#They thought it was safe to go back into the sewers

[oculusxcaro]

Two sentence horror story. People that go into the sewers have started going missing. Killer Croc's still locked up in Arkham.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Desperation

When you disappear from the Arkham Knights base, he's intent on getting you back. ~1.1k words

If the Arkham Knight knew that you'd be so against releasing fear gas over the entire eastern seaboard, he wouldn't have let you have nearly as much freedom around his base as he did. He really didn't consider that your moral compass would keep you from staying with him.

He's frustrated, as he tears through the streets of Gotham searching for you. If you wanted him to change his plans, you only needed to ask. Sure, he might have lied about the details, but the two of you could have at least talked before you decided leaving him was for the best.

He doesn't understand how you've managed to evade him for this long. He's checked every one of The Bats safehouses he knows you know about and a few you didn't. So where the hell are you?

He slams his fist into the wall of another empty safehouse. This is ridiculous. You don't get to run from him, don't get to be anywhere he doesn't know. How is he supposed to know you're safe like this? Know you're not making a bad decision? Not doing something that'll end in you hurt– kidnapped– dead?

His throat tightens as he storms out of the room, mentally running through where you could have gone to hide from him. He has his men stationed at the port, at hotels, at the subway stations, the airport, the highways out of Gotham. There's no way you've gotten out of the city.

'Unless you escaped before he noticed you were gone,' his mind supplies unhelpfully. The Arkham Knight scowls, as if that was possible. He stalks across the rooftops, mind racing. The second he gets his hands on you, he's putting a tracer on you. He should have done it sooner. Never should have let this happen. You're not supposed to be away from him. He needs you with him, needs you close.

Where did you go? Where did you go?

"Boss," a voice cuts through his helmet.

"What?" He snaps, voice sharp and angry and dangerous.

"We had a sighting of them."

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, "Location?"

You cursed rapidly under your breath as you dart through the alleys of Gotham. Stupid- stupid to get spotted by one of Jason's payrolled men. You knew you were lucky to have recognized him, but The Arkham Knight must know where you are by now.

You debate chancing the sewers, Killer Croc is supposed to be in Arkham, and if you're careful you could avoid Grundy. You don't have a plan– didn't have a plan when you left. You just needed to get out, needed air and space and time to process, to really come to terms with the fact that Jason isn't your Jason anymore.

Everything seems to be flying by in a whirlwind as you move through the shadows. Your thoughts frazzled, you don't even know what you want. Do you want him to find you? Do you want to go back with him? Do you want to keep running?

You don't really get a say in the matter when the Arkham Knight drops down a mere five feet in front of you, blocking one of your two exits out of the alleyway.

You let out a strangled noise of surprise as he storms towards you. You stumble back, eyes wide, "Jason–"

"What are you doing out here? Do you know what time it is? How dangerous this is?" He grabs your arm, grip tight to keep you in place. You can hear the desperation in his tone even through the modulator.

"I just– I needed to think–" You stumble out, eyes darting over the neon blue glow of his helmet.

"You can think inside the base, where it's safe." He tells you firmly, already dragging you along the alley.

You dig your heels in, "No, Jason. I can't go back there."

He turns back to you, voice low and almost threatening, "Why not?"

"I'm scared."

He falls quiet. You both do. He lets go of you. "Of me?"

"No! No, Jason, not of– of course not of you. I'm scared of– I'm scared that I understand. That your plan makes sense and I– I understand. At least, why you need this. Bruce failed you. I failed you." You start to reach for him, for the boy you fell in love with, the one lost underneath the armor and guns and nightmares. You stop short, it's hard sometimes, to not blame yourself for what happened to him.

He meets you halfway, the man he is now, the one who you don't quite know how to love yet, grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest. "I don't blame you."

"You should," You protest, but don't remove your hand, "I'm guilty too. A part of you must know that."

He shakes his head, squeezes your hand, "I don't care."

"You should," You repeat, angry and bitter with yourself.

"It doesn't matter, even if I did," he sighs your name and tugs off his helmet, letting it drop to the ground, "You're coming back with me."

You frown a little, something you can't quite name flicks in your eyes. In another life, he would have said he needed you, that he wants you with him, that he can't bear to be apart from you. But that's not who he is anymore, it's not what Arkham turned him into.

You don't know how to say no, not when his eyes are hard and his jaw is set. His only sign of vulnerability is the slight acceleration of his heartbeat, the way his fingers twitch against yours. All you can offer is a nod.

The lines of his face soften just enough to make your heart flutter and he leans in to press a firm kiss to your mouth.

It's still unfamiliar, the way he kisses you now, but you can't help but want to learn. It feels impossible not to, not when you know what he really means with his actions. Not when he whispers that he can't lose you, that he still loves you into your skin when you're half asleep at night.

You just start to kiss him back, just start to lean into his touch when he pulls away, letting go of you to dip down and retrieve his helmet.

He pulls it on in one practiced motion, hiding anything that was readable on his face from you, "Let's get you back."

Your face falls a little as he turns and starts walking away, but you follow him. Of course you do. Your chest aches, your head still feels muddled with what you've learned, but when he silently reaches his hand back for yours, your steps no longer feel so heavy.

[tra1nchi]

Monsterfucker when? 💀

Okok minors dni!!

Getting fucked by a tentacle monster after you fell into the sewers :( you thought the gentle beast was going to help you out but all it did was wrap you in its tentacles!! One curling around your cock, one going inside of you as the rest of its limbs spread your body open!! It hasn't seen anything that was big enough to incubate his eggs in so long :(

Working in a rehabilitation centre,,taking care of an injured siren!! Little did you know that the reason why you feel so exhausted after visiting him is that he hypnotized you each time with his voice!! Sucking you off as you sat on the edge of his pool!! His hums through your cock making you so sensitive and compliant >□<

For some reason i can't think of anymore monsters lol anyway snail hyrbid guy?? His slimy skin rubbing up against yours as he looks over you back curiously,,you didn't have a shell like he did,, he didn't quite understand humans but he knew it wasn't safe!! Pressing his neck against yours trying to find your genitals,,whining in confusion as he takes not being able to find anything as you rejecting him!!!

[radiance1]

The GIW succeeded in passing an under the radar law that described ghosts as non-sentient beings. Leading to the Government cracking down on Amity Park and capturing any ghosts they saw.

Danny saved who he could, telling them not to come back to Amity Park for their own safety. That being said, he couldn't save everyone, not as Phantom and especially not as Fenton.

He didn't like to think on it much.

Thankfully it seemed that Halfas had it a bit better than pure ghosts, being seen as semi-sentient due to their human half. But it still wasn't enough for his parents to think he was safe in Amity, so instead of staying in Amity Park they decided to move him.

Which proved to be a far faster process than they thought it would be, because his identity was leaked to the government, as for how they knew? They overheard Wes Weston trying to convince someone of his theory and ran with it.

So now Danny and Jazz had to be quickly relocated to Gotham, and yes, they love you Danny, but with his track record they need Jazz to act as an assurance he wouldn't go out 'heroing' and stay on the down low.

Jack and Maddie stayed behind to negotiate the Anti-Ecto acts.

Jack told the two of them to meet at this specific coffee shop in Gotham, because he already asked for someone he knew to come and pick them up, which confused them because who would he know in Gotham?

But, on the way to said coffee shop, Danny and Cujo (who Danny brought along because he was not leaving him behind in Amity of all places now.) was kidnapped by a giant crocodile man.

Right under Jazz's nose too. She only realized when she reached said coffee shop, safe to say she wasn't pleased. The coffee shop seemed to be entirely booked by one man, with multiple people acting as 'guards' so to speak, not that Jazz couldn't take care of them but she preferred to avoid violence if she could.

The person she and Danny were supposed to meet turned out to be one Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin, a black sheep of the Fentinightingles and Jack's friend. (I CANNOT for the LIFE of me remember where I saw this idea, but if you ever come across this post know that YOU yes YOU were the one who helped the crafting of this idea)

Oswald: Where's the other one.

Jazz: A giant crocodile kidnapped him.

Oswald: Say what.

Meanwhile Danny got himself comfortable in the sewers of Gotham with Cujo as he stared up at a 9 foot tall man who goes by Killer Croc, who looks increasingly unsure, regretful and sorrowful of his decision to kidnap Danny.

Danny finds out that his actual name is Waylon Jones, and that the sole reason he was kidnapped was because he thought him to be his long-lost dead brother.

Danny: Oh so you're my dead uncle!

Waylon: Say what now-

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Zombie!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Zombie!Ghost, Reader

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you havent felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: here it is as requested. I hope I did it justice. Happy Halloween 🎃

You’d been on the run for months now, never stopping as hordes of the undead nipped away at any temporary calm would you seek to have. It wasn’t easy always having to look over your shoulder, wondering when you were going to get ambushed again or if you’d get overrun and you’d have to make your final stand in a blaze of glory. Something like that isn’t supposed to become normal, but after over a year of living in hell you kind of get used to it… Kind of.

That first month was the hardest since you had been completely on your own because in the chaos and confusion of that first wave as the everything fell apart, including the 141 you were stationed with, you’d gotten separated from everyone. Hiding in the sewers, scavenging for food like some kind of rat, it was torture. But then you came across someone you thought you’d never see again: Ghost.

He was holed up alone in an abandoned farmhouse back in the thick of the woods a town over from the base. What should have been a reunion with someone you knew was thrown off by the fact that he had in fact been turned into one of the undead. Out of everyone that you could have run into, why him? You two had history, the kind where intimate details were something that you shared, and now you were both thrust together once again only this time there were bigger things at stake other than if you’d get caught fooling around by the captain.

The strange thing was that even though Ghost had been fully transformed by the infection, it was not what you expected. You realized quickly that Ghost had kept most of his humanity, though the more finer details of his person were scrambled by the disease. Even though he could not speak anymore due to the fact that his jaw was broken, Ghost was still inside there. And the strangest part of it all was that he remembered you.

It wasn’t like anything you had seen from the horde of mindless undead and so instead of facing the unknown alone again, you decided to stick with him. For over a year you two stayed side by side and although you did not come across any others of the task force, it was enough to just have one another.

Honestly he wasn’t a terrible companion, though a bit of conversation would have been nice. Still, having him with you had its perks. Being one amongst the walking corpses had great benefits and Ghost used them to their full capability to keep you safe so that after a time, even though the world still sat in ruin, you two were not doing too bad. At least you were able to stay in place for more than a day now.

That’s where you found yourself, shacked up in a two story cottage you had found almost untouched and secluded in the middle of the woods. It was easy enough to make secure, as secure as you could having limited supplies, but apart from a few stray corpses stumbling by there wasn’t much action. That anxiety riddled tension that you had held in your chest for over a year began to ease and with that came old stirrings that you hadn’t felt since before the world collapsed.

An old familiar ache brought on by being near someone who you used to share such things with, the one that leaves you begging to be quenched, wormed its way back into your life and now that you had more time on your hands it was becoming a major problem.

You see, adrenalin has a funny way of fucking with your head: heightening your senses, making your pulse race, everything feels so much more intense. You were only human, one who still had needs which had not been met in so fucking long that you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be touched by another and so having your blood always rushing and your skin tingling, how could you stop yourself from giving in to that most basic of temptations?

It was a shame that Ghost wasn’t an option now; you would liked to have him one more time as the world burned, but there was no way no… right?

So, instead, one evening after the perimeter had been secured and the doors re-bolted, the windows rechecked and the traps restrung, that ache reached its peak and you had to do something before it got in the way of staying safe. Sneaking off to the bedroom you had claimed for yourself upstairs, you allowed that overwhelming need to finally overtake you.

Leaving the door slightly ajar so that you could still be alert to any stray sounds, you laid down on the cushioned surface of the mattress, your pulse racing rapidly in your chest at the prospect of doing this. You made quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper only enough so that you could access that throbbing between your thighs. Clamping your mouth shut in an effort to keep quiet you slid your hand down the front of your pants, down all the way until you reached your sex. 

A whimper filled your mouth that you choked back down; the last thing you needed was to alert a horde with your desperate cries as you worked yourself. It may have been a while, but you knew exactly what to do and extending your middle finger you split yourself open to find your clit, another whimper rising in your throat as you made the connection and began to draw tight circles around the bundle of nerves.

It was hard not to get worked up so fast as that remembered pleasure filled your mind and snaked its way through your limbs to make your body vibrate and as you stroked that pulsing bean you were brought back to those times when you and Ghost used to get lost in that ecstasy together. You couldn’t be blamed for where your mind wandered, not when you had to be near the one person who knew how to draw your pleasure from you, even if he couldn’t do it anymore.   

Before you knew it, you had flipped yourself onto your stomach and then onto knees to ride your fingers, hips grinding away as you imagined him underneath you. Fuck, the way he used to look staring back up at you with those hungry copper eyes, hands greedily clinging around the meat of your hips as he shoved you down harder onto his cock before he would inevitably flip you onto your back to pound into you; it was enough to make you salivate with need, but still you tried to keep quiet.

You thought yourself sneaky, keeping things to a minimum as you desperately drew out your release, but Ghost was not the same man he was when he was alive. His senses were different now, enhanced like a wild animal’s by the infection that took his life and made him into something entirely new. As he stood in the living room, staring blankly out the window to watch for any signs of undead, something caught his attention.

The scent of pheromones were on the air, enticing him forward to the upstairs. He followed it all the way to the back bedroom, your room. Slowly, silently, creeping towards the door, Ghost peered unblinking through the slit to watch you up on your knees on top of your bed, your pants hanging slack around your hips while your ass point upward towards the door. That motion, he knew it; that back and forth sway of your hips over top of your bed. 

There was another fragrance on the air now, something more familiar. Taking a deep breath, his heightened sense of smell caught the scent of your natural lubrication currently soaking your fingers and it awoke something deep within him like a fire in chest akin to what an animal feels when it goes into heat. His slack mouth began to unconsciously salivate as ingrained memories surfaced, flashes of remembered sensations from times when he too enjoyed such pleasures. Inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing.  

It was then that he became acutely aware of a tightness growing down below and instinctually he cupped his hand around it, rubbing the growing bulge against his chilly palm. Was he actually getting hard? That was surprising as anyone would have expected that to not happen anymore; he had retained much of his humanity, but he had not had the time until now to explore all the facets of what that entailed.

The more he rubbed the more it grew until the front of his pants tented out near the zipper, straining so hard against the fabric that he had to wonder if he could pop the closure without even trying. God, it felt…amazing.

“Fuck, Simon,” he caught the whispered hiss through the silence as you pressed your body down harder onto the bed, onto your fingers, and it sent a shiver up his spine. The way you said that name he hadn’t heard in so long, in that desperate way almost as a plea to your lust to fulfill its unspoken promise and wash that euphoric feeling over you, caused memories to violently resurface. He had heard that before in just that exact way- from you.

Scattered and disjointed memories of you beneath him burst into his minds eye, brought back to life by the sound of your voice: you writhing with eyes closed, your skin glistening with perspiration in the pale light of a dimly lit room, bare breasts bouncing up and down with each of his strong thrusts, crying his name into the silence as you came.

If breathing was something he was still required to do those lungs would be heaving by now to bring in enough air as he was so worked up that he would surely be panting. His hand gripped tighter now around the head of his cock, stroking with more purpose now as his dilated pupils followed the curve of your back all the down to your ass to watch it bob up and down.

The pace of his hand quickened to match your rocking as if fucking you by proxy, stroking through his clothes while transfixed on you. Goddamn he wished he could remember the way you felt wrapped around him, but that sensation had been lost when he succumbed to the disease. All he could do was watch and enjoy the way your body looked while your movements became more sloppy as the warmth gathered in the pit of your stomach, that delicious heat that you had not felt in so long.

“Yes, yes,” you mewled under your breath while your thighs clenched around your hand as you were so close. You brought in another finger to join the first one and with both you slipped them inside your entrance; it was nothing like the way Ghost could fill you out, but it would have to do.

Bearing down hard while you kept the pace steady, your breathing more erratic, you finally reached the peak and spilled violently over the edge, tumbling down as your body writhed and jerked through the overwhelming intensity of that first orgasm. You stifled your cries as much as you could inside your mouth, but they still reached an unknown listener who nearly came himself if he had not had to move quick before being spotted.

…and that left him very frustrated…   

You fell onto the mattress, removing your fingers from your pussy as you breathed out a sigh of contented relief. It hadn’t been clear just how much you needed that until you came and fuck did you feel on cloud nine now. As you rolled over onto your stomach to stare up at the ceiling while you rode out the wave of your euphoric high, you swore you heard a series of strange movement just outside your door; a soft few taps that sounded like they were getting farther away which would have been out of place, but the house you were currently boarded up in was old and so you convinced yourself it was nothing.

Besides, if anything was truly wrong, Ghost would have already alerted you by now. 

It was several minutes you just laid there in the silence before you took one last deep breath to calm yourself as you got up to straighten your clothing and re-buttoned your pants, hoping that your self-pleasuring session had gone completely unnoticed to your companion as you headed back down stairs to double check that everything was still secure.

In his usual spot you found him standing, always watching with that unblinking gaze, but as you stepped into the living room his sight was immediately drawn to you. “Hey,” you greeted him, “everything still okay out there?”

The usual grunted reply was returned and you stepped over to where he stood, just to take a look for yourself. It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes to catch things and you felt more comfortable checking for yourself anyway. Scanning the area outside you saw nothing out of place, but as you pulled back from the window you were met with those cold eyes directly staring at you.

Silently Ghost’s large hand came up to touch your cheek, rubbing his thumb across a certain flush pooling there that drew his curiosity and he grunted with a nod of his head at it. You diverted your gaze, suddenly self-conscious about how warm they were still, like a fucking beacon calling attention to what it was you were doing upstairs; not that you cared, but shit you didn’t need your business plastered all over your face like that.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him with a chuckle. “Just got a bit warm I guess. I promise I’m not infected or anything like that.”

Fully expecting him to take you at your word you went to move over to the sofa, but his hand clung to the side of your face to keep you in your place. You tilted your head as he shook his own side to side slowly. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” you picked, slightly concerned about this strange development; he had not acted in such a way before and you did not know if it was a part of the infection or not. 

Again he shook his head before his eyeline lowered down your body until his sight stopped at the crotch of your pants. Shit, had he heard you? Could he smell the trace amounts cum still clinging to your cunt? There was no real way to tell, but the way his eyeline kept drifting down before meeting your own again was enough to indicate that he was aware of what you had just done. 

You cleared your throat. “You know what I was doing, don’t you?” you asked and was met with another nod, this time to the affirmative.

Well, nothing to do about it now; what was the point of denying it? “Look, I just… needed something to take the edge off okay?” you spurted out. “I mean fuck, I still have needs, even if they had to be put on the back burner for a bit while we tried not to get overrun. You of all people should know how I get sometimes. At least I was quiet enough not to cause problems for us.”

Ghost looked back at you with those milky white eyes, but there was something behind them, something that you recognized, something… yearning. Suddenly you were aware that his other hand was on your hip now, tracing sloppy circles around the soft warm skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

Goddamn the familiarity of his fingers lingering over old paths they used to take in times almost forgotten; if you closed your eyes, it was like you were right there back with him. Your chest was tight with the increased thumping of your heartbeat in your throat, the air not filling up your lungs as well now as he pulled you in a little closer to him until your bodies were against one another. 

That was when you felt something against your thigh.

“Can you…?” you risked asking the question. No, there was no way that he could still get hard, right? Right? 

A large, cold hand wrapped around your wrist and brought it down to his crotch where he rested your palm against it and to your surprise the bulge in his pants responded to your touch. Your eyes shot back up to his as your breathing hitched. 

“Fuck,” you murmured and was promptly met with a grunt from him followed by a deep chuckle. 

Perhaps it was the history, the knowledge of what his body used to give you; perhaps it was the need that you had not truly quenched fully yet; perhaps it was your memories that you’d used as you touched yourself; or maybe it was as simple as you still wanted him; whatever the reason it didn’t matter. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more of what you started upstairs.  

Hesitantly your fingers grasped at his shirt, slowly tugging at the seam as if to silently ask to be allowed to remove it. Never letting his gaze waiver, Ghost raised his arms and allowed you to pull it up and off over his head. His body was just as you remembered, though quite a bit more pale and the flesh discolored in places, but all the lines and bumps, scars and imperfections were the same and as you ran those delicate fingertips over his skin it all came flooding back.

This is crazy, you told yourself. But it was the end of the world after all, why not go out with a bang?

“It’s been a while,” you said, gaze taking him all in. “God, you always did make my heart race just taking off your shirt, ya know.”

“Uhh,” he grunted in agreement. 

The contrast in body temperature between you both was stark and he enjoyed the warm, tingling feeling your finger left behind wherever they went. He had not felt such a phenomenon in so long that it was like lightening striking inside his mind as nerve endings reignited. It went the same with his pants as you undid them to let them hang loosely around his hips.

Following your lead, he helped you out of your shirt as well so that you stood bare chests facing one another. Your nipples were already hardening as they hit the cool air and he ran a fingertip over the tiny rosebuds to feel them. You were perfection, a sight of decadent flesh that fueled that hungry need he had to abruptly cut off before and the more he stared the more it grew.

The couch sat just behind you and taking your hand in his he moved the few steps over it to take a seat. Grabbing onto your hips and turning you around, he pulled you down onto his lap to sit on top of him. That throbbing bulge barely covered by the pants slipping off him was straining even harder now and you had to open your legs so that it could comfortably stand at attention in between them.

Situated on him you leaned your warm, bare back against his chest, those muscles that you knew by touch alone were now clammy, yet still familiarly fit against you just as they always had. Ghost took those stiff, cold fingers and ran them slowly down the line of your neck to your chest, around the tissue of your breast and down still to the curve of your hip. 

Being touched that way by another, by him, after so fucking long made your skin tingle and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to close your eyes and simply enjoyed the icy prickles his fingers created. He brought those fingers back up all the winding way to your throat and then back down again, except he did not stop at your hip this time. 

Lower he walked those decaying digits into your lap, then inside the waistband of your jeans, and then all the way down until he was inside your panties. You didn’t try to stop him, instead letting your knees fall open to give him more access. The further he went the more he could feel just how warm you were, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his pulse-less palm as he cupped his hand around your sex.

“Christ,” you exclaimed in shock as your body jolted against him, your pussy still a good bit sensitive from before. 

“Uhhh,” he groaned in response, intrigued by how much he enjoyed causing such a visceral reaction and wanting to replicate it. 

Again your scent filled his nostrils, those delicious pheromones that he had caught a whiff of earlier, and it began to awaken something primal within him. Taking his fingers, he drug them heavily over the slit of your cunt until they slipped between your petals and into that still dripping core. Again your body jolted into him as those thick fingers rubbed the length until he found what he had unconsciously been searching for: a small bundle towards the top. 

“Ugh,” that deep groan was more breathless this time, as if he were enjoying the feeling of your juices coating his fingers.  

Cool fingers began stroking against your clit with a rhythm that was ingrained in him from past experience and it was like falling right back into old habits. Your hips started to roll over his hand as they were want to do in response to his movements so that it was like a dance of give and take and he had to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping, but it was worth it to feel the way your body moved.

Like an animal a strange compulsion awakened inside, enhanced by the disease coursing through his veins, and the untamed part of his new nature was flooded with the need to rut into you. The more music you made, the more it filled his chest until the sensation became too much to quell. 

With a growl he moved you both to the floor in a rush, ripping your jeans off of you in one strong tug before pushing you forward and pulling your hips up so that you had to get on your knees. He too knelt behind you as he shoved the fabric of his clothing down enough to release his engorged cock and taking both of your hips into his preternatural grasp, so firm that his fingertips made the muscle sting, he aligned the head with your slit. 

This was crazy, highly dangerous, and slightly insane, but you couldn’t stop, not with how your body felt being pleasured for the first time in well over a year by someone who knew it. Whatever the consequences you’d deal with them later, right now you just needed to be filled to the brim with everything he had. 

Instinct knew what to do and slipping through your petals a few times, he rested the head against your opening and with a strong thrust shoved himself inside as far as he could go. Goddamn you had forgotten the actual feeling of how big he was, but there must be something in being undead that made him even more engorged because his girth almost more than the walls of your pussy could handle. Fuck, you were so full of him that when he finally pulled out of you it would feel so goddamn empty it would physically hurt.

You were aware that his cool palm was on your back now, running up the length of your spine to just between your shoulders where Ghost stopped to shove your top half down further into the ground so that your ass would rise more and without more of pause he began to thrust in and out of you furiously. Each stroke stretched you out more until the sting subsided and that was left was the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

“Simon,” you moaned out his name and a dormant part of his brain lit up. Hearing it for the first time upstairs was nice, but being inside of you as you breathed life into that moniker was the highest level of ecstasy he had experienced yet.

And he need more. “UH,” he growled with force as he slammed into you from behind to make your ass bounce off of his hips. 

You braced your hands under your head to steady yourself, but it did little; the man inside of you was gone and all you could do was hang on. Still, even with his roughness, the way his cock still reached those desperate nerve endings inside of you made the arch of your back even more pronounced. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you choked out the exclamation as your voice vibrated from the impacts. 

Harder and faster Ghost pounded your pussy from behind, throwing caution to the wind as he grunted and groaned like a beast on the hunt about to capture a fresh kill. You were so fucking warm, so gorgeously wet, that even his dead skin felt reanimated so that each brush of your body against him had him reeling in pleasure. 

This was the closest he would get to feeling like a living thing again.

Stopping suddenly he ripped his cock out of you amidst your begging protests to flip you onto your back, brutishly pulling your ass onto his knees. Your thighs rested high around his torso, squeezing against him as he immediately thrust back into that warm, wet hole and expeditiously returned to that overwhelming rhythm. 

The room was filled with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as Ghost worked your hole for all it was worth with a reckless abandon that you had not seen in him before. This wasn’t love, not something tender, but only pure animalistic lust and the more he stroked in and out of you the more he needed.

And then he felt it; a warmth in his stomach like he had swallowed coals. It started faint, almost indistinguishable until it had nearly filled him full the more he kept going. 

He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t back down, he was so close he could taste it. You weren’t far off either, nearly at the peak of your second orgasm the harder his cock stroked in and out of you, stimulating your clit along with it just from the pressure of his thrusts. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you pleaded pathetically to him, your toes curling into the air as you focused on your breathing. Right there, it was right there; all he had to do was keep going.   

A few more pumps of him deep in your core and that was it, like a hot flash of white light you cried out in shaky whimpers as your orgasm tore through with such force you shot up as your back arched and your hips bucked harshly into him. “Goddammit Simon, fuck.”

He wasn’t far behind as the warmth that had been building finally shot through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he ripped his cock out of you and through your thighs to cover your stomach in his milky white semen. The roar he released while he drained his cock dry over top of you rang out through the house like a wild animal’s cry until he hung limply over top of you, completely spent.

Everything lay still once again as you caught your breath, allowing your ecstasy to run its course before you even tried to move out from against him. As you came to sit up, once again you were met with his eyes watching you closely. It felt like he was admiring his handiwork: the flush in your cheeks, the sweat speckling your torso, the exhaustion in your limbs. 

He had done that…and he liked it.

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Well, that was something wasn’t it?” you laughed and he chuckled deadoan along with you. 

Maybe the end of the world didn’t have to be so bad after all. At least, now you both knew that there were ways to have a little fun… and oh fuck, were you going to keep having little bits of fun.

[indulgentdaydream]

i LIVE for the nurse!reader work!!! i was wondering if you could do more nurse!reader where jason gets badly injured during patrol and she has to like stitch him up

OR

one where shes training as a family doctor and jason walks in on her comforting a little kid while she gives him an injection/shot?

either one is fine!

btw...YOUR WRITING IS SO COMFORTING

omg thank you!! I'm so happy my writing brings comfort to people. I usually use writing as a way to bring comfort to myself 😂

This can be read as both a stand alone and a sequel to Meet Cutes, my original Nurse!Reader work! It's not necessary to read Meet Cutes to read this

Comfort

Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 2,014 Warnings: Blood, stitches, concussion, brief nod to Jason’s death by the mentioned date (April 27th)

2/6 fic of the line up! there was no way in hell i was getting them all out by his birthday I have no idea what I was on when I said that (pain killers. it was pain killers) (prescribed pain killers)

It was an unbearably hot night in Gotham. One that had Jason shucking his thick leather jacket off and fisting it in his hand as he stumbled through the alleyways.

Stupid Killer Croc. Stupid sewers. Stupid heat for making the sewers smell even worse. Stupid him for letting that oversized lizard get the jump on him.

Jason enters the clinic through the back door, as per usual. He didn’t need you getting caught up in vigilante problems just because people had seen him coming and going from this place.

The bright lights of the clinic have him flinching, his head pounding inside his helmet casing. He closes the door behind him by leaning against it. He hisses, pressing the fabric of his jacket to the bloody gash on his left shoulder blade. His armour had cracked off in a jagged line, leaving the flesh exposed. Killer Croc had used it as a nice place to sink one of his claws in when he picked Jason up off the disgusting sewer floor. It wasn’t bad. Fairly deep, but, as he usually told you, he’s had worse.

Usually, with injuries as simple as this, Jason would go to his nearest safe house and tend to it all himself. But, with this particular wound, he couldn’t reach around without his shoulder screaming in pain, nor without potentially giving himself the shittiest stitches known to man.

Best he could do for now is clamp his jacket to it with his right hand. Second best thing he could do was trip and stumble his way through Gotham, making wrong turns and headed in five different directions before he had picked the right one.

His head was stuffed with cotton. Maybe sewage. He wanted his helmet off, too suffocating for him in the moment, but he didn’t have his domino mask on.

Jason knew you were always the last one working. You would come in a few hours later than your other coworkers, just so you could keep the clinic open just that much longer for the unwilling victims of Gotham's nightly activities.

He wasn’t a part of those victims. Jason was one of the willing ones.

All in all, he admired you for your effort. A small star in a smog filled night sky. Brighter than what people realized.

Jason stepped towards your office door. It was open giving him a solid directory. His steel toes felt heavy on his feet. That’s what he’s blaming for the fact that he tripped over his own feet, his head swimming.

Jason fell against the door frame. His left shoulder hit the edge, pulling a deep groan of pain from him. He bumped into the door, sending it flying into the wall. He finally regained his balance, still leaning his head on the frame.

He faintly registered your gasp of surprise.

“Hood!" you cried, jumping up from your office chair, stepping closer, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Jason hated the way he gravitated towards you. He leaned into your touch when you grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him, to move him closer into the room.

This is weakness. He thought briefly through the thick fog surrounding him. Relying on some nurse. He should've never let himself get close to you. You don't even know his name. Or what his face looks like. But having you run to his aid with such a worried expression on your face is far too close to have you.

"Lay down. On your stomach."

Jason blinked. Your voice brought him back to the present, his head still spinning. He was sitting on the cot, pushed up against the wall. His jacket was hanging off the back of your office chair, bloody. The shoulder of his shirt cut off by your scissors, revealing part of his chest and back, too.

He doesn't remember any of that. Maybe he is in worse shape than he thought.

"Hood. Lay your ass down."

Jason followed your orders, "You have such graceful bedside manner, Nurse."

You scoff, already slipping your gloves on and dissinfecting yourself, ready to work.

You applied the stinging disinfectant to Jason's skin, making him suck in a sharp breath. The noise sounded odd, yet still recognizable through his voice modulator, "More like Nurse Ratched."

You pout, confused, "Who?"

Jason sighs, feeling his cheeks burn a little, "Nevermind..."

Your silent for a while, continuously threading the needle through Jason's skin as you pull it together.

"So..." you drawl out. "You gonna tell me how this happened?"

Jason was silent for another moment, "Mmmm... would if I could focus right now, sweetheart."

You paused on the last stitch, "Hm?"

He shifted his head lightly, peering at you through the corner of his vision, "What?"

You let out a breathy laugh, "I'm guessing you hit your head, too?"

Jason let out another robotic hum, "Got thrown into a wall."

"Did you now?" You step back from him, finished your work.

Jason nodded, "Lizard."

Stifling another laugh you started to clean up your tools, "You got thrown into the wall by... by a lizard?"

Jason didn't move, his speech a little slurred, "Fuckin' overgrown murder lizard..."

“Murder Lizard?”

He briefly waved a hand in dismissal, “Whatever his name is.”

“…Killer Croc?”

“…yeah. Him.”

You tapped his gloved hand, "Can you sit up and answer some more questions for me, Hood?"

Jason groaned as he pushed himself back up, moving slow. Once he was up, his head began to pound all over again. He reached up, pressed the release button under his jaw. A small hissing sound of the releasing pressure sounded.

He saw you stiffen, your eyes a little wide in shock, "What are you doing?"

“'s fine. I trust ya," He lifted the red helmet off until you were able to see his whole face. He remembered that not even a domino mask was hiding his eyes in the moment "'sides. It's too tight f'r me right now."

Jason believed he was a sight to see. All scars, disheveled hair, the yellowing bruise along the right side of hjs jaw from a few weeks ago, his crooked teeth and his crooked nose. Your eyes were wide, taking him in. He couldn't tell if it was in fear, shock, or awe. He was so much better at reading people, usually.

“I know,” a small smirk tugged at his lips, the right side of it staying lower due to the pain of his bruise, “Much more of an ugly mug then you were expecting, eh sweetheart?"

He saw you narrow your eyes. You didn’t like that comment. He could tell. What did he say? Nothing but his own truth.

…did I just fucking call you ‘sweetheart’?

A beam of light entered his vision.

He cringed back, "Ugh!"

You held up your small flashlight, switching it between Jason's eyes, "When were you born?"

Jason blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyes now that you had pulled away the light. “April 27th,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Fuck. That’s not it.”

You opened your drawer again and put the flashlight away, “You have a concussion.”

"No shit," His head was pounding to the point he could hear it in his ears.

"I'll let you go on two conditions."

Jason kept his eyes on you. He enjoyed the sight of your face much better than that agonizing light.

“First. Promise to rest up,” you gave him a pointed look.

Jason shrugged. He’d try.

“Promise.”

He groaned, “Fine. I promise.”

You looked pleased with yourself. He tried to push away the want to put that look on your face all the time.

“Second. Call somebody you know and trust to drive you home.”

He looked away from you. There was no one he trusted with that info. His safe house or this clinic. Or you.

“Fine,” you rolled away in your chair and pulled out a pen and paper. “Go get changed into some civilian clothes and I’ll call you a taxi.”

“You’re not payin’ for that,” Jason said quickly. His head hung low as his head pounded to the beat of his heart.

“That’s fine,” you pulled a roll of gauze from your drawer and stepped closer to him. “Do you have any Alieve or Tylenol at home?”

He barked out a laugh that ricocheted through his skull, “With how much I’m in here? Who do you think I am?”

You gave him a deadpan look. You began wrapping his shoulder and his stitches.

He gave a small smirk. He liked looking at your face. A nice sight for his sore eyes.

He blinked again. You were very close to him. His heart picked up in time with the throbbing of his skull.

He looked away, scowling.

Weakness.

“If I give you anything, I have to write down who I’m giving it to. It’s policy, I’ll need a name. Do you have alieve or tylenol at home Red?”

Jason let out a hum. He leaned forward pinched his nose bridge in thought again. Everything was fuzzy, “Maybe?”

“What name am I writing then?”

He didn’t even think to hesitate. He registered how that was a bad thing, but his concussion was stopping him from thinking properly. “Jason Todd.”

You let out a laugh right next to his ear.

He flinched, wincing at the sound, “What?”

“That’s the fakest name I’ve ever heard.”

It took him a second to register what you meant. That was his name. You were one of the few he had actually introduced himself to as himself in a while, and you didn’t believe it was his name.

You finished wrapping his bandages and stepped away. He found himself missing the warmth. “Mhmm. What address are you gonna give me now? 1234 Main Street?”

He scowled a little more than he already was. He felt his ears burn, “567 Main Street North.” It was one of his safe houses he was getting rid of soon. A place no one would find him by the end of the week.

You laughed again. It grated on his ears, but he was sure it’d be music without this concussion.

The rest of his visit was a bit of a blur. You told him to go change into civilian clothes. He remembers telling you it was fine, that he didn’t mind having the Red Hood be seen taking a taxi. You reminded him his shirt was half torn off. He put his armour back on and zipped up his jacket over top. You were calling a taxi by the time he had gotten his helmet back on.

The entire time he was trying to guess what your laugh sounded like normally. Surely he’s heard it before? Why couldn’t he remember?

Right. The concussion.

Red Hood was stepping out the door of your office when you called after him.

“Stay safe.”

He let out a small laugh, looking back over his shoulder at you, “Never do, sweetheart.”

You laughed too and he felt his ears burn again. He needed to shut up and stop letting that slip.

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that.” You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “You must really be out of it.”

Jason frowned behind his helmet. He doesn’t remember three times.

…okay maybe two. But not three.

You gave a knowing smile, ignoring it, “You just have to make sure I always have my work cut out for me, don’t you?”

Jason smiled behind the helmet, “I like seeing you.”

He wanted to bash his head against that brick wall again. Especially when your grin got a little wider and his face got a little hotter.

“‘Kay, bye.” He walked out before you could respond.

Jason never did wait for the taxi. He left through the back door like always and made his trek back to the closest safe house. He clutched the box of tylenol he had stuffed in his pocket, feeling the tug of his stitches when he found his bike and revved the engine before peeling away into the night.

[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, you take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

“The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[alchemistdoctor]

The Decayed Deadjuice Death Dispenser (part 2)

[masterpost]

“Dude,” Danny said, dumping his loot onto the coffee table and ignoring Tucker’s squawk as he moved his precious laptop out of the way, “I just got shot in the face.”

“What?!” Jazz rounded the corner from the kitchen, holding a teapot in one hand and the tea strainer in the other. “You--”

“I’m fine,” Danny assured her, “normal gun. I startled some dude on a rooftop and he shot me.”

“Was it Batman?” asked Sam, interested, as she scooched around Jazz and came over to steal a spring roll, Tucker tearing into the crab rangoon bag once his baby was tucked away safe.

“No, which is insulting,” Danny huffed, hovering above the coffee table with a container of orange chicken and some chopsticks. “It was just some guy who stunk.”

“That’s rude,” Jazz said, ducking back into the kitchen, and Danny huffed.

“Not figuratively, literally. He smelled like the Realms sewer. Bad vibes.”

Jazz came in, stirring honey into her tea, before folding herself onto the sofa and frowning up at him. “Do you think he’s sick?”

“Probably. But seeing as he shot me in the face, I wasn’t sticking around to ask if he’d seen his ghost doctor lately.”

Sam nodded, considering. “Was he a ghost, then?”

“I— huh.” Danny paused, brow creasing over his chicken, staring into it as he thought. “Maybe? But he used a real gun. He certainly looked physical. Didn’t make my ghost sense go off, but that could have been the bad juju the dude was saturated in. Seriously. Boy needs a bath, stat.” He pointed his chopsticks at Tucker, who snorted a laugh before swallowing the bite in his mouth.

“So just avoid the rank vibes, don’t get shot at.”

Danny hummed.

“Danny, no,” Jazz said, sitting up, and Danny grinned at her, a little too wide.

“But I wanna know how he reacts when I show up with a face, Jazz!”

[goodlucktai]

a bigger heart grew back

rise of the tmnt post-movie characters: leo & splinter, raph & splinter word count: 5k title borrowed from no hell by cloud cult

read on ao3

x

Splinter thought he had lived through all of life’s worsts already.

Losing his mother, estranging himself from what was left of his family, moving to the States as an orphan of his own making, falling in what he thought was love and losing his freedom as a direct result—

Years spent underground where he was forced to fight like a dog, an unwanted mutation that guaranteed his exile from society, that first bleak night in the sewers with nothing but the clothes on his back and four infants who depended upon him entirely and the utter conviction that he was going to fail them—

The resurrection of the Shredder, the collapse of Splinter’s home and the exodus of his children, the fear he had become unfortunately intimate with in those fraught hours—that his boys would become orphans, too—

Raphael’s escape pod opening and Leonardo tumbling out, eyes glassy and chest heaving with panic—sweet, sensitive Red covered in a fleshy pink parasite and forced to attack the siblings he loved more than life itself, those little turtles he had fussed over and carried and kept safe since he was just a little turtle himself—

But nothing compared to hearing the voice of his second youngest child as he prepared to end his own life.  

His precious Blue, who could sell water to a fish, bravely trying to convince his siblings that it was right for him to go. Already pulling away, beginning the vanishing act, even as Raphael begged him not to do it. 

All for that tiresome, nebulous greater good. As if any happy ending could possibly exist with Leonardo removed from the narrative. 

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was, but his heart, patchwork, secondhand thing that it was, had never broken like this before. He crumpled to the ground, and listened to Blue’s line on the comms explode into a strange whine and then static and then nothing, and it was over. 

His Blue would never crawl into his armchair for late night Spanish telenovelas again, Splinter realized. Would never wheedle and bribe and coerce him into chess matches, because he didn’t seem to know he could just ask and Splinter would play as many matches with him as there was time in a day for. Would never run from a successfully antagonized sibling and fill the lair with his ringing, infectious laughter. Would never fall asleep at the kitchen table over a medical textbook he pretended to be too cool for in the daylight hours. Would never effortlessly argue his twin out of the lab for dinner, would never lift Orange up on his shoulders to get a hard-to-reach mixing bowl because teamwork makes the dream work, would never painstakingly stitch together a ripped teddy bear for the brother whose fingers were too big to handle needle and thread ever, ever again. 

There is not a word for a parent who has lost a child. There is not a word for that particular flavor of grief that carves you empty at the same time that it fills you to the last hopeless, drowning inch. 

April sobbed openly beside him, her small, strong shoulders shaking. She had always been exactly what Splinter would have wished for in a daughter, and so the Hamato curse didn’t spare her, either. It takes and it takes and it takes. 

And then Michelangelo turned his back on despair and handed his family a miracle. 

Splinter could feel his remaining sons’ ninpo stir and then surge together, and the sheer forceful brilliance of it staggered him from all the way over on the other side of the city. He knew better than to hope—but he also knew that nothing existed in this world or the next that could possibly outstubborn his children, or strong-arm them into abandoning each other, or quite frankly make them do any single thing they adamantly as a group did not want to do. 

“Guys,” April choked out. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Hello?”

Thudding footfalls announced Casey approaching at a run. He jumped over one of the pinned Krang’s flailing tentacles as if he dodged ballistic alien parts every day of his life and skidded to the ground beside them on armored knees.

“I felt it,” Blue’s child from another life gasped, face tacky with half-dried tears. “That’s Uncle Angie opening a door. No one else could do it but him.”

Casey had a familiar katana at his side, blue and gleaming. His fingers seemed like they wanted to linger on the hilt but he handed it over to Splinter agreeably enough. The lingering ninpo in the blade usually welcomed Splinter warmly, eager to be of use, a telling mirror of the way Leonardo himself was so anxious to please and be praised. But this time the tool that Splinter picked up was an innate, lifeless thing. 

He prodded tentatively with his own qi. The runes flickered once, half-hearted, in the manner of a dog waking at the sound of a key in the door, ascertaining the person there was not the one it belonged to, and laying its head back down to sleep. 

Splinter would not be able to follow the whims of his son’s ninpo to create a portal while it lay dormant. His own uselessness crushed him. 

“Raph mentioned Staten Island earlier,” April said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm and pushing herself to her feet, business-like and brisk because she couldn’t afford to be anything else. “I doubt the ferry’s running, and the bridge is going to be a gridlock nightmare, so it looks like we’re stealing a boat.”

“If your mother asks, I did not condone this,” Splinter said hoarsely. “That said, the marina is too far to run to, so first we are stealing a car.”

They were halfway across the river in a cruiser that probably wasn’t meant to sustain the sixty miles an hour April was pushing when that startling shout of their family’s ninpo finally started to fade into a soft-spoken susurrus. 

Before it was too quiet to make out clearly, he felt it: that achingly familiar mischievous blue energy, like a playful breeze flying above everything. Much smaller than usual, less spirited—giving more of the impression of a tiny tide pool creature hiding inside its shell than a smartmouthed sixteen year old boy with the whole world in his corner—but present. 

Alive. 

“Sensei,” Casey whispered. 

“They got him,” April said, a ferocious, not-to-be-trifled-with look in her eye, all but daring the universe to try to make her a liar. “They saved him somehow, I know it.”

They were both Hamato enough to feel it as certainly as Splinter did.

But the boys hadn’t thought to include anyone else in their immediate, hard-won victory—and in fact, the call Splinter, April and Casey finally received some ten minutes later was one of outright panic. 

“Dad, dad, are you there?” Orange’s voice warbled. He sounded all of fifteen years old and frightened in a way that set Splinter’s fur on edge instantly. “Dad, Leo’s hurt bad. He was awake a second ago, and talking even, but then he stopped making sense and just—just fell—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Purple added, high-strung and liable to start biting if one more thing went catastrophically wrong within a mile of his person. “I’m scanning him but I don’t—I’m not a doctor I don’t know—”

“Send the readouts to me,” Casey said quickly, pulling his mask down, its lenses glowing green as the interface came to life. “Sensei trained me in field medicine, I can help with anything short of an open-heart surgery.”

“You take after your father,” Donatello replied. “Irredeemable overachievers.”

That faint thread of gratitude in his voice would go unheard by anyone who didn’t know him, but Casey huffed a near-silent exhale, having heard it loud and clear.

What Future Boy had to share with them wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst it could have been, either. Leonardo had sustained a number of broken bones and soft tissue damage, the cartilage in his right knee was torn as if the joint had been viciously twisted, one of his cheekbones was fractured, and even his shell had suffered a few hairline cracks. Altogether, he was looking at a long recovery, not unlike what the survivor of a traumatic car accident might have had to look forward to—but he would recover. 

It wasn’t enough to prepare Splinter for actually seeing him. His Baby Blue, a tiny little thing in Raphael’s arms, with a face so beaten it was hard to make out the bright red stripe on one side. 

“Okay,” April said, voice thick with anger and hurt and love. “Okay. Everyone on the boat.”

And finally they were home, after the longest day in history. Casey confirmed his initial diagnosis, with the caveat that they would know more when Leonardo woke up. He insisted to an audience of grim faces that it was a very good sign Leonardo had been awake and coherent in the first place, however briefly. 

So Blue was disinfected and splinted and bandaged and medicated and then tucked safely away in the infirmary bed. Everyone else was seen to in short order. It was an easier task than it usually was, since none of them were remotely willing to leave just yet. 

Splinter made a mental note to call Draxum to double-check that Michelangelo hadn’t pushed himself too far in creating a gateway—the glowing lines on his hands had faded, and beyond an occasional tremor, he promised his family up and down that he was actually fine. Donatello’s shell was a quiet source of concern, but the only person alive who could harass him into a checkup without getting maimed for his trouble was currently very much out of action. Raphael’s eye was definitely infected, and blood vessels had burst when he’d ripped the parasite away, coloring the sclera an alarming red. 

The rest of the clan watched in some unspoken, exhausted wonder as Casey unthinkingly maneuvered around Leonardo’s infirmary as if he’d spent part of every day of his life there, knowing which drawer to find compression gloves for Orange in, locating topical pain reliever for Purple that he could apply himself and medicated eyedrops for Red in quick succession, before ultimately offering a bottle of extra strength Tylenol to April, who accepted it gravely. 

“You’re a weird kid,” she said. From her, it was a declaration of approval. “You better plan on sticking around.”

“Oh,” Casey said at length, surprised. Clearly, he hadn’t thought ahead to what the after of his mission would be shaped like. His gaze lingered on Leo’s little bundled-up figure in the bed, so full of love and grief for a man who didn’t yet exist, and Splinter thought to hell with it. The kid was as good as his grandson if you squinted. 

“We’ll find a bed for you,” Splinter said, some tiny corner of his mind free from screaming worry and bone-deep exhaustion already plotting where to make room for another subway car. “In the meantime, the sofa is yours.”

With that, five out of six children had been packed off to sleep. It took April and Michelangelo combined to pry Donatello’s hand from Leonardo’s, and subsequently his entire person from the infirmary. Raphael pulled a chair up to Leonardo’s bed and Splinter didn’t try to argue him out, knowing when to pick his battles. 

Red had a familiar look on his face, an elephant in the room that often went unacknowledged for both their sakes. That look that said you’re his father but he’s my kid, too.

He had earned the right. No one could argue that. Late night vigils were his wheelhouse and had been ever since he was about nine years old. When Splinter didn’t have to be quite so present—when he started to let the tired gray encroach more and more, when he stopped getting out of bed right away at the sound of a child crying—Red quietly learned how to tend fevers and stomach bugs and bad dreams. 

Soon enough, the boys stopped calling for daddy when they were hurting and started calling for Raphie instead. And their Raphie always came when they called.   

Which was why it must have hurt like a blade piercing clean through his ribs when Leonardo finally stirred at something approaching two o’clock in the morning, blinked muddy gold eyes open slowly, looked up at the familiar shape of his biggest brother beside the bed, and flinched. 

The world hadn’t ended yesterday. It was happening now instead.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was. But life did not seem to ever run out of brand new lessons to teach. 

“Leo,” Red whispered, heartbreak obvious in every inch of him. His hand was frozen in the air between them, arrested right in the middle of reaching out. 

“No,” Blue managed, twisting around like he would attempt an escape the second he figured out where his limbs were in relation to the bed, IV be damned. The lines on the heart rate monitor started to crest dramatically. 

“Leo it’s okay it’s—it’s me, I’m not—I’m not going to—I would never hurt—” 

His voice strangled itself into silence. After all, at least some of those grisly black and blue marks around Leonardo’s neck were from him. 

“Papa,” Leonardo cried out, the call reaching directly into Splinter’s heart with hooks and yanking him out of his chair. “I want papa, please, please—”

Clambering onto the bed, minding all the hardware, Splinter placed a careful hand on his second-youngest’s feverish head to soothe him. 

He felt like an imposter, especially with Red still frozen like a statue behind him, but that part of his heart that had been smothered once, allowing his children’s cries for him to go unanswered and someone else to pick up the slack, was the loudest part of him now. 

There was physically nothing else he could do but stroke that bruised forehead with the pad of his thumb and tell him, “Hush, Baby Blue, your papa is here. You are safe. You are home.” 

Leonardo turned his face into Splinter’s hand, hiding as much as he was capable of. Raphael took one staggering step back, then another, then turned on his heel and fled the way Splinter had no memory of him ever doing before, infirmary door crashing behind him. 

Torn completely in two, Splinter summoned conviction from those ancient spirits housed in his soul and forced himself at knife point to be strong for his family for once in his goddamn life. 

“What are these tears for, silly turtle?” he murmured, the same way he had when Leonardo still mostly fit in the palm of one hand. Back then, all Leonardo wanted was to be held. He wondered if that was still true. “You are the safest little turtle who ever lived. There is no one left in this world who is stronger than the people who love you, don’t you know that? Your baby brother pulled down the stars for you. Your twin did not let go of your hand even once. And your big brother carried you home. You are safe. You are so loved.”

It was a nonsense litany for the most part, all true things said to someone who clearly was only absorbing every third word or so. But Blue stopped hiding his face at some point, eyes wet with tears he is even now too stubborn to let fall. 

Splinter felt as though he was looking at a childhood memory of himself, trying to be strong when it would have been better—kinder—to allow himself a much-needed moment of weakness. 

“You think you’re too grown-up to cry in front of this old man?” he said, gently pinching Blue’s cheek on the side of his face that hadn’t been crushed beneath a monster’s fist. “Try again in about a hundred years.”

Blue blew a tired raspberry at him. Splinter laughed, surprised at the show of spirit, his heart doing cartwheels at this proof of his irrepressible little boy unchanged by the close brush with tragedy. Winning a laugh from his father was enough to coax the ghost of a smile across Blue’s face. 

“How are you feeling? We have some water for you here. No, don’t sit up. Let me help.”

He really ought to let everyone know Blue was awake, but they had just gone to sleep. His other kids needed their rest, too. It had been a truly terrible day. 

And now that Red was out of the room—that thought dripped with oily, unpleasant guilt—Blue seemed to be in a more solid state of mind. He had winced as he tried to sit up for water, but if he didn’t have whiplash after a psychotic alien flung him around like a terrier would its chew toy, Splinter would eat his tail. There were none of the red flags Casey had warned him to be on the lookout for. The only thing Draxum had done right in his life was develop a mutagen that made these boys all but indestructible. Splinter would have to find the mental fortitude to choke out a thank you to him for that. 

“It has been a long time since a sick little turtle has called for me,” Splinter murmured, stroking Blue’s forehead around the bandages. “Normally you are all ready to fight each other to the death to monopolize Red’s attention.” 

It was only partly a joke. Leonardo gazed up at him, eyes glassy. It was hard to gauge how much of their conversation was sticking the landing and how much was somersaulting straight over his sluggish head. 

Then Leonardo said, “He hates me.”

“Pardon?” Splinter said stupidly. 

His son blinked, and finally fat tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into bandages on one side, unchecked on the other. 

“He hates me,” Blue insisted. “He’s right. It was my fault.”

“No one hates you,” Splinter said, reeling. He’d been right here the whole time and yet somehow he was suddenly flailing about two miles behind. 

“You didn’t see his face. You didn’t see—and his eye—all because I—I couldn’t—” He sobbed, an awful sound, and turned to press his face into his pillow. Once he started crying he couldn’t seem to stop. The rest of his words stumbled out thick and choked and terribly sincere. “I couldn’t just—be what I was supposed to be. And he—and it was all my fault.”

There were few things Splinter regretted more than his fumbling of the leadership role. He had always known that Blue was too clever for his own good, that he had a head for strategy—as evidenced by his early mastering of chess, entirely outpacing Splinter’s own skill level by the age of eleven. 

Acknowledging that in theory and learning to trust it in practice were two separate beasts, but watching from the front row as his baby outsmarted Big Mama of all people left little room for doubt. 

On the other hand, Red was as solid and dependable as they came, the foundation his siblings built their whole lives on. As far as they were concerned, the sun only rose in the morning because Raphael hung it up there. 

But Splinter’s eldest son was prone to anxiety that tended to fall on him like a guillotine, a kill switch to his rational thought. The twins floated terms like ‘panic disorder’ and the entire family was well-versed in helping him through his episodes, but if even an ounce of the burden on his shoulders could be reduced, that could only help. 

Red would be happier and function better in a support role, where his top priorities would be to protect his little brothers the way he always had protected them, and to smash whatever Leonardo pointed him at. 

Splinter should have sat them both down and explained it. He shouldn’t have left Red to feel as though he had done something wrong, that he had failed somehow. And he shouldn’t have let Blue believe he would be shoved into the deep end and left to sink or swim.

His boys were little gremlins who thrived in chaos and learned best on the fly. Splinter had thought the surprise announcement would have been an utter shock at first and the new normal by dinnertime. They were always so much on the same page, so in tune with one another, that he couldn’t have guessed it would turn into the tangled mess of hurt and frustration and miscommunication and blame that it did. 

He should have stepped in the first time Red punched through a wall in a fit of anger and Blue laughed as though his biggest brother’s good opinion of him didn’t matter in the slightest. Instead he was a coward, unable to face them and admit his wrongs. He left his children to resolve it themselves and suffer in the meantime. 

He should have done better. Maybe one day he would learn. 

For now Splinter held Blue’s face in one hand and wiped it clean with a cloth in the other, patient with every new flood of tears. The last time he had seen Blue cry was the night the Shredder destroyed their home and killed Karai. There had been no time to comfort him then. 

He takes after his Gram-gram, Splinter thought, and tried not to resent her for it. 

“No one hates my sweet Baby Blue,” he said, willing the stubborn child to hear him. “Especially not my other sweet baby Red. You are a very confused turtle, that’s all. You will see. No one hates you.”

“You don’t,” Leonardo mumbled. “You’re not allowed to. You’re my dad. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not allowed to hate me. S’in the—the contract. You signed it. Legally binding. No arbi-arbi—”

“Arbitration. I would like to study your mind under a microscope. Maybe then I will have a hope of understanding these twists and turns it takes.” 

Splinter’s voice sounded nothing but fond even to his own ears. 

His children were all incredible people worth knowing, worth living for, and it was a very special joy to still be surprised after all these years by how much more he loved them today than he did the day before. To think about how much more he would love them tomorrow, even though it felt impossible to love anyone more than he loved them right now. 

“You are so important, Leonardo,” Splinter said gently. “To me, and to your siblings, and to your friends. We would miss you so much if you weren’t here. We all want to see you get well.”

“It’s not about me,” Blue said, wobbly and miserable and matter-of-fact. “I know it’s not. I have to make up for it. I’ll prove—prove—”

“You have nothing to prove. It was not your fault.” Splinter pressed Leonardo’s chin gently to close his mouth when he inevitably opened it to argue. “Hush. You did not steal the key. You did not open the door. It was not even your responsibility to stop either of those things from happening. You are a child. It cannot be any one person’s duty to save this planet on their own. That doesn’t even make sense.” 

Blue’s expression was becoming thunderous, which was silly and endearing, because his cheeks were still tacky with the remnants of his tears and half of his face was a swathe of bandages and without his mask he looked years younger than he already was. Splinter felt affection unfold in his heart like one of those absurdly big tropical flowers with petals the size of dinner plates, taking up more room than it was allowed and spilling out the sides and going on forever. 

“Can I tell you something else? Your brothers aren’t allowed to hate you either. It’s in the contract as well.”

“They do,” Blue said tearfully, face still screwed up beneath Splinter’s hand. But his eyes drifted in the direction of the door, and the wanting in them was plain to see. Splinter took matters into his own hands. 

“If I’m right, you must finish watching The Strange Return of Diana Salazar with me.”

His son took a moment to digest that, slower on the uptake than usual. Finally, he asked, “Don’t we have like a hundred episodes left?”

“I said what I said,” Splinter said sagely, then patted his cheek and hopped down from the bed. 

He found Raphael exactly where he expected to find him, sitting just outside the cracked infirmary door, a hunched over shape that seemed unwilling to take up a single unnecessary inch of space. 

Red stared up at him, unbandaged eye wide. 

“I don’t hate him,” he blurted. “I could never—I wouldn’t even know how.”

“I know, my dear.”

“Even if he’d done it on purpose,” Red went on. “Even if he stole the key and took it to the Foot and opened the door with his own two hands, I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.”

Splinter had worried when the turtles were very young that Raphael would frighten one of his siblings accidentally. He was so much bigger than them and toddlers were not well known for their self control or emotional regulation. It was a lingering fear that Red would say or do something he did not mean in the heat of the moment, and alienate himself. That something would happen in a split second that would cause his brothers to grow up wary of him. 

It was an unfounded worry. Raphael was a quiet little boy, the last of the four to start talking, and as sweet as an American dessert. Splinter’s little apple pie. Even as he got older and started playing rougher, testing his strength and raising his voice, he never forgot when he needed to be gentle. 

His brothers never ran from him unless they were avoiding bedtime or a well-deserved grounding or really did not want to go watch wrestling, Raph, it was boring. Otherwise he was their North star. 

Even now, Leonardo would rather hide himself away than face a world in which he no longer had a Raphael to run to. 

“How could he think that?” Red asked desperately. “He was going to die back there and he thought that’s what I wanted.”

Splinter cupped Red’s face in his hands and told him, “Blue was trying to do what his hero would have done. All of my children are so quick to sacrifice for each other. It is a wonderful thing to love someone so much, but consider the example you are setting.” Red’s good eye filled with tears, and Splinter was powerless to do anything but kiss him firmly on the forehead. “As empty as our lives would have been without him, they would have been just as empty without you. You are fundamental to us. Please remember that.”

“I know, pops,” Raphael whispered. “I’ll remember.”

“It is not always possible to win without losing but we must fight tooth and nail anyway. Abandon honor and heroism. Do what it takes to bring yourself and your brothers home. I would much sooner tell the great Hamato clan where they can stick it then let you join them before your time.”

It coaxed a shy smile from his eldest son, the barest exhale of a laugh. Still his sweet apple pie, no matter how big he got. 

“I’m gonna go see him,” Red said bravely. “I’m missing out on premium Leo time while the gremlins are asleep.”

“Very wise,” Splinter said, patting his cheeks in approval.

Leonardo had managed to drag the blanket up over his head while no one was around to stop him, and only one golden eye peered out at them from his makeshift shell. 

Raphael snorted and leaned over to peel it back down, heedless of his smaller brother’s protests. He let one hand linger on Leonardo’s scuffed plastron, and the other cupped the back of his bruised head. 

“You’re so dumb,” Red said. “I love you more than anything. If you ever try to go anywhere without me ever again, I’ll make your life a living hell. Capiche?”

Blue stared up at him. It’s very possible he didn’t understand every word of that. But the tone seemed to get through. 

His hand drifted up slowly, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, to cover the one planted on his chest. When the world didn’t end and his big brother continued to smile down at him like nothing between the two of them was any different than it used to be, Blue risked a smile back. 

“I capiche.”

“You’re not alone, okay?” Red went on, playfulness gentling into sincerity. “We’ll figure it out. I’m in your corner, right where I’ve always been. But for now let’s get some sleep, big man.”

He didn’t move his hands even after Leonardo had dozed off. He just hooked his foot around the leg of his chair and scooted it closer to the bed before sinking into it. 

Splinter joined him, and felt both aged by the last hour and rejuvenated. He needed a good pair of running shoes to keep up with these kids.     

“He never asks to play chess with anyone else you know,” Red said suddenly. 

Thrown by the non sequitur, Splinter could only offer an intelligent, “Huh?”

“Leo only learned how to play because of a comment you made once about—I don’t even remember what you said. But it stuck with him. He wanted to impress you. And he started learning Spanish because of those weird soaps you guys watch. He drove us crazy practicing every day but he never let up.

“I know that it seems like he does whatever he wants without rhyme or reason, but I think he just tries really hard to make it seem that way. Otherwise we’d all clue in to the fact that every single thing he does is just—him trying to get closer to us somehow. And then his cool guy cover would be blown. And god forbid that.” 

Raphael brushed his thumb over the crown of Leonardo’s head, much like the way Splinter had earlier. 

“He doesn’t love you for no reason, pops,” Red went on, not looking at him. “None of us do. Even when getting out of bed was the hardest thing in the world, you came running when I needed you. Every time I needed you. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Splinter had seen the worst of the world. He was no stranger to pain. 

It was only occurring to him now that the opposite was also true. 

His life was so full of impossibly good, underserved things; every day a little brighter, every night a little richer. 

Four little creatures tumbled into his world by chance and then filled it to the brim with mayhem and color and laughter and pride, and he would not take a second of it back. He would not change a single painful part. 

If only he had known as a young man where he would end up someday. It would have made those earlier years so much easier to survive. 

Pretending his own eyes weren’t wet, Splinter said, “It will be hell on earth in the morning when Orange discovers we let him sleep through Blue waking up. You had better rest while you can.”

Smiling to himself, Red folded his arms on the side of the bed and rested his head in them, tilted so that his brother was within line of sight of his good eye. He had capitulated to the changing of the guard without complaint, but he was still tense. Primed for danger. Anxiety no doubt at play. 

But Splinter was not without his tricks. He stroked Red’s carapace between the spikes, humming an old TV theme song under his breath. He did this for upwards of an hour once, back when Red was still small enough to be held in his lap, fussy and clingy after a bad dream. 

Sure enough, with a great, shuddering sigh, Raphael’s shoulders went slack, and his breathing evened out—asleep within moments after the day he’d had.  

“I’ve still got it,” Splinter murmured, and let himself have the win, as small as it was. If nothing else, he could give his children a safe place to rest. 

And that really was no small thing at all. 

[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[engie-ivy]

(If it's three prompts, can it be three times as long?😋 Fix-It Halloween fic! Happy ending, promise!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 23rd, 24th, 25th: Fidelius Charm, Skeleton, Spooky

792 words

Remus hates Halloween, but maybe it's time to get over that hatred...

All's Well That Ends Well

“Uncle Moony, uncle Moony!” Harry comes rushing into the living room.

Remus puts away his book. “What is it, lad?”

“There are skeletons next door!” Harry exclaims.

Remus chuckles. “They're not real, Harry. They're Halloween decoration.”

“Decoration,” Harry repeats. “But decoration is fun, like flags and balloons. Skeletons aren't fun.”

“No,” Remus agrees, pulling Harry onto his lap. “But for Halloween, the decoration is supposed to be spooky.” He tickles Harry's sides and the boy giggles as he squirms. “Halloween is the scary holiday.”

“Scary,” Harry mumbles. “Uncle Moony, what is the scariest Halloween you ever had?”

Remus’ breath halts.

1981

“They can't be, they can't be…”

“The whole house is blown to bits. They're gone, Remus.”

“No. No. The Fidelius Charm, and Sirius, he…”

“He betrayed them, Remus.”

“No. No, he wouldn't. Not James. Never James.”

“There's no other explanation.”

“Just let me talk to him. I'm sure he can explain. Somehow. Just let me talk to him. Please.”

“He's on the run. Which just confirms his guilt. The Auror department as well as the Muggle police are all searching for him.”

“Muggle police…”

“Peter bravely went after him once he realized Sirius betrayed Lily and James. However, once cornered, Sirius blew up an entire street, killing Peter and nine Muggles.”

“Peter? Peter’s gone too?”

“I'm so sorry, Remus.”

“No. No. Sirius is not a… not a… Sirius is not a murderer.”

“We didn't think he was a traitor either.”

Remus swallows. “I'll have to think about that, Harry,” he replies, somehow managing to force a smile.

Harry pouts for a moment, but then he pipes up. “Can we put up Halloween decoration?”

“Oh, I don't know. I'm actually not such a fan of…”

“Pleaseeeee, uncle Moony, pleaseeeee.”

“Oh, alright then.”

1981

There's a knock on the door.

Almost in a trance, Remus goes to open. Whatever is on the other side of that door can't possibly make tonight any worse. He freezes once he sees who's on the doorstep.

“Sirius.”

“Moony, I-”

“No, don't call me that! You were the Secret Keeper, Sirius. How are they dead then, Sirius? How?”

“Moony, I can explain.”

“No. No, you can't. You can't explain betrayal and you can't explain murder!”

“It's not like that, Remus.”

Remus pulls out his wand. “I should hand you over to the Dementors right now!”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” another voice suddenly says.

“What's this then? Halloween decoration? I thought you hated Halloween?”

Remus looks up from where he's reading his book on the couch. “Well, apparently, I hate saying no to Harry even more.”

“Ha, I know what that's like. At least I can play the indulgent godfather-card.”

1981

“J-James? You're… You're… You're alive?”

“Peter was the Secret Keeper,” James wastes no time in saying. “At least of Godric’s Hollow. But we had our suspicions about Peter, so Harry, Lily and I were actually staying at another safe house, of which Sirius was the Secret Keeper.”

“When Peter indeed went and betrayed Godric’s Hollow to You Know Who,” Sirius continues. “Instead of James, Lily and Harry, he found an ambush waiting on him, set by Dumbledore and the most powerful members of the Order.”

“So when the house blew up, it was only He who got hurt,” James concludes.

Stunned, Remus looks from James to Sirius to James and back to Sirius. “And the Muggles, the murders…?”

A dark look appears on Sirius’ face. “Unfortunately, in my anger, I made the mistake of going after Peter. He blew up a street and disappeared into the sewer as the rat he is. I wish I could've saved those Muggles…”

A clattering sound brings Sirius back to the present, and he looks at Remus who has just dropped his wand on the floor.

Remus flings himself forward and wraps his arms around his two friends, relief flooding his body. Whatever is to come, they have each other.

Sirius gives Remus a kiss and sits down on the couch next to him, letting his head rest in Remus’ lap.

Remus kisses him again, just because he can. “How was the game?”

“Great. The Harpies won. Though James and I are still a little scared of how fanatic Lily gets,” he shudders. “Thank you for watching Harry. The Potters’ insist we come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Ah, good. No offense, but I'd pick James’ cooking over yours any day.”

Sirius barks a laugh. “None taken, and same. Hey,” he then says, reaching out and cupping Remus’ cheek. “If you're really getting over your aversion for Halloween, maybe we could take Harry trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah,” Remus replies. “We could do that. I think I really am getting over my hatred for Halloween. After all, all’s well that ends well.”

[baxndaid]

Hello! I have a request!

Can I have a headcannon of LMK? where female reader is sweet but has really bad luck? ( Like she would almost get hit by a car, incoming ball to the face, tripping, accidentally falling down the stairs, bumping into furniture or people, and light poles, flower pots or signs almost falling on her. And not just her getting hurt but generally things that won’t work with her like a soda getting stuck in a vending machine, losing her wallet and opening a bag of chips but it gets ripped apart instead and falls over to the ground. )

So I was wondering if Mk, Redson and sun wukong actually found this out by hanging out with her and does everything to protect her or put her out of harms way? And maybe they secretly like her? ( I thought this idea was cute and funny so I hope it’ll be fun for you! )

mk + redson + wukong x reader 🧷🧃⏰ -- who has horrible luck!!️

a/n ; this is soo cute, also im just going through my asks rn so if u requested, itll most likely be answered soon!! ilyy

sun wukong !!

☆ he thought you were just real dumb as first icl... just sweet but stupid

☆ you had such a cute innocent smile i mean come on how could he not think that? just so ignorant, yeah, thats it!! thats why your always in danger silly

☆ at first he found it so funny like he tried to hide his goofy little smile but it wasnt enough - watching you trip over literally anything was hilarious

☆ sometimes he thought you mightve been cursed by a demon - how does somebody miss their bus by a minute every single day? you cant be human, theres no way somebody is this unlucky? whatever nagito...

☆ he did find it funny when you wasted a whole 90 yuan on vending machine snacks that didnt even come out, and he did find it funny when you started kicking said vending machine, and he did find it funny when the vending machine spat out drink cans onto your head as a result of your abuse - he can admit that

☆ but he started to get concerned about your safety whenever you even thought about crossing a busy road

☆ im not even kidding - the second you stepped on the road he had to yank you back by your shoulder onto his chest, there was a truck coming right for you

☆ he scolds you a little.... just a little

☆ not harshly but he just wants you to be safe - so he does something to protect you (and embarrass you for scaring him with that whole road incident)

☆ he carries you everywhere, EVERYWHERE MAN... and he shows off a bit too the cheeky bastard - throws you up and down, does somersaults, carries you like a sack of potatoes just to embarrass you more

☆ he doesnt do this a lot though, with your luck? you two would probably be hit by an aeroplane

redson !!

☆ he so damn annoying with it "god your so clumsy" WDC!

☆ hes very very protective - like annoyingly so bc he acts like he doesnt care at all (he is PANICKING)

☆ please play with his hair im pretty sure hes more stressed than you are even if your the one whos being attacked by random vending machines and flower pots on the street atp

☆ his ass is NOT letting you leave without him anymore

☆ yeah yeah hes gonna act all "god your such a nuisance, i have to take care of you like youre a child" WDC!

☆ you would hardly see the effects of your bad luck with him because he prevents it as much as he can - he sees that your wallet is loose and about to fall? he got it for u!! "did you just touch my ass?" "w-WHAT?!"

☆ hes never doing that again, have fun losing your money

mk !!

☆ he gets you frr

☆ you both just chill together, he DOES try to prevent the more harmful situations that you may find yourself in like traffic and... vending machines

☆ but hes a baby, he cant help you with getting your coins unstuck in a sewer because he himself probably has his whole wallet in there somewhere

☆ you both look out for each other

☆ see a puddle hes about to slip in? call out, he sees a car coming? he calls out

☆ overall you both have a lot of ... ehem... baxndaids.... in your bags just in case you two do something stupid - whether intentional or not

lmk masterlist

[milla-frenchy]

The agreement (Blackmail part 2)

4k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Joel Miller (post OB) Chapt summary: you can't get Javi out of your head. You and Joel go back for more Warnings: 18+ mdni. sharing, oral (f/m receiving), unprotected piv, spitting, cum eating, anal play, threesome, double vag penetration, double creampie, degradation. a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you so much for beta-ing me again 💕💕💕🫶🫶 And helping me with the title 😭 Playlist | ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist

Part 1

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes and looked at Joel, whose cock was buried deep in your pussy. He stopped and looked at you thoughtfully. He gently stroked your hair.

“Are you with me, darlin’?”

“Yeah, sure. I'm here, baby.” You put your hands on his hips and pushed your pelvis towards him, so he could continue fucking you.

Joel began to fuck you slowly again, scrutinizing you with his eyes. He slipped his hand down to your pussy and rubbed your clit under his thumb, gently, the way he knew how to do so well.

“Come for me,” he murmured.

In a few seconds you were cuming, followed by Joel pulling out just before jerking off, and shooting his cum all over your lower stomach. He grabbed a towel from the nightstand and wiped you off.

He lay down next to you, his elbow bent and his hand holding his head up, facing you.

"Tell me what’s happening."

“I’m fine, Joel. Just tired."

You had returned from Bill and Frank’s the day before, after your supply trip.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t ya?”

You lowered your gaze feeling the guilt. 

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Joel wiped them away with his thumbs when they started to fall.

“Sweetheart… It’s ok. We went to his apartment after a  mutual agreement. I know that what happened was unexpected. For both of us. But… I liked it too.” He was trying to meet your gaze.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I should have… stayed detached.”

“Baby… it’s not like we can block our emotions. This is the principle of emotions. And isn't it better this way? Rather than fuckin’ a guy who would have disgusted you. I'd rather have seen you enjoying it."

You hugged him and said “I love you, Joel.”

“I love you, baby.”

You hadn’t talked about that night before this moment. Joel showed no resentment. But you were disturbed and had trouble getting the images of the evening out of your head. When you were making love to Joel, Javi's face would sometimes appear in your thoughts.

And you felt guilty.

You went out to do the planned tasks. You sorted the clothes collected by the patrols, and Joel cleaned the sewers. His task was arduous but it paid the best in ration cards.

You were walking towards your apartment late in the afternoon when you ran into Javi who was obviously going to take his night shift. You hadn’t seen him since that night.

“Hi, hermosa. Miller.”

“Peña”, Joel replied.

“Hello”, you whispered.

“Glad to see you returned safely from your outing.”

Joel grumbled “thanks.”

You tried to regain your composure and said “have a nice day” to Javi. He was looking at you, smiling. You blushed and said “let’s go, Joel.”

You continued on your way, Joel placing his hand against the small of your back and Javi watching you leave.

Joel and Javi crossed paths the next day.

“Did your outing go well?” Javi asked.

“We’re not friends, Peña.”

"Of course. We're doing business, that's all. You still seem a little tense. More than usual, I mean. Well, you're not exactly the most relaxed man I know,” Javi said with his usual insolence.

"Fuck off." Joel left without looking back.

The next week, you were finishing your work when you heard “Hi, Hermosa” behind you.

You froze before turning around and saying “Hi, Javi.”

“How are you, Hermosa?”

“Javi… you can’t call me that. It was business, that’s all.”

“Really?” he smiled kindly.

You looked at him annoyed but his soft teasing smile disconcerted you.

“I am available if you need to do business together again.”

And he left. You were stuck in place, feeling your panties getting soaked and said “Fuck!”

When you got back to the apartment, you lay down on the couch and quickly slipped your hands into your panties. You slipped your middle finger into your pussy to recover some wetness before sliding it over your clit and rolling it under your fingers. You put your other middle finger in your pussy and came quickly, feeling the spasms contracting it.

You said “Fuck…fuck!” again.

Joel returned shortly after. He hugged you and asked how you were.

“I saw Javi today. When I was leaving work. We just said hello.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself, sweetheart. It’s ok.”

You had been hugging for a few moments, then he said “you want to see him again, don’t you? Like the other night”

You pulled away and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Joel I… No… No. I don’t want to see him again.”

Joel took your hands and said “I understand why you do baby. Really. The way he behaved towards you… I understand.”

You looked at him questioningly. You couldn’t believe he was saying that to you. Joel had always been a gentle lover, attentive to your desires, but possessive. And there he was, proposing you to see Javi again, with the possible risks that this could entail for your relationship.

He hugged you again holding you close, and said “I love you, sweetheart. I'm not worried about our relationship. We are the survivors of a damn apocalypse, in a QZ where our life is reduced to picking up shit. What if we allow ourselves more? And if we can do it through him, then I'm ok with it."

“I don’t understand why you don’t wait for this desire to pass, baby...”

“Because I don’t want the temptation to consume you and be more difficult to manage. I prefer to anticipate it.”

You hugged him tighter and said “I love you, Joel. But are you sure?”

“100% baby. I loved it too, you know.”

The next day, Joel went to meet Javi.

“Miller?”

“I’ll be quick. She liked the evening at your place. She liked you, and she’s everything to me. I told her that if she wanted we could do it again. No need to ask if you agree with this idea, I think?”

"Course not. Are you ok with that?”

“I told you, she’s everything to me. So yeah. But no chair for me this time.”

Javi smiled and said “You impress me Miller. I don’t know if I'd be able to do it.”

“You would be.”

Javi smiled. "Tomorrow evening?"

Joel nodded and they went their separate ways.

The next evening, you arrived at Javi’s place. His apartment was as clean as the last time.

“Good evening, Hermosa. Joel.”

You noticed that it was the first time he called him by his first name.

“Good evening, Javi,” you replied.

“Javier,” Joel greeted him back.

“Come in for a drink.”

He suggested that you sit on the couch while you had a drink. You downed your drinks, enjoying them more than last time, even if you and Joel were slightly uncomfortable.

“Pe… huh… Javier. The conditions are the same as last time, okay?” He turned to you and added “you’re in charge.”

You nodded and Javi added “of course.”

Joel and Javi looked at each other and nodded. They stood up and took off their tops: brown shirt for Javi, denim shirt for Joel. They kept their jeans on.

You wondered where Javi had found such a dated shirt. Oddly enough, it suited him very well.

You looked at them, standing in front of you.

Two men with dark hair, Javi's darker.

Of equivalent size.

Javi was slightly more slender than Joel. His body was more agile, while Joel's was all strength.

Joel, a little older than Javi, stood more hunched.

His face was serious, marked by hardship, while Javi's was mischievous with a sparkle in his eyes.

Both were stunning, breathtakingly beautiful.

And both were just waiting for you.

Javi offered you his hand, and you took it getting up from the couch. You barely dared to look him in the eye. 

Javi leaned down to kiss your cheek, and said “there’s no reason to be embarrassed, Hermosa. The three of us are here because we want to, because the other evening went well. We want to have fun again. Joel and I, as well as you. Ok?

You looked at him, then Joel, who told you “he’s right sweetheart.”

You nodded and smiled, and said “ok.”

You held out your hand for Joel to come closer, and you kissed Javi on the lips.

Joel kept your hand in his as he moved closer to you. He came up against your back and kissed your neck. You moaned. Having these two men against you gave you butterflies in your stomach. You turned to Joel to kiss him while Javi was now against your back with his hands on your hips. He ran his hands up along your breasts and then down to your hips, breathing in your hair and neck.

Joel took off your shirt and Javi unhooked your bra before taking it off. Joel took the opportunity to take your breasts in his hands and caressed them gently. Javi placed kisses on your cheek, then up to your earlobe, his nose brushing against your skin. He moved down to your neck, his hands still on your hips, before sliding them down to your stomach and unzipping your jeans. He slid them down to your feet, kissing your body as he knelt down. You lifted your feet to remove each leg of your pants, as you kissed Joel. Javi stood up and ran his hand over your soaked panties, saying “mmm Hermosa” softly in your ear.

Joel took you by the hand and said “follow me, sweetheart” and led you to the dining room table where he leaned you against it, butt against the edge while Javi took off his jeans.

Joel pulled you closer to him, pressing his crotch against you. He was hard. He kissed you, hands on your hips, before leaning down to your breasts and taking one in his mouth while he caressed the other. He sucked on your nipple and swirled his tongue over it, before moving on to the other.

You looked at Javi then at Joel, waiting for his approval. He looked up at you and nodded. 

You said “Come here, Javi”. Javi approached, his cock erect and hard. You kissed him and took his cock in your hand, running your thumb over the tip and spreading the precum. He growled into your mouth. Joel stepped aside and removed his jeans and boxers, while Javi faced you. He placed his lips on yours and slipped his tongue into your mouth, mingling it with yours as you jerked him off.

Joel moved closer to you and you got on your knees. You looked at them in turn, before taking Javi in your mouth and jerking Joel off. You looked at them again. Joel's gaze was intense. You moved away from Javi before taking Joel in your mouth and jerking Javi off.

“Damn Hermosa… you’re fucking hot.”

“Get up, baby” Joel said before grabbing you to help you. “Sit on the table.”

You leaned against the table and Joel lifted you to sit on it. He spread your legs with his large hands before kneeling between them. “Lay down, baby” he said.

As you lay down, Javi moved closer, jerking himself gently. He said “fuck… Hermosa you’re so beautiful.”

Joel ran his tongue over your pussy and you moaned under his tongue. He spread the folds with his fingers and ran his tongue more gently before coming to tickle your clit.

“Will you suck my dick Hermosa?” asked Javi.

“Yeah, come here, Javi”, you replied.

You turned your head towards him, he was holding his cock at the base. You ran your tongue over it before placing your lips around his tip and caressing it with your tongue.

You felt Joel’s fingers dig into your pussy, while he focused on your clit with his tongue. You moaned, making Javi groan in turn as you sucked his cock further and further, depending on the rhythm of his hips.

Joel sat up and stood up, and said “make her cum Javier.”

They switched places, Joel bringing his cock to your mouth. “Wanna suck your cock, baby”, you said.

“Take it sweetheart. Suck my dick. Make me feel good in your mouth” you nodded and took him in your mouth, before feeling Javi’s breath on your pussy. He ran his tongue, his saliva mixing with Joel’s in your pussy.

“Doesn’t she taste good Javier?”

“Yeah… You taste so good Hermosa. Joel, you're a lucky bastard.”

Joel smiled at Javi for the first time, and looked back at you “You’re doing well, sweetheart. So good for us.”

You looked at him, before lowering your gaze to his cock which was sliding into your mouth.

Javi stuck his tongue into your pussy and was fucking you with it, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He held your legs apart with his hands. You placed your hand on his head, moaning more and more.

“You’re gonna cum baby, right? Come in his mouth baby. Soak his tongue.”

You stopped sucking him as your pleasure mounted, keeping him in your mouth until you came in Javi's mouth. He held his hands tight around you to keep your legs from moving too much and keep you within his reach, continuing to lick you until the spasms stopped. Joel pulled out of your mouth as Javi stood up, and bended over to twirl his tongue over your pussy again. You jumped at his touch on your overly sensitive clit, before caressing his head with your hands.

While Joel helped you get up, Javi went to sit on the couch and said “Come sit in my lap, Hermosa. Facing him."

You walked over to him before sitting on his thighs. He slid his hand up to your pussy, avoiding your overly sensitive clit for the moment, but sliding his middle finger into your hole.

“Come get sucked Joel,” Javi told him.

Joel came closer to you and said “open sweetheart. Stick out your tongue.” You did as he told you, waiting for him with your tongue out. He placed his cock on your tongue, grabbing your chin with his hand to lift it up, and dripped his saliva onto his cock, watching it slide down to your tongue. And he slid his cock into your mouth. Your eyes were fixed on him. Javi grabbed one of your breasts with his other hand, continuing to gently slide his middle finger into your pussy.

You didn't move, letting Joel handle the movements. He pushed himself deeper and deeper into your throat, his hand resting on your head, the other falling down his body.

Javi said “give me a second Joel” and Joel withdrew. Javi grabbed his cock in his hand and lifted you up, pushing his cock into your pussy and you impaled yourself on it “oh god… Fuck, Javi…”

“Missed my cock Hermosa?”

You looked at Joel before answering, who nodded.

“Answer him baby. Tell him.”

“Yeah fuck… yeah I missed it.”

“I missed you too, Hermosa. You have quite an effect.”

Javi lifted you with his hands, and moved his hips to start fucking you. His movements were slow, and allowed Joel to come back into your mouth. You let him resume his pace, your lips wrapping around his shaft.

“Are you still too sensitive, baby?” asked Joel.

“No… I don't think so Joel. It’s ok.”

Joel knelt down and watched as Javi’s cock slid into your pussy. Your wetness slid down to his balls. He came closer and licked your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh god, Joel!” The sensations were indescribable. Javi’s cock was buried in your pussy, your legs raised. Javi held them apart. Joel sucking on your clit.

“Fuckin hell hermosa… you’re so hot. So good for us.”

You placed your hands on either side of Joel’s face and leaned against Javi’s chest, letting him lead the pace. You heard Joel grunting against your clit.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum again. Fuck…”

“Come on, baby. Come on his tongue and on my cock. I wanna feel you squeeze me again and soak me. Couldn’t stop thinking about it since the other night.”

You came, throwing your head back and squeezing Joel’s head so hard he groaned.

Joel pulled away to look at where your two bodies met and said “fuck baby… such a fuckin’ slut. Let’s go to the bedroom now.”

As you were about to get up, leaning forward to support yourself on your feet, Javi held you, hands on your hips and fucked you at a fast pace “fuckin’ soaked hole...” before letting you get up.

Once in the room, you lay down on the bed and said “come fuck me Joel.”

Joel lay on top of you and thrust into you, making you moan.

Your gaze was fixed on him but you were lost in your emotions. You loved everything about this evening. The way they fucked you, the way they shared you.

You stared at Joel. Intensely.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want you to…” You bit your lip.

“Tell me,” he said, thrusting hard.

You cried out in surprise, and said "I want you to talk to me. Dirty. Joel, please…"

“Fuck… you want me to tell you what a slut you are? Wanna hear it out loud?”

“Yes Joel…fuck…yes, please.”

"I can't believe you were reluctant to come back here, when your slutty holes just wanted to be filled by both of our cocks."

He grabbed your chin in his hand and added "That's what you wanted? To be filled by two cocks? Mine isn't enough for you, you need two big, fat cocks?"

He brought his hand down and squeezed your throat. His gaze was black. He held you so tightly that you could just nod your head.

“We’ll give you what you want.”

He released his grip on your throat, continuing to thrust into you.

“Javi, I want you in my mouth.”

Javi knelt on the bed, holding his cock in his hand. You looked at him, and stuck out your tongue.

“Fuckin christ, woman,” Joel said, fucking you harder.

Javi placed his cock on your tongue, just the tip. He jerked himself off while watching you, then Joel fucking you. And he slid his cock into your mouth, you rounded your lips to welcome him. He placed his hand on your cheek, and felt his cock through your skin.

Joel buried his head in your neck, kissing it, then came to bite your earlobe. His head brushing against Javi’s hand, before pulling out of you.

“Come fuck her Javi.”

Javi smiled, before saying “you like being shared by our two cocks, huh?” You nodded, looking at Joel.

Javi came and lay down between your legs and slid his cock inside you.

Joel was standing next to the bed, jerking off gently. “You take both of our cocks so well darlin. You’re doing so well for us.”

He walked over and fondled one of your breasts, still jerking off. He leaned towards you and said “open up baby”. As you opened your mouth, he spat in it and clamped your jaw shut with his hand.

“Fill her up javi. Then I’ll fill her cunt too.”

You groaned at his words.

“Look at me hermosa. You're going to get filled by two cocks, like a little slut. Is that what you want?"

“Yes! Yes Javi, that’s what I want.”

“Yeah? Want your pussy filled with both our cum? Wanna feel them running down your thighs?”

You nodded.

"Ok baby. I'll give you what you want.” He picked up the pace and put his arms under your shoulders to fuck you harder. Joel was still jerking off next to the bed.

“Fuck…I’m gonna cum hermosa. Gonna fill this tight cunt.”

He thrusted in two more times before spreading his cum deep inside your pussy. Once his balls were empty, he withdrew, and Joel took his place instantly. He looked down at your folds to see Javi's cum starting to leak out. He ran his fingers around picking some up and stuffing them into your pussy.

“You want both of us, right? Can't miss a drop baby.”

He lay down between your thighs and bottomed out in one go. He put his fingers covered with Javi's cum in your mouth for you to lick them.

“Fuck. Such a slut. With your pussy dripping with the cum from another man. You’re so fucking soaked of his cum and so wet, I'm sure you could take both of our cocks in your pussy."

He growled against your ear, and his words hurried your orgasm.

“You’re such a whore, you know that?”

“Yes Joel…yeah.”

“Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a whore. I’m a fucking whore.”

Javi sat in the chair watching the whole scene.

Joel picked up the pace, unable to stop talking. “Can’t believe it, I thought you were a nice girl who wanted only my cock. But one cock isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

You couldn't answer anymore. He smacked your cheek. Not too hard. “Fuckin answer me.”

“Fuck. I want two cocks Joel. I want your two cocks. So bad.”

“Shit… I’m gonna fill you too.”

He grunted before thrusting deep inside you and shooting his load. Your orgasm rushed over you.

“Oh god Joel…” 

He collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath.

He finally got up while you were still lying down, and said “come see this Javi.”

The two men were standing at the foot of the bed, looking at your sore pussy, with their cum leaking out.

You heard the curfew sirens and Joel looked worriedly at Javi, who replied “stay here tonight. It's too late for you to go back. The bed is big enough, we’ll squeeze in.” The two men came to join you, each from one side.

You fell asleep.

You woke up a few hours later, Joel and Javi’s bodies pressed against you. You felt some of their cum still leaking from your pussy but you didn't have the courage to go to the bathroom. Javi was against your back, his cock resting against your ass.

You stretched your ass towards him, at the same time as you took Joel’s cock in your hands, jerking him gently. You felt them wake up at the same time.

Javi’s hand came to squeeze your breast, before moving down to your thigh. He lifted your knee to give himself access to your pussy, and you felt the tip of his already hard cock directly slide into your hole.

Looking at Joel, you saw that his gaze was on you.

“Looks like you don’t need any preparation to take his cock baby? Still full of our cum huh?”

You bit your lip and just nodded, while Javi was pounding in you.

“Don’t stop jerking me off,” said Joel. You resumed your movement, stopped when Javi entered you.

“How is her pussy, Javi?”

“Ruined. I slide in so easily.”

“Mmmm” Joel muttered. Lie on your back Javi.”

Javi withdrew before settling in as Joel asked.

“And you sweetheart, come ride him.”

You moved on top of Javi, before grabbing his cock in your hand and pushing it inside you.

“Is the lube still in the top drawer?”

“Yeah.”

Joel went to get it and coated his cock with it, before putting the bottle down.

"You’re gonna prepare my ass, Joel?”

“It’s not your ass I’m gonna fuck."

“Wait what? I never…”

“There’s always a first time, baby.”

You looked at Javi with a panicked look, but he just said “come on Hermosa. You’re fuckin’ soaked and still dripping our cum from last night. You’ll take us easily.”

Joel kneeled behind you and spread your ass cheeks.

“Fuck… you’re gonna be so full….”

He leaned against Javi's cock, which had stopped his movements. Joel started to thrust and told you to lean on Javi’s chest.

You leaned forward and felt Joel’s cock sink into you.

“Fuck…Fuck! Joel, wait. It's too much. I don’t think I can -”

“Yes, you fuckin’ can.”

He didn't stop. He felt the walls of your pussy adjust to the two of them. He continued to thrust until his balls were against Javi's.

Looking up, you saw the look in Javi’s eyes, who nodded at Joel. And they both moved. 

“Oh fuck… Cant’ believe… God. Cant’ believe I’m getting fucked by two cocks."

Javi smiled and kissed you, before telling you “you’re really doing well Hermosa, you’re so good for us.”

“You can do better, darlin’.“

“What? What do you mean, Joel?”

Joel put his thumb in his mouth and spat on your ass. He caught the saliva with his thumb before applying it to your asshole.

“Shit Joel…”

“Stop whining. I know you like it” and he pushed his knuckle into your ass.

“Fuck..Yeah. Yes I do.”

Joel smiled as he looked at Javi.

You felt full. Two cocks in your pussy, Joel's thumb in your ass.

Joel told you “I’m sure if there were three cocks here, you’d take one in your mouth.”

“Fuck yeah…I bet she would”, added Javi.

They continued for a few minutes, and you heard Javi breathing harder.

“You’re gonna cum Javi? You’re gonna cum in my pussy?”

“Yeah Hermosa…I’m gonna fill you again.”

“Go ahead Javi. Cum in her pussy, and don't pull out until I fill her too. Not gonna be long.”

Your clit had been rubbing against Javi’s crotch for several minutes, and you felt like you were going to cum soon too.

“Fuck… yeah… ‘m gonna fill you Hermosa. Oh… oh god….”

Javi's cock twitched as he came, his cock crushed against Joel's.

“Fuck. I’m gonna fill you too baby.”

Joel growled louder and louder, and you felt Javi’s cum starting to leak out of your pussy.

Joel stiffened and shot his cum into you. 

He collapsed on top of you, still straddling Javi and you came for the last time that night, full of their cum.

Before pulling out, Joel said, “You’re gonna have to help me find more after pills, Javi.”

Part 3

**********************

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[batsythoughts]

Soulmate Au with Dick Grayson where the last words they specifically say to YOU are on your wrist. THIS IS HURT/NO COMFORT! There will be no happy ending, so suffer with my thoughts!

'I understand.'

Those are the words that have been on Dick Grayson's wrist since the moment he was born

His parents told him it was most likely going to be said at the end of a long and happy life with his soulmate

When he became Robin, he worried it would be a one time interaction with a citizen before he wasn't able to save them

But when he became Nightwing, he stopped worrying about it and began to live his life to be grateful for all his interactions

He had always asked what everyone's words from their soulmate was when he got close enough to them, having deep conversations with each of them

He was always interested by Alfred's the most. He had two different sets of words on his wrist when everyone else only had one

"It appeared after they had died. A small reminder of the time we had together."

Dick had found that amazing, one would have the reminder of who their person was even after death separated them

At some point after Dick leaving to become Nightwing, Bruce had taken in you in

You had been raised by the Joker after he kidnapped you at the age of 9 to take over as the worst villain of Gotham when he ultimately died

Bruce explained that you had openly denounced the Joker and his views before switching sides

With no other place to go, Bruce had taken you in when you had no place of your own

Even after time had passed, Dick noticed that you didn't spend much time around the other. He never saw you leave the manor except for going on patrol

The most peculiar thing was you had a bandage that went around your wrist where your words were supposed to be

Dick tried starting conversations to get to know you, but you always found a way to get out of them

The most personal thing about you that he could seem to get was these little notebooks you would randomly write in

When he asked about them, you shot him down with a glare

"It's personal, wonder bitch. So back off."

Dick didn't understand why Bruce was still putting up with the same attitude for so long without snapping

He was always told to just give you some space and you would come around when you were finally ready to

Dick never took a liking to how you handled the vigilante business. He thought you weren't focused on keeping the citizens safe and only wanted to make the bad guys hurt more than anything

You always told him to get off your back when he pushed on how you should be more cautious about how to do the job

He started to become frustrated by being around you with how much you pushed back with every word he said, but he still tried to be pleasant

More time had passed and you still didn't really warm up to any of them, but you weren't as hostile with your words

You mostly stuck to your room so you didn't actually have much difference in the previous interactions with everyone

Dick still couldn't shake off the frustration though, no matter how hard he tried to be understanding and polite to you

One day when you had told Dick to 'fuck off to the sewers' after he had accidentally walked into and spilled your drink on your shirt, he was very tempted to yell out as you walked away

Jason quickly stepped in and stopped Dick before he could actually blow up over the attitude you kept displaying

"Dick, you don't entirely understand-"

"That shouldn't matter! They keep acting like-!"

"Like The Joker has raised them to think in a way of 'be useful or you will be killed'. We don't know what he could have done for all those years. We don't even know what life was like before Joker forced his way into the picture. Not everyone was born into loving families. Remember that."

Dick had tried to take Jason's words into consideration as the next few months progressed

You never expressed any form of appreciation to what Bruce or Alfred seemed to do for you. You would mostly just spend time alone around the manor, occasionally sitting around with Jason

The only time Dick seemed to see you express any emotion was when you would randomly write in the notebooks before putting it back in your pocket

Frustration and agitation kept getting bottled up the longer Dick watched the whole situation continue on

It was getting close to a big bust on some plan a couple of the villains had joined together for temporarily to make it successful

It was the end of patrol as Bruce was explaining what everyone's job was going to be for the following night so they could prepare themselves throughout the day

Bruce had mentioned that Damian would be working alongside Jason, and you had mumbled some comment about that

Dick had finally had enough as he looked over and asked what the problem was

You rolled your eyes before saying that Damian wouldn't be able to handle himself with the combined strength everyone would be against with everyone stretched so thin

Dick pushed as he argued that Damian had taken care of himself in worst situations and you should mind what you were claiming about them

Bruce tried to to get the both of you to calm down, but Dick kept pushing as he argued you didn't really know them or what they could do

You clenched your fist while arguing that the precious boy wonder didn't even have a full understanding of what the criminals of the city were actually capable of

Dick finally felt his anger reach the boiling point as be finally began yelling at you

It soon became a screaming match as Jason held Dick back while Bruce got between the two of you as Tim guided Damian out of the area

The anger kept getting worse for Dick as he was finally letting out all the pent up feelings from the past few months of watching you push back against everyone

"This way of thinking is going to be what gets you killed! And when it finally catches up to you, I'm not going to feel sorry for you dying!"

You suddenly become very silent as you just stare at Dick with a deep glare as Bruce raises his voice to make Dick calm himself down

"I understand." The venom is in your voice as you turn around and march out of the Batcave

Dick doesn't truly register the words as he and Bruce start to get in it about how Dick went too far and would need to apologize

Dick huffs as he pulled out of Jason's hold before walking off to go to his room to get some rest

As he walked through the manor, Dick saw Tim and Damian both waiting for him with confused look as they asked what happened

Dick assured them it was nothing they needed to worry themselves with before going to his room

Dick was surprised that you hadn't tried making the day hard for him in retaliation of what was all said

Your door had never opened an inch though the whole day after the fight had happened

The day was eerily calm in a way that made Dick slowly begin to regret what was said. He knew Bruce was right about apologizing, but decided the anger might make you focus on getting the job done and would talk to you tomorrow when patrol was done

Night had come and Bruce had changed the groups so Dick was with Tim while you paired up with Jason

Damian had said he didn't want to be on the mission due to an important test the next day he needed to pass, though everyone was certain it was a lie

No one argued as they got ready for the fight that was going to come before going to the streets of Gotham

The bust had gone down at midnight as everyone had fought to take down as many people they could with the minimum getting away

Everyone had a few scratches as they all helped get the criminals in the transport

Bruce was talking with Gordon when Dick noticed you standing a ways off from everyone else looking confused for some reason

He began to slowly walk over with the intention of apologizing with all the anger and adrenaline slowly fading

The ground shook as Killer Croc suddenly appeared while getting between you and everyone else

None of them could stop it as you got hit and went flying in the air

Dick went to try and subdue Killer Croc before getting hit back into the wall

He felt a pain in his wrist as his arm hit the bricks as the sound of shattered glass sounded from the building you got thrown through

Bruce and Jason were able to get Killer Croc subdued as Tim went over to Dick to make sure he was fine

Dick quickly brushed off the pain in his arm, saying he was fine as he went to the building with the shattered window to go and check on you

He saw you at the far end of the room with your back to him. Dick called out asking if you were okay as he cautiously stepped inside

He thought you were in a daze when you didn't respond. Being mindful of the glass, Dick kneeled down as he placed his hand on your shoulder

"I know you're mad, but this isn't fun-"

The words escape him as he gently pulled you onto your back. Your head still facing the direction you had landed in as the rest only turned slightly with the effort

Dick could only stare for a minute before his hand went to hold the cheek pressed against the floor

The small cracking of your neck that came when he turned your head made Dick's stomach churn

Small pieces of glass stuck out of your skin as your unfocused eyes stared at the ceiling now. A trail of blood flowing down your cheek from your barely parted lips

Dick had to stop himself from throwing up as he got back up and walked into the street

Dick held Tim back when he tried to go in and check on you. When asked what was wrong, Dick could only shake his head as Bruce came up to them

Dick could barely register anything as he watched them put the gurney you were on in the back of the medical examiner's van

They all got promised your body would be treated with the upmost respect until the time for your burial

The journey back was quiet as everyone processed what happened to you when they had thought it was safe

Dick had went to go take a shower to wash of the pressure he felt in his hands from where he had touched your body

He noticed the blood on his wrist when he had removed his shirt in the bathroom

He rinsed a rag with cold water before wiping the blood away to find a sight that made his blood run cold

'This way of thinking is going to be what gets you killed! And when it finally catches up to you, I'm not going to feel sorry for you dying!'

'I understand.'

The words looked like they had just been carved into his wrist with how fresh the new words appeared and the small bit of blood still seeping out of his skin

His thoughts went back to the fight when he had hit the wall. His arm didn't hurt because he was smacked into the wall

It had hurt because that was the moment you had died

Dick couldn't think of who he could confide in with this sudden news. Especially because he had been so cruel to you when you last spoke to one another

How could he have been so cruel to not even think of apologizing before the mission? The last think he said was how he wouldn't care if you died

But you had always known it would be that cruel. You were born with those careless shouts as a mockery on your skin since the first cry

While he grew up with thoughts of comfort over what he might have with his soulmate, you never got that when you saw those words

You had grown up in a world of torture by the hands of one of the cruelest men in all of Gotham, and his words couldn't even give you a sense of comfort over the torturous treatment you went through

It had been a couple of weeks since you had tragically passed away, and Dick found himself in the doorway of your room

He didn't know why he was even here, what he would even try to find, but he was there

The room didn't have too many decorations around as he went in, as if you never tried to find your own style

The clothes in the drawers and closet were like taunts as he touched the fabric (most were soft, so he figured that was a texture you liked)

A candle in your nightstand drawer had never been lit, but the cap had been repeatedly removed (he found that it smelled like flowers during a rainstorm. You must have liked that kind of smell)

There were a few books on the small desk you had with a handful of notes and letters scattered around (it looked like you had been trying to catch up on the education you missed out on)

After some time of looking around, Dick sat at the foot of the bed. He quickly realized something was wrong when his weight pressed on the mattress

He untucked the covers (why would you have been so neat with making the bed?) to find that a small section of the padding had been cut out from a small hole in the bottom

Dick reached his hand in to find the hiding spot of all the small notebook you had written in

He slowly flipped through the pages as he read the neat handwriting that you had

Alfred made a different kind of cookie today. I really like this kind

Jason and I watched a documentary on dinosaurs. The raptors seem the coolest

I glanced at the moon during patrol last night. It was the cresent phase. I think I like that one most

The more Dick looked through them, the more he realized you were distant because you were realizing things about yourself. You were figuring out years of information in such short time, you were probably getting overwhelmed with all this information you were learning

His eyes stop on one small bit you had written, his eyes softening as he kept rereading the words

Dick randomly started laughing today. It sounds nice

You had thought his laugh was nice? Dick didn't even think you paid attention to anything he had done while living in the manor

He kept flipping through each different notebook before he stop on the latest one you had written in

His fingers flipped through to the last pages, expecting to see words of anger and hatred on the paper before him

Dick's my soulmate. I felt my wrist burn when he yelled at me and I just knew without having to seeing what I said appear on my skin. I know I'm going to die tonight.

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought of what could have went through your mind the exact moment it happened. His fingers carefully flipping to the next page as he kept reading

I don't know what's going to happen with the mission tonight, but I know it's going to be my last. Who knows? Maybe I'll be careless just like Dick always said.

Tears began to form in his eyes as he remembered the confused look on your face after the fight had ended. You had died when everyone was supposed to have been okay and you were confused you were alive after the main fight

I hope to whatever type of god that is out there at Dick never finds these before someone else. I know he had every right to say those things, but I don't want him knowing that I knew I was going to be killed. I was an ass and was given nothing but patience from everyone else. I know he will figure out what we were when I die, but I hope that he doesn't blame himself for what will happen. He had no way of knowing just how much it had hurt to actually hear those words. I hope he lives his life like he always had before.

The tears spilled own his cheeks as he closed the book and held it to his head

Everything after that was just blank pages. You still had over half the pages to keep writing in

Dick felt broken as he took in the feeling you had written out clear as day

He had caused so much hurt in your life before even knowing you

His hands clenched around the cover as he allowed himself to cry. In all the realities of how the end could have happened, this was the worst

The was never a mutual understanding, no form of chemistry like he hoped, not even a split second meeting

All that was there was frustration and hurtful words that could never be taken back

But what hurt the most was that your words to him had never been more truthful compared to anything said to him. You didn't blame him for the anger or even lash back out at him

Because deep down, that was the person that you truly were despite everything

You understood

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 14th

Orgasm Denial, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Orgasm denial; Mary’s a sadist wbk; established relationship; all of this is consensual; naked woman, clothed man; face-slapping; praise kink; degradation kink (is it really written by me if it doesn’t have at least one of these?); fingering; no lube; cunnilingus; dacrophilia; use of sex toys; dry humping; biting; pain kink; vaginal sex; piv sex; unprotected sex; choking; squirting;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mary liked to make it hurt but the hurt was always so good you would forgive it every single time. He did things to you that you never thought you’d enjoy and opened up a whole different side of yourself you didn’t know lay dormant. Of course, you weren’t innocent like most people assumed, you did have a dark side. But Mary somehow managed to take that dark side and twist it until it had become darker and hungrier than before. And you loved every second of it.

Outside of the bedroom, Mary was the most beautiful human in the world. He was sweet, kind, caring, attentive, somewhat a golden retriever. Between the sheets, he was evil, downright demonic. And tonight was no exception. Apparently he’d gotten into a fight with one of his bandmates, and you were going to pay the price for it. He’d sent you a text before leaving his friend’s place: you better be naked with your legs spread by the time I get home or else. Or else what? Remember the safe word?

Lemon.

Good.

That was the last you heard from him. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you completely undressed and did as he asked. You knew what would happen if you were caught slacking, and given the mood he was in, you didn’t really want to risk it. The last time that happened, you couldn’t sit down for an entire week - because it wasn’t just your ass he beat. The guilt he felt afterwards was crazy and you had to keep reminding him that you wanted it.

You were scrolling on your phone, laying on the bed with your whole body on display when you heard the front door slam shut. Immediately, you threw your phone across the room and put your hands above your head, exactly how he liked. Not even three seconds later, the bedroom door swung open. Mary’s expression was dark, and he was filled with such a rage you rarely saw. He was scary when he was angry - the kindest people usually were. You felt arousal flood your cunt at the sight of him.

“Finally,” he said, “someone who does as I ask.” He placed his guitar on its stand before turning back to you, his eyes roaming the entirety of your body until they stopped on your exposed centre. “I half expected I’d have to come back and punish you. I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, quietly.

He moved to the side of the bed and sat next to you, cupping your cheek in a moment of worrying calm. “For what, my angel?” He asked softly. “For being an obedient slut for me? For letting me find you with your legs spread like a fucking whore?” The same hand that was gently touching your face disappeared, only to strike your cheek with enough force to sting, but not enough to leave a mark. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

His other hand moved down your body and immediately began playing with your clit - he didn’t bother gathering any wetness from your hole, at least to begin with. His middle finger ran circles around it, and despite the friction being enough to start a fire, it felt good. You bit your lip at the sensation, trying not to let out any moans without permission. Mary just laughed and pulled it out from between your teeth. “No, baby. I want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear me fuck you dumb tonight. Hide those pretty moans from me and I’ll make you suffer, got it?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.”

You felt his index and ring fingers slide inside of you, again without any additional lubrication beside your own wetness. The stretch wasn’t too painful, more uncomfortable, but he didn’t give you any time to think about it - instead he began hitting your g-spot over and over again, putting his entire wrist and hand into the roughness of his work and immediately hitting you with intense pleasure. The more he moved, the more wetness got onto his hands and the better it felt. But things really felt better when his second hand came into play, when he used his finger to play with your clit. The look of concentration on his face and the way he bit his lip was enough to make you almost blow right there, but you hadn’t gotten the permission to cum yet, and you knew that cumming without permission would have landed you in serious trouble. Though, Mary could feel how tight you were getting, how needy you were when you bucked your hips to chase that feeling.

“Are you close?” He asked, his voice teasing and bordering on condescension.

“Yes!”

“And what do we say when we’re close?”

“C-can I cum?”

“Can you cum… what?”

“Please! Can I cum please.”

“Good girl.”

You could feel it creeping up on you. It felt so fucking good. His masterful hands brought you so close you could almost taste it. Yes! Yes! Right there. Right there!

He pulled his hands away, his fingers and thumb covered in your slick. You watched him as he admired the shine you left on him, pulling his fingers apart and watching the string snap in between them. All the while you felt that orgasm ebbing away. You clearly looked dejected, and this made him laugh when he saw the expression you wore. “You were a good girl for asking, but I still didn’t give you permission, did I? Let’s go again, shall we?”

His hands went right back in to the exact position he was in beforehand. This time, however, he’d moved down the bed and was sat in between your spread legs, his tongue replacing his other hand on your clit. The same middle and ring finger that he used before, he used again, but this time he added his index finger to stretch you a little more, once again not bothering to slick it up and making you wince at the burn.

Mary would sometimes lick your clit, but he knew the real pleasure you experienced came from him sucking on it. He suctioned his mouth around your pebble and began to suck hard, stealing your breath as he did it. Your hands almost moved from your spot above your head because you were so desperate to touch him. You needed to at this point. “P-please, Mary.”

“Please what?”

“Let me t-touch you!”

“Aw,” he cooed, “is the pleasure too much for my little angel, hm? Does she need to pull on my hair?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, then.”

As soon as he dove back in, your hands flew down to his hair, grateful for the permission. You were always overly touchy during sex - the desperate need for closeness and affection too much for your body to handle, and your hands always took on a mind of their own. Mary loved it. He loved the way you pulled on his hair when he ate you out, how you cupped both of his cheeks when you kissed him while he was deep inside you, how your nails would scratch down his back when he hit that sweet spot, how your hands would always clutch onto his thighs or hips when his cock was down your throat. The constant need to be as physically close to him as possible made him feel loved and wanted. And so he would only begrudge your touch as a punishment.

Your hands tangled in his hair, the strands a little harder than usual because of the styling gel he used, but still you pulled at the roots. You heard him groan in response, no doubt growing harder in his pants the tighter you pulled. The harder you pulled, the faster his fingers moved and the harder he sucked. Again, you were so close, and you announced it only to have him pull all the way back again, completely remove all his touches. You whined and pouted.

“Now, now, angel.” He scolded. He held your chin between his thumb and index finger, swiping the tip of his thumb over your pouted lip. “Don’t do that. Don’t brat out on me now or there will be consequences. Take what I give you.”

“I wanna cum so badly.” You said. Your throat was tight from the disappointment, and you could feel tears begin to brew.

“Poor baby. Suffering so much. I know what could make it better. Close your eyes.”

You hesitated for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. But once he made it very clear he wasn’t moving until you closed your eyes, you obliged. You felt the bed shift beneath him as he reached over you, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against your soft, naked thigh. The bedside drawer opened slowly so as not to immediately alert you to what he was doing, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was reaching for one of the toys you kept in there. You didn’t hear it close, nor did you hear him grab anything. Instead, you felt something big and bulbous sit at your clit before it sprang to life at the flick of a button. Your wand. You didn’t even hear him plug it into the wall. Even on its lowest setting it was torturous enough for you to scream out, both in surprise and sensitivity. Your eyes opened entirely and you saw him kneeling between your legs, wand held tightly in his hand and a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you writhe and attempt to escape from the feeling.

“You like that?” He asked. When you didn’t answer him, he turned the vibrations up a little more and pressed the wand further into you, applying more pressure to the area and intensifying the feelings. “Fucking answer me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Yes! I like it!”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Have I fucked you brain dead already, hm? I haven’t even touched you with my cock yet and you’re already fucked up. You should see yourself right now - you look so fucking pathetic.” He laughed at your whimpers and the way your hips were moving at the sound of him being so fucking vile. It always turned you on to hear him be an asshole in the bedroom, given the polar opposite personality he displayed every other day. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean any of the things he was telling you, but he always said it with such conviction, especially in the moment you believed him - and it felt amazing.

Mary lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, making it parallel to his body. The back of your thigh was resting over the top of his incredibly hard cock, that was trapped still underneath the layers of cotton and denim. His composure always made you feel like he wasn’t quite as affected as you were by all this. If it wasn’t for the blown out irises of his eyes and the way he was now rubbing himself up against you, you’d think he wasn’t bothered at all. But he took his pleasure from you as he tortured your body, humping the back of your thick thigh as if he were desperate for relief. The look of you, red-faced, sweaty and desperately wailing like a bitch in heat had him far more affected than you realised, and he needed to get it out of his system one way or another. Right now, your thigh was the closest thing he could use.

“M-Mary, I’m gonna c-cum!”

He removed all contact again, even holding your ankle to get your thigh away from his body, denying himself pleasure as he denied you. He waited, wordlessly, for you both to calm down, before he attached the wand to you again, but this time two times more powerful than before. You screamed at the feeling and your hand immediately went to the wrist that was holding the vibrator, nails digging into the white skin and leaving red scratch marks. He went back to humping the back of your thigh, with a little more vigour given the loudness of your moaning. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside you, to spear you on his thick cock and take his own pleasure out of you. He couldn’t wait to make you cum, to shatter your entire world around you and make you think only of him as you tried to breathe. He’d been thinking about it all day. With every frustration he felt he was going to deny you an orgasm. Three so far. Another two to go.

You felt his lips on your calf, kissing the skin there until one particularly hard thrust against your thigh had him groaning and sinking his teeth into you.

“Cumming!”

He pulled away again before you had chance to. You were so close that time. You would have taken any punishment he dished out if it meant you could have cum there and then. But he stopped you before you had chance to tip over the edge and you screamed in frustration, punching the bed beneath you. The tears you shed at the beginning of the session were nothing compared to the tears you shed now. You watched through blurred vision as Mary’s eyes lit up at the sight of you crying in frustration. He turned the vibrator off and threw it to the side, pulling himself out of his confines and lining himself up to your entrance.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. I fucking love it when I make you cry. You’re always so pretty. Gets me so fucking hard.” The last sentence he said through gritted teeth and directly into your ear, his body lying down on top of you and trapping you between himself and the mattress beneath you. He gave you a chaste kiss to your lips, ignoring the tears you were shedding, before pushing himself all the way in, stretching you out even more than before. The tongue that had been licking your cunt earlier was now licking away the tears you shed, and a groan escaped his lips when the head of his cock kissed your cervix as his tongue registered the saltiness.

He thrust gently at first. He may have been acting like a monster but he definitely wasn’t one, even in his anger. While he thrust in and out of you shallowly and tentatively, his lips ran down your cheeks, across your jaw and down to your neck, where he licked, kissed and sucked at a sensitive spot of yours. “I fucking love this tight cunt.” He commented, his voice muffled by your skin. He pulled out and slammed back into you. “I love the noises you make when I fuck you.” Pulled out again and slammed back in. “I love hurting you and making you remember who this pussy belongs to.” Pulled out. Slammed in.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him as close as possible. The feel of his loose, grey vest softly dragging against your very erect nipples only added to the heightened sensitivity of your body making you cry out every time they rubbed against you. His jeans bit into your bikini line and thighs as he slammed into you, hitting your cervix every. Single. Time. Fuck it hurt. It hurt so fucking good.

He picked up the pace and the roughness, but he took this opportunity to attach his lips to yours, knowing how desperate for affection you’d become now. You were still crying - partly out of frustration for your almost orgasms, but also because of just how good he felt. Mary kept groaning and grunting into the kiss, his own voice coming out involuntarily from how good you wrapped around him.

He broke the kiss and sat up onto his knees, still thrusting away inside of you, his pace never faltering. “Fuck!” He grunted as he watched your body jiggle with the force of him. He always loved how your body moved,how you ricocheted off every thrust. He looked down at where you both were connected and saw a string of white around the base of his cock where you’d creamed all over him. “Fucking Hell!” He cried out. “Look at the state of you! This slutty pussy creaming all over me. Does it feel that fucking good?”

“Yes! Feels so good, Mary! You fill me so good.”

“Let the neighbours know who’s filling you this well, angel.”

“You are!”

“Say my name.”

You moaned at one of his thrusts. “Mary!”

“Again.” He slapped your thigh.

“Fuck! Mary!”

“What a good whore for me.”

He reached over to the neglected vibrator and turned it back on, setting the intensity back up to where it was the last time he used it. You visibly winced. “Mary, no!”

“Do you need to use the safe word?”

You shook your head in response.

“Then you’re gonna fucking take it, aren’t you?”

He placed the vibrator over your clit again and continued to fuck you as hard as he could. His grey vest shirt was now dark in most places from the sweat that coincided with the exertion. The sight of him wet and determined had your cunt tightening around him, earning you an appreciative, “fucking slut.” Then, with no warning, the vibrator’s intensity was turned up again, causing you to scream out loud and tears to start falling again. The stimulation bordered on painful, teetering on the edge of delicious and unbearable. You didn’t think he’d ever let you cum - that he’d keep you dancing the line until he finished and that he’d leave you. The thought of it was hot, of course, but by this point you were exhausted. Tired of being brought to the precipice but never quite falling over it. Mary watched your reactions intensely, drool practically slipping from his mouth. You were getting closer and closer by the second.

“Mary, I’m gonna cum.”

This time, he didn’t move the vibrator away. Instead he kept the speed and pressure exactly the same. You could feel it building and building, your entire body tingling in anticipation. He was finally going to let you cum. You were going to cum. You were so fucking close. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

And then he moved the vibrator away.

“No!” You screamed. “Mary, you piece of shit! You fucking asshole! Let me cum, please!” You moved your hand down and began rubbing at your clit working yourself desperately to release. But you didn’t get much time as his free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “I fucking hate you!” You didn’t. Not really. But in this moment you couldn’t help it. You began thrashing against him, trying to fight against his strength but now he was putting his full weight onto you and you were having trouble winning this fight. He let go of the vibrator and slapped your face again, this time a little harder and timed with a particularly hard thrust.

“You wanna fucking fight me? You little bitch. Do you want me to tie you to the fucking bed and keep edging you all night, hm? Acting like a bitch in heat. So desperate to cum. So fucking embarrassing.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher. His free hand now came to your throat and began squeezing at the sides. Your breath didn’t escape you, but he was restricting the blood flow. You felt like your eyes were going to burst any second. “I should punish you for that. Remind you your place.”

“I’m sorry!” You said quietly. “Mary, please.”

He bent down and gave you another kiss, his hand still restricting your throat. When the kiss ended, he released you from his grasp and picked the vibrator up, turning it onto its highest setting. “You wanna fucking cum? That’s fine. Cum whenever you want.”

He placed it to your clit and had you screaming at the intensity, more tears falling from your eyes and wracked sobs shaking your entire body along with his insane thrusts. At this point you were practically screaming through it: babbling incoherently, screaming his name, expletives, anything just to take the intensity away and relieve some of the tension. His other hand that was once restraining yours now rest at your hip and allowed him some leverage to continue to rail you into the mattress. He was exhausted, you could see it from the look in his eyes. You wondered how many times during this whole ordeal he almost came too.

One of your own hands moved to the one on the vibrator, and you grabbed hold of his index and ring fingers. He let you, wanting nothing more to lock hands with you and provide you the comfort you were craving. But he was so focused now on getting you both to orgasm he would let that slip today.

“Mary, I’m close! Please.”

“It’s okay, angel.” His voice was soft now. Gentle. He wasn’t the same, angry, crazy man who was ramming into you just moments ago. “Cum for me. I’ll talk you through it. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay?” You nodded. “Such a good girl for me, hey? Feel so fucking good around my cock. I got you, angel. Let go. Cum for me.”

And you did. Oh hells, did you cum. All five of the orgasms you missed now came charging through you at full speed, freezing every muscle in your body and stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes glazed over and for a second went black, the violence of your orgasm now taking all of your senses for you and numbing your brain until all you became was nerve endings reaching climax. No noises were made, no thoughts were thought, no breaths were taken. It wasn’t until eons later when you felt Mary’s hand tapping your cheek you were brought back down from wherever the fuck you’d gone. His voice faded back into focus, finally reaching your ears.

“Hey. Hey, angel. Come on, come back to me.”

You blinked. “Mary?”

“Hi, baby. Bear with me a little longer, I’m almost there, okay?”

You couldn’t say anything, instead you just nodded. You felt him enter you again, unsure when he pulled out completely, and after a few intense and oversensitive thrusts, you felt him still and cum inside you. His own orgasm wasn’t quite as intense as yours, but it still nearly wiped him out. He lay on top of you for a few seconds, his own body unresponsive to his wants, but once he had regained his own strengths, he gave you a chaste kiss and headed to the bathroom. He always made an effort to clean you up a bit, even if it was only a brief wipe down, it was enough. When he came back, you looked at the state of him. His black jeans even blacker around his crotch and thighs, and it looked like he’d pissed himself.

“What happened?” You asked weakly.

The smile that Mary returned made your heart skip a beat. “You came so hard I was forcibly ejected from your cunt.” He said climbing back onto the bed. “And you squirted everywhere. We’re going to have to change the sheets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. I wanna make you do it again.”

“Not tonight, love. I’m tired.”

Mary laughed. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He placed the wash cloth on the bedside table and lay down next to you again, scooping you up and holding you tightly, allowing you to bury your head in his bare chest now that his shirt had been removed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You replied, placing a little kiss over his heart.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi can I get your thoughts on the rise turtles being affected by the primal moon moon au please �� love to hear your thoughts will their act the same or would their personalities be way different 👀

would Raph be like his savage self

Would Donnie act more villainy

would Leo be gaslighting, girl bossing his darling

mikey is a interesting one especially since his has different personals (Dr delicate touch , dr feeling and dr rude ?)

or would he be the same but different in a way ? Would their all act the same but more eerie to them 👀👀👀 love to hear your thoughts ^^

Primal Moon Turtles

I thought for a while as to what instincts and behavior Raphael has to be amplified by be the Primal Moon, and I though- the big guy is pretty doting, isn’t he? He definitely adores all his siblings, trying his best to keep them all safe and healthy. He even has a baby voice he uses with them. (I love this guy so much.)

So, when viridescence plagues him and strips away all inhibitions, his nurturing traits are boosted by damn near triple. Raph goes from reasonably worried about his loved ones to being outright paranoid.

Forget “you can’t go on a mission alone”, he shifts to “Is that a knife, Y/N?! In your hand?! Put it down before you cut all your fingers off!” very quickly. (It was a butter knife.)

As an alligator snapping turtle, Raph also gains a serious fondness for soaking underwater and burying himself in mud, constantly submerging himself for longer and longer periods of time. Eventually, the family sends you out to coax him back onto land, offering cuts of meat and cuddles to get him to stop nearly drowning himself.

Sitting behind him as he eats, scrubbing newly grown algae off his shell with one of those bristle brushes as he squirms around happily.

Leonardo’s desire to establish himself as someone worthy of attention and admiration takes a notably nasty turn, leading him to grow outright aggressive. Often tries to pick fights, especially with people who interact with Y/N.

Instead of merely showing off, now he stalks through the corridors of the sewers picking fights with anything that passes by. (Boy is out here throwing hands with driftwood.)

It usually falls to Raph to drag the red-eared slider back home, resorting to physical restraints and taped on headphones with soothing music to try and keep him from lashing out violently.

And then he wakes up covered in bruises and cuts from his fights, praying that he didn’t try to attack his family this time, too.

Horrible situation, all around.

Out of every mutant and yōkai in ROTTMNT, Donatello is one who hates the Primal Moon the most. For him, every cycle heaps him with a massive dose of genuine insecurity and self-hatred, feeling pathetic and stupid.

His faculties sort of… regress? But his personality stays the same, bearing a genuine desire to make and create. Instead of machinery or tech, though… he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, grinding rocks into spearheads and binding them to long sticks.

Softshell turtles are hunters, after all.

Donnie’s diet switches almost entirely to fish he’s personally caught, and he starts to bed on sand and sunbathe for warmth. Also, lots of swimming.

Y/N and Mikey are the only two people who can reliably get close to him during one of his ‘hunting moods’, anyone else receiving a sharp snap of his jaws.

Of course, being able to draw near that doesn’t that he’s going to let you pull away.

Poor boy gets emotional, and big time. Given that Ornate Box Turtles are pretty docile and placid, Michelangelo has the least trouble during the Primal Moon’s rising. It also means that he’s the most lucid, capable of remembering each and every moment of trouble and fighting, verbal or physical.

Mikey often bunks down with Y/N through the week, relying entirely on them for support and comfort. He can’t do much but shudder in their arms, pretending that he can’t hear his brothers fighting or hunting.

This boy needs you so damn bad that it hurts. He’ll cling tight, arms and legs wrapped tightly around you to prevent your removal from his side. It’s not that he’s trying to be possessive- Mikey just wants you to stay out of the trouble and danger that his brothers are getting into.

His dietary preferences switch to be much more in line with his turtle half, eating grass and berries and squirmy pests. Donnie also supplies the younger turtle with cuts of freshly hunted fish. Doesn’t have much of a love for water, and actually prefers to move around on dry land.

The easiest to deal with, bar none.