about Bart’s leg healing with the bullet still inside.  Apparently that was something that happened to Wally once and it was not fun for anyone involved.  Still, Jaime can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the bloody hole in the leg of Bart’s suit.

     They’re sitting in the Bioship, exhausted after a long day of fighting, when Bart drops his head on Jaime’s shoulder and casually takes hold of his hand before passing the fuck out.

     Jaime very much does not make an undignified noise of surprise, nor does his brain blue screen (shut up Khaji Da).  His face is burning and he’s suddenly ridiculously grateful for the full-body armor.

    “Jaime Reyes, you are being ridiculous.  The Impulse initiates physical contact with you regularly.  There is no reason to react in such a manner,” Khaji Da reprimands him.

     “This is different!” he hisses back mentally.

     “I do not see how,” Khaji snarks.  Its mental voice is as monotone as ever, but Jaime has learned to read between the lines in the years since the scarab fused with his spine.  Khaji is definitely being snarky.  This motherfucker.

     Bart snuffles at his shoulder, snuggling further into Jaime’s side, and the older teen’s internal monologue immediately dissolves into the mental equivalent of a keysmash.  He glances at Bart out of the corner of his eye and sucks in a flustered breath.  Bart’s delicate cheekbones are smattered with freckles and sunspots, and there’s a smudge of dirt on his chin.  He looks so peaceful, and Jaime’s heart suddenly feels like it’s going to overflow.  He exhales and looks away, resolutely staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the warmth of Bart’s hand in his own.

     Bart’s just being clingy because he got hurt.  This isn’t going to happen again.

...

     Except it does.  It keeps happening, again and again.  Bart keeps holding his fucking hand and Jaime’s just about ready to tear his goddamn hair out over it.  Maybe this is just a thing in the future?  You trust someone, you hold their hand?  Maybe the apocalypse makes people clingy; it sure did that to Bart at least.  At a loss for this sudden change in Bart’s behavior, he decides to just ask him.

     “Why do you keep doing that, ese?” he asks the next time Bart grabs hold of his hand.

     “Why do I keep doing what?” Bart looks up at him, too-innocent confusion written all over his face.  Dios mio, Jaime cannot deal with his bullshit innocent act right now.

      “Hold my hand all the time!  Why?!”

      Bart shrinks in on himself, “Because I want to...?  Do you not want me to?”

      Mierda, now Jaime feels like he’s just kicked a puppy or something, “No, it’s fine.”

      The smile Bart gives him could outshine the fucking sun.  And it is.  It’s fine.  It’s more than fine, actually.  Jaime actually really likes it when Bart holds his hand, to Khaji Da’s endless amusement.  Bart’s hands are warm and dry, all calloused palms and nails bitten short.  Bart bites his nails when he’s nervous, Jaime’s noticed.  It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.  Jaime even starts to reach for Bart, initiating contact.  Bart is so nonchalant about the whole thing that Jaime feels stupid for freaking out in the first place.  It’s innocent and comforting and honestly just really really nice.

      Unfortunately, he also forgets that not everyone sees it that way.

      “Hey, Reyes!  I didn’t know you were a fucking fag!”

      Jaime freezes, panic rooting him in place.  Shit shit shit shit fuck shit.  He’s so stupid, holding Bart’s hand like this in public in goddamn El Paso, Texas.  He’s been hanging out with the Team so much that he’s forgotten the unspoken rules of being a queer kid in the South.  He rips his hand out of Bart’s and runs like a coward.

      “Blue!”  Bart is speeding after him, and Jaime could never hope to outrun a speedster even on the best of days but fuck if he isn’t trying right now.  “Blue, Jaime, wait!”

      Jaime doesn’t stop, he just keeps going until he gets to the edge of town and even then he doesn’t stop, he just keeps running out into the desert.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones as he runs, “You are being ridiculous.  Your combat skills are far superior to the average human adolescent.  You have nothing to fear from that boy.”  Figures the alien scarab wouldn’t understand what a hate crime is, Madre de Dios.

      “Jaime!  Jaime stop!” Bart grabs his wrist, yanking him to a stand-still.

      “The Impulse is attacking!” Khaji Da hisses.

      “Shut the fuck up for once you stupid insect,” he snarls back.  Khaji Da beeps affrontedly at him but stays quiet.

      Bart is still gripping his wrist like a vice and Jaime can’t find it in himself to pull away.  “C’mon, Blue.  Talk to me,” Bart pleads.  His eyes are wide and sincere and Jaime folds like a house of cards.

      “He saw us holding hands,” he blurts out.

      Bart looks confused, “We hold hands in front of the Team all the time, dude.”

      “This is different,” Jaime tells him.  “Not everyone is like the Team, ese.”

      “Well, no doi!  We’re a team of superheroes, Blue.”

      “Not what I meant, hermano,” Jaime sighs.  “Not everyone would be okay with the two of us holding hands.”

      Bart still looks confused, “But why?”

      “Because we’re both guys, Bart, and this is Texas.”

      “So what?” Bart says, and Jaime is abruptly reminded that Bart is from the future.  Goddammit.

      “Do you seriously not know what homophobia is?”

      Bart cocks his head, “Well, I know that homo means same and phobia means fear of, but I’m guessing that’s not what you mean.”

      Jaime laughs, “I forget how much of a nerd you are sometimes,” he says fondly.

      Then his expression sours, “No, homophobia is hatred against gay people.  That guy back there thought we were dating, so he called me a slur.  People get beaten up or killed all the time just because they aren’t straight.”  Jaime feels stiff, like he’s reciting from a book, but he doesn’t know how else to explain something that’s just a fact of life for most people.

      Bart’s shoulders tense, his frame sharp and rigid.  “What the fuck is wrong with people?!” he seethes, enraged.  

      Jaime startles at the intensity of Bart’s anger, instinctively taking a step back from the waves of rage rolling off of him.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bart this pissed off before.  The speedster is literally vibrating with anger and his fists are clenched.

      “Bart?” Jaime asks tentatively, “You okay?”

      “No I am not fucking okay!” Bart snaps, wheeling around to face him, “I just found out that this time period is full of bigoted assholes!”  Bart sniffles and wipes angrily at his eyes.

      Oh.  Oh shit.

     “Hang on, are you gay?” Jaime blurts out.

     Bart slumps, anger draining away.  He sniffles and shrugs.  “Surprise?” he says wetly.

     “Oh,” Jaime says dumbly, even though he’s the one who asked.

     “I do not understand your species’ obsession with the gender of one’s mate.  Even your human concept of gender is flawed and arbitrary at best,” Khaji Da sniffs.

     “Not the time, mijo,” he chides.  

     Bart’s shoulders are tense once more, and Jaime belatedly realizes that he’s just been standing there silently for the past minute.  “Sorry,” Jaime says, not really sure what he’s apologizing for, “That’s cool with me, hermano.”

     Bart’s eyes flicker to him, “Really?”

     Jaime nods, “Yeah, I mean I’d be a hypocrite not to be.”  Abort, abort, abort!  He’s never told anyone that he’s bisexual, not even Paco and Brenda and they’re his oldest friends.

      Barts eyes widen, “You too?”

      Bart looks so hopeful that Jaime can’t bring himself to lie.  He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh, yeah.  I’m bi.”

      Bart grins, “Totally crash,” he says, and the knot in Jaime’s chest loosens.  It’s good, they’re good.  In a moment of bravery, Jaime grabs Bart’s hand.  Bart makes a soft, surprised sound but doesn’t pull away.

      They’re gonna be okay.

...

      For the most part, things stay the same.  Bart still steals Jaime’s Chicken Whizeez and drags him out of bed at ungodly hours of the night to go racing in the desert.  They still hold hands, though lately Bart’s been a bit more cautious about doing it in public and Jaime isn’t sure why Bart’s new-found hesitance makes his heart ache as much as it does.

      Things stay the same, but there is an air of tension between them; like the smell of ozone before a storm, like they’re both waiting for something to happen.  Like they’re waiting for the storm to break.

...

      It’s raining when it happens.  It’s days like this when Jaime’s especially grateful for the Blue Beetle’s armor.  While everyone else gets soaked, he stays nice and dry in his suit.  Not that he’ll stay that way once the mission’s over; there’s a non-zero chance that Bart will tackle him as soon as he de-armors back at the Watchtower and they’ll both end up soaked, courtesy of Bart, but it’s the thought that counts.

      Jaime smiles slightly at the thought of Bart’s starfish hugs.  For such a skinny guy, he’s surprisingly wiry.  And dios mio those legs...

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da snaps at him, “Cease this foolishness at once!”

      Jaime rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, there’s no one here.”  The warehouse is abandoned, with no sign of the smugglers carrying the stolen Reach tech.  

      He’s on perimeter duty for this mission, mostly because he’s the only one who doesn’t complain about not getting any action.  Jaime doesn’t particularly enjoy fighting, never has, but he’s not about to turn away from a chance to help people.

      Just to be sure, Jaime scans for heat signatures in the trees.  Khaji Da reports an anomaly 500 feet to the right.  Could be nothing, but it’s best to check it out, just in case.

      Jaime moves to investigate the anomaly, but before he can get very far a high-pitched whine fills the air and a weight slams into his back, sending him flying.  Khaji Da shrieks, its pain sending jolts of agony up and down Jaime’s spine.  The crackle of electricity is deafening as his whole body convulses, the rain sizzling when it hits his armor.  The scarab gives one last cry of agony, a sound that rips through Jaime’s brain like a knife and leaves him seeing stars, before retracting the armor and going unnervingly silent.

      Jaime gasps for air, trying to focus through the haze of pain, “Khaji Da?”

      Nothing.  His head feels empty, with no sign of the scarab’s presence anywhere.

      He tries again, “Khaji Da, mijo, answer me!”

      Again, he gets no answer.  For the first time in years, he’s alone and it scares the hell out of him.

      Footsteps echo through the fog in his head from somewhere off to his right.  The anomaly.  Jaime tries to get up, but freezes at the feeling of a blade against the back of his neck.

      “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” a deep voice purrs.  “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before the fun begins, now would we?”  Something slams into the back of Jaime’s head, and everything goes dark.

...

      Jaime wakes up shirtless and chained to a wall.  What the fuck, he thinks vaguely.  He’s cold and wet and he feels like he just went ten rounds with Beast Boy’s elephant form.

      “Well, well, well,” a masculine voice drawls, “look who’s finally awake.”

      Jaime’s blood runs cold.  The mission.  The anomaly.  Khaji Da.  With an enormous amount of effort, Jaime lifts his head and looks for the source of the voice.  When his vision finally focuses, he almost passes back out because that’s motherfucking Deathstroke the Terminator smirking at him and cleaning his nails with a goddamn knife.

      Deathstroke saunters up to him, “Now, what should we try first, hmm?”

      Jaime tries to armor up, but only gets a jolt of pain down his spine that leaves him gasping for breath.  Khaji Da is still silent, but Jaime thinks he can feel the barest hint of its presence.  He grits his teeth.  This is going to suck so bad.

      Deathstroke flips the knife he was using to clean his nails around and uses the flat of the blade to lift Jaime’s chin, “Any suggestions, bug boy?”

      In a moment of brave stupidity, Jaime spits, “You could go fuck yourself, pendejo.”  He’s proud of himself for keeping his voice steady, but the feeling doesn’t last very long.  

      Deathstroke tilts his head and moves the knife so it’s almost piercing Jaime’s eye.  Jaime is unable to stope himself from flinching.  The mercenary smiles, “Not so tough without that armor, are you, boy?”

      Slowly, Deathstroke moves the knife away from his eye and down his face.  With a quick, precise motion, he flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek, drawing blood.  Jaime grits his teeth.  It stings, but he’s had worse from running around fighting bad guys with the Team.  He can handle this.

      Deathstroke chuckles, “Trying to be brave?  That’s cute.  I’m just warming up.”

      He flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek again.  Then he traces the knife across the bridge of his nose, leaving a deeper cut that bleeds sluggishly and hurts like a bitch.  Jaime keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to give the mercenary the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

      Deathstroke gives him a considering once-over that makes Jaime’s skin crawl.  The mercenary grins at Jaime’s discomfort and traces the knife along his cheekbone before taking a step back.  Against his will, Jaime visibly relaxes at the distance between him and his captor.  Deathstroke’s grin turns ugly.  Then he clocks Jaime across the face.

      Jaime’s head snaps to the side with the force of the blow and he actually sees stars.  Before today he thought that was just an expression, but apparently not.  He gasps and tries to focus, only for Deathstroke to hit him again from the other side.  Jaime feels his nose crack and he tastes blood.  His jaw is throbbing and he’s starting to see double, so he’s almost relieved when Deathstroke picks up the knife again.  Almost.

      Deathstroke get uncomfortably close, so that they’re nearly nose to nose, and says, “Now that I’m done warming up, let’s get to the real fun.”  He slashes the knife across Jaime’s chest in a single, bloody arc.

      Jaime grits his teeth, but he’s unable to stop a choked whimper from escaping his throat.  Tears blur in his eyes.  Seeing this, Deathstroke grins and slashes at his chest again.  Then he reels back and slams his fist into Jaime’s stomach once, twice, three times.

      Jaime gasps and wheezes, trying to breath through the pain as bile rises in his throat.  His torso feels like it’s on fire and the cuts on his face sting from the salt in his tears.

      “Well, kid, this has been fun, but my employer payed me to kill one of you brats and I’m getting bored so I think I’ll just slit your throat and let your little friends find your corpse,” Deathstroke drawls, grabbing another knife from his belt.

      Panic floods Jaime’s veins.  He can’t die.  He can’t do that to his family, to his friends, to Bart.  He struggles weakly against the handcuffs, but without his armor he’s just a normal kid.  He can’t do shit.  Frustration and fear squeeze squeeze metal bands around his heart.  Fuck.  He’s going to die and Khaji Da is going to die with him.  Lo siento, he thinks distantly, and closes his eyes.

      But the kiss of the knife never comes.  Instead, a familiar rush of wind howls in his ears.  When he opens his eyes, Jaime sees the lightning-wreathed form of Bart in all his speedster glory standing over the bloodied unmoving body of Deathstroke.  Bart is incandescent and literally glowing with rage, and in that moment he’s the most beautiful thing Jaime’s ever seen.

      Faster than his eyes can track him, Bart zips over to him.  “Ohmygodohmygodyourfaceyou’rebleeding,” he gasps, cradling Jaime’s face in his hands.  His eyes are wide and teary.

      Jaime feels dizzy with relief, “Bart?”

      “Yeahit’smeohmygodI’mgonnakillhimhowdarehe,” Bart is talking too fast for Jaime to catch anything, hands blurring as they fly all over his body, checking his injuries.

      “Slow down, I can’ understan’ you,” he slurs.

      Bart swallows, “Sorry,” he says wetly.  His hands come back up to gently cup Jaime’s face, “I got you, Blue,” he says softly.

      Jaime nods.  Bart does something too fast for him to see and suddenly he’s out of the cuffs.  He slumps against his friend, and Bart lowers them both to the ground.

      Jaime feels shaky and exhausted.  He leans against Bart, and the speedster wraps his arms around Jaime tightly.  His fingers brush the scarab on Jaime’s back, and Jaime hisses as pain jolts down his spine.

      Bart pulls away and manuevers so he can see Jaime’s back.  “What the fuck,” he hisses angrily.  “There’s something on the scarab,” he says.  He leans in, his bangs brushing Jaime’s shoulder blades, “It looks like an emp.”

      Ah.  So that’s why he couldn’t armor up.  “Can you ge’ it off?” he asks.

     “I can try,” he says, “But, Jaime, this- it’s gonna be painful.”  Bart’s voice shakes.

     “Do it,” he says, “I trust you.”

     Bart’s fingers touch his back and Jaime screams, back arching as jolts of pain shoot through him.  It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Jaime, his vision whiting out from the pain.  Then, as quickly as it came, the pain is gone.

     “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da’s presence is uncharacteristcally weak, but it’s there.  Jaime sobs in relief and collapses back against Bart, who wraps shaking arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and muttered apologies into his hair.

...

      They’re still huddled together on the floor of the warehouse when the rest of the Team finds them.  Miss Martian’s psychic presence is gentle, but Jaime still flinches.  He’s pretty out of it by this point, dizzy with adrenaline and blood loss.

      Someone yelps, “Holy shit, is that Deathstroke?”  Large hands are suddenly gripping him under the arms, and he panics.  

      He tries to move, but Bart just shushes him and rubs circles into his shoulder, “Hey, Jaime it’s okay.  You’re okay.”  He slumps against Bart, exhausted.

      Bart says something, and the hands disappear.  Jaime doesn’t remember much else, and he passes out before they reach the Bioship.

...

      Jaime wakes up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and the familiar presence of Khaji Da in the back of his head.  He blinks, taking in his surroundings.  He’s in the Watchtower’s medbay, and the last thing he remembers is... 

      Fuck, Deathstroke!

      Jaime flails around, panic seizing his body.  The monitor is going crazy, only adding to his panic.

      “Jaime Reyes, cease this display,” Khaji Da commands.  It’s voice is gentler than Jaime’s ever felt it.  “We are not in danger.  The Impulse subdued the Deathstroke and rescued us.”

     Jaime goes limp.  That’s right, Bart came for him.  He takes a shaky breath.   Suddenly, tears prick at his eyes and his breath hitches.  Mierda, he was almost... Deathstroke almost...  He scrubs at his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.  He’s fine.  He’s alive, Bart got him.  He’s safe.

     Speaking of Bart, Jaime realizes that the speedster is passed out next to him in a hospital chair, resting his head on the edge of Jaime’s bed.  Something in Jaime settles at the site of his best friend.  He’s okay.  He’s okay.  Just to reassure himself, Jaime reaches out and grabs Bart’s hand from where it rests on the bed, squeezing it.

     Bart’s voice is rough with sleep, “Jaime?”  He blinks, relief painting his face golden, “Jaime, you’re awake!”  Bart launches himself at Jaime, clutching him tight.

      The force of the hug knocks Jaime back into his pillows and he laughs wetly.  They cling to each other like they’re the only two people left in the world.  Bart’s shoulders start to shake, and then they’re both crying.  Jaime buries his face in Bart’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of salt and ozone.  He’s fucking alive.

      Bart pulls back slightly, looking up at Jaime with wide hazel eyes.  Shakily, Jaime rests his forehead against Bart’s and closes his eyes, revelling in the contact.  They stay like that for what feels like forever, just drinking each other in.

      Jaime opens his eyes, and his hands come up to cup Bart’s cheeks, “Gracias, chiquito,” he says, “Gracias, gracias, gracias.”

      Bart’s eyes are wide and shiny as the flicker down to Jaime’s lips and back up to his eyes.  Jaime feels his face heat up and he thinks, I could kiss him.  Then he thinks, Eh, fuck it, and leans in.

      Bart’s lips are warm and slightly chapped.  He inhales sharply against Jaime’s lips and tilts his head.  Their noses bump and it’s a little wet and a little awkward and it’s perfect.  Jaime’s hands are still on Bart’s cheeks and he runs a thumb over Bart’s cheekbone and thinks, te amo, te amo, te amo.

#very sweet and fluffy #my writing #my writing tag #bluepulse #bluepulse fanfic #jaime reyes #bart allen #blue beetle #impulse #friends to lovers #young justice #young justice fanfic #bi disaster jaime reyes #khaji da #the scarab did not sign up for gay teenage drama and yet here we are folks #i feel like jaime is one of those people who doesnt curse a lot out loud but internally is just all like shit fuck motherfucker #tw homophobia #its brief but definitely important to the story #letting them just be dumb infautuated teenagers #tw f slur #khaji da says fuck the gender binary and fuck homophobia! #post s2 #local aromantic attempts a romance fic #tw injuries #tw electrocution #tw torture #deathstroke #slade wilson #me @ deathstroke: get barted idiot!

[aviculor]

I spent so much time and effort trying to design a worm train fakemon. And yet, before I could even cough up a finalized design, the unthinkable happens.

CHOO CHOO, MOTHERFUCKER

I don't see a name for this magnificent creature yet, but it is undoubtedly one of the standouts of the generation. The only downside is that, as an earthworm and not a marine polychaete, its name cannot be Polyfreight. It's also a bullet train and not a freight train, but you get the point. I would have preferred something less robotic, but it does make sense re: why an earthworm would be pure steel, not part ground, and 9 feet long. It's not like my Dream Pokemon that perfectly matches my aesthetic, but I like its design more than some other gen 9 mons I've seen so far. It's adorably goofy. And again, being a worm automatically makes it top tier for me. Hopefully this is the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship between Pokemon and the phylum Annelida. There's still many things I'd love to see one day which would also become instant favorites. Imagine a leech that learns Leech Life and has Triage (Comfey's ability) to give it priority.

Centro is actively posting leaks for the paradox pokemon, so any moment I could meet Slither Wing, the other mon I've waited with bated breath for.

Not feeling Bisharp's evo. I like the peppers. Roaring Moon looks amazing, it reminds me of Mega Salamence.

#pokemon leaks #pokemon scarlet and violet leaks #pokemon sv spoilers

[nerdygirlwithanxiety]

Character Trailer ONE; black Ash ( Top songs to listen too; hppe of morning by icon for hire, Off with her head by icon for hire and Hayloft II by Mother mother)

Around the evening, loud music through headphones can be heard revealing a person black and white monokuma hoodie with hood up and monokuma sunglasses on reading a comic book. The male groaned, " Seriously, they die in the end? Tsk predictable" he put the book back " that's why I'll never believe in fairy tales and happy endings" he stretch walking away " yo shop keeps I'll be leaving now" he motion goodbye to Tuckson before walking out to began until a voice in his head rang " kid.." it echoed, making the goth sigh unamused." Yes, marcus?" He looks down, watching a symbiote coming out looking at him with blood ruby eyes glowing." I'm sensing danger. Be careful, " marcus warned .aking Anthony sniff the air. " Huh.. two different grimms? Lucky day for us.. two " Anthony smirk." MOONSSOUL I SUMMON YOU!!!" He yelled as marcus turned into Anthony's famous scythe, which was swung around dramatically before stabbing into the ground as the silver eyes datted around." ok bastards..where are you?" He mumbled, only for blood red smoke appearing. "Poppy smoke?" Marcus asks." No. This isn't a horror game, marcus. This is just a red fog to throw us off our game, " Anthony answered, growling until they heard cackling." wendigo?" Marcus asked " wendigo" Anthony growl only for the Grimm to punch the ground right after the goth jump up kicking its face and landed on his feet switching his weapon with a thompason gun shooting fire bullets. The grim dodges and begin begin begin to mimic its last kills voice. " HELP ME!!!" The creature screams. Anthony rolled his eyes, annoyed. " Yep." He growls before running directly towards it to try beheading it. The creature moves swung its claws, hitting Anthony. " ACK!!" He hit the tree " fuck" he said breathlessly in pain " my back-" he said getting up tiredly then growl at the creature then eyes widen and frozen " what the fuck" he mumbled seeing the second Grimm growling and hissing " a hydra!?" Both Marcus and Anthony's spoke shocked at the Sametime until one of the heads shot out electricity." SHIT!!" Anthony dodged the attack, then dodged the wendigos claws "oh son of a bitch" he panted " this isn't good. Hey marcus?" " yeah kid?" " scan the threat while I fight these motherfuckers" Anthony ordered as the scythe's eye blink then look at Anthony " deal" marcus agreed making Anthony nodded and jump up in front of the moon and spun around holding his scythe trying to hit the wendigo first only to get blocked "hm. Not bad." " don't praise the Grimm anthony!!" Marcus demanded before the wendigo threw them..again but this time with an advantage Anthony used a camouflage in the snow attack dodging the electricity of course until the hydra smoke grew stronger making Anthony cough failing to camouflage " the..fuck?" He wheezed " Kizzzzz" the voice faded away leaving a terrible ring in Anthony's ears. " ow.." the goth mumbled looking around only to froze seeing a blood hair male " will?.." he said softly " do you regret it?" The blond ask " regret what babe?" Anthony smile " leaving me to die. Like the pathetic worm.you are" Anthony froze hearing will saying something out of character. Just as the goth open his mouth the wendigo fist appeared punching him knocking him down and out of the hallucinations " ow fuck!" Anthony yelp. " your welcome " Marcus scolled turn his arm to q scythe blade. Anthony grunted " thanks...so the level threat?" " honestly not that bad" marcus noted. Anthony stop blink stared down " you're deadhead threatened the weapon "been there done that NOW FOCUS!!" Marcus hissed watching the first grim charge at them "THE HEART STAB THEN BURN THE FUCKER DOWN!!" Marcus yelled and of course Anthony did JUST that. One Grimm down one more to go. Anthony groaned "shoot me" he mumbled now to figure out wtf to do with the hydra and just as he slashed the title shows up implications that the trailer ends

D A W M

After the credits role a small panting noise was made as the screen shows a stressed Anthony manage to defeat the hydra until he heard footsteps and a mysterious familiar voice " well,well well. That's a fight I hadn't seen in a long time " the voice chuckle. Anthony turned around seeing a tall ginger man with his accompliss with him "Roman..Neo..hey"

The screen turns black revealing all in a glowing red

COMING SOON...

#anthony kurosaki #will grossman #creeps comic #william grossman #multiverse oc #rwby #mercury black #frankie the undead #dawm #laughing jack #duncanyumedawm #roman torchwick #neopolitan #marcus black rwby

[marilostfieldblog]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The camera is in someone's front shirt pocket, two sets of footsteps are heard alongside the clicking of a metal object. One of the two people takes a deep breath before sighing.]

?: Listen I uh… I'm still sorry about… y'know… failing to get Sparrow out.

[Voice identified: Mari.]

?: You tried, Mari. That's all anyone could ask for. You shouldn't blame yourself for how things happened.

[Voice Identified: William Keane.]

M: I'm the reason Rose is back, though! She shouldn't have to be here!

W: Whilst I agree that Rose shouldn't be anywhere near here, they made their own choice. You didn't force her hand.

[Mari begins silently crying. Barely picked up by the microphone.]

M: I fucked up Will… If I had just tried harder, I…

W: Oi. Don't go on about the self-sacrifice bullshit on me now, Mari. Anyone who would have tried would likely have the same outcome.

M: If I had just stopped Sparrow from running off I… besides you and I both know what my plan was… you caught me the day before.

W: Mm. I did. Sparrow is a child, Mari, they don't listen to what people older than them say. Or younger, actually.

M: They had a good reason for it… Cassidy getting caught. I just… I wish I could've kept my promise with Edgar.

[There appears to be a slight sigh from the other, as it begins speaking again.]

W: I do too. But, you know what? You fucking tried. That's what matters, you actually tried.

M: God… if Sarah heard me still feeling bad… she'd kick my ass. Hell… she also told me it wasn't my fault.

W: You know, if more than one person says it isn't your fault, it most likely isn't your fault. If it looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, feels like a duck, and in every other aspect is a duck, mate, its probably a fucking duck.

M: It… it feels like my fault…

W: And it will, for a while. A long, long while. But it shows you care. Ness said that to me.

M: God… no offense but, I didn't expect to hear that from you.

W: I do not practice what I preach, mate.

[There's a chuckle from William.]

[Mari begins humming a song as they walk, identified as "My grandfather's clock".]

M: Ugh… that damn song is stuck in my fuckin head.

W: Is the music box still there?

M: No, Sparrow has it.

W: … Where do you think they are?

M: Somewhere with Rose… I don't fuckin’ remember where.

[Mari stops humming.]

M: Why do you ask?

W: … the song's soothing, is all.

M: Yeah uh… I haven't… tried talking to Rose or Sparrow. I'm sure Rose isn't mad but… Sparrow.

W: Once Sparrow realizes you were trying to keep 'em safe, they… could understand. We can cover the ground we haven't checked later, if you want.

M: William… We lied to them for months… About their mother. You, me, Edgar… Jenny seems to be the only one they aren't mad at.

W: In my defense, I didn't actually lie. The file does state she wasn't entirely dead. But… I don't think they'd care for technicalities.

[Mari stops, their feet firm in place.]

M: Ruby is dead. None of what that thing was is Ruby.

W: But–

M: No buts, William. Ruby is dead.

[There is no reply from the other, just a glance downwards]

M: Trust me. I wish this was some fairy tale where all we have to do is hug Ruby and she’d turn back into a human. But it isn't.

W: if you would read how they're created, then–

M: There was a fucking bullet wound in her head. I'm sorry, and I know Rose would hate me for saying this. RUBY. IS. DEAD.

[A sudden loud bang is heard nearby. Followed by another, and then another.]

M: WHAT THE FUCK?

[Mari falls backwards. Landing with a loud thud.]

W: HOLY SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?

[Will stays still, seemingly frozen in place]

M: SECURITY? A DEAD BODY? I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW!

[Another series of bangs.]

M: CAN WE JUST GO? I'D LIKE NOT TO DIE TODAY!

W: DEAD PEOPLE DON'T BANG ON DOORS. NOR DOES SECURITY. I think..?

M: MOTHERFUCKER, I DON'T CARE! COME ON!

[Another loud bang. This one not followed up by a second.]

W: uh… okay… wait.

[William's voice raises, still staring in the direction of the bangs]

W: Hello? Are you… not security? One bang for yes! [Aside] This is not gonna work.

[A pause. Then an extremely loud, singular bang. William gasps.]

M: God damn it… I don't have a choice here, do I?

W: No. We're helping. Right! Random person, 1 bang for if you're human!

[Another singular bang.]

M: [Whispered.] God damn it…

[Mari tries to stand up, only to fall right back down.]

M: Help?

W: Right, right, sorry.

[It reaches out, grabbing Mari's forearm. He pulls the other up to their feet.]

W: Okay. Right. Person banging on the wall, will you hurt us if we come near? 1 for yes, 2 for no?

[Two bangs.]

M: Come on then.

[Mari starts running in the direction of the banging.]

[There's a second pair of footsteps with the high pitched clicking, presumably Will's. He's a slight blur to the camera.]

M: RANDOM PERSON BANGING ON THE WALL! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

[A pause, before the banging continues, getting louder as the two approach.]

W: Those bangs sound like they fucking hurt, man! How the hells can someone even do that?!

M: I DON'T KNOW! LET'S JUST HURRY UP!

[Mari speeds forward, the sound of heavy breathing is also heard.]

W: Fucking hell, wait up!

M: NO! RANDOM PERSON, ARE YOU IN PAIN? 1 FOR YES, 2 FOR NO?

[A loud bang. Followed by a quiet thud.]

W: OKAY, NO FUCKING WAITING UP. I'LL CATCH UP.

M: YEP. THIS IS GONNA HURT!

[Mari runs fast enough to make the camera a black blur, they scream in pain every time their foot hits the ground.]

M: SON OF A BITCH!

W: WE'RE CLOSE DUDE, YOU GOT THIS!

M: KEEP BANGING ON THE DOOR, DUDE! WE'RE GONNA FIND YOU!

[The banging continues, but the space between each one grows longer as time goes on. They start to get slightly quieter.]

M: FOUND IT!

[Mari stops in front of a door, they try to open it only for the doorknob to barely even jiggle.]

M: Fuck… Locked…

[Will catches up, his panting and clanking leg audible with the pipe it used for walking.]

W: Idea! Person stuck, please push against the door?

[William grabs the door handle, and attempts to pull at it.]

W: What the hell do they put in these doors?

M: I do not know.

[Will backs off for a second and places the pipe aside, before warning the trapped person, and attempting again.]

M: Let me try.

[Mari slowly walks over to the door, limping. They look down for a moment, blood visibly leaking from their foot, which is slightly in frame.]

W: Dude, you’ll need serious care after this.

M: Yeah. Don't care.

[Mari grabs the door handle and tries to pull at it, still nothing. They step back before shouting and landing on the floor.]

M: FUCK! I STEPPED ON ONE OF THE BROKEN BONES IN MY FOOT!

W: OH FUCK.

M: THAT HURT!

W: I don't know how to help or what to do fuck, fuck–

M: Just… Get the fucking door open.

W: On it, I'm on it!

[He gets back into position, before pulling once more with all of its strength, the strain visible in its expression.]

M: You can do it!

[There is a loud sound of something breaking as the door finally flings open, and someone tumbles out. Landing face first on the floor, coughing violently.]

W: Oh, shit! Are yo–

M: Who the fuck–

[The man attempts to push himself off the ground with one hand, ultimately failing. He appears to be covered in blood. Some dried. Some a little more fresh. His white dress shirt is torn. And his brown hair is matted with more blood. He twitches slightly.]

M: E– Edgar?

[William is still holding itself against the door, staring down at the figure on the floor. It doesn't move a muscle.]

M: EDGAR? [To themselves.] No, no, I'm fucking losing it… he’s dead, he can’t be… can he?

[Mari hops up, their arms seen with the sound of hair being moved.]

[The man on the ground attempts to push himself up again, this time successfully being able to get onto his knees. He does not look up at the two. Not yet.]

M: Dude… Is… No fucking way… I… Do you need help?

[As Mari speaks, Will moves slowly towards the man. It reaches out an arm, and gently grasps a bit of his shirt. After a few seconds, he grasps it tighter, pulling on it slightly. Testing to see if the man in front of them is real.]

M: Dude…

?: [Quietly.] You…

[Voice identified: Edgar Elliot Pression.]

M: Edgar…

W: H– how…?

E: [Slightly louder.] I… you actually… I’m… is this…

M: Hello?

[Will's arm retreats, and curls his hand into a fist, to stop the sudden onslaught of shaking.]

[Instead of responding, Edgar begins to laugh, just loud enough for the software to be sure that the shaking isn’t from crying. Although that appears to be in the mix as well. His voice is slightly raspy and it sounds a little painful for him to speak.]

W: Ed– Edgar?...

M: Edgar… Y– you…

[He finally turns over, now sitting on the ground. His face is also covered in blood, dried streaks of it trail down from his mouth, the lines continue on, making their way down his neck and vanishing where his shirt collar begins. Dark bags sit under his eyes, which are full of tears. He stares at the two, a relieved smile on his face. His eyes jitter between the two, unsure who to focus on.]

E: You’re here! You– you’re actually here! And I’m–

[His voice falters, and he coughs a few times.]

M: I…

[Mari falls to the ground, wrapping their arms around Edgar, he attempts to raise his arms to return the gesture, but he doesn’t seem to be able to. The phone is angled towards Will.]

[William stands there, simultaneously aghast and agape, absolutely in shock, before copying Mari's movements, although he hugs both of the people on the ground. Its head is turned away, both to not hit the two with his "accessory", and to not cry on them.]

M: I… I thought… We thought we lost you.

E: No, I’ve– I’ve been here. I–

M: We haven't seen anything… Heard anything… Nothing.

W: I… l– looked for… gods k– know how long…

E: I’ve b– been in there for so long, I honestly th– thought you didn’t care. I t– thought you all left me t– to rot.

M: W– we didn’t leave y– you… we wouldn’t! We just didn't know… it– like I said, we haven't seen anything. Nothing. Like showfall was… blocking us, or some shit.

W: But… how? I thought H– Hetch shot you? We all saw. On that show.

E: T– they cut the broadcast. For anyone w– who cared. Made it seem like I– I got shot.

M: I…

[Mari stops, they take a deep breath, before laughing.]

M: I'm sorry…

E: Don’t.

M: I told you I wouldn't be here… I'm so sorry…

E: And I told you the show was on the 19th. I– I think we’re even now.

M: Sparrow… ugh… never min–

[Slightly noticed by the camera, Will's grip in the hug has heightened, properly hugging them both.]

[Edgar stays silent for 10 seconds.]

E: … I’ve really missed you guys.

[He shudders, covering his mouth with his arm. Possibly holding back vomit. He moves his arm away to speak.]

E: I haven’t been able to contact anybody. [Muttered.] Except Iris.

[Will jolts slightly.]

W: WET. CAT.

M: What? William, we're having a moment, is now really the time to describe all of us at any given moment?

E: Wait a minute. I remember being informed of that nickname.

W: SHE– SHE FUCKING KNEW! SHE WAS T– TALKING ABOUT YOU ON THAT FUCKING BLOG!

[Edgar laughs again. His tone becomes slightly frustrated for a moment.]

E: Yeah. She also threw pebbles at me.

M: I… Will, let me go, I need something out of my pocket… Edgar needs help.

[Mari pulls away fully. Will does as it's told, solely hugging Edgar now. Their arms tight around him. Edgar leans into it.]

M: Ok… hope these batteries still work.

[Mari pulls something out of their pocket, an old walkie-talkie. Scratched and chipped, they press a button and for the first 5 seconds nothing but static until…]

M: Hello, do you copy?

?: Mari! You and Will ok? You guys didn't die did you?

[IDENTITY REDACTED.]

M: We… found Edgar…

?: Wh– I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD!?

M: Will, you’re up.

W: … hm? Oh, u– uh, he's… he's alive!

?: HA! FUCKING BRILLIANT!

[The person clears their throat.]

?: Hi, Edgar, hope you’re uh… Well, at least kinda okay.

E: I’m uh… I’m really not. [A pause.] I’m sorry, I need to throw up. I think.

?: Don't fucking apologize! You've been through so much, it makes sense.

E: … Hm.

M: Hey um, get bread, blankets, and the first aid kit. We'll be there soon.

[Another click as the walkie-talkie shuts off.]

E: I, um… I do actually need to throw up. Can I…?

[Will moves away quickly, giving him space.]

W: Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm sorry.

[Edgar leans over away from the two and throws up, before looking back at Will, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.]

E: Don’t apologize.

M: Edgar do you… do you want to come back to my hideout? At least for a few days?

W: If not, w– we can always find you a quick way out? If that exists.

E: The hideout sounds… nice. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to really, uh. Walk. Or run. Or stand.

M: Hm… [Quietly.] adrenaline, please be my friend here.

[Mari slowly stands up, shaking slightly, the tremors appear noticeably in the video.]

M: Wait… should we tell Rose or… well… she wouldn't believe us, would she?

W: D– don't know. Not my place to say.

M: Edgar?

E: Hm? Sorry. I think I missed that. What?

M: Should we tell Rose? Or will she not believe us?

E: Oh. I… that’s your call. I don’t know if she will.

M: There's also everyone else…

E: Wait.

M: Yes? What is it?

E: How’s– how’s Jenny?

M: She um… Well… Um… Not great… Alive, but not great… Especially because…

[Mari stops, Extending their hand to Edgar.]

M: Never mind, we need to get going.

[Edgar nods, shakily raising his left hand. As he does so, one of the pieces of cloth tied around his arm slides down just enough to reveal the wound underneath, it looks like a deep bite mark, he rushes to cover it. Eyes wide with terror. His gaze flicks to both Mari and Will quickly.]

M: Edgar… what the fuck is that wound.

[Will is simply staring, his face unreadable, but it holds a subtle sadness in his eyes.]

E: It’s– I– ah, it’s um. Nothing.

M: Bullshit. What is it.

[Edgar looks away from Mari, and mutters something too quiet to hear.]

M: Please.

[He still doesn’t make eye contact.]

E: I didn’t… have anything to eat in there.

[Mari tenses.]

E: … I did what I had to.

M: Edgar…

E: Please don’t be mad at m–

[Mari picks the man up and braces him on their shoulders, interrupting his sentence.]

M: Soup and bread. We're getting you soup and bread.

E: … Thank you.

[He sounds as if he’s holding back more tears.]

M: You helped me, now it's my turn.

[Mari starts walking.]

M: William, you're coming too. Should we… update you on the way? Or do you want to wait?

E: I need to know what’s happened. I…

[He stops mid sentence.]

E: How long has it been…? I stopped looking at the date a while ago. Seemed… pointless.

M: Three weeks? I think? A little under? Maybe two and a half? Uh… Will?

W: Y– yeah. The latter.

M: Can I…

[Mari suddenly jolts, a choked sound escaping from their mouth.]

M: I… I really can't keep this up… should I say now or later?

E: I’d rather know now. If it’s important.

W: … Yeah, it’s very important.

M: I um… the escape failed… Sparrow ran off and found Ruby's corpse… and– it fucking stood up… Sparrow…

[Mari keeps walking, slowing down slightly, now sobbing.]

M: Rose is… I… I…

E: Mari. Did something happen to her? Y– you need to tell me. Please.

M: She ran in… She's in here with Sparrow… I'm so fucking sorry.

[Edgar stays silent.]

W: T-this is not Mari's fault, at all.

E: … Yes, I know.

[Will nods, fiddling with a cut on his hand.]

M: I'm sorry… I didn't mean for her to be here.

E: Mari. Stop it. It’s not your fault.

M: But it is… If I just kept hold of the wagon… or went a different direction–

E: Hindsight is always 20/20.

M: Yeah… But that does mean one thing… William.

[Mari turns to face William, the camera somewhat following.]

W: Y– yeah?

M: Remember our deal? If the escape failed?

W: I… do. Wait. Mari. No.

M: Ugh… Yeah… Really wish I didn't have to break that promise.

[Will sighs, but he nods.]

M: Still gonna try and get us all out of here… I won't have it any other way.

W: Pfft. Whatever you say, Drill Sergeant.

[Will does a mock salute with its free hand as a playful gesture, before readjusting its grip on the pipe. Edgar chuckles.]

M: Anyway… I'm gonna–

[Mari pulls out their phone, the camera facing the floor. They sigh after 10 seconds.]

M: Y'know what? Record this, I don’t care. Buh Bye!

[End transcript.]

#((OOC) YOU SAW NOTHING THE FIRST TIME >:( ) #((OOC) TW emetophobia) #((OOC) TW mentioned/implied cannibalism) #showfall ask blog #encoreverse blog

[professionallydeadinside]

Father's alive!?

LEMON IS ALIVE!

Ah fuck, sad part 2. Crying again.

Oh my god, him being a therapist at the wrong time is going to get Ladybug killed one day.

Old man now has three kids. No choice for anyone.

Oh fuck, duct tape spear.

This soundtrack is really good, btw.

Ladybug is gonna buy time! Adlib lime!

DAUGHTER??

FATHER!?

Plot twist!! Sociopathic daughter is going to try and kill her father!

Damn, they went straight for the stomach.

That's...a lot of resentment. Like a lot.

Damn, he really said, "Love you, but you're not important." To his own damn daughter.

I KNEW IT!! I KNEW THAT HIS WIFE'S DEATH WAS SUSPICIOUS.

Damn, he doesn't care about his son at all.

RYAN REYNOLDS IS CARVER!! This is amazing.

The train's a-moving!

I love the Japanese cover of I Need a Hero playing during this fight.

Not Lemon and Ladybug fighting over whether or not he can drive a bullet train.

OLD!! MAN!! FIGHT!!

Lemon can drop kick!? Amazing.

3 V 1!! 3 V 1!!

Apologies during a fight, hell yeah!

Fire extinguishers to the nuts. The sound was hilarious.

Old man on old man violence.

Lemon, no!! MotherFUCKER!

The water bottle got its own backstory?? Okay, yeah, sure.

Look at all that damage. That poor village.

THE FUCKING MASCOT SUIT.

The snake is free!

The gun exploded. Like, I knew it'd do it, but...holy shit.

-Kirk anon

Yeah White Death really does not give a shit about either of his children but that's okay I am legally taking them from his custody wasdfghgf

#ALSO KIRK THERES A LITTLE AFTER CREDIT SCENE YOU NEED TO WATCH TOO WKAJHGFDSDFGH #answered