#but johnny NEVER is

[robbyykeene]

My distaste with season 5, and this show as a whole, boils down to the fact that the writers have gone all in on the idea that the only true Character that is allowed to exist in this story is Johnny, and nearly all the others are just malleable dolls for the writers to move around and play with as they see fit to advance the story in a direction that will make Johnny the Ultimate Winner Of Everything.

And I hear the criticisms already of “but Johnny’s the protagonist! Obviously every other character is ultimately going to serve his story.” But Walter White is the protagonist of Breaking Bad and Jimmy McGill is the protagonist of Better Call Saul and Kendall Roy is arguably the protagonist of Succession. And obviously it’s unfair to compare shows of that caliber to Cobra Kai, but do you see my point? In all of the above, the characters that orbit the protagonist are fully fleshed out people, equally complex and just as motivated by their own desires and history and traumas as the protagonist is. And yet still, ultimately, their characters do end up serving the protagonist’s arc, and the story as a whole. Because that’s what good writing is.

But increasingly, all the other characters in Cobra Kai have stopped behaving like actual people—especially the ones that pose any challenge for Johnny. Their feelings get stamped down in favor of removing Johnny’s obstacles towards happiness, which only winds up reducing Johnny’s own character in complexity and likability.

I watch Cobra Kai now and I don’t find any of these characters believable, maybe Johnny most of all, because the writers steadfastly refuse to let him face any real serious consequence for his actions. Instead, they have everyone falling over themselves to forgive him, repeatedly giving him a do over—a chance to right his wrongs without ever ever fully acknowledging the hurt and pain he’s caused. This season, quite literally in the form of a new baby. And if that’s the story they want to tell, well fine. It’s their story to tell. But they can’t keep pretending like this is a redemption story, that there’s anything deeper beneath the surface of this show than just being about a guy who does karate and kicks ass and gets the girl and defeats the Big Bad of the week. This is not a story about trauma, Johnny’s or anyone else’s. It’s really not about anything at all anymore.

[brewed-pangolin]

Call him Johnny...he smiles, bright eyes with a glowing aura.

Call him John...he smiles, dark eyes with a growing hard on.

Call him Johnny MacTavish...he smiles, boaring eyes as he cups your face and gifts you a torrid kiss.

Call him John MacTavish...his smile shifts as he bends you over and shows just how much he loves you.

Call him Soap...he'll quickly turn to putty in your hands.

Call him Soap MacTavish...clear out your schedule, you're not escaping him.

Call him John Soap MacTavish...either you won't be able to walk for a week or he's already in the next county because he knows he's done fucked up.

(Call him Johnny Soap MacTavish...and he'll immediately come in his pants)

[wombywoo]

detour 🚘

[izu]

big baby

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Same warnings as last time for dub con and general Johnny nastiness.

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[boyyeahright]

SILVERHAND

[junkanimate]

In my mind, both Kenshi and Sento talk non-stop about Johnny, but never together in the same headcanon. One of them always has to endure the other

[temeyes]

i like the way you think @dustycrusty09

[m-1-8]

Simon loves’em

[controld3vil]

when you compliment them | earthrealm edition

pairings: raiden, kung lao, kenshi & johnny x reader (all separate) synopsis: compliments are a long milestone for you, and yet only recently have you eagerly given them to liu kang's students notes: - reader is general neutral :] - i did NOT anticipate becoming so invested in mk !! hope you enjoy these headcannons with a grain of salt. lmk if they're too out of character

RAIDEN ->  Raiden’s stunned for a moment. Don’t take it personally. He did not expect you to be blunt about it. It makes his heart flutter. You’re someone he admires dearly. And to have you look upon his talents with such delight brings a smile to his face. Raiden will quickly regain his composure and kindly thank you. He’s a humble farmer. He’ll show you gratitude in your words. But the small moments when he’s gazing at you across the Wu Shi Academy make him think back to your compliments. “Your efforts at the Wu Shi are quite admirable, Raiden,” Can you tell how flustered he is? How easily do you make his brain go haywire? If you questionably tease him, Raiden will avoid the topic as much as possible. His eyes won’t even meet yours out of pure embarrassment. And all he could imagine were the smug faces of his friends in this dilemma. [ raiden ] : i- uh appreciate all that you have done for me (name). [ you ] : (laughs) as earthrealm's champion, you deserve as much.

KUNG LAO -> He is smug about it. Are you recognizing his talents? It bloats his ego, and he loves it. Kung Lao will use your praise to alleviate himself in any situation. When he’s about to fight Raiden for the seat of the Chosen One, he uses it to one-up his friend. Your approval is his number one trophy and shield from the rest of his friends. It’s in his pride that out of everyone in the Wu Shi, you’re the one to have looked at him. Honestly, he will always hold it over your head if you two argue. And maybe it takes things too far and results in you taking it all back (and puncturing his self-confidence). It all comes crashing down when he ultimately feels guilty about all the sarcastic criticism and teasing. Eventually, he’ll apologize and express how much you mean to him. Therefore the next time you commend his actions, he’ll take it down a notch [ kung lao ] : i'll beat raiden soon enough. don't you wait (last name)! [ you ] : impress me, first then we'll see if you can beat raiden.

KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> The swordsman chuckles and genuinely enjoys your attention. “I’m flattered,” He utters your last name as a sign of delight. Of the four, he’s not afraid of what you have to say, criticism and compliment-wise. Kenshi strives for improvement. And having you admire his great efforts is comforting. His time with the yakuza was rogue and remorseful. The things he had to do for his clan’s survival were unforgivable. However, he’s made it to work, thanks to Liu Kang. By extension, you are seemingly always there to support his efforts to win his clan back and help Earthrealm. It’s your constant presence that makes his feelings known. You’re extensively supportive of what he does; what can he do to repay the favor? Of course, there will be times when he jabs at the others about it. You’re the one who started the whole fiasco. It’s evident in your favoritism. To say the others are not having it. [ kenshi ] : what sento has given will help me restore my clan tenfold. [ you ] : then i wish the best for the taira clan and its new leader.

JOHNNY CAGE -> Approval is something he’s accustomed to. From movie ratings and down-to-earth interviews, Johnny is no stranger when someone cheers on his efforts. He lavishes on it as much as he can til it’s stale. It’s just how the movie industry works. He takes in criticism and heedlessness like it’s part of the job. It’s the attention he adores. Yet when his entire career is put to a stop for Earthrealm, Johnny has fewer things to worry about. His acting career is on hold now he’s practicing to become one of Earthrealm’s champions. It’s odd for him - to prove his self-worth at face value. He’s a superstar; what else does he have to show? It wasn’t until you arrived, with the goodness of intention from Liu Kang, that made him wonder what someone like you was doing here. You’re sweet and honest when talking to Johnny. It’s like the things he wanted to hear come easily to you. And when you particularly remark on a move he did on Kenshi, his entire day feels fresher and brighter. You know the words to make anyone feel complete and content. And he can’t help to tease you about it later. Johnny absolutely adores you for it. “Doll, you’re killing me with these compliments. How about a drink later?” [ johnny ] : come on! i know sweet talk when i see it. [ you ] : has being one of earthrealm's champions gone over your head, johnny?

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[bressynonym]

boyfriend hoodie!! 🤳

[vronism]

What do you wish for?

[nettoii]

i feel like jax wonders how these two started dating all the time

[gold0kapi]

I made a new lineart brush and its changed my life