#stream superhuman

[djarinova]

from an article titled "I’m a Swiftie, but the staggering size of the Eras tour has left me feeling alienated"

girl im not sure you are a swiftie if you're saying the anthology is full of forgettable songs...

[ctrlkenma]

AND I'MMA MAKE HER TAPOUT! ☆

✦ f!reader, post timeskip, kenma is quite the horny fella, suggestive, explicit content.

KOZUME KENMA has insane stamina.

And he doesn't seem like it. Truly, he doesn't. After all, (and not to be stereotypical), but what could you expect of a twenty-two year old who's leisure time was spent playing 'vintage' video games and streaming it for thousands to see?

You definitely didn’t expect that right after those streams ended, he’d have you bent over his gaming desk, just inches away from a small Genshin Impact figurine. You turn around, your cheeks flushing a sweet, saccharine hue of scarlet as he cups your ass from behind, his hands firm and possessive.

The air is thick with tension, sexually charged, rather, as you feel his body heat radiating against you. Every breath you take is heavy with anticipation, and the way he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine. You can sense his desire, raw and palpable, and it makes your heart race. You’re completely at his mercy, craving every moment as he prepares to take you right there, the thrill of being so exposed only heightening the intensity between you.

No, Kenma is not just another boyfriend of yours you've had sex with. Kenma is an absolute fucking beast - and by the time you're on your third round, covered in his opalescent seed and dripping with perspiration (you're not sure who's it is), that very fact is made abundantly clear to you.

Kenma also isn’t shy about what he wants. He’d rather have you sitting on his face, completely lost in the taste of you. As he laps at your clit, he gets more and more pussy-drunk, his moans vibrating against the slick that covers his fave deliciously. Your muffled compliments only serve to fuel the desire within him, and he’s all in, ready to make you feel every bit of pleasure he can give. It’s raw, intense, and he’s determined to have you begging for more.

You're not exactly sure why he has such superhuman capabilities when it comes to sex. Perhaps, years of pulling all-nighters has finally translated into something good - that being the rather annoying ability to never get tired whilst he pounds his pretty, flushed tip into you, getting the angle just right, hitting you right where you want him.

No, actually. He hits it right where you need him. Because sex with Kenma has translated from something that started off with a few kisses into a ritual you're quite certain you can't live without.

You’d lose yourself in the heat of three rounds—four if the mood struck just right. Kenma would pause, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for a bottle of strawberry-flavored lubricant from his side-table. With a teasing squirt, he coated your stomach, the slick, sweet substance glistening against your skin.

His fingers danced over you, massaging the lubricant in with a tantalizing pressure that sent electric shivers through your body. Each stroke was a delicious tease, trailing dangerously low, igniting a primal hunger within you. The air thickened with the scent of strawberries and coitus, as his touch turned your skin into a playground of pleasure, leaving you breathless and craving more.

The bottle spits its last, the slick gone, but you don’t stop - not until your body’s shaking, breath stuttering, chasing that high like it's the only thing that’s ever truly undone you. You’re soaked in heat, legs weak, stars bursting behind your eyes. And just when you're about to tapout, that voice cuts through - deep, filthy, smug - dragging out the words that ruin you - but make you crave it all over again.

"Just one more round, baby?"

[akeaaan]

Changed

Jinu X fem. reader

part2

a/n: I'm obsessed with writing for this man, I swear to god it's not funny anymore, also just a small idea that popped into my mind.

Synopsis:

╰┈➤You were once a feared demon of the underworld—until you turned your back on that life. Branded a traitor, you escaped to the human world and lived quietly in the shadows, blending in among mortals for years. Peace became your new normal. Routine. Safe.

That is, until fate stepped in.

A single encounter with Jinu—the sharp-eyed, silver-tongued leader of the rising idol group Saja Boys—shattered your calm existence.

〃✦ ┆You had everything others could only dream of—fame, wealth, influence. On stage, you were untouchable. Off stage, you were a legend wrapped in mystery. But even with everything, there was one thing you could never truly claim:

Humanity.

Because you weren’t human. Not even close. You were a demon—and not just any demon.

You were Gwi Ma’s daughter, the feared and merciless Demon King who ruled the underworld with blood and shadow.

Since your childhood, you served as his spy—sent through the cracks of the Honmoon, infiltrating the human world to gather intelligence and prepare for invasion. It was meant to be temporary, just another mission. But the longer you stayed, the more you saw.

Humanity was nothing like the wastelands of the demon realm. Where your world thrived on pain, theirs held warmth. Where demons tore each other apart, humans sang, cried, danced, and dreamed.

For the first time, you felt something—curiosity, wonder… guilt.

So you turned your back on the underworld.

You became a traitor.

Quietly, carefully, you aided the hunters from the shadows—feeding them information, sabotaging your father's forces. And when the day came, you were there among them, cloaked and unseen, helping to seal the Honmoon and trap your kind behind it.

No one knew.

No one ever could.

You fled. You ran from your father’s wrath, scouring every shady shaman’s store in the country, collecting protection charms, sealing talismans—anything that could shield you. And somehow, through luck or fate, you survived.

Five lives. Five hundred years. Each life, quieter than the last—until this one.

Now, you were Y/N—a rising soloist, known for her fierce performances and a haunting stage presence that no one could explain. People whispered that you were descended from a 90s screen legend—not knowing that legend was just one of your old lives.

And for once, you were at peace.

You watched from a distance as the Huntrix, the newest generation of demon hunters, proudly took up the mantle. They didn’t need your help. The Honmoon stayed sealed. The world was safe. You were safe.

Or so you thought…

Until he showed up.

Until that damned boy walked into your life with a smirk, a wink, and smile that somehow defied the laws of shame.

Jinu.

Of all the people… it had to be Jinu of the Saja Boys.

You knew something was off from the beginning. The moment their debut track “Soda Pop” exploded online, your gut screamed that it wasn’t just another rookie group rising through the ranks.

That stupid, sugar-coated song had the internet wrapped around its finger in hours. Every scroll through social media was torture—fan edits, dance challenges, streaming parties. Their bubblegum anthem was everywhere.

“Motherfuckers had it easy,” you muttered under your breath, eye twitching as you sat in your penthouse suite, high above the city. Your jaw clenched tighter with every swipe of your phone. That cursed chorus echoed over and over like a broken record.

With a sharp snap, the screen cracked beneath your grip—your superhuman strength getting the best of you again. You let out a heavy sigh and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, trying to calm your fraying nerves.

It only got worse.

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with them at the “Play Games With Us” variety show. You were just backstage, minding your business, your manager trailing behind you and raving about the episode’s record-breaking views.

“Your segment went viral, again! The fans are loving it—especially that part when you snapped the controller in half!” your manager beamed, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you.

And then—you saw them.

The Saja Boys. Walking straight in your direction, faces glowing under the stage lights, laughter echoing like they didn’t have a care in the world. You stood taller, lifting your chin with unshakable pride, refusing to let them rattle you.

But just as you passed their leader, Jinu, something happened.

Your fingers brushed for a split second—barely a touch.

And your blood turned to ice.

A sharp sting burned up your arm as your demon mark responded instantly, crawling from your skin like it had been awoken. You froze mid-step.

So did Jinu.

His body stiffened. His eyes widened. There was no mistaking it. He felt it too.

Your mark flared beneath your sleeve before dulling to a low pulse, as if unsure whether to attack or retreat. Panic surged in your chest, but you kept your face blank, eyes forward, breaths shallow.

“No…” you whispered, so quiet it was almost soundless.

You didn’t dare turn around.

You knew—without question—Jinu was staring at your back with the same haunted look you wore now.

Your manager kept walking, still rambling. But your heartbeat was loud enough to drown everything else out. The mark faded… but the damage was done.

Something ancient had just awakened.

And you knew, deep down— This wasn’t over.

You let out a weary sigh as you sat perched on the edge of a quiet rooftop in the outskirts of the city, where the old hanok-style houses still stood. The moon hung high, casting a cold silver light over the curved roofs and narrow alleys. It was deep into the night—no footsteps, no noise. Just silence. Peace.

Peace… at least for now.

Far from the crowded districts, away from the suffocating presence of human souls—the very essence your demon self constantly hungered for—you could finally breathe without temptation gnawing at your will.

“A demon playing idol in the human world… how poetic,” a voice murmured behind you, smooth and laced with dry amusement. You heard the soft thud of footsteps land gently on the tiled roof behind you.

You didn’t bother to turn around. “Says the one doing the same thing,” you replied, your tone flat.

The voice chuckled lowly. “True. But unlike you, I haven’t stayed this long.”

You stiffened. Just those words were enough to hint at his purpose.

So... it was finally time.

You clenched your fists, jaw tightening. “If he sent you to bring me back to that hellhole,” you muttered, “tell Gwi Ma I'd rather die on this rooftop than crawl back to him.”

Your eyes flicked to the side, and there he was—Jinu. Standing there with his hands tucked into the pockets of a black and gray hoodie, his expression unreadable. One eyebrow raised, clearly thrown off by your sudden declaration.

You exhaled through your nose, pushing yourself up to stand, brushing dust from your pants. “Don’t play dumb,” you said, facing him properly now. “You’re here on Gwi Ma’s orders, aren’t you? To take more souls for his pathetic little collection.”

A scoff escaped your lips. “That old fart just doesn’t know when to quit.”

Jinu blinked, visibly stunned—not just by what you said, but by the fact you said it so openly. No fear. No hesitation. As if speaking about the demon king was no different than mocking some washed-up manager.

“You—” he started, then hesitated, eyes narrowing. “You really aren’t scared of him anymore.”

You looked him dead in the eye. “I stopped fearing him the day I tasted freedom.”

You turned slightly, eyes locked on the distant city lights glittering below the rooftop. The cold wind brushed against your face, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness in your voice.

"He's been trying that for years," you muttered. "And look where it got him—still trapped in that rotting world. What makes him think this time will be any different?"

Jinu shifted behind you, about to speak. You didn’t even turn.

"Don't even think for one damn second that I'll help you," you cut in coldly.

Jinu closed his mouth, jaw tightening. Silence hung between you before he finally asked in a quiet voice, "H-How... how have you lived this long?"

You let out a sharp laugh, the sound laced with exhaustion and mockery.

"Like hell I’d tell you."

Then, in a blink, your scythe was unsheathed—its blackened blade gleaming in the moonlight, already hovering near Jinu’s throat. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped closer, weapon steady.

"I should kill you right now," you said lowly. "Save the hunters the trouble."

Jinu's lips twitched into a bitter grin. "A demon... siding with hunters? That’s new."

You pressed the blade closer, enough for him to feel the chill of death breathing down his neck.

"I don’t side with anyone," you said, voice sharp as steel. "I work for myself."

Another step forward. You loomed over him now, gaze burning with centuries of fury and grief.

"I've watched this world rise and fall for hundreds of years. You think I'll let you tear it all down just so my corpse of a father can claw his way out and devour everything that still breathes?"

You shook your head, disgust flickering across your face.

"What did he promise you, huh? Power? Freedom?" Your voice dropped, dangerous now. "You really think he’ll give you what you want?"

You tilted your head slowly, voice venomous with finality.

"You're nothing but a pawn, Jinu. And if you keep playing his game... you'll die like one."

"Your father… is Gwi Ma," he said, voice low—almost afraid to say it aloud.

Your heart skipped. Eyes widened. You stiffened in place, cursing yourself internally for letting the truth slip. But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done. The truth was out.

Jinu's gaze dropped to his trembling hands. As your weapon shimmered and faded into the shadows, his fingers began to glow with a familiar, ominous hue—those same violet markings you had seen too many times before.

"He said... he’d take them away," Jinu whispered, eyes fixated on the marks. "The memories."

You let out a long, tired breath, pressing your fingers against the bridge of your nose.

"And you believed him?" you muttered, the weight of exhaustion and disappointment heavy in your tone.

A silence hung between you, thick with unspoken things. Then, with reluctance weighing every step, you moved closer to him.

Jinu’s brows furrowed in confusion. His body tensed instinctively, unsure of your intentions.

You raised your hands halfway to his face, then paused.

"Can I?" you asked softly, voice quieter now—gentler.

He hesitated, gaze searching yours for a moment before he gave a small nod.

You took it as permission.

Your palms cupped his face. Slowly, you leaned forward until your forehead rested against his. You closed your eyes. A familiar tingling crept into your hands as your power activated—dark purple mist curling from your skin, winding its way into Jinu's.

He inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.

You exhaled shakily, then drew back, turning away from him as the mist dissipated.

"There," you said, voice low. "He won’t bother you—for a few hours, at least."

A beat passed. Then:

"Did you just... seal him?" Jinu asked, stunned.

You didn’t turn around.

“Temporarily,” you said, your voice dropping lower, the word hanging in the air like a reluctant farewell.

There was a pause. A beat of silence filled with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say. When you finally spoke again, it was softer—strained, like it hurt to admit.

“…It’s the best I can do right now.”

You didn’t look back.

Your figure melted into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of your presence and the cold wind brushing across the rooftop.

Jinu stood there, unmoving. His brows furrowed, heart pounding, mind reeling.

a/n: I really need more of him pleaseeeeee

part2

[shokopan]

PROMISE ME THIS  .  L. ACKERMAN ⤷ levi x gn!reader, fluff, canon au, wc: 1.1k

“i’ve figured it out,” you suddenly cut through the silence as you turn to levi, who’s now shifted to face you completely, “i know the kind of person i’d want to be betrothed to,”

“oh?” levi raises an eyebrow, trying his hardest to conceal the sudden schoolboy nervousness bubbling in his stomach, “i guess i don’t even need to ask because you’ll tell me anyways,”

“right, right,” you roll your eyes as you continue “they’d have to be completely and utterly infatuated with me. like so wholly enamored and obsessed with me that they’d grovel at my feet. if they’re interested in basically worshipping me too, i don’t think i’d mind. maybe that’d even earn them bonus points,”

“so no physical traits or any other characteristics, beyond being crazy for you, huh? should be easy to find,” levi comments, noting what you’d just said and wondering if he should be more forthcoming about his interest in you.

“you’d think, but unfortunately i’m surrounded by people more obsessed with my comrade,” you laugh, a knowing and pointed smile on your face that levi commits to memory, “it’s fine though, a scout’s life is too fleeting and marred by the constant threat of death,”

you sigh a little dejectedly before straightening up again, too conscious of the sudden morbid turn, “i guess strength should be included in my criteria,”

“should be, yeah,” levi agrees, pausing briefly, “we have to keep going no matter all that shit we go through on a regular basis. no good in subjecting ourselves to that level of grief”

“yea, fuck you’re right,” you sigh, “guess i’ve gotta look high and low for this ideal future lover,”

levi inhales sharply, frowning at the realization that this was the golden window of opportunity he’d been searching for this whole time.

“i don’t think you’d have to go through that much to find your lover,” levi starts, voice strained and heart palpitating strangely.

“what, like i should give up?” you tease, “i’m just musing levi, don’t worry. i’ve accepted the reality of being the rare and unfortunate long surviving scouts anyways,”

“no, don’t give up and shit,” levi groans, shaking his head and glaring at your forehead, not wanting to look too directly at you (but failing still), “i mean that, fuck, ok, i mean that you don’t have to keep looking for that potential lover that you think won’t exist because,”

he trails off, voice faltering as his nerves are starting to overwhelm him. it’s an odd and strangely humiliating experience as the man built up to be humanity’s strongest soldier. it’s as if all of that superhuman strength and fighting prowess has left him, relegating levi as just a man before you, struggling to wear his heart on his sleeve after obscuring it for so long.

“because?” your voice is gentle, boldly moving to tentatively touch his arm.

“because i’m here,” levi’s courage breaks through, “because i can be all of that and more for you,”

“levi,” you breath, the secret little crush you’d been harboring for years rushing out in full force, evidenced by the impossibly wide smile bursting throughout your face.

“i’m shit at emotions but i’ll make sure you fucking feel loved. i’ll protect you even though you’re also fucking strong and don’t realistically need protection. you can trust that i won’t leave you because i’m also fucking strong. we’ll keep surviving together. you don’t need to look for someone who’s obsessed with you,” levi sputters out, “you don’t need to because i already am,”

you’re stunned, completely silent as levi calms down, the rushing tidal  wave of emotions simmering to a peaceful stream that leaves him embarrassed and suddenly anxious.

“sorry if i overstepped, i shouldn—“ levi’s pitiful backtracking is interrupted as you finally gather your bearings and crash your lips to his before he can babble further. levi’s stunned, frozen in place briefly before he finally comprehends what’s happening and hurriedly gathers your waist in his arms, pulling you closer as you wrap your arms around his neck.

and after what feels like an eternity, you break from the kiss, arms still tangled with each other and bodies close as you both refuse to separate, somehow fearing that if you two let go, the mirage will break and you and levi will have to return to the grueling reality of being soldiers constantly surviving the horrors that continuously chip away at everything and everyone you know to be home.

“hi levi,” you finally whisper, looking up at him. levi’s features are soft, the roughness built up from years of tribulations that he’s had to shoulder dissipate. he traces your jaw with a hand slowly, confirming that this is real as he quietly responds “hey,”

you and levi stare at each other for what must have been a millennia, uncovering a haven in each other’s presence now that previous boundaries have been breached. maybe it is possible to get lost in someone’s eyes, levi notes. maybe if those eyes shone the perseverance and strength of the only person that could shoulder his desperation to have someone he loves survive as long as he does. 

“so you’d grovel at my feet?” you laugh, breaking the quietness blooming between the two of you. levi rolls his eyes, turning his face away as his silence gives you the answer you’re looking for.

“don’t worry you ass, i’d consider groveling at your feet too,” you wink, kissing his cheek as you break from his arms and attempt to walk away.

“oi!” levi’s quick to grab your hand before you can escape him, capturing you back in his arms as you laugh, relenting and letting yourself sink into his chest, “we’re on the same page?”

levi cringes at how gruff the ask sounds, but when you smile and nod, he knows you understand that gravity of what he means.

“yes we are, levi. i’m planning to make sure you’re stuck with me now, sorry about that,” you respond shrugging with a humorously sympathetic shrug.

“not a bad fate if you ask me,” levi hums, glancing at you, “the two of us, we’ll survive together. we’ll make it out all of the shit this world throws at us, i promise. even if it’s fucking dumb to promise anything in our world, we're strong enough, so i can promise you that,”

levi’s eyes are pointing straight at you, wearing his resolve proudly as you match his and the two of you nod in confirmation, 

“i’ll hold you to it,”

[heesvnqie]

non idol au + celebrity au with jay x fem!reader who are co-stars in an action+romcom kdrama?

so maybe they shoot some action scenes and he’s worried for her bc she doesn’t like having a stunt double and does all the stunts herself

and maybe they also shoot the romance scenes which lead to like a LATER irl romance scene between them yk?

feel free to ignore this if it’s not something you’d write haha

Author : Dear Anon, I would love to write this out! Thank you so muchhh for giving me such a fantastic prompt. Lots of hugs and kisses.

Behind The Scene- A Park Jongseong FF

Pairing: Park Jongseong!Jay x female reader

Word count: 4.6k

Genre: fluff, smut

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: Your first ever series and with the BEST actor of the K-drama industry puts you under pressure and nervousness. You're not just the female lead but also the action herione. Filming alongside Jay, you and Jay develop a undeniable chemistry.

The sun hovered lazily in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of the city. With eyes shielded by oversized sunglasses, you weaved through the crowded sidewalks, heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today was the day you had been waiting for, the start of filming for the highly anticipated action-romcom series that would either make or break your career.

You were a rookie in the industry, and this was your first series but you had something that set you apart from the rest: you were not only the female lead but also the action heroine.

As you approached the set, the sound of voices grew louder, a blend of Korean and English echoing through the streets. You recognized the towering figure of Jay, your co-star, in the distance, surrounded by a whirlwind of crew members.

He was a seasoned actor, known for his impeccable fighting skills and chiseled jawline that had won the hearts of fans worldwide. You took a deep breath and straightened your posture, reminding yourself of the fierce character you were about to portray.

Your first series was going to be with the BEST actor of the whole k-drama industry. It gave you a feeling of pride as well as of fear on the thought that what if your acting wasn't at his level?

The director, Mr. Kim, called for your attention as you and Jay arrived on set. He spoke with a fervor that could only come from a man who had poured his soul into a script. "Today, we begin with the rooftop chase scene," he announced, holding up a storyboard. "Remember, safety first, but we need that raw, adrenaline-filled performance. Are we ready?"

"Are we ready Miss Y/N? You are the main-woman in this scene.." Mr.Kim asked noticing the worry and fear in your eyes.

"Yes." You managed to say with a slight tremble in your voice.

Jay cast a concerned glance in your direction, noticing better than anyone the slight tremble in your voice and the way how your hand shook with nervousness.

He knew you didn't like stunt doubles, you had mentioned that during the audition. You insisted on doing your own stunts to give an authentic performance. The thought of you in harm's way made his stomach tighten, but he knew better than to challenge your determination.

He offered a reassuring smile instead. "You've got this," he murmured in your ear as his hot breath streamed down the back of your neck. Shivers passed down your spine as you managed to show him a thumbs-up.

The cameras rolled, and the scene unfolded. You sprinted across the rooftop with an agility that belied your inexperience, leaping between buildings with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. Jay followed close behind, his movements precise and calculated. Despite the scripted chaos, he couldn't help but admire your courage and dedication to the craft. You and Jay exchanged a few lines in between breathless pants, the tension between you both palpable, not just from the scene, but from a growing, unspoken attraction.

The climax of the sequence involved a daring jump over a narrow alley, which you had practiced relentlessly. Jay watched from the opposite rooftop where you had to land, his eyes never leaving you. You took a moment to gather your nerves, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, with a fierce cry and quick run, you launched yourself into the air, the wind whipping through your hair. Time seemed to slow as you soared over the gap, and for a brief, terrifying second, you thought you might not make it.

But you did, landing with a thud on the opposite rooftop, your knees buckling slightly.

"CUT!" The director yelled. The crew erupted into applause, and Jay rushed to your side, his relief palpable.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain and distress.

You grinned up at him, your cheeks flushed with exhilaration. "Never better," you replied, pushing yourself to your feet. The adrenaline coursed through your veins, leaving you feeling invincible.

You both shared a brief moment of understanding, the kind that forms between two people who have just survived something intense together.

As the day went on, you and Jay shot scenes that were a stark contrast to the earlier action—now it was time for the romantic moments that would melt the hearts of their viewers.

Jay's gaze lingered on you as he and you delivered your lines with an ease that surprised even you. The chemistry between both of you was undeniable, and it was clear that both of you weren't just playing characters anymore.

Each touch, each smile, every fleeting glance was charged with a current that had the crew whispering and squeakling like highschool girls.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue over the city as the crew approached the final scene of the day. It was a classic rooftop confession, where your characters would finally admit their feelings for each other.

As the director called for action, Jay stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. He could feel the electricity between them, and it was all too real.

Both of you delivered your lines with a passion that seemed to resonate through the air, your eyes locked in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. The moment grew heavier, the silence between your words thick with unspoken desire.

When the script called for him to lean in and kiss you, Jay paused, his heart thumping. He searched your eyes for permission, and finding it as you nodded, pressed his lips gently to yours.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if both of you were afraid to break the delicate illusion. But as your characters' love story unfolded before you, the line between fiction and reality began to blur. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Jay pushed you against the wall until it was no longer just for the camera.

The crew, captivated by the authenticity of the moment, held their collective breath, the whispers dying down to nothing.

Mr. Kim called "Cut!" with a knowing smile, and the spell was broken.

Jay pulled back, his gaze lingering on your lips for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The atmosphere on the rooftop had shifted, and everyone knew it. He offered her a hand, helping her to walk away from the wall, their fingers intertwining naturally. They stumbled over their next lines, the heat of their kiss still echoing between them.

The days turned into weeks, and the chemistry between you both grew more potent with each scene you two shot. You found yourselves laughing at inside jokes during takes and lingering in each other's embrace longer than the director required.

It was as if your on-screen romance had spilled over into real life, and neither of you were complaining. You and Jay began to share more than just the screen, finding yourselves at dinners and coffee shops, sharing stories about their pasts and dreams for the future.

But the whispers grew louder, the paparazzi more persistent. The rumors of a secret romance between the lead actors began to spread like wildfire through the entertainment industry.

Jay knew that this kind of publicity could either skyrocket their show's success or lead to a disastrous scandal. He had been down that road before, and the memory of his past relationships ruined by the media still stung.

The two leads decided to keep your feelings under wraps, focusing solely on both of your professional commitment to the show. Yet, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the sparks that flew every time you were together. The tension grew with each passing day, a silent dance of desire and restraint.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, you both found yourselves in a quiet corner of the set, the lights dimming as the crew packed up around you.

The air was thick with unspoken words, and the energy between them was almost tangible. Jay leaned in, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We can't keep doing this," he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing.

You looked at him in confusion.

"Pretending," he clarified, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "We're fooling ourselves and everyone else."

Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you found was the intensity of his gaze, a mirror to your own tumultuous emotions.

"What do you suggest we do?" You whispered, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the city below. "The series is a hit. Everybody loves our chemistry. The fans truly want us to date."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. But we're not just characters in a drama, we're people with real feelings. We can't let this control us anymore."

With a deep sigh, you stepped back, creating space between him and you. "You're right," you conceded, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to be professional. Our careers are on the line."

The conversation weighed heavily on both of you, and the following days on set were filled with awkward glances and forced smiles. You both threw yourselves into work, trying to ignore the undeniable pull that tugged at your hearts.

The stunt scenes became more intense, and Jay found himself more protective than ever, hovering nearby whenever you were in the air, ready to catch you if you stumbled.

You noticed, and a part of you felt grateful, while another part resented the reminder of the barrier you both had built between each other.

During a break from filming, you sat in your trailer, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The makeup artist had painted your cheeks with a blush that didn't quite match the one Jay's kisses left behind.

You felt torn between your career and your burgeoning feelings for him. The knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts.

Jay peered in, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Can we talk?"

Nodding, you stepped aside to let him in, your heart racing. The trailer was cramped, but it felt even smaller with the weight of your unspoken words pressing down on both of you. He sat beside you on the small couch, his leg brushing against yours.

"Look," Jay began, his voice a little shaky. "I know we agreed to keep things professional, but I can't ignore this anymore. When we're together, it feels so real. So right." He paused, watching you intently. "What if we just…see where this takes us?"

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. You knew the risks, the potential scandals and the impact on your careers, but you also knew that you couldn't deny your feelings for much longer. You took a deep breath and placed your hand on his, feeling the heat from his skin. "Okay," You murmured. "But we have to be careful."

Jay nodded solemnly. "We'll be discreet."

Your secret grew as the days passed, a shared look here, a stolen touch there. You became experts at hiding in plain sight, your on-screen chemistry becoming a delicious secret that only added to the show's allure.

Off-screen, you found moments to be together, sneaking away during breaks, your conversations filled with whispers and smiles that didn't reach your eyes when the cameras weren't rolling.

One night, after a particularly demanding day of filming, Jay suggested that you both grab a quick dinner together. You both ended up in a small, tucked-away restaurant, the kind that didn't bother with autographs or photos, where the aroma of sizzling meat and spicy kimchi filled the air.

The intimate setting made your hearts race, and your conversation flowed as freely as the soju that accompanied your meal.

Under the flickering candlelight, he reached across the table, his hand covering yours. "I know we said we'd keep it professional, but I can't help how I feel about you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. Your eyes searched his, finding the vulnerability you hadn't expected. "I know," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel it too."

Your relationship grew in the shadows of the film set. Stolen glances, secret smiles, and whispers that only both of you could hear. It was a delicate dance of passion and discretion, a dance that had you both feeling like teenagers again. Each day brought new challenges, new moments of tension and excitement, and each night brought you two closer together.

As the show's popularity soared, the whispers grew louder. The media was hungry for any scrap of gossip, any hint of a romance between the two. Yet, you and Jay remained steadfast in your decision to keep your feelings hidden from the public eye.

You knew that the moment you admitted your love, the storm of attention would be overwhelming, possibly even destructive.

One evening, as you and Jay sat together on the edge of the same rooftop where your on-screen romance had begun, Jay looked into your eyes and spoke the words that had been haunting him. "We can't hide forever," he said softly. "We're going to have to decide when we want to tell the world."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. The thought of your secret being out in the open was both thrilling and terrifying. You knew that once you stepped out of the shadows, there would be no turning back.

"But what if it ruins everything?" You asked, your voice filled with concern. "What if we can't handle the pressure?"

Jay squeezed your hand reassuringly. "We're stronger than we think," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "We've come this far, and we're not just any couple. We're the couple everyone wants to see together. If we do it right, we can control the narrative."

You both talked into the night, weighing the pros and cons, your hearts and minds in a constant tug-of-war. Finally, both of you reached an agreement.

You would wait until the show's finale to reveal your relationship, timing it to coincide with the dramatic climax of your characters' love story. It would be a perfect, poetic ending for both the show and your secret romance.

The days leading up to the finale were a whirlwind of intense filming and heightened emotions. The anticipation of your characters' confession mirrored your own, and the lines between scripted passion and real-life feelings grew increasingly blurred.

You both held onto the secret tighter than ever, the excitement of the impending revelation a constant undercurrent in your interactions.

As the final scenes approached, so did the paparazzi. They lurked in the shadows, cameras at the ready, waiting for a single slip-up that would shatter the illusion of your professional façade. Jay and you had become experts at dodging questions, at keeping your hands to yourselves, at smiling for the cameras while your hearts ached for more.

The night of the finale was upon them. The script called for your characters to confess their love on the rooftop under a blanket of stars. The air was thick with tension, not just from the scene but from the knowledge that soon, your own secret would be shared with the world. Jay took a deep breath as the director called for action, his eyes locking with yours, conveying all the love and fear he couldn't speak aloud.

Both of you delivered your lines with a passion that seemed to set the very air around you alight. The kiss was explosive, a culmination of weeks of pent-up emotion, and the crew watched with bated breath. As the scene ended and the director called cut, Jay pulled away, his heart racing.

The moment of truth had arrived.

You had agreed to wait until the show's finale to reveal your relationship, but the intensity of your on-screen confession had made it impossible to resist the pull any longer. Jay took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, and led you to the edge of the rooftop, the city of Seoul stretching out below you like a twinkling sea of stars. The cool breeze whispered around you, carrying the scent of the city's vibrant life.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's do it now," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Let's tell the world before the cameras do."

Your heart skipped a beat, the gravity of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. But as you looked into his eyes, you knew he was right. It was time to claim their happiness.

"Okay," You whispered, your grip on his hand tightening. "Let's make it our moment, not theirs."

Both of you descended the stairs from the rooftop, your steps echoing in the quiet alley. The paparazzi waited like vultures, but tonight, they had a surprise in store. Jay took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision settle in his chest. As you reached the street, a cacophony of flashes and questions erupted around you, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Let's go," he whispered, leading you through the frenzy.

The paparazzi surrounded you both, their cameras flashing like a storm of lightning, but Jay and you ran through the street, hearts beating in sync and as you both laughed. You both ducked into a nearby alley, the walls closing in around you as you sought refuge from the prying eyes. The moment the door to the quiet restaurant swung shut, the tension between you snapped.

With trembling hands, both of you took a seat in a cozy booth, the warmth of the place wrapping around like a comforting blanket. "Ready for this?" Jay asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

"More than ready," You replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You both had rehearsed your story a hundred times, a carefully crafted tale of friendship blossoming into love. It was almost as if both of you had been preparing for this moment since the day you and Jay met.

The hours ticked by, filled with laughter and whispers of your own little world. The food grew cold as you lost yourselves in your conversation, the outside world a distant murmur that didn't dare to intrude. But as the clock neared midnight, reality began to creep back in. The show's finale was airing, and your secret would soon be out of your hands.

Jay checked his phone, the screen lighting up his anxious expression. "We should do it now," he urged. "Before the rumors get out of control."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. You nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. "Okay."

You both waited until the perfect moment, the climax of the show's final episode where your characters' love story reached its crescendo. As your on-screen counterparts shared a passionate embrace, you two posted a candid photo of yourselves on your social media accounts. The image was simple: two tired but happy faces, her head resting on his shoulder, their eyes filled with a secret that was no longer just for them. The caption read, "Life imitates art. <3 #OurLoveStory #K-DramaCoupleGoals."

The internet exploded. Within minutes of posting the picture, notifications flooded their phones like confetti in a celebration that had been bottled up for too long. The hashtags he and you had used trended immediately, and the reactions were a mix of shock, elation, and fervent support from your devoted fans

You and Jay watched in awe as the news spread across the entertainment world, the real-life romance becoming the talk of the town, overshadowing even the drama's cliffhanger finale.

The day of the Filmfare OTT Awards arrived, and the excitement was palpable. Jay and your show had been nominated in multiple categories, but the real prize was the undeniable chemistry that had brought you to this moment.

You walked the red carpet together, your hands entwined, each step a declaration of you and Jay's love. The flash of cameras and the screams of fans only served to amplify the thrill that was already coursing through your veins.

As you took your seats in the grand auditorium, your eyes never left each other's. The air was charged with anticipation, a heady mix of nerves and excitement. When the show's name was called out for Best Series, the room erupted in applause. Jay turned to you, a proud smile playing on his lips, and you felt your heart swell with joy. Both of you had done it; You two had conquered the industry together.

The after-party was a whirlwind of congratulations and celebrations. The producer, director, and cast mingled with the entertainment world, all eager to congratulate the couple who had brought their show to life. Jay's hand remained firmly in yours as you both navigated through the throngs of people, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the chaos.

The series creator, a charismatic woman with a sharp wit, pulled Jay and you, her eyes shimmering with pride. "You two," she said, raising her glass, "are the reason we're here tonight. Your chemistry is what made this show unforgettable." She leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"A toast to our new couple and the win of our series!" She shouted.

The glasses clinked, the sound echoing through the buzzing room.

As the party raged on, you and Jay found yourselves in a quiet corner, the music a distant throb in your ears.

Jay leaned in, his eyes dark with desire. "I can't wait to celebrate properly," he murmured.

Jay held you by your hand dragging you into a suite of the hotel where the party was organised. You two slipped away, hand in hand, leaving the festivities behind.

As you entered the bedroom, he kissed you the lips. The kiss was a declaration, a promise of the passion he had been holding back for so long.

Jay pulled you closer, his hands sliding around your waist, and you could feel the heat of his skin through her dress. He had waited for this moment, and now that it was here, it was like the dam had broken.

Your kisses grew more urgent, each one a declaration of love that had been held back for too long. He slipped the dress off your shoulders, revealing the softness of her skin beneath. You unbuttoned his shirt, your fingertips tracing the contours of his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your palm.

The suite was a luxurious retreat from the cacophony of the party. The lights were low, casting shadows that danced on the walls, setting a stage for your private celebration.

Jay's hands were gentle but firm as he guided you to the bed, your eyes never breaking contact. You felt a rush of desire as he kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he trailed kisses down your collarbone, each one setting your body alight.

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours. "Are you sure about this?" Her response was a fiery kiss that left no room for doubt. "Yes. More than anything," you murmured against his lips.

His touch was electric, setting every inch of you on fire. Your hands explored his body, tracing the lines of muscle that had been honed by years of martial arts training, feeling the power and strength that had made him a star.

Your kisses grew deeper, more demanding, as sought to claim each other fully. He kissed you with a hunger that you had never felt before. His hands roamed over your curves, memorizing every inch of your body, as if he was afraid that if he didn't, you would vanish.

He took his time, exploring your body with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. His fingers danced along your thighs, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. You squirmed beneath him, desperate for more, and he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Patience," he whispered, his voice a promise.

With a final, lingering kiss, he slid down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. He parted your legs gently, his gaze filled with a hunger that made your core clench with anticipation. His tongue darted out, tracing a wet line along your folds, and you gasped.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you, his every movement calculated to drive you wild.

Your nails dug into the bedspread as he found your clit, circling it with agonizing precision. He watched your reactions, studying you like a map, learning the landscape of your pleasure. Your breath grew ragged, your hips moving in time with his ministrations.

The pressure built inside you, a crescendo that threatened to shatter you into a million pieces. And when he finally slid a finger inside you, you did just that, coming apart in his arms with a cry that was equal parts relief and ecstasy.

He un-buckled his belt as slid down his pants.He kissed his way back up your body, their eyes locking as he positioned himself above you.

You could feel the tip of him against you, the heat of him making you wetter, your body begging for more. He took a moment, savoring the connection, before he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from his very soul. You were tight, so tight, and the sensation was overwhelming.

Your walls clamped around him as he filled you, the feeling so intense it was almost painful. But it was a good pain, a pain that made him feel alive in a way he never had before. He began to move, his hips rocking into yours in a rhythm that seemed as natural as breathing. You met each of his thrusts with a moan, your nails digging into his back as you held on for dear life.

He watched your face as he moved inside you, the way your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth parted in pleasure. He knew he was your first, and the thought made him even more determined to make this moment unforgettable.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and reverence. You responded with soft gasps and whimpers, your body moving in sync with his.

Your rhythm grew faster, more intense, as the room filled with the sound of your muffled cries and the slick wetness of your passion. He felt you tighten around him, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. He knew you were close, and he was determined to take you there. His strokes grew more deliberate, his focus solely on your pleasure.

With a final, desperate moan, you came, your body convulsing around him. He groaned, the feeling of your climax sending him over the edge. He buried himself inside you, his release hot and deep, as he claimed you fully. Both of you clung to each other, breaths mingling in the stillness that followed, your hearts hammering in a frantic symphony of love.

Your bodies remained connected, neither willing to break the intimate bond that had just formed. The room was filled with the scent of your love, a potent mix of sweat and desire. Jay kissed your forehead, his chest heaving with each breath. "I love you," he murmured, the words a solemn vow.

His eyes searched your, the intensity of your union reflected in your depths. "I love you too," you whispered back, your voice a soft caress against his skin. Both of you lay there, basking in the afterglow.

Taglist:-

@slutofpsh , @laurenalpha123 , @dreamiestay , @amortenha , @peonywon , @mitmit01 , @heeevangelizesme , @gvni-eve ,@yourmomni , @leov3rse , @punchbug9-blog

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes ><  he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎

richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage. 

over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over. 

though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you. 

it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away. 

there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you. 

it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year. 

you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural. 

he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change. 

“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.” 

“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it. 

he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order  to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot. 

richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.

though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.

“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots. 

“see what?” you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket. 

“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. 

“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet. 

“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.

“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience. 

“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open. 

“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?” 

“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum. 

he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear. 

richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have. 

and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.” 

no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him. 

richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual. 

“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around. 

‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside. 

“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more. 

“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.” 

you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”  

“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips. 

“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it. 

“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music. 

he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.  

richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay. 

you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you: 

“where do you want me?” 

without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards. 

but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even. 

though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid’ the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it— 

“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before. 

“what?” 

“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing. 

“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity. 

your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”

you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white. 

“shit . . . you don’t mean that.” 

“i do, rich. i want this.” 

you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies. 

“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out. 

“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.” 

“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks. 

“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.” 

you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’ 

“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead. 

“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.” 

just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement. 

patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count. 

richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough. 

there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.  

the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory? 

a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree. 

god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own. 

“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ” 

“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want. 

“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right. 

“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?” 

he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end. 

“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips. 

it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed? 

“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . . 

and he does.

“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you. 

“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim. 

he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.

“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”

you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.

“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous eyes, “i liked it.”

“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”

you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt. 

and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.  

“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest. 

he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar. 

richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes. 

there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone. 

‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you. 

a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise. 

you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position. 

richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’  

he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?” 

“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a: 

“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.

“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?” 

he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.

“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”

he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent. 

richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch. 

his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished. 

“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”

tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎

©𝑃ℐ𝒩𝒦ℳℐℛ𝒯ℋ! — all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ౨ৎ

[xeeljii]

How do you think joost would react to reader squirting for the first time? 👀👀

oh he would go so crazy .... (,,>﹏<,,)

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

CW: 18+, f! reader, well squirting duh, not proof read etc.

Joost is thrusting deep into you hard and fast holding you by the thighs as he moves you easily, your back arches from the mattress like a bow about to snap but he doesn't let up at all, so completely lost in pleasure panting over you. He just came back from tour so he is more pent up than usual and more aggressive too as you are, you both wanted each other so bad you hadn't even touched yourself in his absence so it is no surprise you are extra sensitive.

"You are so wet schat, did you miss me that much?" He says.

"Yeah, wanted you-" You can't finish your sentence as he hits the spongey spot deep inside you that has you gushing around his length.

"What? What to you want?" He asks letting go of your side to put his hand in the middle of your chest he loves it, feeling you heart beat as your pussy pulses all around him.

"Wanted you to fuck me so bad, want you to cum inside me please." Tears are streaming down your face, words wet and whiny as you come every second closer to your high.

His hand sneaks down your torso feeling the plush warm skin covered in sweat, feeling the muscles of your stomach twitching, it feels so familiar the sweet warmth of your cunt but there is something else brewing under the surface.

He is pounding you into the mattress so hard you have to grab at the sheets with fists clenched so you won't hit your head against the headboard. His big palm travels south still splayed on your stomach but his thumb reaches for your clit and he starts pressing hard fast circles, his hand applies soft pressure right over where his dick is hitting deep into you.

"Joost wait-" You whine all of a sudden feeling a strange sensation deep inside your tummy. Your eyes go wide trying to find his but he is not even able to hear you over his budding orgasm sending a quick bolt of lighting to his spine.

He pulls your body closer to him as he thrusts deeply cumming on your pink walls with a loud moan, without meaning to he puts more weight on his hand that is resting on you and right as his pelvis hits your own you feel the biggest drop of your life, you feel the air leave your lungs as you uselessly try to warn him, your pussy clenches wildly all over his dick like you are having orgasm after orgasm rolling over your body, your eyes go white when you feel yourself squirting clear shiny liquid all over his lower stomach drenching him.

You scream loudly like a mad woman every nerve of your body completely fried, your back lifts completely from the mattress like the soft white fabric is burning you, the sensation doesn't stop a continuous line of pleasure taking over your body, you feel yourself throbbing, pulsing against him, the intrusion of his thick length against your walls is too much and you push at him as you scoot away desperate scared by the intensity of the pleasure.

He is looking at you fascinated, as soon as he felt the wetness his eyes kept jumping from your face broken in pleasure and horror, in delight and disgust so surprised by your own release; to your cunt so pretty, so open, so deliciously wet and clenching so hard on him he almost couldn't pull out when you pushed at him. He still finishes in you, some inside before you pulled away, some on the lips of your pussy that is completely drenched and shiny. He has never wanted to eat you out more badly than right now.

You are learning to breath again, your brain doing a superhuman effort to blink and inhale at the same time while he goes to grab at the back of your thighs to spread you for his viewing pleasure. He is completely hypnotized with the way your thigh hole is gaped and throbbing, clenching against nothing as bits of his own release drip from you. He reaches one hand to your core and pushes it back inside softly as you shy from his touch still too sensitive. You can only hear the sound of blood pumping in your ears.

"Again." You can barely register his words, you feel like he is speaking to you from underwater.

"What?" You whisper, throat dry from the screaming.

"Do it again schat." He is looking at you with big fascinated eyes, pupils blown wide.

"I don't think I can." You shake your head slightly, nervous with the way he is looking at you with so much hunger. "I didn't know that I could" You admit bewildered, still out of breath but he looks ready to go again.

"You can." He speaks so sure of himself like he is speaking it into existence.

"Joost-" You warn still a little dizzy from the hardest orgasm of your life.

"Please, please, I love you." He pulls you closer by the thighs, he is already hard again in an instant, you feel it as his wet dick starts rubbing against your folds, he pushes against his tip agains your clit so softly but it still makes you twitch.

"I need you baby." He looks famished, he looks pathetic, he looks like he is about to eat you whole at any second.

"Yes?" He asks like if you say no he might actually die, with big puppy eyes staring back at you it would take someone much stronger to say no so you just nod softly as he pushes inside you. And if you had any plans of walking the next day .... well good luck.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

A/N: i need to start replying with just yes and no i cannot keep doing this lmao

[artbyblastweave]

But seriously, the implied dynamics of Earth 3 (Crime-syndicate world) are deeply deeply fascinating to me, because of what an inversion of the prime-earth hero/villain ration implies, right? There are numerically far more villains than heroes in the mainline DC universe, just because of the sheer number of ill-conceived one-offs who are created to provide Superman and Batman with a steady stream of adversaries. In Earth-3 that's flipped- far more heroes than villains, but it doesn't matter because Earth-3 had the bad luck to have the five or six most powerful and competent superhumans on the planet be malevolent tyrannical assholes. So you've got wave after wave of hopeful up-and-comers, from worldbreakers like Doomsday down to the dregs like the Rainbow Raider or the Ten-Eyed Man, just relentlessly dashing themselves against this unbreaking malevolent rock. Because what else are they going to do? All this to say that I would definitely read an ongoing following Earth-3's Joker or Penguin or Two Face or really any of Batman's habitual punching bags, where the morality flip would be most overtly visible. I want to spend more time in this world then we're typically allowed to.

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 7

Sorry for the wait! It was hard to focus while writing this chapter, so I might be editing it for mistakes here and there. I hope you like it! :] <3

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, broken limbs, violence, drowning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were laying dazed on the cold metal floor. In too much pain to focus on anything else besides breathing. You heard a commotion, voices muffled through the thick glass. At least inside this tube they couldn’t touch you anymore. Your mind strayed to the turtles. You weren’t able to save them. You weren’t able to do anything. You just hope they can somehow get away safely. That April and Casey can somehow save them.

“I won’t ask again…. Where’s (y/n).” Leo growled. He grit his teeth as he lowered his stance, ready to strike.

Baxter Stockman was quickly typing commands into the program on his computer. Karai stepped in front of him and drew her katana.

“Out of your reach, Turtles.” 

“Aaaaand, there!” Stockman hit one last key on this computer and a red light started to flash on the tank, bringing the turtle’s attention to the crumpled form inside the glass. At the same time a multitude of files and programs started closing on the screen one after another, Stockman’s signature digital self-destruct program. Baxter stepped away from his computer and lifted his arms up triumphantly.

The sound of rattling pipes overhead catches your attention. 

“Ha! You’re too late, Turtles. For years, the Foot Clan has sought out the means to fight you mutants on equal footing. And now, we have our secret weapon! An endless supply of pure mutagen!!!” 

You heard a loud beeping sound, then a click, and the squeak of metal.

A gush of icy water pours down on you from above. The sudden cold shocks you and marginally distracts you from the pain. You pull yourself to the edge of the glass away from the heavy stream of water coming down from above, slowly starting to fill the base. You take a shaky deep breath and bang a fist on the glass. No use. Dizzy and numb, you look outside the tank for someone, something, anything that might help you. That’s when you see them.

And with dawning horror, they see you.

“Guys….?” You press your wet hand up against the glass. They’re here! They’re safe!!!

“(Y/n)....? (Y/N)!!!!” Leo shouts and lunges towards the tank. He tries to rush up to the glass but Rocksteady blocks his path. There’s blood on your cheek, and even a good distance away he can tell you’re in bad shape. 

“OUT OF OUR WAY!” Raph roared at Bebop and Rocksteady, crossing his sai in preparation for a fight.

“Uuuh hey guys? Why is (y/n) in a giant fish bowl…?” Mikey asked, nunchucks at the ready.

“They ain’t comin’ out anytime soon, short stack.” Bebop said with an evil grin. 

“You turtles totally fell for our trap!” Rocksteady chuckled.

Donnie immediately noticed the computer hooked up to the tank’s controls. He tried to subtly sneak past Bebop to get to Stockman but Karai stepped forward and blocked his path.

Karai pointed her sword at Donnie. “The Foot will be unstoppable.”

“And I will FINALLY get the recognition I deserve, for single-handedly creating an entire race of superhumans that will rule over the city!!!” 

“You’re crazy!! You don’t even know what kind of side effects that mutation will have on regular humans!” Donnie activated the electricity at the end of his bo staff, ready to fight Karai to get to Stockman. 

“I do have to thank you turtles for activating their mutant gene. Without your help, none of this would be possible!” Stockman’s laugh echoed through the large room. He waltz over to the canister filling up with the distilled mutagen from your blood. “We originally got (y/n) by a…. foreseeable mistake. But to our surprise, they survived where others had failed. And yet- their results were incomplete. Their animal DNA wasn’t materializing no matter what we did to them. So we came back to New York, where the population could supply us with countless more test subjects.” Baxter said cheerfully, popping the lid off the canister. “But now that we have the results we wanted, we have no need of them! We can preserve (y/n)’s body in a special chemical compound that will put them into a permanent hibernation. No need to worry, their body will be harnessed for science!” Stockman’s laugh was deep and evil, and to everyone’s shock-

He dumped the canister of mutagen over his own head.

Karai lept back out of the trajectory of the splash. Baxter’s laugh increased in volume as he began to morph and change. His head and eyes grew large, his body shrank, little papery wings sprouted from his back, and he mutated into a giant mutant fly. 

Bebop and Rocksteady were stunned by the transformation. “Eeeeewwww… he turned into a bug?” Bebop whined.

“Nasty!” Rocksteady shook his head. Neither of them were paying attention to the turtles so Raph and Donnie covered for Leo and Mikey to make a break for the tank you were in. By now it had filled enough that you were starting to float.

“We’re here babe! We’re gonna get you out!” Mikey reassured you. 

You whimpered helplessly. You were having a hard time keeping your head above water, not really able to swim with a broken dislocated arm and broken ankle. 

“Stay back!” Leo sliced at the glass, and Mikey hit it with his nunchucks as hard as he could, but their attacks barely left a scratch!

“Guys! We have incoming!” Donnie yelled as Stockman had started flying around the room, maniacally laughing as he swooped down and kicked the back of Mikey’s shell, almost knocking him over. 

“Dude, gross!” Mikey protested. Stockman looked to be drooling some kind of acid substance from his mouth.

Bebop and Rocksteady had recovered and started to charge towards them. Leo and Mikey had to jump away from your tank to avoid getting trampled. 

“Donnie, that glass is as hard as steel!!” Leo jumped up and kicked Rocksteady across his cheek, then retreated.

“What’re we gonna do? (Y/n)’s tank is already half full!” Raph shouted. He was using his sai to hold back Bebop’s tusks as he tried to charge them. 

You were doing your best to calm your breathing enough that you could float, but every time your head ducked below water you panicked. Your body was exhausted and protested against your desperate movements, but you needed to survive long enough for the boys to break you out.

“Donnie! See if you can turn off the water!!! I’ve got Karai.” Leo ordered

“Mikey! It’s you and me!” Raph called over, clanging his sai together and shouted a war cry running up to strike Rocksteady. 

“What?! What about the bug brained dude??!! Eep!” Mikey ducked as Stockman flew over his head. He looked down and realized he was kneeling at the feet of Bebop, who had taken the black taser out of his pocket.

“You wanna taste too, little man?” 

When Bebop flicked on the taser, Mikey saw the small stains of fresh blood on the pointed tips that buzzed with electricity. He looked back over to you struggling in the tank and how heavily injured you looked.

He saw red.

Mikey had a rare moment of true anger as he jumped to his feet and knocked the taser out of Bebop’s hand with his nunchucks, and in a flurry of rapid hits he beat back the warthog. He finished him off with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY BAE!” He shouted triumphantly.

Raph looked back to Mikey with wide eyes, proud of his little bro for letting loose. “Woah. Way to go Mikey!” He ducked a hit from Rocksteady and punched him hard under his chin. Knocking him out cold. 

Leo was crossing swords with Karai. She was a skilled fighter. But he was much stronger than her. While he pushed her back with a heavy strike, she slipped on some of the mutagen that had spilled on the floor, allowing Leo to take advantage of the opening and disarmed her. He flicked her sword out of her hand and knocked her back. She glared daggers at him, quickly recovering. But seeing as Bebop and Rocksteady were knocked out, she opted for a tactical retreat.

“This is just the beginning.” She hissed and ran out of the lab door. 

Stockman was buzzing around your tank, still laughing maniacally. 

“You turtlezzzzz cannot defeat the mighty Dr Stockman!! I am invincible!! I am-“

Donnie turned on the taser at the end of his bo staff and vaulted it at the annoying human insect, striking him and electrocuting him, knocking him out of the air to fall on the floor with a gross splat.

“Good thing I always carry a bug zapper.” He deadpanned.

Donnie went back to trying to hack into Stockmans computer. He managed to get past the firewall with his hacking program, but he discovered that all of the interfaces connected to the tank control had been erased. 

There was no way to stop the tank from filling up completely. Donnie would have to write a whole new interface from scratch to control the tank.

There was no time.

You were running out of air, trying desperately to keep your head above water as the tank was almost full to the top. You took in one last deep breath just as the water consumed the last of the space. You held your good hand over your mouth and nose hard, trying to hold in the air, and floated down towards the bottom of the tank. 

No more air.

“(Y/N)!!!” 

“ANGEL CAKES!!!” Donnie and Mikey yelled out in panic.

Your eyes snapped open, hearing their muffled voices outside the tank. You swam over to the glass and met eyes with Raphael. He had picked a spot and began punching at the glass over and over again with his sai in his fists.

The needled jabs just managed to scratch the surface. 

You looked at him sadly through the glass. He was stressed, sweating and desperate to break through. Mikey had grabbed a chair and had chucked it at the glass from another spot but it just bounced off and broke on the floor.

Leo was standing behind Donnie with his hand on his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. 

Time was running out. You were choking on the stale air in your lungs. Head getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. You removed your hand from your mouth and pressed it up to the glass, some bubbles of air escaping your mouth. Your eyebrows knit together to concentrate on not breathing in the fluid in the tank. But you were suffocating and in pain. 

It was hard.

You looked back up at Raph, and forced a smile on your face. You felt sad. You didn’t want them to see you like this. They felt so far away. 

Darkness was consuming your vision. The last remaining bubbles of air escaped from your mouth and your eyes slipped closed. 

“NO!!! NO-! (Y/N), STAY WITH US.” Raph pounded his fist hard against the glass. 

“DAMN IT.” Donnie frustratingly slammed his fist down next to the keyboard, his head falling into his hands. None of the lines of command coding he was typing in were working.

Leo left Donnie’s side and strode up to the tank.

“Move.” Leo ordered as he came up behind Raph. He unsheathed his swords and began slicing at the glass again. It was barely making a scratch. But combined with the small dents Raph had been making, he was slowly chipping away at the surface.

“Leo! If you can manage to cut 1.2 centimeters deep, it should weaken the glass enough to shatter with enough force!” Donnie yelled from where he was still furiously typing into the stationed keyboard. His attempts to unlock the system all in vain. 

Leo and Raph worked together to stab and slice at the weakest point in the glass until finally-

*crack*

A small fracture appeared in the glass. 

“There!!” Donnie called out. Raph and Leo switched to charging at the glass and ramming it full force with their shoulders. Over and over as the cracks grew wider and wider.

Mikey came over, and with a hand on Leo’s shoulder, the leader stepped aside to let his little brother help. Mikey joined Raph and rammed the glass again with such force the crack split all the way across the glass. One more strike-

The glass shattered on impact.

The gush of water that burst through swept Mikey and Raph off their feet. The floor of the lab flooded, and your body washed up on the floor. Lifeless and unmoving.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” The boys all yelled. 

Leo reached you first, falling into a kneel at your side. He ripped out the two needles from your back and held you in his arms. Donnie rushed over and slid down into the other spot at your side, his goggles pulled into place as he quickly checked you over.

“They’re not breathing. Put them down flat, now.” Leo obeyed and laid you on your back. Donnie first pressed down on your diaphragm to check for water blocking your lungs, then began compressions. 

The room was dead quiet all except for the sounds of Donnie’s whispered counting as he pressed down on your chest. He paused, opened your mouth, pinched your nose, and breathed into your lungs. 

Mikey was nervously walking around you back and forth, and Raph watched you from a distance, a vacant expression as he watched your face for any sign of movement, pleading with himself for you to be okay. 

After what felt like an eternity, you coughed. Leo quickly rolled you lay on your side. You spit up water, gasping for air. You felt like you were coughing up a lung full of ethanol. 

Mikey cheered and Raph took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. Donnie fell backwards onto his butt and pulled his goggles off his head, so incredibly relieved you were breathing. Leo rubbed your back comfortingly as you got your breathing back under control.

Once you got a suitable amount of oxygen back in your lungs, you whimpered. Your throat was burning and a pain in your stomach and chest made it hard to breathe.

Leo picked you up again, and held you close to his chest. Your eyes fluttered open and you winced at the bright light from the ceiling.

“Welcome back.” Leo said with a smile on his face.

“Leo…?” Your voice was quiet and scratchy. You looked around at Donnie, Mikey, and Raph that all came into view around you and Leo.

“Guys….?” You felt barely conscious. Head foggy and tired like you were still under water.

“We’re right here.” Donnie assured you, reaching down to pick up your good hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

All the fear and emotion of drowning and being captured suddenly crashed down on you all at once. You sniffed and big tears gathered in your eyes.

“I was… so scared… I thought I was going to lose you….!” You hiccuped and sobbed as Leo held your trembling form tightly against his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here. We got you.” Leo soothed, rubbing his hand down your back. He buried his nose into your damp hair and held you tight.

“You had us worried there for a minute!” Donnie was smiling at you, soft and relieved. Mikey was standing behind him rubbing tears out of his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Raph said, kneeling down behind you. 

“Wait. I need to splint their arm and their ankle first. Mikey, can you find me some-“

*crack*

“Will this work?” 

Mikey had already broken off the thin legs of a chair across the room. 

“Yeah that works fine.” He pulled out two rolls of gauze from one of the pockets on his belt, and took the offered sticks from Mikey, who knelt down by your feet. 

“What’re we gonna do about him?” He asked, motioning over to Stockman’s twitching form across the room.

The brothers all sneered at the fly mutant with similar levels of disgust on their faces, finding him rather gross. You smiled.

“Just leave him there, we can worry about him another time.” Leo offered, adjusting you in his grip. You winced terribly when your arm was moved. 

“….Is ...your arm dislocated?” Leo asked you, holding you upright in a sitting position, now thoroughly checking you over. 

Donnie and Mikey were working together to splint your ankle, Mikey holding up your foot while Donnie wrapped the splint to it.

“Let me see that.” Raph placed his hands on your shoulder and you clenched your teeth and whined quietly at the sharp pain.

“Leo, hold them still for a minute.” 

“Just hold onto me tightly, it’ll be over in a second.” Leo hugged you close, wrapping an arm around your good side.

Raph got hold of your tender arm, and with practiced ease, popped your shoulder back into place. You cried out loudly and buried your face in Leo’s shoulder, taking deep breaths. 

Raph tried to rub the soreness out of your poor shoulder. “Good job, princess. Now let Donnie get a look at that break.”

You hesitantly detached yourself from Leo, your shaking red and swollen arm was carefully picked up by Donnie, who set the splint and carefully wrapped the bandages.

“I’ll be able to get a better look at it with the x-ray machine back at home. For now we just have to be really careful not to jostle them too much when carrying them back.”

“I got em.” Raph volunteered. Leo looked to Raph, wordlessly nodding his head for his brother to take you from his arms.

“Careful of their arm….”

“Got it.” 

Without much effort, Raph scooped you up in his big arms. You winced as a sharp stabbing pain radiated through your stomach as you were held close to Raph’s chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just until we get you home.” Raph apologized. Leo led everyone quickly out of the lab. 

Once back out in the hallway you had entered from, you noticed with visible shock the literal sea of bodies that covered the floor. Foot ninja. They fought through all of them, just to get to you.

Everyone exited the lab, careful to stick to the shadows as the sun began to rise. As the turtles made their way for their home, your stomach burned worse and worse with a white hot pain that radiated through your body. The movement of the city passing you by made you become dizzy, and your head felt like it was spinning. You felt nauseous and incredibly tired. 

“Hey Raph….?”

“Yeah princess?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you guys…. You had to save me instead….” You weren’t making any sense. Raph could barely hear you as the wind whipped past his head. You just felt so tired.

“Hey, stay with me, princess. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” Raph didn’t know what the right thing to say was. But your eyes were starting to slide closed.

“Can we…. Can we watch Princess Bride again…. When we get home….?”

Raph smiled at that.

“Yeah. We’ll watch it as many times as you want, short stack.” He didn’t care if his brothers teased him for secretly liking the girly movie. He didn’t care if he had to watch it with you a hundred times. He just wanted you to get better.

“We’re almost there. How you holding up?” 

Silence. 

“(Y/n)…?”

“Mmh?” 

Your eyes were closed.

“Come on, wake up, we’re almost there.”

He was desperate. 

“Mm…hm…” 

You hummed, but your eyelids felt too heavy to lift. You felt yourself sinking into a dark liquid abyss. You could no longer fight the pull.

“(Y/n)….. (y/n)? Hey…! Hey, no no no no no, you gotta stay awake. Come on princess…! (Y/N)!!!”

You felt Raph try to shake you awake, felt his muscles tense as he pushed himself to go faster. 

“We’re almost there, hold on…!”

“Hold on….”

Darkness overtook you.

Part 8

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[magical-reid]

Unknown Past (part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Barnes!Reader (No use of Y/N, reader is referred as Mrs./Dr. Barnes)

Setting: Modern MCU timeline, Avengers Tower.

Perspective: Third Person Limited (Reader’s perspective).

Word Count: 1.K

This will be a multi-part story inspired by my fic "Remembering James".

Hospitals were familiar, almost comforting in their routine. Between the soft hum of monitors and the sterile scent of disinfectant, you’d carved out a life here, even if you had no idea where you’d come from before.

You woke up one day, seventy years displaced, with only a few clues to your identity: a simple wedding band, dog tags clutched in your hand, and the name James tattooed on the inside of your wrist. The world said you were a super soldier, part of a classified experiment during World War II, but your own memories didn’t agree—or, more accurately, they didn’t exist.

James Barnes. Who are you?

You didn’t dwell on it often—there wasn’t time. The ER at Mercy General had a way of pulling you into its current, the hours bleeding together in a steady stream of triage calls and patient care. You’d gotten used to it, the sense of distraction that came with being useful.

But sometimes, like today, the questions crept back in. Your fingers brushed absently over the chain hidden beneath your scrubs, the cool metal of the tags grounding you. You didn’t know why you wore them, only that you couldn’t bring yourself to take them off.

The hospital pager clipped to your scrubs buzzed sharply, dragging you back to the present.

“Paging Dr. Barnes,” the voice crackled over the intercom. “Stark Enterprises has a… situation. You’ve been requested to assist the Avengers immediately. Pack your things.”

You groaned softly. Tony Stark always had a flair for dramatics.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Meeting the Avengers

You spotted them the moment they entered the ER.

Steve Rogers led the group, all commanding presence and tightly-wound charm. His bright blue eyes scanned the room with military precision, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to take up more space than anyone else. Behind him was Sam Wilson, cracking a grin at something Steve said.

But it was the third man—the one with long, dark hair and intense blue eyes—that stopped you in your tracks.

You knew him. Or you thought you did.

Your mind scrambled to place him. His face was familiar, though you couldn’t say from where. Maybe the news? He was the Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes, you remembered suddenly—but here, in person, the sight of him struck a chord. Something inside you stirred, something that felt like… longing.

You blinked, shaking the thought away.

“Dr. Barnes?” Steve’s voice broke through the haze, his hand extended for a handshake. “I’m Captain Steve Rogers. Tony asked us to escort you to the Tower.”

“Of course,” you said, plastering on a professional smile, though your gaze flickered back to the man Steve hadn’t introduced. He stood stiffly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes stayed glued to you, like he was memorizing every detail.

“And you are?” you asked, directing the question to him.

“James,” he said softly. Then, louder: “Bucky Barnes.”

Your breath hitched. The dog tags hidden beneath your scrub top suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

James Barnes. My James?'

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Ride to Avengers Tower

The Quinjet was quieter than you expected.

Steve and Sam made polite attempts at conversation, but you were too distracted to focus. Your gaze kept flickering to Bucky, seated across from you, his gloved hands gripping the edge of his seat like it might keep him grounded.

Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you. His gaze would dart away quickly, but you felt the weight of it lingering, like a shadow at the edge of your vision.

You couldn’t explain why his presence affected you so much. He was just another face in the crowd of superhumans and geniuses you were being thrust into, yet something about him pulled at you.

When you arrived at Avengers Tower, Tony Stark was waiting.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” he said with a grin, ushering you into the sprawling building. “We’ve got state-of-the-art everything. Well, mostly because I built it. Steve’s already complained that it’s too advanced, but he’s still using a flip phone, so what does he know?”

You nodded along politely, but your attention kept drifting. Bucky hovered in the periphery of your vision, his expression unreadable.

“Barnes!” Tony called sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “You with us?”

“Sorry,” you said quickly, heat creeping into your cheeks.

“Right,” Tony said, clearly unimpressed. “Let’s get you settled. Medbay’s this way.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A Familiar Stranger

The medbay was, predictably, sleek and spotless. Stark had spared no expense, the equipment here leagues beyond anything you’d worked with before.

Tony launched into a rapid-fire explanation of the setup, but you couldn’t focus. Your gaze kept flickering to the reflection in the glass cabinets: Bucky, standing a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you.

“What’s his deal?” you asked quietly, gesturing toward him.

Tony glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “Oh, that’s Barnes—well, the other Barnes. Bucky. He’s… complicated. Steve’s bestie, formerly brainwashed assassin, now part-time brooder and full-time pain in my ass. Why? Did he say something weird?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Just curious.”

Tony gave you a long look, then shrugged. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll leave you to get acclimated. Try not to break anything expensive.”

He left with a wave, and suddenly, it was just you and Bucky.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, finally, he stepped forward.

“Do you need help unpacking?” he asked, his voice quieter than you expected.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him. “Wait.”

He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Have we met before?” you asked.

His jaw tightened. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, quietly, he said: “Yeah. A long time ago.”

Your heart stuttered. “How long?”

“A lifetime.”

Before you could ask anything else, he was gone.

Part 2

[lebbys-world]

Reality Check

Todoroki x gn!reader; pro-hero!au, some slightly graphic description of injury/death, angst to comfort, facing the realities of putting yourself in danger everyday

notes: i know this is a comfort blog, but i am a such a sucker for angst + esp in regards to how corrupt the superhuman society of mha is. so no relationship angst here !! just some good 'ol facing reality head-on with the love of your life !!

Your throat was searing with a burning pain, lungs overwhelmed as the cool metal of a knife passed across the skin covering your trachea.

The shock hits you instantly, yet the world feels as if it’s suddenly in slow motion.

One second, you were being held up by a villain, beaten and bruised, convincing yourself you’d make it out of there just fine.

The next moment, there was that burning sensation, and the villain holding you up lets go, forcing your weak body to fall helplessly onto the ground.

It hits you the moment your body slammed against the ground.

You realize what happened in that moment, but somehow your brain can't string together the thought fully.

You can barely move.

You can barely speak.

You’re desperate to talk, to say something, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is choked noises and blood.

Tears start streaming down your face, the overwhelming emotions only continuing to cut off your scarce breaths.

Your vision starts to become blurry, and you can feel your senses starting to numb.

The once booming screams and explosions now sounded so far away that you could barely register them.

You feel someone run over to you, lifting you slightly off the ground, trying to ask you something that you can't quite make out.

A cold hand is placed on your face.

Why is the hand wet?

Oh.

That’s right.

That’s the same hand that must have picked you up.

That hand must be covered in your own blood.

You’re dying, after all.

You wish you could clearly see the face of the person holding you so dearly, or hear the pleading words of reassurance coming out of their mouth. 

But everything was such a haze.

Your senses nulled.

All you hoped was that Shoto was still okay.

. . .

You jolted upwards, your breaths staggered, sweat dripping off your brow.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark room, as the adrenaline continued rushing through your veins.

The visions that had just flooded your head suddenly disappeared, but you could still feel the agony of them weighing down on your chest.

From your sudden movement, you had woken up your husband next to you.

“Hey love, take a deep breath. Everything’s alright.”

He slowly sat up next to you, putting his arm comfortingly on your back as he continued to calm you down.

“Nightmare, hm?”

“...Yeah.” You answered, leaning into his touch.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Mmm… not yet.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you into his embrace, “we can talk about it later.”

You were used to nightmares stemming from work, but you'd never had one that felt quite this realistic.

Even though you were awake, safe in your home, in your own bed, your husband next to you, you just couldn't shake the sinking feeling the dream had left you with.

As Pro-Heroes, this sort of fate could be your reality someday.

That was something you had to face when you took on the job, but only on nights like these did the severity of it ever really hit you.

That fate could befall you someday.

You could die out there someday.

Or even worse, Shoto could.

At that thought, you held him tighter.

“Can we just stay like this for a little longer?” You asked into his chest.

“For however long you need.”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. ©lebbys-world 2024.

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[silenzahra]

Could you share something about any of your current writing projects?^^ It can be anything, even a little fun fact will do!🙏

Oookay!! I have taken FOREVER to respond to this ask, my dear twin, and I'm very sorry about that 🙏 I just wasn't sure exactly what to share... but I think now I know 🤭

I'm guessing you're looking forward to seeing something from the angsty Brothership fic I started working on a few months ago, so... I'll go for it 🤭 It's gonna be a LONG fic and I'm trying to keep it as secret as possible so it'll be a surprise (and hopefully a rollercoaster of emotions 😆) whenever I can finally start posting it. Still, I think I can share a short snippet... with no context whatsoever though. I'm afraid you'll have to wait to get the entire picture 😜

Still, I hope you'll enjoy reading this, my twin!! ❤️💚

Luigi barely has a moment to dive forward and catch Mario. His unconscious twin falls into his arms, and Luigi is glad that at least he's been able to prevent him from hitting the ground harder.

But that's not enough to ease the guilt that has taken hold of his soul.

“M-Mario...”

His hand trembles as he gently places it on Mario's cheek. He's forced to blink violently to keep his vision from clouding. He carefully rests his brother's head on his arm and rushes to find his heartbeat. He keeps repeating the word 'please' in his mind as he gently places his fingers on Mario's neck, next to the gold chain from which his sun-shaped dog tag hangs. His eyes close almost instinctively, tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. He would never forgive himself if his older brother had lost his life because of him, if he had sacrificed himself for him...

Precisely for him. The only person who doesn't deserve to be saved by the bravery and courage of his strong and heroic sibling.

He should have fallen instead of Mario.

Luigi's eyes fly open when he feels his brother's pulse under his fingers. It's slow and weak, as if his heart is making a superhuman effort to keep Mario alive, but for Luigi, for now, it's enough. With relief washing over him, he caresses his brother's face and presses his lips against his forehead, forcing himself to hold back the sobs that want to escape his throat. His cheeks are so wet that he's afraid he might accidentally soak Mario, so he pulls away and, without taking his eyes off him, begins to search his pockets with his free hand.

“Hang in there, Mario,” he whispers nervously. "You'll be fine soon, I promise.”

This is it!! Any guesses about what could've happened to Mario? 🤭 Also, I'm sure you must've seen a certain dog tag right there!! You have to thank our dear @vulpixfairy1985 as she was so kind to allow me to use her wonderful dog tags headcanon for this story 🥰 I hope that, when it's finally ready, you'll see why it fits so well!! 💖💖

Thank you so so much for sending this ask, my beloved twin!! I really hope that your curiosity was satiated... at least for now 🤭❤️💚

(This is a WIP, so it might be worded differently whenever it's finally ready to be fully posted ‼)

[gullemec]

Invisible Smoke

Golden Ruin - Chapter One

series masterlist ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Six months after the destruction of CytoGenix, the Boys are back and better than ever. Well... for the most part.

Warnings: reader experiences a panic attack, discussions of PTSD/trauma, mild smut, angst, happily ever after isn't so happy :(

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.1k

A/N: Hello and welcome to Golden Cage's sequel series! This has been percolating in my mind since I finished writing Golden Cage (which, for context, was in summer 2024 lol). I'm so excited to pick up where we left off and see what these nerds get up to <3

You stroll down the sunlit sidewalk, your sneakers tapping a steady rhythm against the concrete.

The air hums with the familiar symphony of the city, the honking cabs and chatter of passerby and rumble of the subway beneath your feet like a chorus. Warm rays of light filter through the gaps between towering buildings, dappling your cheeks in fleeting patterns that feel almost like a blessing from the city itself.

A city that is finally starting to feel like home.

As you turn onto 5th Avenue, your gaze lifts instinctively, drawn to the familiar sight ahead. There it is. The Flatiron building, with its iconic triangular frame slicing sharply through the crystalline blue sky. It stands proud and defiant amidst the bustling world below, like the bow of a grand ship cutting through turbulent waters.

The sight is a balm, a touchstone amidst chaos. No matter how many times you walk this path, the comfort it brings never wanes. It’s more than just a building to you now, it’s a symbol. A reminder that in a world teetering on the edge of collapse, some things can still stand tall, steadfast, unshaken.

You weave through the sea of Manhattanites, dodging tourists with cameras and businesspeople glued to their phones. As you approach the Flatiron, you take a moment to admire its beauty and grandeur, the way it stands out against the myriad of skyscrapers and office buildings surrounding it. The city buzzes with its usual frenetic energy, but you’ve learned how to flow with it, like water finding its way around rocks.

You heave open the heavy front door and quickly rush up the stairs to your new office. 

After months of covert negotiations, Butcher had finagled the use of the abandoned Greywal & Co. Import & Export offices on the top floor, bartered as a perk of your group joining the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs as contractors. It's a marked improvement from your previous hideout, the grimy laundromat basement with leaking pipes and the lingering smell of detergent. You still wake up sometimes with phantom memories of that dark, damp space where everything in your life had started to unravel.

Pushing open the glass door to the office space, the faint creak of old hinges announces your arrival. Inside, the room is alive with the energy of preparation. Maps and photographs plaster the walls, red strings connecting points like veins in a pulsing network. Desks are buried under a mess of takeout cartons, coffee-stained papers, and gear waiting to be packed. Monitors hum softly, their screens glowing with encrypted data streams.

Sunlight filters through the arched windows, casting the space in a hazy golden glow that feels almost serene, if not for the tension crackling in the air like static.

The chatter dies instantly as all eyes snap to you.

Awesome. You’re late, again.

You raise a hand in apology, still slightly out of breath from your brisk walk. “Sorry, sorry! Came as soon as I got your text.”

Mallory’s eyebrow arches in that signature expression of disapproval that somehow stings worse than any verbal reprimand. Her silence weighs heavy in the room, a scolding in and of itself.

Butcher’s eyes meet yours across the room, his expression unreadable. He offers you a curt nod, which you return with a small smile. You round the corner of his desk and perch yourself on its edge. His presence is an anchor, steadying you against the rising tide of anxiety.

Mallory rises from her seat, and the air seems to shift. The room quiets further, everyone instinctively straightening as her commanding voice cuts through the stillness.

“We intercepted intel about a meeting at the Russian consulate tomorrow morning,” she begins, her tone clipped and precise. “Vought executives are holding a private session with Russian diplomats. No press. No fanfare. Just whispers.”

She pauses, her gaze sweeping the room, letting the weight of her words settle. “Whatever they’re planning, it’s big. We need ears in that room.”

A delicious tingle of anticipation races down your spine. Finally.

“How big we talkin’ here?” Butcher drawls, leaning back in his chair with the practiced ease of someone who’s seen far too much.

“This could tie into the superweapon rumors we’ve been tracking,” Mallory replies, her voice razor-sharp. “The overseas labs, the classified experiments… This meeting might give us the proof we need to shut it all down. We can’t afford to let this slip.”

You glance around the room, catching the flicker of renewed determination in everyone’s eyes. For months, the Boys have been chasing shadows, piecing together fragments of a puzzle no one seems able to solve. A superweapon, supposedly capable of destroying Homelander. An opportunity like this could blow it all wide open. 

Mallory’s gaze zeroes in on you, sharp and unyielding. “You and Hughie are on this.”

The spark of excitement sputters into an icy stab of dread.

“Wait, what?” Hughie blurts, his voice pitching upward. “You mean us? Like, sneaking into the consulate us? That’s… uh… not exactly my strong suit.”

“I’m not asking you to steal state secrets,” Mallory replies, her tone cutting. “You’re going in as caterers. Plant a recording device, listen in, and get out. Keep your heads down, and no one will notice you.”

“Right, because that always works out great for us…” Hughie mutters, earning a smirk from Frenchie.

You feel the familiar grip of doubt creeping up your spine. This is no small task. It’s the kind of mission where a single misstep could mean disaster. It’s been ages since the Boys had a lead this good, and Mallory wants you on this. Anxiety creeps in at the edges of your mind, that old familiar feeling of inadequacy paying you an unwelcome visit. Your father may be gone, but his presence left a permanent etching in your brain, a voice that tells you to make yourself small and to shrink away from a challenge. 

You shake it off. You refuse to let that voice win.

“We can do this,” you say, injecting steel into your voice. “No one’s going to suspect a couple of random caterers. I’ve been practicing. I can handle it.”

Butcher’s dark laugh cuts through the room, low and biting.

“Practicing, eh?” he sneers. “Need I remind you what happened the last time you and Hughie tried goin’ incognito? Love, this ain’t amateur hour. You’re walkin’ into a bloody nest of Vought execs who’d gut you the moment they sniff something’s off.”

Your stomach twists as memories flash. The acrid scent of burning metal, the heat at your back as Homelander’s laser eyes chased you out of the laboratory. The thrum of your heart in your chest as you practically dragged Hughie out of the building. The hours spent taking subway trains across town to shake your tail. 

But that was months ago. That was your first real mission. You’ve learned. You’ve grown. No one gets to underestimate you, not anymore. 

“I know what’s at stake,” you snap, meeting Butcher’s gaze head-on. “I’m not going to screw this up.”

His jaw tightens, concern flickering in his eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you gettin’ mixed up in all of this. Your arm’s barely healed.”

You gape at him. “My cast has been off for months!”

“That don’t mean it’s healed!” he retorts, exasperated.

You know he's doing this out of concern, and you know he's seen enough shit in his time to know exactly how dangerous something like this could be. He’s seen more than his fair share of bloody messes and catastrophic endings to missions that went sideways. He knows just how quickly things can spiral, how one wrong move can turn a carefully laid plan into a disaster. But for all his cynicism, he also knows you, what you’ve been through, what you’ve survived, what you’re capable of now.

In the six months since your father’s body became a bomb, detonating CytoGenix Headquarters and reducing it to a smoldering pile of rubble, your condition has been rather… delicate. Concussions, fractured bones, months of physical therapy. Your body had taken a beating, and your mind hadn’t fared much better. But as soon as the cast came off and the doctor cleared you of the worst of it, you were ready to throw yourself back into the action. Ready to stop sitting on the sidelines and start making a difference again.

That was, of course, until you ventured out on your first mission post-explosion. It had been simple, low-stakes, meant to ease you back into things. But nothing is ever truly that simple for you, is it?

~~~

The warehouse loomed in the distance, its corrugated metal exterior streaked with rust and grime. You adjusted your binoculars, squinting through the rain-specked windshield of your car. From your vantage point, parked a block away, you had a clear view of the loading dock. Two men in coveralls were hauling crates onto a forklift, their movements unhurried.

Mallory’s intel had led you here, a warehouse allegedly housing contraband Compound V, tucked away in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. It wasn’t a complex mission. Snap photos of the crates, jot down delivery times, and get out before anyone so much as noticed your shadow.

Observe and report, Butcher had said. No heroics, no improvising. Simple, yeah?

His tone had been sharp, but there had been something else beneath it. A hesitation he hadn't quite managed to mask.

You’d nodded, eager to prove yourself. This was your first mission since the explosion at CytoGenix, since the weeks of recovery spent with a cast on your arm and a pounding ache in your skull. The approval from the doctor had been your ticket out of the purgatory of desk work and stakeouts. You were desperate for something real, no matter how small. 

This was your chance to show Mallory, Butcher, and the Boys, and yourself, that you could still do this.

Grabbing your camera, you slipped out of the car, staying low as you crept toward the chain-link fence. Rain pattered softly against your jacket, the cold seeping into your skin. You found a gap in the fence and ducked through, careful not to snag your clothes on the jagged edges.

The air near the warehouse smelled damp and metallic, tinged with the sweet scent of oil. You settled behind a stack of pallets, raising the camera to your eye. Through the lens, you could see the workers more clearly now, their faces obscured by hoods. One of them pried open a crate with a crowbar, revealing rows of glowing blue vials.

Bingo.

You snapped a few photos, your finger steady on the shutter. It felt good to be back in the field, to have a purpose again. You pressed the button on your earpiece. “Got visual confirmation. Looks like a couple hundred vials. Snapped a few shots.”

Butcher’s voice crackled in your ear. “Good. Keep eyes on ‘em. Let me know when they’re done unloading.”

“Roger that,” you murmured.

You were about to shift for a better angle when it happened.

A loud bang echoed from inside the warehouse, sharp and sudden. You flinched, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. It wasn’t a weapon, just a crate toppling over, but the noise slammed into you like a freight train.

Your breath hitched, your vision narrowing as the world around you dissolved. The damp chill of the rain vanished, replaced by searing heat. You were back in the stairwell at CytoGenix, the walls trembling with the force of the explosion. The acrid stench of burning plastic filled your nose. Your body hit the wall with a sickening crack, pain exploding in your skull. You could hear Monica’s screams, the chaos, the blaring alarm—

Your chest tightened, and you clawed at your jacket, desperate for air. The camera slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground. Somewhere in the distance, Butcher’s voice barked in your earpiece, but it was drowned out by the deafening roar of your heartbeat.

You stumbled backward, your legs giving way as you pressed yourself against the cold metal of a shipping container. The rain had soaked through your clothes, but you barely felt it.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe. But the air wouldn’t come.

The earpiece crackled again. “Oi, talk to me. What’s going on?” Butcher’s voice was sharp now, threaded with concern. When you didn’t respond, he cursed under his breath.

You don’t know how much time you spent there, head between your knees, chest heaving, rain pelting your crumpled form, before heavy boots thudded against the ground nearby. You barely registered the figure crouching in front of you until his hand gripped your shoulder, firm and steady.

“Hey.” Butcher’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding. “Look at me.”

You blinked, your gaze snapping to his. His dark eyes were steady, pinning you in place. He moved his hand from your shoulder to your wrist, pressing it against his chest.

“Feel that?” he said. His heartbeat was slow and deliberate, a metronome against your racing pulse. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, yeah? Nice and slow. Come on.”

Your breaths were shallow and ragged, but you tried to match his rhythm. In, out. In, out. The pressure in your chest began to ease, the roaring in your ears fading to a dull hum.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “You’re alright. You’re here.”

The warehouse came back into focus. The rain dripping off the container, the distant rumble of a forklift. You were shaking, but the world had stopped spinning.

“I—” Your voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Butcher cut you off, his grip tightening on your wrist. “Don’t start with that. This ain’t about being sorry. You’re human, yeah? You’ve been through hell. This shit’s gonna happen.”

He released your wrist, standing and extending a hand to you. “Now, come on. Let’s get you out of this pisshole.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the warehouse. “But the mission—”

“Forget the bloody mission,” he snapped. “We’ve got what we need. Right now, you’re my priority.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You took his hand, letting him haul you to your feet. His grip was firm, grounding.

As the two of you walked back to the van, Butcher kept a hand on your shoulder, a silent reassurance.

“You kept your head longer than most would’ve,” he said gruffly as you climbed into the passenger seat. “That takes guts. It’ll come back to you.”

His words stayed with you long after the mission, but so did the moment itself, the memory of panic and failure, the echo of your father’s voice whispering in the dark, reminding you of all the ways you didn’t measure up.

~~~

After that, Butcher made it his personal mission to keep you permanently benched. He relegated you to desk work, poring over files and surveillance footage, or staking out low-risk locations that barely required you to leave the van. At first, you told yourself it was temporary, that it was just his way of being cautious. But as the weeks turned into months, the frustration grew.

It wasn’t just about the boredom for you. It was the feeling of being underestimated, of having to prove yourself all over again. You’d fought tooth and nail to stand shoulder to shoulder with this team, to earn their trust and respect. And yet, here you were, still fighting the whispers of doubt, both theirs and your own.

But none of that matters right now. This mission is yours, and you’re not about to let anyone, least of all Butcher, doubt you again.

“She’ll be fine,” Frenchie interjects, breaking the tension with his usual easy charm. His warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes as he looks at you. “Ma poupette has the brains for this. Just remember, roll with the punches, eh?”

You raise your eyebrows at Butcher, as if to say See?

Butcher doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he glances away. His silence says everything.

Mallory steps forward, her commanding presence cutting through the tension like a knife. Her voice is sharp and no-nonsense. “This is not a debate,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You two are handling this. This is very straightforward. Plant a listening device, get the intel, and get out.”

She pauses, letting her words settle before continuing. “I’ll have a van on standby if things go sideways, but the goal is to keep this quiet. No one notices you, no one remembers you. Understand?”

Her piercing gaze lands on you, heavy with expectation. “I trust you can handle it,” she says, her tone softening just enough to let you know she means it.

A flicker of pride warms your chest, solidifying into determination. You nod, your chin lifting as you steel yourself for what’s ahead.

Mallory’s gaze shifts to Butcher, sharp as a blade. “But you need to trust each other. That’s the only way this works.”

Butcher exhales sharply, clearly biting back a retort. He glances at you, something unspoken passing between you, a grudging respect, maybe, or a flicker of belief he doesn’t know how to voice.

You turn to Hughie, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, his nerves written all over his face. But after a moment, he nods back at you, his lips curving into a weak but genuine smile.

In the months since Mallory’s return, you’d found yourself yearning for her approval with an intensity that surprised even you. Her presence cast a long shadow, and you were keenly aware of how she had sized you up on that first night in your apartment. The disapproval in her sharp gaze had been palpable, cutting deeper than you cared to admit. Could you blame her, though?

After years spent in the shadows, having walked away from the Supe-killing squad she’d built with blood and iron, Mallory had been dragged back into the fray. All because she’d heard whispers about the Boys regrouping, more recklessly than ever, in her view, and, worst of all, that they’d let you, the daughter of a Vought crony, into their ranks. If you were her, you’d probably have dragged yourself out of retirement, too.

Though the team had rallied around you, defending your place in the group with fervor, it hadn’t stopped the wildfire of doubt that had sparked in your chest from Mallory’s initial appraisal of you. You understood the value you’d brought in those early days. When CytoGenix was still standing, when your father was alive, when Monica was pulling the strings, you’d offered something no one else could: inside intel. You’d been a bridge to a world the Boys couldn’t otherwise touch.

But now?

With CytoGenix in ruins, Monica gone, and your father’s legacy reduced to nothing more than ash and regret, what did you have left to give? Sure, there was the six-figure inheritance, a hollow consolation prize if there ever was one, but it wasn’t as if money meant much in this line of work. Money wasn’t what this team needed, wasn’t what earned respect here. The voice of self-doubt, ever persistent, had made itself at home during those early months, whispering venom in your ear. 

You’re a liability. A loose end. They don’t need you anymore. You’ve outlived your usefulness.

Your teammates had tried to drown out that voice. Annie, now your closest friend, spoke about you like you hung the fucking moon. Frenchie, with his gentle reassurances, had told you time and again that you belonged. MM had treated you with the same quiet respect and faith he gave to everyone he trusted. Hughie, loyal to a fault, never wavered in his belief that you were part of the team. Even Kimiko, in her own way, had made it clear that she valued you.

And yet, in the still moments, when the adrenaline wore off, when the noise of missions and plans faded, you couldn’t help but wonder. What am I doing here? What do I bring to the table?

Everyone else had a clear role, a purpose that tethered them to the group. Butcher was the leader, the strategist, the one who saw the big picture even when it was dark and bloody. MM was the anchor, the meticulous planner who kept things running smoothly. Frenchie was the wildcard, a fixer with a knack for making the impossible possible. Kimiko was the muscle, the silent force of nature. Annie had her connections to Vought, her inside knowledge of the system they were trying to tear down. Even Hughie, awkward and unassuming as he could be, had carved out his place as the team’s moral compass.

And you?

What were you?

But now, you think, this is your moment. This is your chance to prove, not just to Mallory but to yourself, that you’re more than a liability or a loose end.

No more doubts. No more underestimations. No more living in the shadow of what you’ve lost.

As the meeting begins to wind down, Mallory’s orders echo in your mind. Her voice had been calm, clipped, and deliberate, leaving no room for questions. It left plenty of room for doubt, though. Across the room, you catch her watching you again, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression is as unreadable as ever, a mask of cool indifference that offers no clues. Still, there’s something in the slight tilt of her head, the narrow set of her eyes. Displeasure? Doubt? Maybe both.

The weight of her gaze feels heavier than it should, a silent challenge you can’t shake.

Your thoughts are interrupted as Butcher slides onto the desk beside you, the wood creaking under his weight. The casualness of the action is belied by the intensity in his expression. He leans in close, his voice low but gruff, tinged with an edge of warning.

“Listen,” he says, his dark eyes boring into yours. “I don’t give a toss what Mallory says. You get even a whiff of trouble, you pull the plug and get the hell out. Ain’t nothing in that room worth your neck, you hear me?”

The protective note in his tone catches you off guard, as it often does. Beneath the layers of cynicism, anger, and bravado that make up Butcher, there’s a thread of something softer, something he’ll never admit to. These rare moments of vulnerability always take you by surprise, a glimpse of the man beneath the scars. Normally, you’d relish it, store it away like a secret. But this time, it feels tainted.

Tainted by Mallory’s gaze, still burning a hole into your back. Tainted by the ever-present question of whether you even deserve to be here, let alone trusted with this mission.Tainted by the way his desire to protect you feels inhibiting.

You nod, though the knot in your chest tightens. Your eyes flicker back to Mallory, who hasn’t moved, her stance as rigid as her judgment. Is it disapproval that’s carved into her features? Or is it concern? The two blur together in your mind, indistinguishable from the spotlight of her scrutiny.

“I hear you,” you say, turning back to Butcher. Your voice is steadier than you feel, the words forced past the lump in your throat. “But I’ve got this.”

Butcher lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Right,” he mutters, his tone teetering between skepticism and reluctant admiration. “Guess we’ll see.”

For a moment, the air between you feels heavy with unspoken words. There’s something he wants to say, something more than the gruff warnings and the veiled concern. But he doesn’t, and you know he won’t. That’s not who Butcher is.

As the others begin to filter out, the tension in the room doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, thick and suffocating, clinging to the walls like a stubborn fog. Mallory remains rooted in place, her gaze unwavering, as though she’s waiting for something. For you to crack, perhaps, or to prove you’re worth the risk she’s taking.

You take a breath and straighten your shoulders, forcing the tension out of your body. It’s an effort to lift your chin and meet her eyes, but you do. You hold her gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of her scrutiny. You know what she sees when she looks at you. A wild card, a question mark, someone with everything to prove and too much to lose.

But you won’t falter. Not this time.

This is your moment. Your chance to silence the doubts. Hers, Butcher’s, and most importantly, your own.

This time, you’ll prove you belong.

~~~

The faint smell of garlic and onions hit your nose as you step into your kitchen, the sizzle of oil in the pan filling the otherwise quiet apartment. Butcher stands by the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder like he owns the place.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work. It’s strange, seeing him like this. The man who’d faced down Supes without a second thought, who carried enough emotional baggage to rival the Titanic, now stood in your kitchen, cooking pasta like some scene out of a rom-com.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you tease, folding your arms across your chest.

Butcher doesn’t look up, but a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t look so shocked. I ain’t completely useless, y’know.”

“I think Frenchie’s the one who usually takes over the kitchen,” you say, stepping closer and glancing at the array of ingredients he’d gathered. Garlic bread, a fresh block of Parmesan, and… is that basil? “But this? This is impressive. I might let you stick around.”

“Generous of you,” he mutters, though there was a warmth in his tone.

You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself some wine, the familiar hum of domesticity wrapping around you like a well-worn blanket. The scene feels so out of place. Butcher standing in your kitchen, the two of you sharing a quiet evening after the intensity of Mallory’s briefing. It’s almost too peaceful, too fragile, as if the world outside these walls doesn't exist.

“How long has it been since you cooked for someone?” you ask, leaning on the counter beside him.

He gives a short laugh, but it lacks any real humor. “Long enough. Don’t keep count, love. What about you? Last meal you had that wasn’t takeout?”

You shrug. “Probably the last time Frenchie decided to experiment with some weird fusion dish. Couldn’t even tell you what it was, but it was damn good.”

He turns off the burner, drains the pasta, and starts plating. The silence stretches as you watch him, the usual guardedness in his expression softening just enough to make you wonder what’s going on in his head.

“Thanks for this,” you say quietly, gesturing to the meal.

He hands you a plate and nods toward the table. “Yeah, well. Figured you could use a proper meal before the big day.”

Ah, there it is. The tension that’s been simmering since the briefing.

You sit down across from him, swirling the pasta on your fork. “You’re worried.”

He doesn’t answer right away, focusing instead on his own plate. Finally, he leans back in his chair, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts exasperation and concern. “Damn right, I’m worried. This gig’s a bloody powder keg, and you’re walking straight into it.”

“I can handle it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been waiting for something like this. A chance to prove I’m not just—”

“Not just what?” he interrupts, setting his fork down.

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. Not just dead weight. Not just some liability Mallory’s tolerating because of what I used to know.

“Nothing,” you mutter, looking away. “I just mean I’m ready. My arm’s fine, my head’s fine, and I’ve been practicing my breathing. I know what I’m doing.”

Butcher lets out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re fine, yeah. But this ain’t the same as sneakin’ round some empty warehouse or trailing some low-level Supe. One wrong move tomorrow, and you’re dead. Or worse.”

“Worse?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what they’d do if they caught you. Vought don’t play fair, love. Never have.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, but you square your shoulders. “You think I don’t know that? I’m not an idiot, Butcher. Did you already forget everything I did to stop Vought from getting V2? You don’t get to keep sidelining me just because you’re scared I might—”

“Because I care about you?” The words burst out of him, sharp and raw.

You blink, startled into silence.

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I’ve seen enough people I care about end up in the ground. I ain’t gonna let that happen to you.”

Your chest tightens, frustration bubbling up. “So what? You’re just gonna wrap me in bubble wrap and keep me locked up in the van while everyone else takes risks? That’s not fair, Butcher. I’m part of this team, whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it,” he shoots back, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I do. You just… You scare the shit out of me, is all.”

“Okay,” you sigh, annoyance heavy in your voice. “Just… keep it to yourself. I don’t need you psyching me out.”

The air between you is heavy, charged with the weight of everything unsaid.

The silence stretches as you eat, both of you locked in a stalemate neither of you wanted to win. Finally, he stands, picking up the empty plates and carrying them to the sink. His back is to you, his shoulders tense.

“Look,” he says, his voice low, “I know you want to prove yourself. And maybe you’re ready. But you’ll forgive me if I ain’t in a rush to see you get yourself killed.”

You stand, walking up behind him but stopping short of touching him. “I’m not going to die, Butcher. I’ve got too much to live for.”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “You better.”

When you fall into bed together later, Butcher moves with a deliberate tenderness that takes your breath away. There’s no rush in the way he touches you at first, no sharp edges to his usual brusque demeanor. His calloused hands skim your skin like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every scar, every part of you that makes you who you are. Each touch carries a message, unspoken but crystal clear. You’re all I think about.

His hands settle on your hips, strong but careful, pulling you closer as though the mere idea of distance between you is unbearable. When he holds you in his arms, every knot of tension in your body begins to unwind. There’s no room for doubt, no space to overthink the unanswered questions or the simmering tension that has been building between you for months. In his embrace, you hear the words he’s too guarded to say. I’ll keep you safe. It’s all I can do.

At first, his movements are slow and steady, as though he’s afraid to break you. His lips graze your collarbone, lingering there with a reverence that almost undoes you. His gaze locks on yours, dark and searching, and for a moment, you swear he’s looking right into your soul. Every kiss, every brush of his fingertips across your skin is a vow, a reassurance. You’re here. You’re mine.

But then something shifts. What starts as gentleness deepens into urgency, his movements growing frantic, almost desperate. His breathing becomes heavier, his grip tighter, as though holding you isn’t enough, he needs to anchor himself in you, to feel you in every way possible. There’s a plea in the way his lips press harder against yours, a tremor in the way he whispers your name, hoarse and unsteady. Don’t leave me.

His eyes meet yours again, and this time they’re blazing with something raw, something unguarded. It’s as though every wall he’s built around himself has come crashing down, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way that Butcher rarely allows himself to be. What he can’t bring himself to put into words, he pours into his touch, his kiss, the way his body moves against yours. Every pull, every grasp, every shuddering breath screams what he can’t say aloud. Mine. Mine. Mine.

And yet, there’s no possessiveness in it, no trace of dominance. It’s need. Pure, aching need. The need to protect, to keep you close, to show you just how much you mean to him, in the only way he knows how. In his arms, you don’t feel claimed or conquered; you feel seen, cherished, adored. His actions speak louder than any declaration ever could, telling you everything he keeps locked behind his gruff exterior. You’re the only thing in this godforsaken world that I can’t lose.

By the time you collapse together, tangled and breathless, his arms wrap around you with a firmness that feels like a promise. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

For a long while, neither of you says a word. 

Maybe you don’t need to. 

~~~

The air inside the office feels heavier at night. The soft hum of the city seeps through the windows, but the sharp glow of the desk lamp casts an artificial stillness over the room. Mallory sits behind the desk, papers meticulously stacked in front of her, a pen twirling absentmindedly between her fingers. 

You have a thick manila envelope tucked under your arm, stuffed with building schematics for the Russian consulate, profiles on the delegates Mallory expects to be present, and clear instructions on when and where to place the bugs. Hell, she even included the catering menus in case either of you were stopped and asked questions about the food. She’s being thorough, but it only serves to increase your apprehension. She wouldn’t be going this far if this mission’s success wasn’t absolutely crucial.

Mallory begins to gather up the papers on her desk. “You’ve got the details. You and Hughie should run through them a few more times tonight. You only get one shot at this, and I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake.”

You glance around, expecting Hughie to walk in any moment. “So... where’s Hughie? I thought we were going over the plan together.”

Mallory doesn’t look up immediately, her pen pausing mid-spin. Then she meets your gaze, her expression unreadable but edged with purpose. “I didn’t invite Hughie.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”

“Because that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you,” she says, her voice even.

You tilt your head, folding your arms as curiosity flickers to life. “Alright. What’s this about, then?”

She sets the pen down deliberately, her focus now fully on you. “It’s about Butcher.”

The name lands like a stone in your stomach. You try to keep your voice steady. “What about him?”

Mallory leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the desk. Her eyes harden, not with anger, but with something sharper. Concern wrapped in steel. “He’s dangerous. You know that, don’t you? He’s a man willing to burn the world down to protect the people he loves. And he’ll burn himself down, too, if it comes to it. You know what he did after Becca died.”

Your jaw tightens instinctively. “Butcher’s been through hell. I don’t think anyone here can blame him for the choices he made after that. The choices you gave him.”

Mallory exhales deeply, leaning back in her chair as if to give you space to process her words. “I’m not blaming him. I’m warning you. That man has a black hole where his sense of self-preservation should be. And if you get too close, you’ll get pulled into it. Just... be careful.”

Her words hang in the air, tightening around you like a noose. You shift on your feet, crossing your arms tighter as a defensive barrier. “Why are you telling me this?”

Mallory’s gaze softens ever so slightly, though her tone remains firm. “Because I don’t want to deal with the consequences of his actions if anything were to happen to you.”

“It’s not like that between us,” you reply quickly, the words coming out more defensive than you’d intended.

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn’t it? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I mean... we care about each other, sure. But he doesn’t—he doesn’t love me.”

Mallory’s lips press into a thin line, her expression unreadable. “William Butcher is not the most... eloquent man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t always know how to express his feelings. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them. But feelings or not, you deserve to know where you stand. Especially if you’re going to stick around for this fight. Because if he won’t protect you the way you deserve, you’ll have to protect yourself.”

You glance away, her words striking a nerve you hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

“Alright,” you mutter, more to break the silence than to agree with her. “Thanks for the advice, Mallory.”

Her voice stops you as you turn to leave. “Just remember, Butcher doesn’t stop. Not until he’s got what he wants. And sometimes, that’s the most dangerous kind of love.”

You don’t look back. The words follow you anyway, clinging to you as you walk out into the night.

~~~

The night feels unusually quiet, the soft hum of the city muffled by the walls of your apartment. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the faint reflection of yourself in the window, the lights of the city glittering in the distance. Mallory’s words echo in your mind, relentless and insistent.

He’s dangerous. That man has a black hole where his sense of self-preservation should be, and if you get too close, you’ll get pulled into it. 

You exhale shakily, running a hand through your hair as you turn the thought over and over in your mind. You’ve always known Butcher was complicated, that he was damaged in ways you may never fully understand. But isn’t that part of what drew you to him? 

He’s fiercely loyal, to the point of self-destruction. He would do anything for the people he cares about, throw himself into danger without hesitation, take on battles that seem impossible, all because he refuses to let anyone else suffer if he can help it. There’s something magnetic about that kind of conviction, something that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt in years. And when Butcher sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. That determination, that fire, it’s intoxicating to be around. It makes you believe he could conquer anything, even the impossible.

But now you see how those same qualities twist in the wrong light. That loyalty turning into obsession, that willingness to protect becoming vengeance. The single-minded determination you once admired, is now a blade that cuts through everything in its path, leaving those closest to him bleeding in its wake. How many people has he hurt without even realizing it? How many more will he hurt if he keeps barreling down this road, blinded by the need for revenge?

You think about the destruction he leaves behind, how he carries that chaos like a storm cloud over his head, and how sometimes, standing next to him, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

And yet, there’s another side to him. A side you don’t think anyone else has seen in a very long time. The way he softens when it’s just the two of you, the way his voice loses its edge, the way he looks at you like you’re the one thing in the world that doesn’t hurt him. You’ve caught glimpses of the man beneath the armor in the gentle way he brushes your hair out of your face, the rare moments of vulnerability when he lets his guard down and tells you things you know he’s never told anyone else.

It’s that softness that keeps you here, keeps you tethered to him despite everything. You know how long it’s been since anyone has seen that side of him. You know how much it took for him to let you in, even just a little. And it feels good—God, it feels so good—to be the one person who gets to see him like that.

But then doubt creeps in, insidious and familiar, a voice whispering in the back of your mind. Is it enough? Is this enough?

You wonder if you’re fooling yourself, if you’re clinging to the idea of what your relationship could be instead of what it actually is. You think of Becca, the shadow she casts over everything, and you can’t help but ask yourself… Am I just filling a void that he doesn’t know how to let go of?

Your chest tightens at the thought. You don’t know where you stand with him, and truthfully, you never have. You’ve never defined what this is between you, never talked about it, never said I love you. And maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe he doesn’t know how to feel that way about anyone anymore.

The worst part is, you’re not sure you’d blame him if that were true. He’s been through so much, lost so much, and you know how hard it is for him to let himself care about anything at all. 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

You bury your face in your hands, Mallory’s words haunting you again. You deserve to know where you stand. Because if he won’t protect you the way you deserve, you’ll have to protect yourself.

You can’t tell if you’re more scared of losing him or of admitting that maybe you already have. Maybe you never really had him to begin with.

The thought settles like a weight in your chest. For the first time, you find yourself wondering if you made a mistake, if involving yourself with someone like Butcher was always destined to end this way. And as the doubt swirls and tightens around you, the question that lingers in your mind feels like it has no answer.

Do I stay? Or do I walk away before I lose myself completely?

I will have a taglist for this series, just lmk if you want to be added :)

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P6]

(Yandere Reader Insert)

[Series Link]

[STRONG WARNING: sexual abuse, ephebophilia, substance abuse, addiction, suicidal ideations, victim blaming, xenophobia, violence, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]

(A/N: this is a heavy chapter that catches you up on certain characters' backstories. Please do NOT read if ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS can trigger you. I repeat: DO NOT. I will put a recap on the next chapter. these are strong contents. i will not take responsibility for anyone who disregards the warnings.)

Also i still do not know what tagging people in the next chapter entails (low tech, offline). Lmk how: @perhapstheyregone @ssak-i

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

"Sakamoto!"

Lukas jumped at the scream. He turned around to meet three coworkers he hadn't ever spoken to: a short, tubby middle-aged man with his tie going undone and a button missing, revealing his belly. Another is a taller, lanky, bespectacled young man who was speaking quietly but very excitedly, his shoulders high and closing into himself. The shorter man lumbered past Lukas and toward the pair of smokers. From inside the restaurant, a female voice called out for a "Hanaosan".

Lost and incredibly intrigued, Lukas instinctively stepped to where you were, his body shielding you away from the commotion. He smelt the smoke and alcohol wrestling away your flowery perfume, his eyes darting back and forth between Sakamoto and the old man who was shouting something in Japanese, drowning out the voice of his companion. From behind them, a short woman he also recognized to be from the office ran after the duo and tried to join voice with the onesided arguments, her tone sounding a lot like that of glasses. From their repeated "Hanaosan", Lukas assumed it was the name of the drunken, improperly clothed man. Sakamoto only took long drags of his cigarette as Hanaosan closed the distance with his arms going every possible direction.

Sakamoto leaned back and listened to the rant, only occasionally replying with one word which sounded a lot like "yeah" whilst shaking his head. At one point, his cigarette went out. He silently tossed it on the ground and snubbed it with his shoes, his eyes not leaving the senior colleague's red face.

This went on until Sakamoto directed his attention to the woman who was guiltily hanging her head. Lukas gathered another name here - "Sasakisan". This Sasakisan was on the verge of tear, her head of dyed chestnut hair shaking vigorously and her hands waving, seeming to deny something. Upon this, Sakamoto turned to Hanaosan to speak. He must had said something insulting, because Lukas didn't have time to react when Hanaosan raised his voice even louder, turning heads from the stream of strangers walking by. The short, fuming man then reached out and grabbed Sakamoto by the collar, shaking him vigorously, his chubby, hairy fingers were clutching against Sakamoto's shirt so hard Lukas heard a tear. Horrified, glasses and Sasakisan tried to pry them apart only for Hanaosan to knock them back with the surprising strength that only ever graced drunk uncles in family gatherings. The two tried to talk - probably desperate to get some sense through the chaos - but nothing budged the Incredible Hanaosan now in a rage. He stopped shaking fand waited for a respond from Sakamoto who was bent in half to accommodate for his height and superhuman grab.

Sakamoto sighed and clicked his tongue. He spoke, his voice now slow but firm, the same voice Lukas assumed one would use to discipline a child. This only added fuel to the fire. Hanaosan shed his last layer of blind anger and decided that words would no longer be of use. He winded up a punch and hurled it toward Sakamoto's chest.

Lukas had his back turned to you. Naturally, he didn't see it coming when you harshly pushed past him, your fingers of steel grabbing him by the shoulder, throwing him aside and slamming his back against the wall. Lukas didn't have time to savor the pain, but his heart did not forget to race. He could only see you as a blur as you zipped past him and wedged yourself between Sakamoto and Hanaosan just in time for his punch to land right on your gut. A pained groan escaped your lips, though you did not fall nor lose composture.

Nobody spoke. Everyone stared at you, horrified. You steadied your breath, shaking a little as you bent over, half in pain, half to speak to Hanaosan.

"I apologize, Mr. Hanao", you said, your voice still wavering from the shock.

"Lady, why did you do that for?" -Hanao (apparently not Hanaosan, Lukas noted) scoffed - "Stay out of it, this is between us men!"

"I'm so sorry", you kept your bow, "I just remembered that Mr. Sakamoto here will see his family soon, and I would hate to imagine how difficult it would be for him to explain the bruises."

Hanao laughed in disbelief, his expression souring from angry to scornful.

"So what, you lived here for 3 years and you think you can try to act like one of us? Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?"

"That's enough!" - Sasaki (Lukas noted again - not Sasakisan) yelled, her high voice was weak compared to the rest - "Mr. Hanao, you're drunk and embarrassing yourself! Please take him home, Mr. Fujiko!"

Nodding hastily, the thin man tugged at Hanao now seeming completely deflated at Sasaki's words. Still, from where he was walking, Hanao still couldn't help but spoke loudly for you to hear - "that's why letting those foreigners work here is no good, I'm telling you."

Lukas burnt at that. "Fuck...", he muttered, planning to go after Hanao. Before he could move, you had a strong grip on his wrist, yanking him backward. The force you'd exerted left him sore, but Lukas' couldn't deny the heat in his chest as he felt it.

"Sorry", he said, his voice barely containing his untimely arousal. You were too in pain to notice it, and Lukas was too focused on you to see Sakamoto's quick glance when those words came out of his mouth.

"You're not okay...", Sakamoto softly said to you, "I'm so, so, so sorry for that. Please, let me take you home."

"Are you sure?" Sasaki interrupted, "Mr. Sakamoto, you're not okay either. I can take her home for you."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sasaki. She lives quite near mine, so it works out well either way. Mr. Lukas, would you mind accompanying her back to the party and keep an eye on her just in case?"

In case of what, Lukas thought, a biting discomfort brewing in him. This guy was just trying to get rid of him.

Sasaki was quietly glancing over to him, hesitant and nervous. Lukas felt more annoyed than ever at the thought of Sakamoto monopolizing the rest of your night, though under the watchful eyes of another colleague, he felt it would be best to not start another argument.

"Yeah, sure, no problems", he sighed, his voice getting cold, "get home safe. Text me if you need me."

Sakamoto better not take that last sentence as directed toward him, too. Lukas could not give two shits.

__

Sakamoto had you hanging onto him as he hailed down a cab. The sleek black car stopped, its door sliding open. You felt shame as you sluggishly sat down and scooted your body into the inner seat. Awkardly loosening the seatbelt to not irritate your bruise, you leaned back.

"Hey", he spoke, tapping on your shoulder, "are you feeling alright?"

Your mind was on something else when you said yes, nodding begrudgingly. Your chest was still twisting. You held your head, trying to remember your address upon hearing the driver asking for it. Unsurely reciting it, you turned away from Sakamoto for him not to see your crumbled face. Still, you could hear him shifting nervously as the leather seat squeaked under his pants.

"I'm sorry... of course it is nothing", you said, your voice hoarse.

"I'm sorry, too..."

He spoke as if something was stuck in his throat. You could tell he felt guilty about Hanao's punch. Sakamoto had a bad habit of feeling like he owed people for the nice things they did, so much so that it worried him sick. You yourself hadn't been much of an expecting returned favors person - were you to be one, you would have been stuck playing debt collector to your brother for the rest of your live. That would not be fair.

"It's not your fault, Sakamoto."

The ride was quiet. You wanted to turn and look at him, but you didn't let yourself. You were worried by the heartbeat that drummed against your chest as if wanting to break your ribs open. Help me make this feeling go away, you wanted to say, but you knew he wouldn't know how. He couldn't fix your brother's drug addiction. He wouldn't know how to steady his nerve were he to find the frail, bony boy in a stranger's bathroom lying in his own vomit, arms and legs twitching with glazed over bloodshot eyes who, upon seeing his older sister at the door, could do nothing but bare the row of yellowed teeth to laugh. What was there to do but call the ER and explain what happened? Your 17-year-old self did not cry as you sat and wait for the ambulance, watching his shoulders and the lock of hair over his nose move to make sure he was alive. You could almost recall the conversation in the next room wherein the teenagers were freaking out and deserting the kickback, yelling to put blames, all of them too drunk or high for their young body to handle. Stupid, you thought with your head on your knees, you guys were supposed to be studying for finals. What would 15-year-olds in a private school need molly, stamps or snow for? They could not have possibly been that bored, could they? Couldn't they have smoked weed and have panic attacks like the rest? You even remembered when a girl poked her head in to ask if your brother was okay, to which you said "fuck off". You didn't feel bad for it. You still don't.

Your head spun thinking back about it. You closed your eyes and tried to calm your beating heart, fighting the lump that built in your throat. Whatever, you told yourself, nothing changed - that was all. You would call your mother and console her like always, then your disappointed father who had not much to say, then your brother who would moodily ask what you wanted and then tell you to save it with the life lessons. Then you would hang up and put away your phone, take a nightime painkiller without water before crawling under your cover and hoped to not wake up to 80 missed calls.

So you didn't say anything.

Upon seeing the familiar apartment complex, you fished for your wallet only to find Sakamoto's cold palm resting atop your hand. "I got it", he softly spoke and handed the driver two crisp bills, telling him to keep the change. The warm summer air flooded the cab as the door opened, and you felt the humidity clinging on your skin when you stepped down, your kitten heels knocking harshly against the pavement. Sakamoto hopped off as well and hurried over to where you were.

"Mr. Sakamoto, thank you for taking me home, but you don't have to walk me to the door. You will miss the train."

"It's okay", he said with his face turned away from you, "I like to enjoy the nightime."

You laughed at the white lie. Of course he did not mean it, especially not with the heavy backpack on his back. Sakamoto who liked to clean up and prepare food for the next day would hate staying out late - hell, he barely tolerated tonight's dinner party.

"Well... I appreciate it. Then, would you mind walking me to the elevator?"

"I will walk you to your door."

The softness in his voice matched your own.

_____

Yuki lied. He did not live near you, but he figured that didn't matter much. He could take a cab back home and skip the coffee-making, even though he had just started trying to consume less sugar by brewing his own the night before. The way your face drained of any liveliness when he first saw you at the alleyway was a pointer that whatever you were going through was more urgent than the brand new coffee kit he left sealed near his sink.

As he waited for the elevator with you, your phone buzzed. You looked at the screen blankly and picked it up, your hands trembling just barely. He incredulously watched you when he led you into the dingy lift, making room for you to punch in the floor number. You did not say a word, simply listening to the other end who seemed frantic and fast-talking. The flourescent light from above highlighted clearly your sunken eyes and smile lines, casting sharp shadows on your face now looking years older than your normal self. You did not say anything but the frown on your tired face deepened the longer your caller spoke, and by the time the elevator ride was over you could only sighed and said "I see... I will talk to him soon, mom. You go ahead to bed now, it's getting late."

He tailed you out, expecting you to lead the way to your door. Instead, your body dropped down to a squat. Burying your head into your hands, you painfully let out a quiet sob, your body shaking like a leaf.

"Hey...", he spoke, trying to be as gentle as he could so as not to alert anyone who might be sleeping behind the thin apartment walls. He wanted to say that it would be okay, but that would be stupid. He did not know what happened.

You kept your sobbing down, stiffling it until completely smothering it. Choking on tears, you sniffled and looked at him. Your mascara had made a dark black smudge under your glossy eyes, and your lips were twisted as you grinded your teeth to keep from crying more.

"... Let's get you back home first, okay?" was the only thing he thought of to say. You nodded and took his outstretched palm. Your skin was warm, pressing hard against him as you stood up. He failed to expect the hand that threw the fierce uppercut at his show to feel so limp in his own. He did not let go as you walked him to your door and punched in the code.

"Thank you, Mr. Sakamoto", you spoke again, hoarse and labored. Even in disarray, you still made a point to take a look at your phone to check for the time. Idling at the door now wide open, you held a sigh in your chest. He watched as you took a moment to think before turning to see him again.

"I'm sorry you missed the train. If you don't mind it, you can stay the night."

He had heard that many times in his life, and everytime he found himself going dizzy and trying to make an escape. In his younger years, he wasn't so sucessful. He would be swayed by guilt or pity toward the recently divorced family friend who then wiped away her soft pink lips with his body. His 17-year-old self did not know how to feel... she was always gentle and kind when she first met him 4 years prior. Outside her bedroom she was never unperfumed, never dressed improperly, never spoke in any tone other than soft, yet she always left him feeling undone and fillthy. She was nice before she wasn't, before the door closed and he was told what to do and how to feel. Sakamoto always vomitted after, but it never mattered to her - she had her fills. He still couldn't forget begging for his father's help after the secret ate at him, only for his own kin to ask what about becoming a man made him want to die.

Though, the look in your eyes was not one of temptation. It was one of someone barely holding it together, trying their hardest to make something right. You didn't seem to want anything from him.

Yuki felt something other than panic when he stood at your door staring down the dark hallway, your face just a shadow now when you turned straight ahead. For the first time in a long time, Yuki found himself saying "okay" to being invited to stay over.

[radiance1]

(Cha'll know Hornet from Hollow Knight? Yea, she inspired me for this along with her song recently made by Man on the Internet.)

Danny's reveal went wrong. His parents operated and experimented on him until his body couldn't take it anymore, and, well.

He died on that operating table.

Jack and Maddie weren't immediately concerned, really, since it's just a ghost. They weren't, at least, until that ghost transformed back into their son.

They were far too stunned to properly process it. Their son was phantom, their son was the ghost they spent a while chasing through the streets of their town and hunting.

They killed their own son on an operating table.

When Jazz found out she, well she wasn't pleased. At all. She screamed at them, tears streaming down her face when she found out her brother was dead. The brother she spent raising in her parents place, the brother who went out and risked himself fighting ghosts for the town, her little brother.

She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't deal with them anymore. She had a friend over a Gotham, a very good friend who would let her crash for a while at their place until she could get back on her feet. So she packed her things and left Amity Park and her parents behind.

The Fenton's were racked with guilt, because they killed their own son and the last damn thing he saw was them operating on him. They had to make this right.

They never really, truly, dabbled in genetic engineering much. But they could goddamn learn, they were smart enough for it. They built and put Danny in a pod to keep his body from either melting or decomposing, they never could tell which would happen after learning of his unique biology and got to work.

Their first try at cloning him was a failure. The clone barely lasted a second before melting away into a puddle of unusable ectoplasm and DNA. Their second clone had the same effect, so did their third, fourth, fifth, sixth.

It was incredibly harder than they first thought to clone the unique biology of a halfa. But they couldn't, wouldn't, give up. They had to do this, they had to right what they did wrong.

It took 4 years for them to engineer the 'perfect' clone. 4 years in which they haven't left their home, 4 years in which they haven't seen their daughter, 4 years of trying to atone for what they did, and they finally did it.

Subject 'Omega' was built to last. Superhuman durability, superhuman healing, unable to physically age. Everything they could think of that allowed it to not die they engineered into it.

They couldn't clone his ghostly abilities, would make it too unstable, it would have to develop such things on its own. They couldn't clone his memories either, but it was ok, they could make new ones!

Subject 'Omega' was released from its pod and unlike the other failures, it didn't melt into a puddle as soon as it left the pod, nor a few minutes or hours after. They kept it around for a day, fully ready for it to destabilize and be regarded as a failure, but blessedly it didn't.

They then kept their son's body in that room, putting it on full lock down and ensuring that it could never get in.

They finally succeeded in making the perfect clone. One almost exactly like their son, stuck between life and death, black hair, blue eyes the whole shebang. Sure, he didn't have the memories or the abilities that Phantom possessed, but it was fine.

They had to treat it properly, raise it right, even. Teach it all they knew, take care of it properly, that's what parents did right? Sure, maybe it wasn't as perfect as it should have been, missing memories, missing abilities, for example.

But they still loved it regardless!

It was unable to transform into Phantom. It had ghostly abilities, yes, but it was fully stuck as just Fenton, they didn't get it, they made him as perfect as could be why couldn't it just do that-

Did they miss something? Was there a problem with its design? The missing memories they could attribute to themselves, the abilities they could write off as having been replaced by the abilities they built into it to make it last taking priority over pre-installing the ghost abilities.

But this.

THIS.

WHY COULDN'T IT JUST DO THIS ONE, SIMPLE THING!? THEY MADE IT RIGHT, NOTHING SHOULD HAVE GONE WRONG, IT SHOULD BE CAPABLE OF DOING THIS.

But it was ok, it was fine, sure he didn't have the ability that Danny should have. But it was ok, they still loved him even if he wasn't perfect, they told him so all the time.

Everything is ok.

----

Subject Omega, or Danny, as he was told his name was. Loved his parents quite a lot, or at least he's been told he loves them. He didn't have any memories of them, nor of this house, nor of that girl in the pictures, but he was told it didn't matter.

He was told he had Amnesia, that it was so bad he couldn't remember any of his memories before today. They were his parents, parents who loved him with all of their might, this house was their house that he's lived in since he was born and the girl in the pictures was his sister.

He asked where she was, they said she left, he asked why, he didn't get an answer. He didn't question it, really, it was intriguing to know who she was, but his parents didn't want to share and a good boy doesn't ask questions that his parents don't want to answer!

Apparently, he was what his parents called a Halfa, a hybrid between a human and a ghost and he had the abilities to prove it. The standard ghost powers of Intangibility, invisibility and flight, with his own ability to form ectoplasm into string, or silk (he had them whispering about that, but it was probably nothing of concern) along with a numerous amount of abilities either related to durability or healing.

He was confused when they asked him to 'Go Ghost', because he didn't know what or how to do that. They showed him some audio, apparently something they had to hack through a lot of cameras to even find, of him shouting "Going ghost!" and what they believe to be him then transforming into another version of himself with white hair and green eyes they called 'Phantom'.

He tried it out, they seemed hopeful, he didn't want to disappoint them. But he couldn't do it, they urged him to try again and again when he failed over and over. He was worried he was disappointing them, but he told them he just couldn't do it.

He was scared, of how they reacted to. His mother screamed at him for why he couldn't just do this one simple thing, the thing he was supposed to do, while his father grabbed onto his arm and dragged him to his room. He couldn't feel physical pain, or much of it so his parents told him, but he had the idea that it should hurt.

He was told to never leave his room until he could figure out how to go ghost, and then the door was slammed shut in his face. He tried to do it, he really tried too! Even forgoing sleep to try and go ghost repeatedly.

It turned morning, and he still couldn't do it. He wasn't even tired, so he could continue trying until he got it right! But then a knock came from his door and his mother came through, he was preparing to apologies when she just told him to come down for breakfast and said she loved him.

He, didn't know what to feel about that.

he questioned his parents about it, a while after he came downstairs. But they acted confused, asking if he had a bad dream or something of the like, so he hesitantly recounted what happened and his mother just hugged him. Telling him that they would never do that because they loved him far too much to yell at him and treat him that way.

So, maybe he did just have a bad dream and nothing happened.

He was glad for it, too.

He didn't go to school, they pulled him from school because of his accident and decided to homeschool him. He had a lot to learn, really, all the stuff from inventing, mathematics and fighting from them!

He loved it! Really, he did! Sure, some of the stuff made him brain hurt from so much knowledge crammed into his head, but he was getting better at Martial Arts! He got so good at both that he even got a gift! A giant needle sword thing that was supposed to go hand in hand with his thread and such!

He didn't have anything else to be learnt, but he wasn't allowed to go outside, so he just stayed home really. It was just the three of them here, and it was his whole world.

One day his parents went out, which wasn't unusual as of recent, so he took to refining his technique with the needle, he could go on for hours and not feel the barest of fatigue, that's how it always was said his parents. But when they came back, they seemed, different, it was a subtle thing, but they seemed paler.

They were also a bit panicked, telling him not to go outside (not that they let him) and then going down into their lab to do something. He was curious about it, but didn't mind it, he knew his parents probably didn't want to worry him about something, so he just lost himself into refining his technique.

Over the passage of a few weeks his parents kept going out and then coming back into their lab, carrying samples of something. They never told him what it was, so he didn't bother asking, it seemed very important, so he shouldn't bother them.

Even if they seemingly had less time for him and more for whatever they had down in the lab.

Over those weeks his parents seemed to become ill, he didn't know what it was, but they seemed to have contracted something. Sometimes they came back covered in blood, sometimes coughing, or injured.

One day they didn't come back up from the lab, and Danny left them there because he didn't want to disturb them. He had to refine his technique after incorporating string after all.

Another week passed, and his parents still didn't come back up, he was worried, extremely so. So he sneaked down into the lab, he was prepared for being punished or shouted at for doing so, but he just needed to know if they were ok.

They weren't.

The first sign was a terrible smell of rot, the first repugnant thing he's ever smelt oddly enough. The second was the smell of iron, and the third was seeing his parents' bodies lying on the ground, blood splattered from their mouths.

He didn't understand why they were just lying there, why blood came from their mouths or why a terrible smell came from them. Maybe they were napping? A weird place to do so.

So he tried dragging upstairs and putting them on the couch or in their beds. Which he managed to do after a while, putting them to put and covering them with sheets, then went down back to the lab.

Because there was a newly opened door his parents had opened, and he was curious, and it didn't look like they were gonna wake up soon so surely, he could take a peek.

He didn't know what he expected, but seeing himself in a pod wasn't it.

Then he found out that he was a clone. A clone of the original, dead Danny and there were hundreds upon hundreds of other failed clones. He didn't know how to take it, apparently his original was hero, a hero they hunted down and killed because he was a ghost, and the only reason they made him was because they didn't realize and killed their son.

He wanted to march up there and demand an explanation, but he was scared, scared of how they would react if he were to bring it up. They killed their own, true son, so why wouldn't they just kill him and continue cloning too?

They left the way to lock this section of the lab in one of their entries, so he locked it and left, waiting for them to wake up.

Except, they never did.

Then a while later some people entered his house unannounced, clearing through the house. They asked him if he knew where his parents were, and he took them to their bedroom. they said his parents were dead, and then completely disregarded him after and went down into his parents' lab and took basically everything they could get their hands on, including his parents' prized Ghost Portal.

He couldn't stop them, too busy trying to process the fact his parents died, and he didn't know.

Awhile passed and he went outside, seeing the town basically abandoned for some reason. He saw no one but those men for a while, people he later learned to be some government agents.

And just like that the town he was in became the testing ground for the government to dump their failed experiments, either too hostile or not what they wanted.

More so the former than the later.

The original Danny protected this town, was a hero and stopped ghosts. There weren't many ghosts around here anymore, at least the humanoid ones his predecessor fought off, but there were the ghosts of animal's or experiments who kicked the bucket, and then there was the experiments who were still alive and wandering the town, extremely violent and animals that got mutated from some kind of chemical those ghosts dumped around town.

Probably another failed experiment.

So, he decided that just like the original he would try and protect this town, from the government, from the failed experiments, from the mutated animals, from the ghosts of experiments and animals long dead. He would preserve this place to the best of his ability, it was the only thing he could do now.

And just like that, 5 years passed. 5 years of fighting off experiments and beasts with his nail and thread, 5 years of zero human contact, 5 years of just fighting and surviving and honing his skills.

And then, one day. A group of people came to his town, not the government, he could tell when they were coming. No, this was a group of different, newer, people.

People he had to dig through his memories to find, because he only saw one article on them before his parents switched him to a server they made for him.

The Wayne's were in his forgotten town for some reason, and with them was the girl he saw in the original's family photos, he didn't know her name, but he knew she was the original's sister. He would watch and wait, see what they do, and if he determined them to be a threat.

Well.

Threats to this town have to be eliminated.

[scallioncreamcheesebagel]

TOP 24 ANIME OF 2024

2024 was the year i got back into watching seasonals after a two-year hiatus from it, and BOY am i glad i got roped back in, because 2024 was an awesome year for anime!

i checked out at least the first episode of every new anime that aired this year, as well as all the non-sequel movies, and this is what i ended up loving the most!

i'll be ranking the top 24 anime of the year (in my opinion) from #24 all the way to #1 under the read more! hope you find at least one thing to enjoy from this, or get the satisfaction of seeing your favorite on here! :)

(oh and song of the year 2024 will return next week)

#24: Train to the End of the World 🚂

a surreal, creative anime about four girls trying to find their missing friend while navigating the dangers of a reality-warping post-apocalypse.

In a seemingly ordinary rural town, something strange is happening to the residents. But Shizuru Chikura is more concerned for her missing friend. Determined to find her, Shizuru and three other girls board an abandoned train and travel to the outside world, unsure if they’ll make it back alive. As they venture toward the unknown, the question looms: What awaits them at the final stop?

Crunchyroll

#23: The Witch and the Beast 🫀

a gory monster-of-the week action anime with lgbt themes about witch-hunters trying to lift a curse.

Cursed by a witch, the feral and tempestuous Guideau tenaciously searches for the culprit so she can exact revenge. To this end, she joins the Order of Magical Resonance, an organization that deals with everything connected to magic. The Order agrees to work with Guideau in return for her help solving the myriad of magic-related cases occurring across the world. The Order's suave and mysterious mage Ashaf accompanies Guideau for the sake of successfully completing missions. As the pair traverses the land in search of that unknown witch, their experience with the fantastical world of magic grows ever more peculiar the further they advance in their journey.

Crunchyroll

#22: Maboroshi 🏭️

a mind-bending, artistic movie about teens trapped in a space-time anomaly.

In the small rural town of Mifuse, time has crawled to a standstill. After an explosion at the city's steel mill, the townspeople realize they are trapped in a mysterious stasis—cutting them off from the rest of the world. With a local elite quick to declare the situation a punishment from God, the community adopts a variety of superstitions to preserve the delicate balance of their circumstances until normalcy is restored.

Netflix

#21: Mayonaka Punch 🩸

a wacky yuribait comedy about a cancelled youtuber trying to reform her image, who promises a vampire her blood if she can get her back to 1 million subscribers after a public bout of violence.

Meet Masaki, the now former member of the popular NewTuber group, Harikiri Sisters. After a career setback, aka getting fired unexpectedly via a live stream, she joins forces with Live, a partner with superhuman abilities. Together, they aim to create sensational content and reach 1 million subscribers. Will they reach their content dreams or be hit with the block button?

Crunchyroll

#20: A Condition Called Love 💘

a shoujo romance with unhealthily codependent leads who slowly help each other grow as people and maybe get to the point where they can, in fact, fumble through a relationship.

While out with a friend, Hotaru witnesses the severe breakup of her schoolmate Hananoi, to whom she has never spoken. Afterward, she sees him sitting in the snow and holds her umbrella over him. To her surprise, this gesture results in him confessing his feelings for her at school the next day. Though Hotaru rejects him, Hananoi insists on letting her get to know him. He does whatever he can to woo her, from changing his hairstyle to finding her lost hairpin in the snow.

Crunchyroll

#19: Egumi Legacy 🍦

a zany, completely unique low-budget comedy anime about the events that unfold when a popular idol is kidnapped.

Floating in a certain ocean is an island called "EGU Island." The sole entertainment on this island is listening to the songstress, "End of the World." Day after day, the islanders are enchanted by her singing. However, this tranquil time is shattered in an instant. Since the disappearance of the songstress, the island has been filled with "anger," "doubt," and "anxiety." Various thoughts and intentions begin to stir…A licking war unfolds around, "End of the World!" The one who holds her destiny is the legendary legacy "EGUMI Legacy."

Youtube (Free!)

#18: Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! 🌸

a cute gay romcom about 30 year old men falling in love when one of them can secretly read minds.

Adachi’s 30th birthday as a virgin came with the oddest gift—the ability to read the mind of anyone he touches. Pondering what to do with this mysterious power, he gets a lead when he accidentally reads his colleague Kurosawa’s mind. Turns out the handsome hotshot of the sales team has got a thing for him! How will Adachi respond to overhearing these affectionate thoughts?

Crunchyroll

#17: Wonderful Precure! 🐶

a magical girl anime about a puppy who was full of so much love that she turned into a human girl. she now has to learn how to be human, as well as fight crime (with love) alongside her owner.

The Wonderful Precure! anime is set in Animal Town, a town where animals and people live together in harmony. Second-year junior high school student Iroha Inukai is best friends with her dog named Komugi. Out for a walk one day, Iroha and Komugi encounter a mysterious creature named Garugaru, who goes on a rampage in the city. Komugi suddenly transforms into a Precure named Cure Wonderful, to protect Iroha.

Crunchyroll

#16: Mr. Villain’s Day Off 🐼

a cozy slice of life about an alien invader who secretly loves all the cute things earth has to offer, especially pandas, as he indulges in them on his days not spent trying to take over the world.

As a member of a malevolent organization, the General is tasked with invading Earth and wiping out humanity. Even an extraterrestrial being like him, however, needs a chance to rest. Not even the Rangers—a team solely dedicated to defeating the General and his colleagues—will stand in the way of him visiting pandas at the zoo, buying ice cream at the convenience store, and enjoying his well-deserved day off from committing evil deeds.

Crunchyroll

#15: Frieren: Beyond Journey's End 🧝‍♀️

a high fantasy anime about a long-lived elf retreading a ten-year journey after her human friend's life passes in what is, to her, the blink of an eye.

During their decade-long quest to defeat the Demon King, the members of the hero's party forge bonds through adventures and battles, creating unforgettable precious memories for most of them. As the years pass, Frieren gradually realizes how her days in the hero's party truly impacted her. Witnessing the deaths of two of her former companions, Frieren begins to regret having taken their presence for granted; she vows to better understand humans and create real personal connections. Although the story of that once memorable journey has long ended, a new tale is about to begin.

Crunchyroll

#14: Bananya: Around the World 🍌

season 3 of Bananya follows the titular banana-cat and his new, magical friend Baby Sweet, as they teleport around the world for adorable, bite-sized adventures. but unlike other seasons of bananya, this one procures... a plot. and it's AMAZING.

viewing the previous two seasons first is not strictly necessary.

Bananya returns! The mysterious cat who lives inside a banana is back for a new adventure when a ball of light appears. After the ball flashes, a new cat named Baby Sweet emerges. The two quickly become friends and set off on a grand adventure to discover new and exciting places around the world. Join the new friends on their journey!

Crunchyroll

#13: Tonari no Yokai-san 🐈️

a heartfelt slice-of-life anime about a regular housecat who's very recently transformed into a yokai. with his newfound sapience, he must figure out what he wants to do with his life.

Welcome to Engamori, the cozy town where supernatural beings are your friendly neighbors. For generations and to this day, the otherworldly Yokai and humans have continued to protect their easygoing way of life. Enjoy the mountain breeze and uncover the mysterious bonds that lie within.

Crunchyroll

#12: Orb: On the Movements of the Earth 🌌

a historical drama set in a fictionalized 15th century poland about astronomers who choose to go against the church and work in secret to prove heliocentrism, with each and every character working toward their own ideals of what it truly means to honor god.

In fifteenth-century Europe, heretics are being burned at the stake. Rafal, a brilliant young man, is expected to enter university at an early age and study the era’s most important field, theology. But Rafal values reason above all else, which leads him both to the shocking conclusion that the Earth orbits the Sun, and into the hands of the Inquisition!

Netflix

#11: Look Back 🎨

a critically-acclaimed hour-long masterpiece about two aspiring manga artists being pushed together and pulled apart in world-shattering collaboration and friendship.

Popular, outgoing Fujino is celebrated by her classmates for her funny comics in the class newspaper. One day, her teacher asks her to share the space with Kyomoto, a truant recluse whose beautiful artwork sparks a competitive fervor in Fujino. What starts as jealousy transforms when Fujino realizes their shared passion for drawing.

Amazon Prime

#10: The Imaginary 💭

an emotional fantasy movie from ex-studio ghibli animators about a boy who comes into this world as an ephemeral imaginary friend.

Born from the creativity of Amanda's luminous mind, Rudger is an imaginary friend that she alone can hear or see. One day, a suspicious man named Mr. Bunting knocks on the door, accompanied by an eerie girl that only Rudger and Amanda can see. He has a keen nose for hunting imaginary friends and depriving children of their precious companions. During one of Mr. Bunting's failed attempts to capture Rudger, Amanda gets into a car accident. All alone now, Rudger must protect himself from not only his pursuer but also another peril: if an imaginary friend is forgotten, they will completely disappear from existence.

Netflix

#9: NegaPosi Angler 🎣

a fishing anime starring a man who's lost absolutely everything. from drowning in debt to drowning in the ocean, he seemingly finds a new lease on the life he's recently tried to end when he's rescued by a group of fishers, so long as he ignores his pesky brain cancer.

Tsunehiro’s life isn’t easy. After a doctor gives him two years to live and debt collectors come knocking, he falls from a bridge. In the knick of time, Hana and her crew spot Tsunehiro and pull him to safety. Before returning, they anchor offshore to fish and Tsunehiro catches a huge sea bass in a bout of beginner’s luck. As his apartment building crumbles, Tsunehiro’s new life begins to unfold!

(CW: NegaPosi Angler opens with a suicide attempt.)

Crunchyroll

#8: VTuber Legend: How I Went Viral after Forgetting to Turn Off My Stream 🍻

an unhinged, mildly kinky, unapologetically LESBIAN AS FUCK comedy about an even more unhinged woman who skyrockets to viral fame after accidentally streaming herself getting wasted and losing all inhibition.

(by the way, in this one, they took fans' real nsfw fanart from pixiv and had the characters review it in an episode)

Yuki Tanaka is a VTuber at Live-On, one of Japan’s largest VTuber companies, as the polite and ladylike Awayuki Kokorone. One day, she forgets to end the stream, and viewers see her real personality—irreverent, improper, and prone to imbibing after a long day. Yuki is surprised to find that her accident caused her rankings to multiply, so she doubles down and gets to work. She’ll be a star yet!

Crunchyroll

#7: Brave Bang Bravern! 🦸

a wild, original mecha anime combining the real robot and super robot subgenres, about a man and a giant robot who fall in love while defending the earth from alien invaders.

In a world where humanoid armored weapons known as "Titatonostrider" ("TS" for short) are used in warfare, troops from various countries converge on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, including Ao Isami of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force and Lewis Smith of the United States Marine Corps. Isami and Smith cross paths during battle, but suddenly, their teams are attacked by an unknown enemy, scattering soldiers and sending their forces into disarray. In order to save their friends and survive on the deadly battlefield, they must fight with every ounce of courage and pride that they can muster.

Crunchyroll

#6: The Grimm Variations episode 6: Pied Piper of Hamelin 🎶

a single shining star entry in an anthology series that otherwise ranges from decent to laughably bad, this standalone 40-minute episode re-envisions the pied piper as one who leads a girl out of an abusive cult.

No official description available.

(CW: Pied Piper of Hamelin contains sexual abuse of a teenager.)

Netflix

#5: Totto-chan, the Little Girl at the Window 🎒

a film adapting the Tetsuko Kuroyanagi autobiography of the same name, telling the true story of a little girl living through world war 2 as her best friend copes with polio.

At little Totto-Chan’s Tomoe School during the Second World War, she learns what racism and intolerance are, and discovers the grim reality of war.

No streams available, you gotta pirate it

#4: Acro Trip 🐻

a magical girl comedy anime (and the best comedy anime i've ever seen in my life) about a girl who joins up with the world's most pathetic man to act as villains, to make the town's magical girl look cooler.

Chizuko is a normal otaku girl in Niigata Prefecture. She’s obsessed with Berry Blossom, a magical heroine who protects the city. But the battles with her inept nemesis, Chrome, have become so lackluster that they’re not even worth watching. Chizuko wants to see Berry’s full power, a desire that quickly leads this seemingly timid girl down a path of evil.

Crunchyroll

#3: Senpai is an Otokonoko 🏳️‍⚧️

a coming-of-age drama anime about three queer teenagers figuring themselves out as they try to come to terms with their identities and their feelings for one another.

Can true love really overcome any obstacles? Saki, a high school student, confesses her feelings to Makoto. Taken aback, Makoto reveals their secret, but the sudden discovery doesn’t seem to bother Saki who is already head over heels for them. After being rejected, Saki asks Ryuji, Makoto’s childhood friend, for some advice on how to win their heart. A love triangle unfolds when Ryuji realizes that he might also have some feelings for his old friend.

Crunchyroll

#2: Dungeon Meshi 🍲

a masterfully-written fantasy-comedy anime about eating monsters with a slowly-unfolding darker plot, that you've probably already heard recommended a thousand times, and rightfully so. got me back into seasonals this year, so this one show is the reason i watched everything on this list.

Delicious in Dungeon. That is, “to eat”, or “to be eaten” ― Within the depths of the dungeon, his younger sister was eaten by a Red Dragon – and adventurer Laios barely made it back to the surface with his life. He attempts the dungeon again, but money and food are deep within its bowels… Faced with the critical situation where his sister may be digested at any moment, Laios decides: “Food shall be self-providing from within the dungeon!” Slimes, basilisks, mimics and even dragons! While eating those that attack you, aim to traverse the dungeons, adventurer!

Netflix

#1: Go! Go! Loser Ranger! 🦹

a thrilling, subversive, psychological superhero anime about a weak shapeshifing monster created to fight sentai heroes, captured with the rest of his kind. abandoned by their creators and made to lose rigged fights to heroes for more than a decade, he finally escapes, vowing to infiltrate the hero organization, defeat them, and free the rest of his people. and maybe conquer the earth if he gets that far.

For the past 13 years, the Nefarious Monster Army have appeared beneath their floating fortress every Sunday to advance their goal of conquering Earth. Luckily, the Dragon Keepers are here to save the day! Having defeated the majority of the monsters during their initial invasion, the heroes now routinely show up to clear away any remnants of resistance. Unbeknownst to the public, however, every fight beyond the first has been a deliberate show put on by both sides: the Dragon Keepers reap the fame and prestige from fighting imaginary enemies, while the surviving weakest monsters, altogether called Dusters, are allowed to live for another day.

Sentouin D, a Duster tired of living this life of shame, leaves the fortress in an attempt to overturn his fate. With the unexpected help of the mysterious ranger Yumeko Suzukiri, he discovers the key to defeating the Dragon Keepers lies in their Divine Artifacts—ultimate weapons crucial to the rangers' transformation and unique powers. Teaming up with Suzukiri to infiltrate the garrison of Red Keeper Sousei Akabane, Sentouin D must defy all expectations to save his species from the cruel hands of humans.

Hulu / Disney+

and even if you don't watch Loser Ranger, check out the OP, because it's an amazing work in its own right! speaking of which...

BONUS: TOP 10 SHORT FILMS

🦊 Kamigoroshi ~prologue~ (8 min)

🍈 Crevice (6 min)

🥀 Garden of Remembrance (18 min)

🤖 Pop Pop City (you have to pirate this one)

❤️‍🩹 I wanted to be wanted (11 min)

⌛️ Itai no Itai no Tondeike (4 min MV)

🚀 Truth In Lies (5 min MV)

🐳 3 Intestine Road, Fish Island (17 min)

⛰️ Mudai no Eizo (4 min)

🏴‍☠️ Dead Ma'am's Chest (4 min MV)