#a voice echoing from a sewer

[theghostisametaphor]

No wait, this works. Power of friendship beats the narrative, the narrative beats isolation (because it pulls you into the story), and isolation beats the power of friendship (bc your friends can't help if you isolate yourself).

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part Three

Summary: At last, you're about to face whatever—or whoever—is behind all this chaos, but what you uncover will haunt you, and Logan's connection to it makes you realize that you’re only a piece in someone else’s game

PART ONE | PART TWO | FINAL PART

Warnings: canon-level violence, manipulation, soft moments, plot-twist WC: 7.9k - MASTERLIST

----

Well, this is it. 

The day you and Logan have decided on to investigate the location has come. Standing side-by-side, you both peer down at the old rusted metal grate beneath your feet. It creaks ominously under your combined weight, the sound echoing through the empty lot. 

You can’t help the grimace that crosses your face as you take a step closer to the edge. "Please tell me this isn’t a sewer," you mutter, the disgust in your voice impossible to hide.

Logan shoots you a sideways glance, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Not a sewer," he grumbles. "And even if it was, we got a job to do. Now shut up and focus."

"Just saying," you mumble under your breath, rolling your eyes. "If we're about to wade through god-knows-what, I might need a minute to mentally prepare."

Your remark is ignored as he crouches down to grip the edge of the grate. With a grunt of effort, he lifts it up, revealing a gaping hole that descends into darkness. A musty, stale smell wafts up from below, and you can’t help but wrinkle your nose in distaste. Already securing the grate to the side so it won’t fall back into place, he straightens up and gives you a pointed look.  "You ready?".

"Yeah," you reply, bracing yourself, and trying to sound more confident than you feel. "Let’s get this over with."

Logan gives a short nod before pulling out a flashlight from his belt, clicking it on. The beam of light cuts through the darkness below, revealing a rusty ladder bolted to the side of the tunnel. The metal rungs look old and worn, covered in grime and dust, but they seem sturdy enough. Without hesitation, hesteps forward, testing the ladder with one hand before starting his descent.

You watch as he climbs down. The tunnel seems to swallow him whole, and soon all you can see is the faint glow of his flashlight moving deeper into the darkness.

"Come on," his voice echoes up from below, gruff but encouraging.

You take one last look at the dim, overcast sky above before gripping the cold metal of the ladder and starting down after him. The further you descend, the colder and damper the air becomes, clinging to your skin like a shroud. The sound of your own breathing is unnervingly loud in the confined space, and the occasional drip of water from above only adds to the uncanny atmosphere.

As your feet finally touch solid ground, you let out a small breath of relief, but the oppressive darkness around you quickly snuffs out any sense of comfort. The tunnel is narrow, the walls slick with moisture, and the air smells of damp earth and rusted metal.

Logan’s flashlight beam cuts through the abyss, revealing a long, empty passageway stretching out before you. The walls are lined with old pipes and cables, some of which look like they haven’t been used in decades. The faint hum of electricity buzzes in the background, the only sign that this place might still be connected to the world above.

"Isn’t this just cozy," you say sarcastically, as you click on your own flashlight, adding a second beam of light to murky gloom.

He shoots you a look, like he’s trying to keep you calm. "Ain’t nobody enjoyin’ this," he says. "But we’ve got to check it out. Could be nothin’, or it could be somethin’ we need to deal with."

You hum, forcing yourself to focus. The truth is, you have no idea what’s down there—whether it’s just an abandoned tunnel or something more sinister. That uncertainty gnaws at you, making each step feel heavier than the last. You remind yourself that Logan wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think it was important. He’s got a sense for these things, a gut feeling that’s saved both your asses more than once.

"Stay sharp," he says, his voice a low rumble. "There could be traps set up, or worse—mutants under control waitin' for us."

The tunnel seems to go on forever, each step echoing back to you like a warning. The beam of your flashlight dances across the uneven floor, picking out old, broken pipes, patches of moss, and the occasional rat scurrying away into the darkness. The air gets cooler the further you go, the damp chill seeping into your bones.

"How far do you think this goes?" you whisper.

"Hard to say," he replies, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "But we’ll know when we’re gettin’ close. Trust me."

Even though you can’t see in the dark,you nod. The two of you move cautiously down the tunnel, the only light coming from your flashlights. Every creak, every drip, every distant clank of metal sets your nerves on edge. It’s all so oppressive, as if the walls themselves are closing in on you, the weight of the earth pressing down from above.

"Ever get the feeling you’re being watched?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light, but you feel genuine fear.

Logan doesn’t miss a beat. "All the damn time," he grunts, his eyes flicking to every shadow, every dark corner. "Keep your head in the game, Knifey. We ain’t alone down here."

His steps slow ahead as you approach a corner where the tunnel bends sharply to the left. He holds up a hand, signaling you to stop as he slowly walks forward, checking to see if there is anything hiding. You freeze in place, your heart pounding in your ears as you listen. For a moment, the only sounds are the steady drip of water and the faint rustling of something—probably a rat—somewhere in the dark.

When you round the bend, the passage suddenly opens up into a larger chamber, the walls lined with more old, rusted equipment. The floor is uneven, slick with dampness, and the space feels almost too large, as if it’s swallowing the sound of your footsteps entirely.

"Feels like a setup," you whisper, your eyes darting around the chamber.

He hums grimly, his senses on high alert. "We’ll move fast, hit hard if we need to."

You both move cautiously into the center of the chamber, your flashlights sweeping the room. The emptiness is unsettling, the silence even more so. There’s no sign of life, no indication that anyone—or anything—has been here recently.

Then, in the far corner of the room, your flashlight catches something—a small metal door, half hidden behind a stack of old crates. It’s slightly ajar, just enough to let a sliver of darkness leak through.

"That’s gotta be it," you say.

"Stay behind me," he orders.

Nodding, you follow close as he approaches the door. The tension is palpable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware. The closer you get, the more you can feel it—the oppressive presence that seems to emanate from behind that door, like a thick, invisible fog.

He reaches out, pushing the door open with a creak that echoes through the chamber. The darkness inside is absolute, swallowing the beam of your flashlights like a black hole. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, your instincts screaming at you that something isn’t right.

The room beyond is large and dimly lit, the walls lined with screens displaying endless streams of data, numbers, and images flashing by in rapid succession. In the center of the room, a figure stands with their back to you, seemingly engrossed in their work.

As Logan steps forward, you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, a stiffness that mirrors your own. His body is coiled tight, muscles flexing beneath his skin, ready to spring into action at any moment. His claws slide out slowly, gleaming dangerously in the low light. With a menacing growl, he commands, "Turn around."

The figure doesn’t react immediately, their movements unhurried, almost casual. Then, slowly, they turn to face you, and the shadows reveal a woman with sharp, severe features. Her eyes are frosty, cunning, but there’s a glint of satisfaction in them that sends a shiver down your spine. When her eyes settle on the man next to you, a cruel smile spreads across her lips. 

"Hello, Wolverine," she purrs, her voice dripping with venom. There’s a twisted pleasure in the way she speaks his name, as if savouring every syllable.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and something something haunting and painful crosses his face. "Shadowmind," he spits, full of contempt and hatred. The name rolls off his tongue like a curse, heavy with the weight of what must be their shared history.

Your gaze snaps to him, practically breaking your neck as you turn your head. Your heart pounding in your chest, and you can feel the tension in the room thickening, almost suffocating. "You know her?" you whisper, desperate for understanding.

He nods, though his eyes never leave the woman, the intensity of his gaze enough to burn through steel. "Yeah," he mutters. "She was one of the experiments in Weapon X. Thought I killed her."

Shadowmind’s smile widens, her features gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You almost did," she replies bitterly, her tone laced with fury and twisted pride. "But you didn’t quite finish the job, did you, Wolvie? You left me broken, traumatized… but not dead. And now, I’m going to make sure you regret that."

His claws twitch, his hands flexing with the barely contained fury boiling just beneath the surface. "So all of this—sending those mutants after humans, after us��it was all to get to me?"

She nods slowly, the smile never fading from her lips as her gaze shifts to you, her eyes raking over you like a predatory its prey. "At first, yes," she confesses, almost conversationally, as if they’re discussing the weather. "I wanted to draw you out, make you suffer. I thought having mutants wreak havoc on people would get your attention. But then…" She trails off, her eyes lighting up with a twisted joy as a manic cackle bursts from her throat, bouncing off the walls of the chamber. "Then she fought back and killed them! Your little friend here is a mutant—and a powerful one. She made my job so much easier.”

You felt like you had just been bitch-slapped by the biggest bitch of all time. All of the attacks, all of the deaths—they weren’t just random acts of violence. Yes, you acted in self defence, but you didn’t know they were being controlled. You didn’t know that you were a mutant. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have killed them. Guilt starts crawling up your throat—you might throw up. 

"You twisted them," Logan seethes dangerously, like the rumble of thunder before a storm. His eyes burn with a rage that’s barely held in check, the kind of anger that promises violence. "You twisted those mutants’ minds just to get at me. Made them your fucking pawns.”

Shadowmind shrugs, the gesture so nonchalant it scares you. "I did what I had to," she says cooly, while bringing her hand up to her face as she looks at her nails. "You took everything from me, Wolvie. My life, my sanity… now it’s time for you to lose something."

Then, you scream.

It’s a raw, painful sound that scratches your throat as it crawls up and out of your mouth. Your mind feels like it is being split in two, the agony so intense that you can’t even think. Your hands fly to your head, clutching it as if you can physically hold yourself together. The flashlight slips from your fingers, clattering to the ground with a hollow, clanking sound that echoes in the room. Your vision blurs, the world around you spinning as you struggle to stay upright.

Logan’s head whips toward yours, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes you’ve never seen before—terror. Pure, unfiltered terror etched into his features, cutting through the usual stoic mask he wears. "Fight it!" he shouts, his voice sharp, urgent, but it feels distant, like he’s speaking from the end of a long tunnel. "Don’t let her take control!"

You try to obey, to resist the overwhelming force pressing down on your mind, but it’s like trying to swim against a riptide. Your limbs betray you, moving without your consent, and you can only feel horror wash over you as your hand reaches for the blade hidden in the side of your boot. Your fingers close around the hilt, the metal cold and familiar, but the ease with which you lift it feels wrong—alien.

"Logan, I—" You choke out, desperately trying to warn him, but the words come out strangled, distorted by the crushing weight of Shadowmind’s influence. The connection between your mind and body is fraying, slipping away.

Then it happens. Her grip tightens around your consciousness, squeezing until everything goes black. The world around you dissolves into a dark, endless void where the only sound is the incessant whispering of voices, all chanting the same sinister command: Kill him. Destroy him. Hurt him.

You can’t think. You can’t see. It’s like you’re drowning in a sea of dark, suffocating orders, your own thoughts buried beneath the onslaught of the woman’s will. The weapon in your hand feels heavy, but it’s not your hand anymore—it’s hers. Your body is no longer your own.

"Fight it!" A voice tries to cut through the fog, but it’s distant, muffled, like he’s shouting at you from underwater. It’s too far away, too weak compared to the relentless chorus in your head. Kill. Hurt. Destroy.

Without conscious thought, your body moves. The lava-like energy surges through your veins, your hands glowing an intense, fiery orange, the heat building until it feels like you just stuck your hand in a volcano. You lunge at Logan, the blade slashing through the air with a ferocity that isn’t yours.

He barely dodges the strike, his claws moving as he counters your attack. "Push back, don’t let her in!" he yells desperately as he blocks another of your strikes, the force behind it sending him staggering back a few metrs. But you can’t hear him—not really.

Your powers flare uncontrollably, the heat in your hands intensifying until it feels like your skin is about to burst into flames. A scream that’s more Shadowmind’s than your own tears from your throat, and you swing your fist. The molten energy collides with his claws, heating through the adamantium like it’s nothing. He grunts in pain but doesn’t back down. Instead, he grabs your wrist, trying to pull you out of the mental prison you’re trapped in.

"Come on, Knifey! I know you’re in there!" His voice is fervent, pleading. 

"Poor little Wolverine. Can’t even protect your little friend?” Shadowmind’s tyrannical laughter echoes through your thoughts. “She’s mine now. You can’t save her. Just like you couldn’t kill me.”

He grits his teeth, his muscles straining, hands melting, as he tries to hold back the power surging through you. But the voices won’t let you stop. They won’t let you think. You’re just a puppet on strings, forced to do this woman’s bidding. You lash out with your other hand, the blade slicing across Logan’s side, drawing blood. He hisses in pain but refuses to let go, his grip on your wrist tightening as he tries to bring you back to yourself.

"I know you can break free!" Logan shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. "You’re stronger than her!"

Shadowmind’s grip is ironclad, her control absolute. The whispering in your head grow louder, more frantic. Kill him. Hurt him. Finish him. You wrench your arm free from Logan’s grasp and drive your fist into his stomach, pushing him back against the wall.

He stumbles but doesn’t fall. He fights back with everything he has, his claws slashing through the air as he tries to subdue you without killing you. It’s no use—neither of you can die, and she knows it. She’s watching the two of you tear each other apart, a smile on her lips like she’s enjoying a show.

"You can’t stop it, Logan," She taunts. “You’re just delaying the inevitable."

His eyes flash in desperation as he roars in frustration, dodging another one of your attacks before grabbing you by the shoulders. "Fight it, damn it! " he shouts, shaking you. "Don’t let her win!"

But you just can’t. It’s impossible. The sounds—the whispers—block out everything, leaving you with nothing but the burning need to obey. You slam your fist into the clawed mutant’s side again.

"Come back to me!" he yells. "Come back to me!"

To shut him up, your hands grab him by the back of the neck and, with all your strength, you slam his head against the concrete wall. The impact is sickening, the sound of bone hitting stone reverberating through the chamber.

Logan’s body goes limp, his grip on your shoulders loosening as he crumples to the ground, unconscious. The voices suddenly go silent, the mental chains around your mind shattering as Shadowmind’s control slips away.

You blink, disoriented, the world around you coming back into focus. Your hands are still glowing with that flowing energy, your heart racing as the realization of what you’ve done sinks in. You look down at your friend’s motionless form, horror flooding your veins.

"What… what did you make me do?" you whisper, your voice trembling as you take a step back, staring at your hands as if they belong to someone else.

Shadowmind laughs, the sound cold and mocking. "You did exactly what I wanted you to do," she says sweetly, sickeningly sweet. "You proved that no matter how strong you think you are, I can break you. Both of you."

You shake your head. "This isn’t over," you say, anger and fear dowsing you. "We’ll come for you. We’ll end this."

Her smile widens, a dark, knowing look in her eyes. "Oh, I’m counting on it," she says softly, almost affectionately in its cruelty. "But for now, I think I’ll let you live with what you’ve done. After all, the real torture comes from the inside, doesn’t it?"

She waves a hand dismissively, and the remnants of the mental pressure that had been suffocating you vanishes completely. The sudden release makes you lurch forward, your knees nearly buckling as the full weight of your actions crashes down on you. The chamber feels like it's closing in, it’s hard to breathe as you watch Shadowmind step back toward the console, her gaze lingering on Logan’s unconscious form with a sense of triumph

"I’ll be waiting, Wolverine," she says. "And next time, I’ll make sure you both suffer."

With that, she melts into the shadows, disappearing like a phantom, leaving you alone in the silent chamber with Logan’s still form. The only sound that breaks the quiet is your ragged breathing, the pounding of your heart a deafening roar in your ears.

You drop to your knees beside him, your hands trembling violently as you reach out to touch him, your fingers hesitating, afraid of what you’ll find. Relief floods through you when you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breaths shallow but present. But the sight of the blood trickling down from where wound would have been on his head—where you slammed him against the wall—makes your stomach churn with guilt.

"I’m sorry," you whisper, your voice cracking as tears blur your vision. "I’m so sorry, Logan…"

He doesn’t respond, his face pale and still. For what feels like an eternity, you just sit there, cradling his head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair, now matted with blood. 

----

After a few more minutes, and with trembling hands, you manage to lift Logan’s unconscious form, his body limp in your arms, and haul him onto your back. Thanks to your mutant strength, he’s not heavy—physically, you can carry him with ease—but the emotional weight of it, the burden of what you’ve done, makes him feel like he weighs a thousand pounds.

The Wolverine, silent and motionless—it’s something you’ve never seen before, and it’s terrifying.

The tunnel is dark and seemingly endless as you make your way back, every step feeling like a battle against the overwhelming tide of despair threatening to pull you under. Tears stream down your face, silent and unchecked, as you hold onto him, his head resting against your shoulder. 

Eventually, you reach the van, the sight of it a small beacon in the abyss. With great care, you lower his body into the back, laying him down as gently as you can. His face is still so pale, his breaths too shallow, and the sight makes you feel worse. 

You climb into the van beside him, your hands trembling as you search for something to wipe away the blood. Once you find a cloth, you gently stroke his face. The only response is the rhythmic sound of his breathing, and the silence that fills the van is suffocating. You lean over him, your forehead resting against his as tears continue to spill from your eyes. "I’ll fix this," you vow. "I’ll find a way to fix this… I promise."

----

The drive back to the warehouse is a blur. Logan doesn’t stir, not even when the van hits a rough patch of road. Not even when you make a shitty turn. You keep glancing back at him, hoping to see those familiar eyes staring back at you, but there’s nothing. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest.

When you finally arrive at the warehouse, you just sit there, gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white. Then you move.

You slowly slide Logan out of the van, his weight heavy against you as you half-drag, half-carry him toward the bed—his bed. The place where you’ve slept for the past few nights while he took the couch. Laying him down, your hands shake vigorously as you arrange him as comfortably as you can.

He’s still unresponsive, and all you can do is sit beside him, your heart hammering in your chest as you wait, watching him closely for any sign that he’s waking up. The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. Your mind races, replaying every second of the fight, the way Shadowmind twisted your thoughts, the way your body had moved against your will.

You’re lost in those dark thoughts when you finally see it—a faint twitch of his fingers, a slight furrow in his brow. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes flutter open, slowly focusing on the ceiling above him. For a split second, he looks disoriented, then those steel eyes shift toward you.

Before you can stop yourself, you practically launch yourself at him, covering his body with yours, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. The suddenness of it makes him stiffen for a moment, his body tensing under your touch. But then, slowly, you feel him relax, his arms wrapping around your waist in return, holding you close.

His broad chest is warm and solid beneath yours, the strength in his arms grounding you in a way that makes you think nothing else can. You can feel the beat of his heart, steady and strong, and it calms the storm inside you just a little. Letting yourself melt into the embrace, the overwhelming relief of feeling him alive and whole washes over you.

But then your thoughts catch up to you, and you pull back slightly, your heart racing for an entirely different reason. What the hell am I doing? You force yourself to push away the thoughts of how good it felt to be in his arms, how comforting his strength was. Not the time or place.

When you make eye contact, you realize how close you still are. Your faces are just inches apart, and for a mere moment, neither of you move. His eyes, intense and unreadable, lock onto yours, and you feel a jolt of something electric shoot through you.

"Logan, I’m—" you start to apologize, but the words catch in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, silencing you with a look. "It wasn’t you," he says softly, tightening his hold. "I know it wasn’t you."

The sincerity in his eyes almost breaks you, but you manage to hold it together. The two of you sit there in silence, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. And yet, there’s something else too—something that lingers in the way your gazes stay locked a moment too long, in the way his hands still rest on your hips, the warmth of his touch seeping through your skin.

You pull back completely, breaking the moment. Standing up, you take a deep breath to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your heart is still racing.

"I was really worried that I actually hurt you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you look anywhere but at him.

Logan sits up slowly, his movements a little stiff, but he’s already recovering. "I’m tough to get rid of," he says, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are serious. "But thanks."

You nod, swallowing hard as you try to shake off the residual tension. "You should rest," you say, gesturing to the bed. 

He studies you for a moment, as if he’s trying to read something in your expression. Then he yields, lying back down, but not before he gives you one last look. "You need rest too, Knifey.”

"Yeah," you agree. "I will."

But as you walk away, you can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his arms around you, and you can’t help but wonder what the hell just happened between you.

----

The warehouse falls into an uneasy silence after you step away from the bedside. The faint light filters through the cracks in the windows, casting shadows across the cluttered space. You move to a nearby chair, sinking into it with a heavy sigh, your mind still spinning from everything that’s happened. The weight of what you did under Shadowmind’s control sits heavily on your chest, the guilt plaguing you even as you try to focus on the immediate future.

You can hear Logan’s breathing slow and even out as he drifts back to sleep, his body needing time to recover from the ordeal. You know he’s right—both of you need rest—but you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes just yet. The memory of the fight, of your body acting against your will, is too fresh, too raw. You keep replaying the moment you slammed his head against the wall, the sickening sound of the impact still reverberating in your ears.

Time passes slowly. The warehouse is quiet, save for the occasional creak of old metal and the distant hum of the city outside. You sit there, watching over the mutant, your body refusing to relax. Eventually, exhaustion starts to creep in, and your eyelids grow heavy, but every time you start to drift off, you’re jolted awake by the memories.

After what feels like hours, the first rays of dawn begin to pierce the darkness. There isn’t much light, but it brings a sliver of comfort, a reminder that the night is over. You glance over at Logan, who is still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. Despite the bruises and the cuts that have healed, he looks peaceful—something you don’t often see.

Unable to sit still any longer, you get up and start pacing the warehouse, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been building up inside you. The physical movement helps clear your mind a little, but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot of emotions tangled up in your chest.

As you walk, your thoughts keep circling back to Shadowmind. The way she taunted you, the way she manipulated your mind so effortlessly—it’s infuriating. And then there’s the way Logan looked at you afterward, the way he didn’t want your apology. When you remember the way his strong arms around you, the way you felt so small but safe in his embrace… It sends a chill throughout your body, and you quickly shake off the thought.

Focus, you tell yourself. There’s no time for this. You have a job to do.

Yet even as you try to push those thoughts away, they keep creeping back, resurfacing whenever you’re not paying attention. The connection you felt in that brief moment of vulnerability lingers, and it’s unsettling. Your friendship with him has improved tremendously within the last week, building on trust and mutual respect, but this…this feels different, and you’re not sure how to deal with it.

By the time the sun is fully up, you’re mentally and physically exhausted. You decide to make some coffee, hoping the routine task will help ground you. The familiar sounds of the coffee maker, the scent of fresh brew filling the air, offer a small comfort. You pour yourself a cup, savoring the warmth as it spreads through your body, chasing away the last remnants of the night’s chill.

Sitting back down, cradling the mug in your hands, you hear movement behind you. You turn to see Logan stirring, his eyes blinking open as he slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position. He looks around, taking in the light streaming through the windows before his gaze settles on you.

"Morning," he mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," you whisper. "How’re you feeling?"

Logan stretches, wincing slightly as he does, his muscles protesting the movement. "Feels like I got hit by a truck," he mutters with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood. But then, his expression softens, the humor fading from his eyes as he looks at you with genuine concern. "But I’ll be fine. You?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to answer. "I’m… okay," you finally say, though you’re not sure if that’s entirely true. After a moment, you add, "I just… I’m sorry, Logan. For what happened. For what I did."

He shakes his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it clear he doesn’t want you to carry this burden. "I told you, it wasn’t you. Shadowmind’s the one to blame, not you. You fought her as hard as you could."

"But I still—" you start, but he cuts you off with a look.

"You didn’t have a choice," he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. "And we’re going to make sure she pays for what she did. Together."

The mention of her name—Shadowmind—casts a shadow over Logan’s face. It’s the same haunted look you saw down in the tunnels, when he saw her again. There’s clearly more to the story, more to the pain that’s etched into his expression. You hesitate, unsure if you should press further, but curiosity and concern for him win out. "Logan," you ask quietly, "who is she? What’s the history between you two?"

He leans back against the wall, the tension in his body not easing but shifting as he gathers his thoughts. Sucking in a harsh breath, you can tell that whatever he’s about to say is something he rarely, if ever, shares.

"Her real name is Lorna Mallory," he begins, his voice carrying the weight of memories long buried but never forgotten. "We crossed paths years ago, back when I was with Weapon X."

"She was one of the many mutants that Weapon X experimented on," Logan continues bitterly. "She had powerful telepathic and telekinetic abilities, but the scientists wanted to push her beyond her limits, see just how much they could get out of her. They messed with her mind, twisted it, just like they did with me. But Lorna… she wasn’t like the others. She fought back, hard. She wouldn’t let them break her."

He pauses, his eyes distant, as if he’s seeing the past play out in front of him. You can almost picture it too—the cold, sterile labs, the cruel, calculating scientists, and the unending pain they inflicted on those they deemed as nothing more than tools. "I was different back then. More… feral, more under their control. They used me as their weapon, their enforcer. And when Lorna started resisting, they sent me after her."

Your heart sinks as you begin to piece together the story, the tragic and brutal connection between Logan and Shadowmind. "What did they make you do?" you ask, though part of you dreads hearing the answer.

His jaw clenches, his muscles tightening so much so it’s like he’s physically bracing himself for the confession. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes, the shame and regret palpable in the air between you. "They sent me to stop her. To… subdue her," he gets out. "I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t in control of myself any more than you were back there." 

Finally, he looks at you. "I attacked her. Hurt her badly. But she survived. Barely. The damage I did wasn’t just physical—it shattered her mind. Turned her into the monster she is now."

The room is laden with the weight of Logan’s confession.

"And now she wants revenge," you say quietly, understanding the gravity of the situation.

He nods grimly. "She’s been waiting for this chance. I think in some twisted way, she blames me for everything that happened to her. And she’s right. I was the one who pushed her over the edge."

"But it wasn’t your fault," you insist, repeating the words he had said to you earlier. You can see the parallels between your situation and his, both of you victims of forces beyond your control.  "They used you, just like she used me."

He doesn’t seem convinced. "Doesn’t change what I did. And now, she’s come back to finish what she started. She wanted to lure me out, make me suffer, and when she found you, she saw a way to do it."

You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt that he’s been carrying for so long. It’s clear that this fight with Shadowmind isn’t just about survival for him—it’s personal. 

Reaching forward, you grab his hands in yours, holding them tightly. "We’ll stop her," you say. "We’ll find her and put an end to this."

Logan looks at you, a flicker of something softer passing through his gaze. "Yeah," he agrees quietly. "We will."

----

The two of you decide to spend the next week doing nothing. There isn’t much to do anyway, you know your goal, you just have to act on it. But you don’t want to—not now. You want to savour these moments with Logan where it feels like you hadn’t tried to kill him. Where, for a little while, you can forget about the darkness that still persists in the corners of your mind.

So much has changed, you think, since the encounter with Shadowmind. From the point that he shared more about his past, it’s like the floodgates have opened. Logan no longer hides behind his rough exterior, letting you in to see who he is when his guard isn’t up. 

The small moments of bickering have turned into playful banter, the non-committal grunts have evolved into full-fledged conversations, and the sidelong glances have turned into lingering looks. What was once tension between you now feels like a quiet comfort, a connection that’s deepened with each passing day. You’ve gone from being reluctant allies to something more—something you’re not sure either of you are ready to name, but it’s there, undeniable in the way he stands a little closer, in the way his touch lasts just a little longer, in the way your heart skips a beat every time your eyes meet.

That’s why after a particularly quiet start to the day, you decide to cook something—a way repay Logan for letting you seek shelter with him, and lending his shoulder for you to lean on when you need to. But cooking has never been your strong suit, and as you stand in the kitchen, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables and a sauce that’s beginning to smell suspiciously burnt, you realize you might be in over your head.

Logan appears beside you as if summoned by the smell of impending disaster, his arms crossed over his chest, a bemused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You tryin’ to burn the place down, or what?"

Placing your hand on your hip in mock defiance, you huff, turning to face him. "I’m making dinner, obviously. Do you have eyes?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "That what you call it? Smells like you’re tryin’ to poison us both."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a playful glint in them. "Ha ha, very funny. I’m just… experimenting."

Snorting, his amusement is evident as he steps into the kitchen, surveying the scene of culinary carnage. "Experimentin’? Well, let’s see what you’ve got so far." He peers into the pan, his expression growing even more dubious. "You know, maybe I should take over before you really do burn the place down."

You make a face, reluctantly stepping aside as he moves to the stove with the confidence of someone who’s rescued more than a few meals in his time. "Fine, but only because I don’t want you to complain about my cooking for the next week."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he starts to salvage the meal, adding a few more ingredients with practiced ease, adjusting the heat, and stirring with impressive skill–and you didn’t even know that stirring required skill!

You hover nearby, more a spectator than a helper at this point, and you go to reach for something on a high shelf—maybe the salt or some spices, you’re not entirely sure—but as you stretch, you lose your balance. Before you can grab the counter to stabilize yourself, Logan’s hands are suddenly on your hips, steadying you with a gentle grip. For a moment, you just stand there, your back pressed against his chest, the world narrowing down to the steady rhythm of his breath, the solid warmth of his body anchoring you.

"You okay?" he asks lowly, close to your ear.

A bit breathless, and feeling the solid warmth of him behind you, all you can do is nod and try your best to string together a sentence. "Yeah, just… clumsy."

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands resting on your hips for a second longer, as if to make sure you’re really steady. When he finally does, you turn to face him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks."

"Anytime,” he hums.

You both fall into a comfortable rhythm after that, working side by side in the kitchen. There’s a bit of bickering—mostly about your questionable cooking methods and his insistence on doing things his way—but it’s light, teasing, and you realize how much you love this. The ease, the banter, the way he seems to know exactly what you need without you having to say a word.

And when you sit down to eat later, the meal actually turning out better than you expected, there’s a sense of calm that settles between you. He catches your eye, and there’s something in his gaze—something warm, reassuring. "See? Told ya I’d make sure we didn’t get poisoned," he says with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky."

An unexpected banging on the warehouse’s metal doors shatters the quiet moment. You and Logan freeze, both of you instinctively tensing as your eyes meet in confusion and alarm.

“Does anyone know you live here?” you ask tightly, eyebrows furrowed. 

His expression darkens, his brows knitting together in a deep, foreboding frown. “Fuck no,” he growls.

The pounding on the door continues, relentless and ominous, each thud vibrating through the metal like a warning. Wordlessly, Logan moves toward the door, his steps slow and cautious, every muscle in his body taut and ready for whatever might be on the other side. You follow him closely, your senses on high alert, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation.

He reaches the door and hesitates for a fraction of a second, his hand hovering over the latch. His eyes flick to you, a silent communication passing between you—be ready. Then, with a swift motion, he unlatches the door and yanks it open.

In an instant, a mutant leaps at him with insane intensity, teeth bared and claws outstretched. Logan barely has time to react before they’re both locked in a brutal struggle, his claws flashing out as he fends off the attack. The sheer force of the mutant’s assault drives them both back a few steps.

“Logan!” you shout with urgency as you watch them grapple with each other.

But before you can even think to help, a wave of mutants surges toward the open doorway, their movements are eerily synchronized, as if driven by a single, malevolent will. Panic surges through you, your instincts screaming at you to act. You lunge forward, grabbing the nearest mutant and hurling them back with all your strength. The mutant crashes into the others, causing a brief moment of chaos among them.

“Get the door!” Logan shouts over his shoulder, his voice rough with exertion as he continues to fend off the mutant still trying to tear him apart.

You rush to the door, throwing your weight against it as you struggle to push it closed. The mutants on the other side slam into the door with relentless force, their growls and snarls mingling with the metallic screeching of the hinges, turning the warehouse into a scene of barely controlled chaos. The metal groans under the strain, the door trembling against your efforts to hold it shut.

“Logan, help me!” you cry out, your voice strained as you use every ounce of your strength to keep the door from giving way. You might have super strength, but against a hoard of mutants? Impossible.

He finishes off the mutant he was grappling with, leaving the attacker a bloody mess on the floor, then he’s at your side in an instant, hands bracing against the door as he leans his full weight into it. The mutant who attacked him now lying on the floor, a bloody mess. Together, you manage to push the door closed, the sound of the latch clicking into place reaching your ears. But the pounding on the other side continues, the door shaking under the persistant assault of the mutants.

“They’re being mind-controlled,” you gasp, your breath coming in ragged gulps as the whole situation hits you. The fear it causes seeps into your bones. The thought of these mutants being puppeted, forced to attack against their will, is horrifying enough—but the idea that Shadowmind has found you and Logan, that she’s orchestrating this, petrifies you. “But how did they find us?”

Logan grunts, his face twisted in concentration as he braces his shoulder against the door. “No clue.”

A sudden, horrifying thought strikes you, and you feel your blood run cold. “The van,” you whisper, more to yourself than anything.

Realizing the same thing your thinking, his eyes widen. “Shit… the GPS tracker.” His voice thick with anger and frustration. “They must have used it to track us down.”

You curse under your breath. “How didn’t we think of that?”

But there was no time to think of that now. The door shakes violently as the mutants on the other side continue to slam into it, their growls and snarls growing louder, more frenzied. You can feel the door beginning to buckle under the pressure. You press harder, using every ounce of strength you have, but it’s clear the door won’t hold much longer.

“Fuck,” Logan mutters, understanding washing over him as his knuckles whiten against the door. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s staring down a ghost. “They’re here for me.”

“What?” you snap, turning to him with wide eyes, confused and afraid. “What do you mean they’re here for you?”

“This is Lorna’s doing, for sure,” he growls. “She wants me.”

The implication behind his words isn’t lost on you. Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, a cold dread settling in. “No, no, no, don’t do this,” you plead, the desperation clear in your voice as your mind races to stop the train of thought you know is forming in Logan’s mind.

Your hands tighten on the door, as if you can physically hold him back from whatever reckless plan he’s considering. “Don’t even think about it.” 

“Let me go,” he says firmly. “Let me see what she wants.”

“Are you out of your mind?” you exclaim. The thought of Logan walking out there alone, straight into Shadowmind’s trap, sends a new wave of terror crashing over you. “She’s going to kill you!”

He sends you a grim smirk. “I can’t die, remember?”

But the attempt at reassurance does nothing to quell the fear that’s twisting in your gut.

“Please, no,” you beg, voice breaking as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The thought of losing him, of watching him walk into danger alone, is unbearable. “Why can’t we do this together? We’ve been through everything else side by side—don’t make me sit this one out.”

His expression softens for a split second, something tender and conflicted passing through his eyes. He reaches out as if to touch you, but stops himself short. “I can’t drag you into this any further than I already have,” he says lowly. 

“Logan, please…” you start to say, but before you can finish, he pushes you back with a shove, the suddenness of it sending you stumbling as you try to regain your balance. The door creaks under the pressure from outside, but Logan doesn’t hesitate. He yanks it open, and with one last look at you, he steps through with a determined stride.

“NO!” you scream, but the door slams shut behind him before you can reach him. You’re left standing alone in the dim light of the warehouse, your heart pounding with fear, anger, and helplessness.

Rushing to the door, you press your ear against, trying to catch any sound, any sign of what’s happening outside. The muffled sounds of the struggle reach your ears—grunts of pain, the clash of claws and flesh, the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground. You can hear Logan’s grunts and snarls, his feral side taking over as he fights off the attackers, but there’s something else too—a sinister laughter, one that you heard once before, that sends chills down your spine.

“Logan!” you shout, banging on the door, your fists pounding against the cold metal. “Logan, don’t do this! Don’t you dare leave me alone in here!”

But the only response is the sound of the battle raging outside, growing more distant as if being carried away by the wind. Knowing that that Logan is out there alone, on his way to face whatever horrors Shadowmind has prepared, destroys you. You sink to your knees, the cold of the warehouse floor bleeding into your skin as everything crashes down on you.

----

A/N: so….how we feeling??? some Logan POV next chapter!!

----

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[nabtime]

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

[bktoluver]

Underground Heat

Dean Winchester x f!reader

Summary: while on a hunt with the brothers you and dean are captured and locked up. some teasing and banter leads to a fun time while waiting for sam to rescue you.

Warnings: 18+, afab!reader, unprotected p in v, no big o, classic male and female mc have sex at the most inconvenient time where the bad guys could def get them, against the wall, kinda nasty place to have sex, reader tries to act like she’s not interested, he clocks her so hard 🙏🏻

Word Count: 1,668

not proof read 🫶 im him but im also in love with him. also not sure if i want to use second person pov or third person pov which is better 😭

As you and Dean find yourselves trapped in the dimly lit sewer room, you can't help but feel a sense of unease wash over you. You glance around the damp space, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you take in your surroundings. The air is thick with the smell of mold and decay, making it hard to breathe. You shiver involuntarily, pulling your jacket closer to your body for warmth.

"Great, just great," Dean mutters under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. He looks around the room, his gaze settling on the metal door that's separating you from freedom. “Looks like we're stuck here until Sam figures out where we are."

You turn to face him, leaning against the cold concrete wall. "Well, we can't just sit here and wait for him to save us. We need to come up with a plan." Your voice echoes off the damp walls, the sound reverberating in the otherwise silent chamber.

Dean chuckles dryly, shaking his head. "And what plan would that be?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I don't know," you admit, biting your lower lip nervously. You begin pacing back and forth, your boots clicking against the wet floor. "Maybe there's something in here we can use to break down the door."

Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Like what? A magic wand?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing in here but mold and rat shit."

Your pacing comes to a halt as you turn to face him again, frustration creeping into your features.

"Well, thanks for being so helpful," you snap, letting out a frustrated sigh.

With a huff, you sink down onto the cold concrete floor, your legs giving out beneath you. You rest your back against the damp wall, closing your eyes as you try to think of a solution to your current predicament. Having been stupid enough to fall for the shifter’s trap, now stuck down in the sewers somewhere. The silence in the room is almost deafening, the only sounds coming from the distant dripping of water and the occasional scampering of rats in the distance.

As you sit there, you can't help but steal glances at Dean out of the corner of your eye. Even in this dire situation, he still manages to look incredibly attractive, despite the grimy surroundings. The way his clothes hug his muscular frame, the slight stubble lining his jawline, and those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight through you...

Snapping out of your momentary trance, you shake your head and push aside any unwanted thoughts. Now isn't the time for such foolish distractions.

As if sensing your gaze upon him, Dean turns to look at you, his expression unreadable.

"You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me," Dean taunts with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the opposite wall.

You roll your eyes at him, a small smile playing on your lips despite yourself. "Fat chance," you retort.

"Oh really?" Dean challenges, pushing himself away from the wall and taking a step closer to you. "So you don't think I'm charming, funny, or irresistible?"

"Arrogant and delusional maybe," you say, fighting back a grin. You pull yourself up to your feet, brushing off the dust and dirt from your jeans. "But definitely not irresistible."

Dean takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, sending a small thrill down your spine and your breath hitches slightly as you catch a whiff of his cologne – a mix of sandalwood and citrus. . "Is that so?" He challenges, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yup," you confirm, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart begins to race in your chest. You meet his gaze squarely, refusing to back down from his intense stare. There's no way you're going to let him know that he's affecting you like this. That would just be embarrassing.

But as Dean continues to close the distance between you, towering over you with his broad shoulders and commanding presence, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain your composure. The feeling is disconcerting yet undeniably tantalizing all at once. And that smug little smile he's sporting isn't helping matters either – if anything, it's goading you on even further. Unconsciously, you take a half-step back, only for him to follow suit and close the gap once more.

He leans in close, his lips curled upwards in a lopsided grin.

"No part of you wonders what it would be like..." Dean trails off, leaving the insinuation hanging heavily in the air between you like a fog, waiting for you to fill in the gaps in your mind.

“Curiosity killed the cat...” you remark as you continue to study his features intently, noting with barely concealed amusement the way color has risen ever so slightly along his neckline and ears. “But satisfaction brought it back.” He grins reciting the rest of the idiom and raising a challenging brow.

With no reaction from you, save the dumb staring, Dean moves in claiming your mouth with his, tongue sliding past your open lips eagerly exploring every inch.

As his lips press roughly against yours, the rational side of your brain seems to evaporate instantly—replaced by sheer sensation washing over your body as he forces your lips apart, seeking entrance. A surge of emotion floods through you at the contact; lust bubbling beneath your skin causing your knees to buckle for a split second before you catch yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Time seemed to slow to a crawl in this cramped and humid underground tomb. Seconds seem like hours and you realize this may not have been your greatest idea but its certainly working towards sating your carnal hunger for him all the same.

Feeling bold and wanting more—your fingers clench into fists twisting handfuls of fabric from his T-shirt as your thigh finds its way between his. Pressing urgently against his leg and eliciting an unexpected moan from the hunter entangled within this newfound intimacy with you against him—body melding against yours as you kiss feverishly ignoring all warning signs ringing in the back of your mind telling you now isn't the best time nor place to be doing whatever it is you both seem keen to act on. But none of that matters anymore as your world shrinks to just you and him.

His hands roam freely across your form claiming territory as they drift lower and lower until finally cupping your behind and hoisting you effortlessly into his arms, his strong grasp keeps you anchored there and your back pressed to the hard wall—a moan erupting from deep within your throat and vibrating through your entire chest cavity—inciting his grip on you further as he devours your gasps and moans mercilessly. Sucking your bottom lip into his mouth playfully before allowing a heated breath to fan across your swollen lips as they pull apart for air—only amplifying the growing hunger between you both—growing stronger by the second—making both participants acutely aware that restraint has officially lost this battlefield.

Dean relucatntly lets go of you as he lowers you back onto your feet. Leaning down over you, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss which serves to draw another passionate whimper from deep inside you while he quickly removes your pants entirely unable to contain his desire for even a brief moment longer. Exposing the bare flesh of your legs; goosebumps littered across their surface and raising them as you kick them to the side haphazardly. Reaching for his belt impatiently after removing those pesky barriers - his lips remaining locked against yours as if worried you might change your mind at any second if given the chance—while freeing his rock hard erection from confinement at long last.

He grabbed hold of your hips firmly while lifting and hooking your legs around his waist to support you easily as your back hits the wall again.

Bringing his mouth down against yours savagely—as he lines up his throbbing shaft alongside your slickened entrance — rubbing it gently against you provoking a pleased purr from your trembling lips.

You hook your heels around the curve of his flexing buttocks and pulling him toward you desperately as you writhe against him attempting to coax that thick bulbous tip inside.

"Eager are we?" He teased; pressing upward with his hips and spearing into you slowly with one swift thrust that stole the breath from both of you simultaneously. “Shut up.” You gasp out, eyes closing.

You let out a choked cry of pleasure as he retracted his hips and then snapped them back into you; digging your fingernails deeply into the muscles of his arms.

The rough texture of the damp stone scrapes your back through your shirt fabric with every thrust sent rippling throughout your core. Your nails dig in deeper with each successive impact from his body impaling itself inside yours. Foreheads pressed against each other closely and steamy exhales mingle together in the chill damp air.

With sweat gathering at your brow, he leans into your body more intensely — crushing you between the unforgiving cement block wall behind you and the heavy weight of his torso pinning you in place against it. The forceful slaps of pelvises colliding and ragged breathing fill the otherwise quiet room.

Both you and Dean freeze immediately still locked in each others embrace as you hear someone calling out your names outside that closed door from somewhere down the corridor beyond it. You share a quick panicked glance before hastily pulling away from each other. Panic setting in and reality starting to settle back into focus as the sound of Sam's distant shouting reaches your ear drums. “Shit, Shit.” Disengaging hurriedly your movements jerky and erratic as you frantically begin to collect your discarded clothing from earlier, struggling to stuff limbs into holes and zippers moving at hyper speed. Once you have gathered everything up you dash over to the door making noise to attract Sam.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— let go and i'll catch —

Warnings: angst

Summary: Jason needs to catch you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Word Count: ~600

“Get down from there!” Jason yelled, his words turning into frost. The cold seeped into his bones and settled in his spine until he shivered violently. His eyes turned upwards towards the sky, landing on your figure on the side of the building. Black smoke clouded the moon overhead. Sirens echoed against his chest and red and blue light flickered over his tall frame.

You pressed into the chipping wall a bit tighter. “And how should I do that?” You asked, shouting to be heard. Voice wavering in the air while you tried to keep steady. Your eyes darted to the smoke billowing out of the window next to you. 

Jason’s disguised voice called out to you. “Don’t move!” His attention cut to the officer approaching him, slightly hesitant of the vigilante that had a whole portion of Gotham under his pinky. 

“The fastest road this way is closed,” the officer informed him in a hushed tone as if you would overhear them. “Still under construction from the ruckus last week.” The Joker had planted multiple bombs filled with laughing gas in the sewers. He had blasted the roads from the inside, creating huge potholes in them. 

Jason tried not to panic. “How long out?” He tried to keep his voice even, trying to maintain a professional tone and mask his growing fear. When he had gotten the call of a fire in your complex, he had all but had an anxiety attack. He had quickly taken care of the goons he had been fighting on the other side of the city, called Oracle and told her that he would be there.

He was supposed to be the one protecting you.

“Ten minutes, Red Hood,” the officer replied quickly. “There’s too much traffic on that route with the closing.” He hooked his thumbs on his belt and tilted his head back to look at you, still perched on your half destroyed fire escape. 

The officer squinted at the smoke. “I’d say she’ll have to jump soon,” he said, eyes turning back to Jason to see him standing still. With his back straight and fists clenched, the officer knew it was his time to leave him alone. 

Jason looked at you. He took quick notes of the little space you had, the way your back pressed into the wall, the way the smoke started growing with each passing second. He counted the floors upwards, calculating as his eyes landed on you. Five floors. You were five floors up where the fire escape was broken off. He could climb the bottom two untouched floors.

His eyes darted to you when you screamed. 

You had fallen, holding onto the broken pieces of the railing. You cried out in agony when your hands slipped against the roughened metal. His heart ached. A bead of sweat broke out on his forehead and he ran forward, climbing the fire escape. Officers shouted at him for breaking protocol, but he didn’t care. All he saw was the blood on your hands and the way your face was contorted in fear and pain. 

He stood directly under you, two stories down from you. 

“Let go! Let go!” He yelled, fear now lacing his every word. He couldn’t care less about what the officers had to say about the rules being broken or the uncharacteristic fear that was in his voice. 

“What—”

“I’ll catch you. Let go and I’ll catch you!” His heart was beating faster with the wind blowing the smoke in your direction now. “Let go!”

You let go.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

3.7k / 38 / post-apocalypse au, part 2

...

You emerge deep in the city. Deeper than you should be.

You traveled on foot via the drainage tunnels connecting Amsterdam to the forest. This city was busy and beautiful once, the way unpolished amber is beautiful, but now it's overgrown and empty except for the undead roving the streets.

Staying underground is the best way to avoid the undead. Especially in the daytime. So when you creep through the streets in the open nighttime air, you know you have to be fast. You must find what you came here for.

You stick to the buildings and skulk in the shadows to take advantage of their poor eyesight to buy as much time as you can. You move in the shadows, turning corners to break line of sight and keeping yourself moving away from the few that see or smell you. But the undead—zombies, runners, biters, muties, whatever they’re called—will catch your scent eventually. And they do. Soon, too many lurch after you in mindless pursuit. They begin to stagger in your direction, stumbling over one another. Their howling voices echo off the walls of the abandoned buildings around you.

As you try to evade them, a few stragglers—those less decayed, those who can catch sight of you more easily and stumble in your direction to feast—begin to give chase. The city is so much more crowded than you feared, and you're quickly overwhelmed with nowhere else to run besides the open streets.

Running in the open is a death sentence. You have to get back underground. With your pumping heartbeat shooting adrenaline through you, you can't remember exactly which way leads back to the forest.

You get the horrible feeling that this city will become your tomb before morning comes. No, focus. You need to keep moving until you find a drainage tunnel. They all lead out of the city. Just go where the rain would go, you tell yourself.

You snake through the streets until you glimpse another stone-walled drainage ditch cutting between the street and walkways. You drop in, pressing yourself to the wall. You try to hide your tracks, hoping against hope that the undead might not realize you've slipped away and lurch off elsewhere, but no. No such luck. The undead are on you already.

You curse and take off in what you hope is the right direction. You push your panic into your legs as you try to outpace the zeds on your tail, but they're as fast as you are even in their undead state. They're not tiring the way you are as your body screams for rest. Your throat burns. You can't outpace them for much longer. They're persistence predators.

When you see the drainage ditch veer and dip into what looks like an underground spillway, your heart soars. The undead can't navigate sewers as well as you can. If you can just make it underground, you can slip away--

Then it comes into view and your heart drops. The spillway is blocked by the remains of a collapse. Piles of concrete and rubble block the way. It's a dead end. You're trapped.

The infected, though unintelligent and uncoordinated, are relentless and ravenous. And they're closing in on you fast.

You don't stop. You can't. You grip at the sharp concrete edges of the rubble blindly, pulling yourself up. The chunks of concrete are huge and ragged, overgrown with grass and slick with dew.

There's no time for fear as you try to claw your way to an exit you hope desperately isn't blocked. It's a small hope, but right now it's all you have.

The infected come up behind you, screeching and howling in pursuit. They're coming.

You climb as high as you can. Sure enough, there's no way through to the other side of the tunnel. Not that you can fit through, not with zeds at your back. On both sides, the walls of the drainage ditch loom over you. The railing at the top is almost high enough for you to climb, but when you try to get closer, stepping over the broken concrete, a loose piece slips and almost takes you with it. It rolls down the pile of debris and knocks past one screaming runner’s shoulder as it goes.

The undead aren't coordinated enough to climb as easily, but it’s only a matter of time. With the sheer number of them and a little more luck, they’ll reach you soon. Or you’ll step on a loose rock or slippery patch of grass and slide right back down into their clutches.

With nowhere to go and no exit in sight, your only option is to either fight, or wait out a slow descent into madness and death like everyone else.

You pull out Soap's gun and load it.

…

Dawn is breaking by the time Soap and his team make it to you, following the sounds of your gunfire.

Soap whistles—a signal to you. The piercing sound makes you flinch through your adrenaline high. You clamp your shaking fingers around your—his—gun. There are still dozens of undead, many now with bullet holes and arrow shafts sticking crookedly out of them. Your quiver is empty. You’re crouched, gun in hand, aiming at one as it draws closer. You don’t have the bullets to waste otherwise—not with your wounded arm.

It lurches forward.

But it’s not your bullet that strikes it through the head—it’s his, and it's a clean shot. The runner's head splits like a peach, chunks of bone and brain flying across broken stone. You turn your eyes up to see Soap lining up a third shot atop a nearby building, and you glimpse his squadmates heading toward you. God damn are you happy to see him. Before another zed can take the mulched one’s place, Soap fires again, reloads, and again. He takes out another with his second bullet before lining up a third shot.

A shout interrupts your line of thought. You look up and see a man stretching his hand toward you, startlingly close, bridging the gap between the safety of the railing and where you stand. One of Soap’s teammates—a man with a black scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. Ghost, you think his name is. You grab his hand.

Something else catches your attention in the rubble, too—long swaths, claws marks, carved under the mass of something much bigger than you or the undead. They disappear into the rubble and, conceivably, into the tunnel behind.

This is the lead you’ve been searching for all these days in this godforsaken place.

“Distance and cover!” Soap shouts, all focus.

You hear him. But if you withdraw now, you might not be able to follow those claw marks and search the tunnel. Half the undead in the city will be here before long, following the gunfire and howling. If you make the plunge back down into the depths, you might be able to find what you came for and get out intact before the undead get there forst. This could be your only chance.

Before you can move, Ghost yanks you by the hand, dragging you almost entirely up the sheer rocky wall. You bite down on a gasp, scrambling to keep your footing as he hauls you up and over the railing.

Soap’s rifle cracks again. Another biter, this one now trying to scale the wall after you, drops. Its upper torso explodes with a wet thwack.

You double back almost before you know what you’re doing and boost yourself back over the railing. You need to get into that tunnel.

Ghost grabs your arm again before you can jump. “Are you mad?”

“Let go!” you bark.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

God damn it. There’s no time to explain. Or maybe there is, but the adrenaline running through you makes it impossible to find the words.

When it’s clear he won’t back off, you bite him. Just sink your teeth into his hand hard enough to make him let go. He curses and rips his hand away, more in surprise than pain. You take off, vaulting over the railing, rushing to the very middle of the heap. The top of the tunnel. Loose chunks of stone roll under your feet. With Soap’s squad focused on taking out the zeds, you can focus for the first time on breaking your way through these stones.

You wedge your bow under the loosest, topmost piece and wrench it up as if wielding a crowbar. The rock tumbles. You do it again, and again, and again until you feel a steady stream of warm air rise from underneath. You follow it, ignoring the chaos behind you, until you’ve torn open a big enough gap to slip through.

You tuck into a slide, letting gravity take you down into the darkness and out of view.

“Bloody animal—get back here!” echoes after you.

…

You find what you’re looking for within minutes. Roach—he’s alive, but caught in what looks like a trap. A man-made trap. Your heart clenches when he sees you and his tail thumps in a weak greeting.

You’re at his side in moments. “Easy, busy. Don’t move. I’m right here.”

It doesn’t take long for Ghost and Soap to catch up to you.

The scathing words on Ghost’s tongue die at the sight of you crouched next to Roach. They can only stare in shock. Saying Roach is a dog would be an understatement. Roach is massive. Megafauna. He might have been shaped like a wolfhound breed except for his massive, maned shoulders and elongated muzzle full of too-large teeth. You’re on your knees under the huge beast’s jaw, dagger sawing at the contraption holding him. Even laying on his belly, he towers over you.

Roach locks eyes with Ghost and Soap. They stop, standing completely still.

Ghost glances over his shoulder. “Think the big mutt can take care of himself,” he tells you, scanning for encroaching zeds in the dark.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur to Roach, totally ignoring Ghost. You’re still trying to soothe him, but your voice is frantic. “Almost got you out. Just stay still—”

The trap groans under your knife, but it holds fast. Then Roach growls—a loud, deeply unsettling sound that vibrates through the cave walls. His yellow eyes don’t leave the men behind you.

You hear Soap’s voice. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Is this what you were looking for when you…” He shakes his head and walks toward you. From his belt, he pulls out a large hunting knife. “Let me.”

“You should stay back,” you call over your shoulder. “He doesn’t know you. Don’t make him feel cornered.”

“Sound advice,” Ghost says.

Roach stares at Soap intently. Roach shifts a paw closer to you.

“Leave the dog alone, Johnny,” Ghost says. “It’s tryin’ to protect her. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re not a threat. You’re as good as dog chow.”

But Soap hesitates. “It’s our trap,” he admits. “If you’d let me help, I could show you how to free him quicker. We need to move.”

As if in response, Roach growls again.

You shoot a frustrated look over your shoulder. “It’s your trap? Why the fuck would you have a—"

There’s a loud crack and the trap splits under your knife. Roach lurches free. Instantly, he limps around you, getting between you and the two men.

“Easy!” you cry. “Roach, heel.” You bury your hands in the fur on his flank. He’s enormous. Your head doesn’t even reach his shoulder. You can’t stop him physically. You need him to listen to you.

Roach steps closer to Soap, staring him down. His breath blows Soap’s hair back.

Soap doesn’t back down just yet. He’s not a threat, right? He proved it to you, now he can prove it to your dog. He hates dogs. Goddamn hates them. Why’d it have to be a dog you were looking for? Big fucking bastard of a dog.

Ghost speaks quietly from just over Soap’s shoulder. “No sudden moves.”

“Easy,” Soap says, raising his hands slowly in what he hopes is a peacemaking gesture. The rifle is slung over his shoulder, out of sight as it can get, and he tries to relax his posture.

You duck around Roach and stand between him and Soap. “Calm down, Roach,” you say again, like you’re talking to a misbehaving terrier instead of staring up at an animal three times your size. “They’re friends. See?”

You grab Soap’s arm and lace your fingers together with his. He tenses in surprise, but you ignore it. Roach goes quiet and looks at you, cocking his head. You hold your joined hands up to his nose to sniff.

Soap looks from you to the dog and back to you. Underneath the tension laced through his whole body, he’s impressed.

Roach sniffs Soap's fingers with yours and seems to relax. You reach up and scratch the fur under Roach’s chin—or as close as you can reach, standing on your toes—and you bring Soap’s hand up to do the same.

"Looks like you're approved,” you say with a little too much surprise in your voice.

Soap swallows as he touches his fingers to Roach's tangled fur, trying not to think about those stories of dogs being able to smell fear. But he forces himself to unclench, just a bit. He's glad you're both okay. And glad he's not about to get snapped in half by a giant fuckoff hellhound.

Roach takes another massive, curious sniff of your hands. Then he moves on to sniffing the top of Soap's head. Then he lowers his enormous maw and licks Soap with a giant tongue.

Soap grimaces. He looks more grossed out than defensive, at least. You smirk.

Ghost makes no move to join the handholding circle. "Not the strangest travelers we've seen, but close," he says. He glances over his shoulder, shifting his rifle impatiently. The others are cleaning up the group of zeds, but the quicker they can get out of here, the better. It’s never a good idea to be out in the city for too long. Especially not somewhere any shambling creature could wander up in the dark.

Soap shoots Ghost a look before glancing back at you. You're still standing close. He lets go of your hand. It's calloused, he notes, like his. It wasn’t like that before. "You've got a way with beasts."

You walk down Roach’s flank, checking for injuries. “He’s not a beast. He’s my dog. You’ve seen what the mutagen does to animals, right? The ones it doesn’t kill. Changes them.” You pat Roach’s flank fondly. “But I adopted him before all this started, back when he was just a normal dog.”

"No one gets to be normal anymore," Ghost mutters.

Soap chuckles. "Well, he's a bloody tank now, isn't he? Big lad. How the hell you keepin' him fed?"

Ghost examines the bite mark you left on his hand. "Got a hunch.”

"I'd apologize, but you shouldn't grab people who don't want to be grabbed," you tell Ghost. "You're lucky I didn't go for my knife instead.

Ghost gives you a flat look. “I’d say you’re the lucky one for deciding against it.”

“Easy, LT.”

Ghost scoffs. "She's just much a beast as the hound.”

You finish your inspection and find nothing major. Just scrapes and bruises. Nothing bleeding. No open wounds to attract more zeds, thankfully. Relieved, you return to Soap and Ghost again, giving Roach another scratch under the chin. Then you notice blood on Soap’s leg, soaking into his jeans. “Is that blood yours?” you ask him.

Soap glances down. "Aye. Took a swipe from one of those undead bastards. It's nothin’.”

"Doesn't look like nothing," Ghost says.

"It's just a little blood. I'm fine," Soap says. He steps away, but staggers on his injured leg. Ghost appears instantly to support him at the shoulder.

You step back, grimacing. Open wounds are risky. There's always risk of infection. Worse, the smell of blood attracts muties.

"I said it's fine," Soap says, but his voice is strained. He's in more pain than he wants to let on.

"Let me see that." Ghost kneels and pulls Soap's pant leg up to examine it. Then he grunts and stands back up. "It's a bad gash, but it's not life-threatening."

"Mm," Soap agrees, obviously trying not to cause more worry for his teammate. "I'm fine. Just gotta walk it off. Be peachy tomorrow." Blood drips around his boot heel.

"You'd better get going," you tell them. "Sun's coming up."

"You'd better find somewhere safe yourself, hen," Soap says. "It's a horror show out here in the daytime. Runners clusterin’ in packs--"

"She'll be fine," Ghost mutters. "Take care of the log in your own eye before you worry about the splinter in hers."

You pat Roach. "Found what I came for. Thanks for that, ah... for your help, Soap."

"Aye. You're a scrapper, that's for sure. Good to know you've got a lot more muscle with that one backing you up." He nods at Roach.

Ghost helps him stand up straight. The three of you make your way back to the entrance of the tunnel. By now, Soap’s crew has cleared away enough that they can help Soap out as Ghost boosts him up. They offer the same to you, but you refuse. They hurry out of the way as Roach shoulders his way through the comparatively tiny passageway. He squeezes through, widening it, and you follow easily. More soldiers than you expect—all dressed and outfitted like Soap and Ghost, armed and armored to the teeth—watch from behind buildings and over rooftops. You get the feeling that they have eyes on every zed in this half of the city. Several of the soldiers converge on you, moving like shadows, to help Ghost heft Soap along.

You tread with the group until you reach the edge of the city. Or maybe it’s the edge of the forest. The tree line half-swallows the streets and homes.

“Look after yourself out there,” Soap calls over his shoulder. You salute wordlessly in reply, and his eyes linger.

You watch them make their way out of the city, disappearing into the enormous trees and tall grass. Once they’re gone from view, Roach nudges you gently.

"I know, I know," you mumble.

He sits on his haunches to let you to climb up and take your seat on his back. You take off running to the east, leaving them behind.

That would have been the end of it. Except it's not long before pass by more runners—more than two dozen of them. They don't bother with Roach, smelling the mutagen affecting him and missing your smell completely smothered in his—but the direction they're heading, they'll run head-on into Soap’s party for sure. And with Soap injured, the smell of blood, being outnumbered...

Dread and guilt coil in your stomach. It doesn't matter how good they are. They'll be overwhelmed.

But it doesn't matter, right? You have what you came for. You should keep going. Mind your business. Stay alive.

Roach paws at the ground, agitated, and you realize you’ve unconsciously pulled him to a stop. You glance up, checking the sun’s distance from the horizon. You owe them. They helped you. Wouldn’t you be dead without them?

You let out a long, irritated groan. Then you nudge Roach to turn around. “Let’s go get them,” you mutter.

Roach bounds off into the trees, his nose leading you both back to Soap, Ghost, and the others once again.

A few of the men almost jump out of their skin when they see the shape and size of Roach bounding toward them.

Roach pulls up beside them in a flurry of grass and dirt clods. “There’s a group of maybe thirty zeds heading this way,” you say, looking at Soap from your high mount. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world for you to be doing. “You’d better hurry or they’ll swarm you.”

Soap and Ghost exchange a look. “We’re moving as fast as we can,” Ghost says. “If they catch up, we fight like we always do.”

“You won’t be able to fight them all. Not without a few of you getting picked off.”

“We won’t abandon your own.”

“She’s just tellin’ us what she’s seen,” Soap says. “Wouldn’t have come back otherwise. Best to leave me out here and hustle back to camp. Easier to hide one person than a whole group. Can’t have you all dying just because I was a right idiot and got myself hurt."

Ghost glares at him. "That's not up for debate.”

Soap smirks back. "You sayin' I can't handle myself?"

"No one's leaving you here. You're coming with us, one way or another.”

"Hell," Soap mutters. He groans from the pain. "Amnae riskin' the team over my injury."

You listen to them bicker, shifting as you try to calculate how much time they have before the muties get here. Not long.

You should just leave now, right? You told them what was coming, which is more than they'd usually get. They can fend for themselves, right? They've done it before. A hundred times, probably. And if you stay, you're putting Roach at risk too.

But Soap's leg... that happened to him because he was helping you. God dammit. You can't just let this go. That's another favor you owe him.

You have Roach lay down and hop off him.

"Hey," you bark over their arguing. "Get on. Hurry."

They both pause. Soap narrows his eyes at you. Getting sniffed at by that big bastard is one thing. But riding him? He gives Roach a very wary look.

Ghost picks up on your plan immediately. He jerks his chin at Soap. "Get on."

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more Soap / masterlist

[wanderingmakers]

Hello, Blossoms!

Let's talk a little bit about them.

The Blossoms can be found at the end of the Garbage Grounds, an underground network that runs beneath all of Startropolis.

It's a nifty place that even Mike calls home! (He doesn't like it very much.)

The Blossoms are very warm and polite to any and everybody, looking to find someone to love them.

Could you believe the look on their many faces when Kris appeared?

... You know how well that went, anyway.

But they weren't always like this! In fact, it was long after Mike took to the sewers that he began hearing wistful melodies echoing across the tunnels.

He could hear melodies faraway, almost every day, like a routine.

Usually there was only one voice, but sometimes, there were many melodies playing at once, clashing against one another.

Sometimes he couldn't hear any singing.

Sometimes, he could hear screams.

One day, the Blossoms were held by a dark embrace and were told the truth of their eternal heartbreak.

Their hatred formed a colossal body from the garbage and plant matter.

They concocted a plan, and held onto it since, for the one chance they would get to enact it.

Now, the Blossoms aren't completely rational.

They come from far away, for the sole objective of finding a way to be loved and appreciated.

When they couldn't find it, it all came crashing down.

And that's that! The Immortal Hydrangea was by far our most consistent character yet, although there were many doubts as to how risky it would really be to make them part of a prediction.

They look a lot like Flowey, right?

The difference in the petals was their latest change.

To sprite the Immortal Hydrangea in the battle, @beruki learned Blender all by themselves and created an entire model — two, in fact! That background comes from a 3D animation as well — so that we could use it as reference to paint over with pixels.

We were once really set on redesigning them sometime after their reveal, but...

In the end, we didn't find anything we could revamp on them. So for their appearance in Pantheon of the Discarded, they'll stay mostly like you've seen them already.

They've come so far...

And that's pretty much it! We wanted to delve deeper into our one shadowboss that predated the Pantheon. As for our 2 others from the prediction, we think the game'll do a way better job at doing so :)

(Despite that, stay tuned for a HUGE concept art showcase of the two later!)

[bupia]

Treasure hunt: Papa Emeritus IV x AFAB!Reader

Summary: It's Christmas, and Copia won't be returning home this evening. However, he thoughtfully left you a note. What surprises might it hold?

Words: 10.152

Warnings: The Italian nicknames used by Copia has no gender, however the reader is AFAB | Smut (Copia is slightly dom; teasing; dirty talk; cunnilingus; fingering; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding) | Swearing | Italian swearing

Available on AO3

Primo (ao3) | Secondo (ao3) | Terzo (ao3)

Author's note: This is the Last day of the series XXXMAS AT THE MINISTRY, a Collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat @ghulehunknown and @molly-ghuleh, read their works too. I wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a short break after the Holidays as I'm currently engrossed in a work project. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

"What do you mean you're not coming?" you questioned with disappointment and confusion, pacing back and forth in your room.

"Amore," Copia sighed from the other end of the line. "Per favore, mi dispiace."

"But everyone's already here," you pointed out, worry evident in your voice. "Copia, you said..."

"I know," he responded. "And it kills me that I'm stuck here for reasons even I can't understand. They don't even need me anymore."

"What have you been doing there?"

"Nothing. The clergy insists the Papa Emeritus stays and observes some proceeds for the upcoming New Year's Eve ritual until it's all done, so I watch and do nothing more," he expressed his frustration, and you could almost hear him running a hand through his hair. "I just want to see you; I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. A lot..."

"I miss you immensely, amore mio," Copia confessed with a melancholic tone. "I miss your kisses, your smile, your laughter, your touch, your body..." The last word lingered, emphasized as if he were savoring the memory. "I even miss your beautiful nose."

"My nose?" you chuckled, sitting down on the edge of your bed. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know! I just know that you are perf—" His words were abruptly cut off, and he fell silent. "Amore, I need to go now. I wish I could talk to you a little longer. I really missed your voice throughout the day."

"I missed yours too," you admitted, a tinge of longing in your tone. "What should I do now if you won't make it for dinner?"

"Amore mio," he said with a gentle tone. "There's just one thing that can be done now; you will enjoy the Christmas dinner you put so much effort into." he sighed, frustration evident.

"Ok..." you replied with a touch of sadness in your voice. "But promise me you'll be here tomorrow."

"I promise," he assured, "I'll make it up to you, amore mio. Ti amo così tanto."

"I love you too," you whispered

And then, he ended the call with a series of soft kissing sounds, a distant echo of the warmth you longed for. You sighed, holding the phone away from your ear, absorbing his kisses that felt both comforting and painfully distant. Copia hadn't been this occupied in a long time, and it was Christmas Eve of all days. Both of you had anticipated his return for the holidays, expecting him to be at home with you.

Frustration bubbled up within you as you glanced around the room. Helplessness settled in, and there was nothing you could do but yearn for Copia's presence. Rising from the bed, you adjusted your clothes, took a deep breath, and walked purposefully to the bedroom door.

With a gentle push, you opened the door, ensuring it closed quietly behind you. The echoes of your footsteps resonated as you retraced your path back to the dining room of the Papal Apartment. As you moved through the rooms, you couldn't help but appreciate the festive decor. At least he had taken the time to help you decorate.

"So?" Terzo inquired as you reentered the dining room, slipping his phone back into his blazer pocket.

"He won't make it," you revealed, a touch of melancholy lingering in your voice, veiled by a faint attempt at a smile.

"What do you mean he won't make it?" Secondo asked, topping off his wine. "What's going on?"

"He mentioned the clergy is keeping him there," you explained.

Terzo grumbled, "Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti. What now? Why can't they let him have a break?"

"I..." you sighed, moving toward the table. "I don't know."

"It's still Christmas," Primo chimed in. "I believe Copia would want us to celebrate together. We can still have our dinner."

Terzo rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, it wouldn't be a proper holiday without the clergy complicating things, sì?"

Secondo, his annoyance palpable, grumbled, "This is ridiculous. What are we supposed to do without him? It's Christmas Eve!"

Primo, chimed in once again, with a gentle smile. "We can still make it special. Copia would want us to enjoy the evening together."

You nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"So, what's the plan now?" Terzo quipped, his tone laden with sarcasm as he eyed the table. "Shall we stage a satanic reenactment of the Last Supper without our fratello?"

Secondo grunted, clearly irritated. "Stai zitto, Terzo. But he is right, Christmas dinner without him? Doesn't feels right."

"I agree with Primo. I doubt he'd want us to do not enjoy the dinner while he's stuck there," you murmured, your sadness bubbling to the surface.

Terzo smirked, pouring himself another glass of wine, "Maybe we can send him a virtual plate. I'm sure the clergy wouldn't mind that."

"Terzo..." Primo sighed, rolling his eyes in Terzo's direction. "We can, at the very least, set aside some leftovers for him," he suggested. "A Christmas meal will be waiting for him when he finally returns."

You managed a weak smile. "I just wish he could be here."

Terzo sighed, looking at you. He made his way to your direction and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Guess those unholier-than-thou vecchi need him to bless their turkey with a side of devilish charm or something."

Your gaze shifted to Terzo, and a laugh escaped you. He responded with a warm smile, exchanging the hand on your shoulder for a gentle touch on your face.

"Thank you," you said, with gratitude.

Terzo nodded appreciatively and turned away, taking his place at the table. "Can't let this food go to waste, can we? Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame."

With that, the four of you took your seats at the table. Though the absence of Copia cast a shadow over the celebration, the presence of Primo, Secondo and Terzo, eased the melancholy. After all, they had all made their way to the Ministry for this special occasion, and you felt a sense of responsibility not to let the festive spirit dwindle.

Secondo, in particular, had regaled the gathering with stories of meticulously crafting a turkey recipe he discovered in some book. Meanwhile, Terzo, had taken charge of the wine selection, claiming he didn't trust his brothers to make the right choices. Primo, had taken it upon himself to prepare cranberry sauce for the occasion. He proudly revealed that he had been cultivating cranberries in his house throughout the year, patiently waiting for this moment.

The four of you began serving yourselves. However, each time you glanced to your side, the empty seat served as a poignant reminder of Copia's absence. The realization that he wouldn't be home, sharing in the Christmas dinner, weighed heavily on your heart. The inexplicable demands of the clergy, only made it challenging to fully embrace the joy of the occasion.

However, your melancholic thoughts were momentarily interrupted when Secondo extended his arm towards you, pointing to the cranberry sauce placed in front of you. You looked at his hand and took the bowl, passing it to Secondo with a warm smile on your lips.

Primo began, leaning back in his seat. "It's good to have the family reunited. We haven't seen each other that much," he remarked, lifting his glass of wine for a sip. "Especially now that we're not tied up at the Ministry."

"Vero," Secondo agreed, his gaze briefly drifting to the empty seat. "Miss those times, even if they were chaotic."

Terzo, with a smirk, added, "Chaos and all, it was our chaos."

"Sì," Primo nodded, his expression softening. "But, at least we can enjoy Christmas without worrying about being summoned for some arcane ritual or paperwork."

Terzo raised his glass. "To getting a break."

The glasses chimed together in a harmonious toast, and each of you savored a sip of your drinks. Setting the glasses down on the table, you all returned to your meals, continuing to enjoy the Christmas feast.

Primo, his eyes sparkling with mischief, broke the silence. “Remember the time when we were younger and we decided to give the Ministry a taste of our version of Christmas caroling?”

Terzo grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, the ‘Satanic Carolers’ ensemble. Our renditions of classic carols with a satanic twist."

"And who can forget Terzo's attempt at caroling?" Secondo added, sharing a knowing look with Terzo.

Terzo rolled his eyes. "My rendition of 'Jingle Bells' was avant-garde."

“Of course,” Secondo replied with a touch of irony. “Truly groundbreaking.”

“What? You don’t appreciate my avant-garde style?” Terzo asked, turning his face to look at Secondo, who couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Primo and you joined Secondo in laughter, and even Terzo, unable to resist the infectious moment, started to chuckle. With that, the four of you continued with the dinner, savoring the food and exchanging conversations filled with laughter.

Although Copia's absence lingered, the presence of his brothers somehow eased your melancholic thoughts, creating a sense of warmth. The only wish lingering in your mind was for Copia to be home tomorrow, sharing a Christmas lunch with the family.

As the hours slipped away, you all gradually set aside your plates, leaning back in your seats to savor a moment of contentment. Eventually, the four of you to rise and initiate the post-dinner cleanup. Plates and remnants of the feast were gathered, and you moved together to the kitchen.

Side by side, you worked on organizing the leftovers into the refrigerator and washing the dishes. The clatter of plates and the hum of conversation filled the kitchen. Once the tasks were completed, you four returned to the living room, reconvening around the dining table for more conversation and shared wine.

"I just want to thank you all for coming," you expressed with gratitude, a warm smile accompanying your words.

"You don't have to thank us," Primo replied warmly. "You're family now."

"It was great to have you planning this dinner for us," Terzo added.

"That's true, we appreciate it," Secondo acknowledged, taking a contemplative sip of his wine. "Should we get going now?"

Primo nodded ever so slightly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Sì, we should be on our way," he suggested.

"Certo," Secondo concurred. "And thank you for the dinner," he added.

As Secondo and Primo spoke, the four of you gracefully made your way toward the entrance of the Papal Apartment. As you reached the door, you took hold of the doorknob, turning it to open the door for them. The trio stepped out into the hallway, turning to face you.

"Thank you all for coming and staying; I'm sure Copia would have enjoyed it."

"Non preoccuparti," Secondo reassured. "We'll be back for lunch tomorrow, sì?"

"I hope so; there's still an abundance of food left."

"We'll be here," Primo said, gracefully taking your hand and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of it. "Buona notte."

"Good night, Papa," you replied.

"Buona notte," Secondo nodded with a subtle gesture of farewell.

"Good night," you said, a warm smile lighting up your face.

"Buona notte. Don't forget to store the wine correctly for tomorrow," Terzo reminded.

"Of course, I wouldn't forget."

"Bene, molto bene," Terzo nodded, beginning to walk away. However, he paused, turned back to you, and walked in your direction. "I almost forgot," he said, placing his hand in his pocket and extending a neatly folded piece of paper to you. "That's from Copia. Buona fortuna."

Turning away, Terzo rejoined his brothers who were a few steps ahead. Clutching the neatly folded paper in your hand, you closed the door with a measured touch, your brows knit in anticipation. Walking towards the bedroom, you unfolded the paper with a sense of intrigue.

Upon reaching the bedroom, you paused in your steps, entering with a focused gaze fixed on the paper in your hands—Copia's handwritten note. As your eyes traced the lines, you began to read.

As you read these words, Terzo has faithfully passed on this message to you. No need to worry, everything's fine. Remember the first time we bumped into each other at the Ministry? I was immersed in preparing the altar for the mass when you graced me with your presence. Well, head back there. A little surprise awaits you. Yours always, Copia

What was this? What could Copia possibly mean with this note? A treasure hunt crossed your mind, and a laugh escaped your lips at the whimsical idea. Regardless, there was no time to linger on speculation. Your focus sharpened as you realized you needed to reach a specific destination—the Chapel.

Exiting your bedroom with hurried steps, excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of what awaited in the chapel. Could it be Copia? Probably wasn't, as he wasn't at the Ministry, and he wouldn't have skipped the Christmas dinner if he were. As you reached the front door of the Papal Apartment, you swung it open with a sense of urgency. The door closed behind you, and with purposeful strides, you made your way towards the chapel.

As you stepped into the chapel, the familiar scent of incense enveloped you, evoking memories of that first meeting. You still remember it—carrying Terzo's robes, you had entered to find Copia near the altar. He was still a Cardinal back then, and you were merely another sibling of sin toiling diligently within the Ministry. On that day, your paths crossed for the first time. Copia, in his red Cardinal robes, had glanced up as you entered. And for a moment your eyes met, and a subtle understanding passed between you—an unspoken connection.

Looking around the chapel, you felt a moment of uncertainty, you pondered where to go. However, as your gaze shifted towards the altar, a nostalgic sight caught your eye—the old red biretta that Copia used to wear. A bright smile illuminated your face as recognition dawned. You quickly made your way toward the altar, guided by the familiar presence of his cardinal hat.

Reaching for the altar, you delicately cradled the biretta in your hands, feeling the texture of its well-worn fabric. Softness filled your eyes as you gazed at the cardinal hat, a symbol of Copia's past. Nostalgia washed over you as you thought about the times when Copia was the Cardinal. There was a certain amusement in witnessing him in those distinctive red robes. It wasn't that you weren't proud of his role as Papa Emeritus IV; it was just the appreciation for the unique charm he exuded in his earlier cardinal days.

While appreciating Copia's biretta in your hands, you almost overlooked another folded paper hidden beneath it. Gently placing the cardinal hat back on the altar, you retrieved the concealed note. Unfolding it, your eyes were met with yet another message from Copia.

You know, I carry the memory of that day with me in my heart. It's impossible to forget. When our eyes met, it was as if time itself surrendered, leaving just you and me in this unholy Ministry, breathing and existing in the moment. We didn't exchange words back then. You were busy with your tasks, and I had my own to tackle. Yet, I have a confession to make—I was dying to hear your voice. Can you recall where we finally had our first conversation? With love, Copia

Finishing the note, you couldn't contain the excitement that had taken hold of you. Biting your lower lip, you pondered whether to take the biretta with you as a tangible connection to Copia. However, a decision was made to leave it on the altar, preserving the memory of your shared moments within the chapel.

As you walked away from the altar, your steps guided you toward the front door of the chapel. Exiting, you embarked on your way back to the place where your initial conversations with Copia had unfolded—the cafeteria.

The first conversation with Copia might not have been a grand affair, but it held a charm of its own. On that day, a lighthearted encounter in the cafeteria set the stage for a connection that would deepen over time.

It was a morning like any other, as you queued up to grab your breakfast. Unbeknownst to you, Copia entered the line right after you, standing behind. The comical twist came when both of you reached for the last juice box simultaneously, your hands meeting in the process. With a shared chuckle, Copia secured the juice box and extended it to you in a gentle gesture. However, you playfully declined, insisting he had reached for it first. It was a simple exchange marked by a twist of routine, as the juice box wasn't your first morning choice. But at this morning, for some reason, it was.

Entering the deserted cafeteria, your gaze was drawn to a familiar spot. Heading towards the food line, you spotted Copia's Cardinal gloves neatly placed, accompanied by a lone juice box. Placing your hand on top of the gloves, you ran your fingers over the lather textured fabric, and to your surprise, a slight sound echoed. Curiosity piqued, you picked up one of the gloves, discovering a folded paper tucked inside. Retrieving the concealed note, you unfolded it, eager to unveil the next message Copia had left for you.

Your voice, it's like the sweetest melody I've ever known. And when you laugh, it's like a warm embrace for my heart. I want you to know how much I cherish that moment when you chose that juice box on that fateful day, and your generosity in leaving it for me didn't go unnoticed. So now, I'm saving one just for you. Our talk that day may not have been long, but little did we know, it would set the stage for more conversations between us. We became friends, and over time, I found myself falling in love with you. And then, summoning every ounce of courage, I finally told you about my feelings. Do you still recall that day? Do you remember where I bared my heart and told you I loved you? Don't forget the juice box, Copia

A chuckle escaped you as you finished reading the note, and you couldn't help but be amused by Copia's playful hints. Reaching for the juice box, you deftly removed the straw from the back, unwrapping it before inserting it into the box. Taking a sip, a smile played on your lips as memories flooded back. The taste of the juice box held a unique significance, as his kisses, sometimes tasted like the very juice you were sipping.

Yet, this wasn't the time for sentimental reflections. Pushing aside those emotions, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the cafeteria, heading towards the next destination—the hallways. But not just any hallway, a specific one, guided by the clues Copia had left for you.

As time passed, the bond between you and Copia deepened. Your moments together became more frequent, and you discovered comfort in each other's presence. Sneaking into his Cardinal's cabinet became a routine, a chance to share the day, whether in conversation or in peaceful silence. In those quiet moments, the ease between you two reassured you that there was nothing to worry about.

The day Copia confessed his love for you was entirely unexpected. The two of you were strolling down the hallway en route to the library, where Copia needed to organize some archives. You offered him a helping hand, even though you were fairly certain he didn't require any assistance. Surprisingly, he accepted your offer.

As you walked together, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythmic sound of your synchronized footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his voice broke the silence, uttering three words that initially took a moment to register. After a brief pause, your mind comprehended—Copia had just said, "I love you."

And just as Copia had fallen in love, so had you.

Approaching the spot in the hallway where Copia had confessed his love, you noticed a folder lying on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, you discovered a paper tucked inside. Pulling out the note, you unfolded it, eager to read the words wrote by Copia, perhaps offering another clue in the unfolding mystery of this treasure hunt.

The confession just burst out of me, guided by an overwhelming desire to shout my love to the world. I thought I might regret it, but to my surprise, I didn't—never have. The day I confessed my love was also the day I kissed you. Though, regrettably, it didn't happen right then. Just as I spilled my feelings, some siblings showed up, and we hastily made our way to the library. The ensuing silence was the most agonizing I've ever endured in your presence. Saying "I love you" without hearing it back left me sweating beneath my cassock. Yet, when we finally left, you spoke those words at the very spot where we had our first kiss. Can you recall where that was? We're almost at the end of this little game, and your gift awaits there. I love you. I love you more than words can express. I wish I could whisper those three words to you every minute of my day, Copia

Taking a deep breath, you leaned against the cold marble wall in the hallway, feeling its chill against your back. That day, and the kiss you both shared, are etched in your memory. When he uttered those three words, your heart threatened to burst, and the inability to reciprocate immediately left you in a momentary desperation.

From that moment onward, not a day passed without both of you expressing your love for each other. Stepping away from the chilly wall, you eagerly headed towards the place where your love story began—the Cardinal's cabinet.

After leaving the library that day, both of you carried archives in your hands, enveloped in a shared silence. The synchronicity of your steps faltered, as his pace quickened, and you hurriedly followed him down the hallway to his cabinet. And as you both entered the cabinet, Copia remained silent, almost as if he were anticipating something.

As you closed the door behind you and confessed your love, Copia turned towards you, drawing his face closer, almost reaching the point of a kiss. Perplexingly, he paused, perhaps awaiting a cue. In your impatience, you closed the gap before he could, and both of you let the archives fall to the floor, embracing each other passionately.

Standing in front of his old cabinet's door, uncertainty lingered about whether it would swing open. You reached for the doorknob and found it unexpectedly open. Pushing it open, you stepped into the now vacant space, a testament to his transfer to Papa's office.

Looking around the room, nothing immediately caught your eye. Wandering around, you systematically checked every nook and cranny, rifling through drawers and inspecting empty shelves. The note remained elusive. It wasn't until you halted beside his table and glanced towards the door that you spotted the note, suspended by a piece of tape.

You placed the empty juice box on the top of his old desk, hurrying to the door with a smile. You took the note and unfolded it, eager to read the note left for you.

When those three words finally escaped your lips, an irresistible urge propelled me to kiss you immediately. Yet, a fleeting doubt crossed my mind—was it a reciprocation or a repetition? However, as you closed the gap and our lips met, I understood, and the taste of that kiss is etched in my memory. We shared numerous kisses within the Ministry, especially in this cabinet. One night, you lingered with me until the late hours. I wrapped up my work, and just like any other day, I planted a goodnight kiss on your lips. However, that kiss took an unexpected turn, leading us somewhere else. In that place, we became one. Your gift awaits there, Copia

Opening the door to his old cabinet, you swiftly exited, closing it behind you with determination. Without a second thought, you knew it was time for your last stop—his old chambers.

The night referenced in the note held the memory of the evening you and Copia shared a heated kiss—an unforgettable moment when neither of you wanted to part. The unspoken desire lingering in that kiss set the stage for what felt like an inevitable path towards spending your first night together. Copia, sensing the shared passion, asked if you wanted to accompany him to his chambers.

Without hesitation, you accepted. As you both entered his chambers, your lips were already engaged in a fervent kiss. The desire between you two was palpable, prompting a delicate dance of undressing without breaking the kiss. As you both managed to shed your clothes, each second of separation filled with a longing that only intensified the desire.

On that night, as the note exposed, you and Copia became one. And it proved to be one of the most memorable and intimate nights you had ever shared with someone.

Approaching the door to his chambers, a soft glow of candlelight seeped through the narrow gap underneath. Your hand reached for the doorknob, and as you opened the door, the room revealed itself bathed in the gentle illumination of flickering candles. The ambiance was serene, with nothing out of place except for the impeccably made bed.

Stepping inside, you closed the door behind you, enveloping the room in a sense of intimacy. A warm smile graced your lips as you took a moment to survey the familiar surroundings. It had been a while since you last set foot in this space—since Copia ascended to the role of Papa Emeritus and subsequently moved to the Papal Apartment, inviting you to join him.

Approaching his neatly made bed, you noticed the final folded paper resting on top. Picking it up, you unfolded it with anticipation, ready to read the last message that Copia had left for you.

You, the most sinful creation molded by the skilled hands of our Dark Lord, leave me utterly enchanted. Every nuance of your body, every inch, every fragment, fuels an ever-growing love within me. It's almost surreal to think that Satan himself could have blessed me with you, but I express gratitude to him daily. This place holds the memories of our first time and countless others. It's where you truly became mine, and I became yours. I brought you here with the simple desire to reclaim you as mine once again. I promised you a gift, didn't I? So, why don't you turn around?

Finishing the note, you raised your head and turned your body, only to find Copia on his knees right behind you. A sweet smile adorned his face as he extended his hand toward you. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you bit your lower lip to contain the emotions welling up within you.

Extending your hand to meet his, Copia delicately held it, placing a tender kiss on the back and brushing his nose against it. As he lifted his head to meet your gaze, parting his lips.

"We've been together for so many years," he began, his words laced with sentiment. "Countless memories, myriad places, and an abundance of moments that have woven our lives together. You've been the constant flame that has illuminated my heart, making each moment brighter and more meaningful. Your love has become the sacred devotion that binds me to you," with another tender kiss on the back of your hand, he continued, "I brought you here today because I want to recommit myself to you, to reclaim you as mine. And no, amore mio, I'm not talking about the physical aspect. Would you honor me with the privilege of marrying me?" he asked, his gaze sincere and filled with love.

"W-What?" you stammered, your eyes widening in surprise. "What did you just say?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting nervously. "I asked you if you want to... Eeh..." As he started to stand up from his knees, uncertainty painted his expression. "I- I... Maybe it's too soon, sì?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of self-doubt.

A stunned silence enveloped you as you processed what had just transpired—Copia had just proposed. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt his hands gently touching your face, cupping it, and turning it towards him. Your eyes locked, and in that intimate gaze, you could discern a subtle tremor in his usually composed demeanor.

"Copia..." you whispered, your voice soft as you closed your eyes.

"S-Sì?" His response held a hint of anticipation and nervousness.

"It's not too soon," a smile graced your lips as you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You don't have to ask me twice; of course, I'll marry you."

"Vita mia..." he whispered, drawing his face closer to yours, hovering just inches away, teasing with the possibility of a kiss. "Are you attempting to assassinate your Papa at Christmas?"

You laughed, shaking your head gently. "Never," you replied. "You simply caught me off guard."

"Isn't that how marriage proposals should be?" he inquired, tilting his head, his thumbs tenderly caressing your cheeks.

"I guess?" you smiled, your gaze moving from his eyes to his inviting lips.

“I'm sure of it, amore,” he whispered, his lips brushing the corner of yours, "So, do your Papa get his Christmas kiss now, or should he expect for a mistletoe?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling mischievously. “How about both?” Your lips hovered closer, the temptation growing with each passing moment. "Although I don't have a mistletoe with me right now..."

With a nearly imperceptible nod, Copia closed the lingering distance between you. His lips finally united with yours in a romantic, unhurried kiss, steeped in both longing and devotion. His hands cradled your face with tenderness, while your own settled at his waist, fingers grasping his shirt with a touch of possessiveness.

The kiss unfolded with a deliberate slowness, a dance of passion free from the urgency of teeth and tongues. It spoke volumes of a love so profound that words paled in comparison. As the connection deepened, you found yourself surrendering to the moment, lost in its enchantment.

The gentle caress of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His touch, gentle yet firm, prompted your arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer as his own encircled your waist, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating a comforting heat. The rhythmic thud of his heart against your chest resonated in harmony.

The sweetness of his mouth lingered, fueling a desire for more. Your arms left his neck, trailing down his back, pulling him in closer. His response was an intensified kiss, his tongue delicately exploring the contours of your mouth.

The connection deepened, an electric current coursing through your body. It felt as if an invisible force tethered you two, compelling a response. Your lips parted, allowing an intricate dance of tongues to unfold. As the intensity peaked, you summoned the strength to pull away, your fingers gradually tracing a path with your fingertips from his back to his chest.

"Copia..." the velvety tone of your voice wrapped around his name.

"Sì, amore mio?" He responded, gently.

"When did you arrive here?" You traced your fingers along the contours of his chest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Not a long time ago," he replied, his hands moving from your waist to your hips, drawing you in closer.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric around his neck, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "So you planned all of this?"

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Euhh... Sì..."

A mock expression of anger crossed your face as you accused, "So you knew you'd be at the Ministry, and you lied to me!"

"Oh, amore mio," he chuckled, leaning his face closer to yours once again. "I wasn't certain about the exact time I'd arrive. I needed to be sure I could make it work. But It was a good reason to lie, sì?"

"How long have you been planning this?" you inquired in a soft tone.

Copia turned to you, the smile still gracing his face. “I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time. Since I realized how you make my dark world brighter, and I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. I can't wait to spend the rest of my existence making you as happy as you make me."

"Copia, I'm already happy by your side," you murmured. "But, you know," you began, tracing circles on his chest with your fingertips, "you're not getting away with proposing without answering some important questions."

Copia grinned, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you. "Ask away, vita mia."

"Firstly," you said, feigning a serious tone, "how did you manage to plan all this without me catching a single hint? I thought I knew all your secrets."

Copia chuckled, his thumb gently caressing your hand. "A Papa Emeritus always has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Nice answer," a giggle escaped from your lips. "Secondly, was this grand proposal plan your own masterpiece, or did your brothers offer their expert opinions?"

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "As much as I'd love to credit Primo, Secondo and Terzo with impeccable romantic taste, this plan was all mine. I wanted it to be special, just for us. However, they helped me to gain some time."

"They did what?" You laughed. "Smooth, Papa. Very smooth. Now, the last and most crucial question—did you rehearse your proposal lines in front of a mirror?"

"Oh!" Copia's expression shifted to a mockingly serious tone. "Absolutely not!" He followed it with a playful chuckle. "Eh, maybe just a little?"

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. "A little?"

"Well, every great performance deserves a bit of rehearsal, sì?" Copia grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Vieni qui, amore mio," he gently pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together, and took your lips in another kiss.

This time, the kiss was deeper and passionate. Copia's touch ignited a fire within you. His hands explored your body with a hunger. Fingers traced sensuous patterns along your sides, dipped down to your hips, and returned to the curve of your waist. Copia's arms enveloped you, pulling you close as if he couldn't get enough of the taste, the touch, the essence of you.

As a soft moan escaped your lips, Copia's tongue danced with yours in a passionate exploration. Your arms tightened around his neck, and you responded eagerly, deepening the connection. Copia sighed into the kiss, his head tilting to intensify the intimate dance. Your tongues met in a heated battle, and he groaned against your lips.

Once again, Copia's hands roamed your body, trailing along your spine and tracing the contours of your curves. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Your bodies molded together seamlessly, and every sensation became a blur of pleasure. Copia's lips moved with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

The kiss intensified, and a symphony of moans, sighs, and the occasional purr resonated between you. Copia's breath mingled with yours, creating an intoxicating match of lust. The kiss became a fusion of desire and longing, that left you breathless and craving more.

But with a reluctant sigh, you summoned the strength to pull away—gasping for air. Your lips lingering for a moment longer before parting. The air crackled with the energy of the heated kiss, and Copia's eyes, still darkened with desire, met yours.

"S-Should we head upstairs...?" you inquired, your breath catching.

Copia's eyes, clouded with desire, met yours as he caught his breath. "As much as I'd love to, amore mio," he murmured, "I've missed you so much, and if we go upstairs, I won't be able to contain myself in the middle of the way."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. "Oh, so you're saying you'd lose control?"

Copia's grin widened, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "Entirely. I'm just a Papa who's been missing his better half."

"So why don't you fuck me right here, on your own bed, like you've missed me so much?"

Copia's eyes deepened with desire, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he fixed his gaze on you. Mischief flickered in his mismatched eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about what you're asking?" he inquired, his voice taking on a husky tone.

"I'm well aware of what I'm asking for," you whispered, trailing your tongue from his lips to the tip of his nose.

"Cazzo, ti amo così tanto," he murmured with a voice heavy with desire.

Copia enveloped you in his arms, and you guided him towards his bed. Grasping the fabric around his neck, you pulled him with you until your calves met the mattress. Sensing it, you gradually descended, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Copia positioned himself on his knees in front of you, maintaining an unwavering gaze. Without diverting his eyes, he initiated the task of undressing you, deliberately unhurried in his movements.

As he finished undressing you, leaving you only in your underwear, he planted a tender peck on your lips. "Don't move," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of lustful anticipation.

Copia rose, beginning to work on unbuttoning his shirt, but he halted abruptly as you drew your face closer to his crotch, lightly brushing your lips against his evident bulge. You turned your attention to him, mouthing the undoing of his pants, causing Copia to inhale sharply, biting his lower lip. His hand found its way to your head, gently caressing your scalp, and he knelt in front of you once again.

Copia's eyes glinted with a playful intensity as he whispered, his voice tinged with lust, "You're behaving like a very naughty mischief-maker. I don't think Santa will give you a present this year."

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you reached up, cupping his face in your hand and gently caressing his cheek. "And what about you, Papa?" you asked, your tone a sultry invitation. "Will you give me a present?"

Copia's gaze held yours, a hint of desire dancing in his eyes. "Oh, amore mio," he replied, his voice a seductive murmur, "I have a present for you that Santa could never deliver."

He drew closer, pressing his face against your neck, initiating a series of kisses and gentle licks. In that moment, a rush of anticipation surged within you as he drew near. His lips sought yours in a kiss that blended gentleness with passion. His tongue traced the curves of your mouth, hinting at the pleasure yet to unfold. Eagerly, your lips parted, inviting him in, and a tantalizing dance ensued as your tongues entwined, orchestrating a sensuous tango that erased the world around you.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, and you gracefully reclined on your back, maintaining the kiss without breaking its spell. Copia, crawled on top of you, his movements deliberate and confident.

His body seamlessly melding with yours in a flawless union. With each movement, the fabric of his clothes provided no resistance to the warmth of his skin. The linen material of his shirt glided between your bodies, generating a sensuous friction that intensified every touch and caress.

The weight of his body upon yours provided both comfort and arousa. Arching against him, you yearned for increased contact and friction. His hands delicately explored every curve and crevice of your body, leaving a lingering trail of electricity in their wake.

Breaking the kiss, he shifted his attention to nibble on your neck, the sensation of his stubble grazing against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His lips returned to yours, and as his hand descended, it cupped your ass, drawing you closer. The friction of his hardness against your mound became almost intoxicating. A moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as he deepened the connection.

The rhythm of his hips synchronized with the beat of your heart. His fingers skillfully navigated between you two, indulging in delicate touches on your thighs before ascending higher. His palm grazed your warmth through your underwear, eliciting a gasp that sent tickles of pleasure coursing through your body. Fingers tightly gripped his hair as you held him close, writhing beneath him, yearning for more of his intoxicating touch.

As if sensing your desires, Copia broke the kiss. "Amore mio, I want to feel you," his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, nibbling your earlobe. "Do you want me to to make you cum, amore? Do you want me to make you scream my name?" His fingers deftly slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, gently stroking your clit, igniting a fire of sensation that left you breathless.

Eagerly nodding your head, your hips instinctively bucked, your core pulsating against his skilled fingers. Copia chuckled devilishly at your response. With your back arching, an unspoken invitation, he seized the opportunity, lifting you just enough to deftly slip off your underwear.

"You're so wet," he murmured. "I can feel how much you want me."

You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and with a sense of urgency, you reached down to stroke him through his jeans. A deep groan escaped Copia's lips, the resonant sound vibrating through you, heightening the anticipation. Copia, attuned to your needs, returned his hand to your wetness, trailing his gloved fingers along your slit before skillfully sliding one finger inside of you. The sensation ignited a surge of pleasure, causing your inner walls to clench in response.

Moaning, you found it difficult to articulate words as Copia withdrew his finger from inside you, tracing a teasing path along your wet slit. The sensation left you aching for more. He slid one gloved finger inside you again, followed by another, filling you in a way that made your toes curl with pleasure. The initial slow and deliberate movements gave way to a faster, harder rhythm as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

"Oh, fuck!" you gasped, grabbing his hand as it ventured between your thighs. "yes-yes-yes-yes! Just-Ah! Copia! Calm down, or you'll make me cum fast!"

"Calm down?" he inquired, his gaze filled with desire. "I'm perfectly composed, amore. Just doing as instructed, fucking you like I've been missing you."

Your moans intensified, head tossed back, hips gyrating against his hand. Introducing a third finger, he expanded you further, evoking a cry from your lips. Copia skillfully curled his fingers, striking your sweet spot, unleashing waves of pleasure that caused your eyes to roll back and your lips to part. Gripping his shoulders, you dug your nails into him as he persistently worked his fingers in and out of you.

"CoO-Oh-pia!" your voice quivered, your legs beginning to tremble. "Co...Co...Copia-Ah! Ple-Plea...Please!"

He instinctively lowered his body, withdrawing his fingers from you. Swiftly, his face moved between your legs, engulfing your essence with an eager pull, consuming every inch with his mouth. From the base to the summit and back down, he licked you in a rhythmic repetition. He repeated this motion over and over, sucking your clit as he did so.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. "For the love of Satan, Copia!"

Copia chuckled against your wetness, then closed his eyes and placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them open for him. He persisted in licking and sucking, his tongue darting in and out, exploring every inch of your wetness. Advancing to your clit, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth once more.

Drawing his head back from your core, you gasped, feeling the absence of sensations. As you opened your eyes, you were met with his smudged face, the paint around his lips almost turning gray. Casting a mischievous glance at you, Copia darted his tongue out, licking your slit while locking eyes with you. The intense gaze prompted you to bite your lower lip in response.

"You're quite the sight, Copia," you teased.

"Trying to provoke me, amore?" he asked with a husky voice, lowering his face to your wetness once again, his lips grazing against your folds. "Ever heard that it's not polite to make fun of someone while they're enjoying their meal? Consider this my Christmas dinner. Don't tempt me too much, or you might find yourself the messy one here soon."

Wearing a devilish grin, he licked his lips, relishing the taste of you. Unable to resist, a smile played on your lips as you felt the warmth of his mouth against your core. Copia's eyes focused on your face, studying your features. Suddenly, a low groan escaped his lips, and he delved back into devouring your wetness with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue danced around your clit, prompting you to writhe in ecstasy. The fervor of his licks sent electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

"C-Copia... I swear, you're going to make me cum..." you whimpered.

"No, I won't," he declared, withdrawing his head from your core. "Because you're only allowed to cum on my cock and with my cock inside you, capito?"

You nodded, and Copia smirked. Unexpectedly, he thrust his tongue inside you, skillfully swirling it around your walls. A whimper escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. Your hips arched from the bed, and you ground your core against his face, sliding your clit up and down his nose. With one hand, you reached to grab his head, pressing it firmly against your core. Copia intensified his exploration of your wetness, rolling his eyes in pleasure, breathing warmly against your entrance. The sensation of his breath caused your legs to tremble.

You slid your hand to the top of his head, gently pulling it away as you shifted your hips back. Copia, undeterred, pulled you back towards him, gripping your thighs tightly. Leaving one hand on your thigh, he ventured with the other to your core, thrusting two gloved fingers inside you. A scream escaped your lips at the sensation of his fingers filling you, only to be followed by another cry as his thumb found your clit, skillfully rubbing it in circles, sending waves of pleasure that drove you wild.

"No! Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your breath coming fast. "Copia, please... you know I can't hold it if you do it like that."

Maintaining his fingers inside you, he gracefully positioned himself atop you, his face hovering above yours. His knees pressed against your legs, parting them for him. Your gaze met his, and he gently rested his forehead against yours. You tilted your face, capturing a tender kiss from his lips, all the while wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't play naughty, amore," he growled. "Behave, and you just might unwrap your present."

"P-Present...? Ah!" you gasped. "What present, Papa?"

"My cock, fucking you the way you like it," he whispered huskily.

He persisted, his fingers maintaining a steady rhythm as they moved in and out of you. Your orgasm was steadily building, and you could feel your juices flowing, coating his gloved fingers as they expertly maneuvered inside of you. A loud moan escaped your lips, prompting him to intensify the pace of his fingers, thrusting deeper and faster. The room echoed with the sound of his leather gloves sliding inside you, merging with the symphony of your breath.

This sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you were close, but Copia abruptly halted, withdrawing his fingers. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips, yearning for more, craving the continued touch.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering with desire.

Copia smirked, "You want more?"

"Yes..." you purred, "please."

Copia's smile deepened, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and mischief. "Not yet," he declared, his voice low. "I want to make it last."

His fingers traced a tantalizing path along your inner thighs, eliciting shivers of anticipation. Moving his hand between your legs, his fingers found your wetness once again. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your breath now coming in short gasps.

"Stop teasing me," you pleaded. "I need your cock."

Copia grinned devilishly, his hands reaching for your legs as he pulled back, getting on his knees in front of you. "Do you, amore?" He went for his pants, starting to undo them, letting his length swing free. "You want my cock?" he asked, using his gloved hand—still coated with your juices—to stroke his member lazily.

"Yes!" you gasped, your eyes fixed on the glistening tip of his member. "Please, I ache for your cock inside me."

Copia bit his lower lip while stroking his length, the wetness on his palm audibly spreading along his arousal. He began to breathe heavily and closed his eyes. Sensing the charged atmosphere, you slowly slid your hand between your legs, teasing your clit with circular motions.

Trying to stifle your moans, you pressed your lips together and whimpered, observing him pleasing himself in front of you. Continuing to tease your clit, you couldn't resist any longer, sliding two fingers inside yourself. Arching your back, you moaned loud as you began thrusting them in and out, succumbing to the pleasure building within you.

Copia's voice reached your ears, prompting you to open your eyes. "What are you doing?" he inquired.

Your eyes locked onto Copia's, who had a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Seeing your own enjoyment reflected in his expression. You increased the pace, moving your fingers faster and deeper, the sensations becoming too much to handle. You could feel your body tingling with pleasure, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you would succumb to the intense sensations.

"Why are you playing with my dinner?" He adopted a more serious tone, grabbing your hand to stop you.

"C-Copia..." you took a deep breath. "I just need... I need you..."

Copia sighed, shaking his head, skillfully guiding his member between your folds as he pulled your fingers out of your entrance. You instinctively moved your hips, as if craving more, attempting to adjust your entrance to the tip of his length. However, Copia halted you, placing a firm hand on your stomach and gently lowering your hips.

"No..." Copia murmured, firmly holding his member and delivering a teasing slap against your wetness, the sound resonating through the room. "Comportati."

Copia sensually brought your fingers to his mouth, licking and mouthing them with a moan that echoed softly. As his mouth closed around your fingers, his tongue skillfully contoured them, creating an arousing suction. Meanwhile, he increased the pace of his self-stimulation, moving his hips in a rhythmic thrust against his own hand. The tip of his member collided with your heat, expertly rubbing against your clit.

He pulled your fingers out of his mouth with a distinct "pop" sound and gave them a final lick, locking eyes with you. "Turn for me, amore," he commanded, tapping your waist.

Obediently, you turned your body, laying down on your stomach, but swiftly, Copia gripped your waist, pulling your hips up to meet his. The sensation of his member pressed against you ignited a fervent response, and you began to move your hips, stealing a glance at him behind you. Unperturbed, Copia started removing his gloves, an act that hinted at his effort to restrain himself.

As he peeled off his gloves, his bare hands reached for your hips, sensually caressing them. "So desperate for me, amore," he whispered. "I love it when you're like that."

"Please, Copia," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you. Fuck me."

His eyes darkened with desire as he observed your hips moving against him. Biting his lip, he struggled to maintain control but succumbed to the overwhelming temptation. His hands found their way to your back, skillfully massaging away the tension from your muscles. The touch was firm yet gentle, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His hand glided down the small of your back, cupping one of your ass cheeks in his palm.

"I want you too," his hands shifted to your hips, pulling them closer to him.

His hardness pressed more insistently against you as he drew himself closer. "Fuck me, Copia."

With a groan, Copia pressed his hardness against your entrance. You were so wet that he slid in easily, filling you completely with one thrust. A moan escaped your lips, your body arching back into him. Copia began to move slowly, savoring the sensation of being inside you. Your body felt like heaven, and he wanted to make the experience last as long as possible. His hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he moved within you.

Copia, his voice low and filled with a seductive rasp, whispered, "Feel the pleasure, my sinful muse, as our bodies intertwine," he smiled and began to move faster. "Like an offering to the darkness that binds us," he continued, slamming into you with each trust. "Every moan, every gasp, a hymn in the name our unholy communion on this unholy night."

You gasped at his words, gripping the sheets firmly as Copia picked up the pace, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, his length hitting your cervix repeatedly, delving deeper with every movement. He lowered his body on top of yours, reaching for your hands to hold them firmly. Pressing kisses on your cheek, he traced a path from there to your back, leaving a trail of sensation in his wake.

"Yes, Copia... Mmm... Copia," you purred, your eyes closing as you held his hand in a firm grip. "Oh, yes, just like that! You fuck me so good."

"You're so tight," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I can't help but fuck you harder."

Your bodies moved in unison, a dance of perfect harmony. His hips slammed against your ass cheeks, the rhythmic sound filling the room and intertwining with your shared breaths and moans. His hands left yours, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you firmly against him. The sensation of his hardness sliding in and out of you was incredible, and you were lost in pleasure, the loud moans that came out of your mouth became unable to control.

"Pap-Ahhh..." you moaned, your eyes fluttering in pleasure as you felt his steady rhythm, his member sliding in and out of your tightness with ease.

His thrusts quickened, the audible sound of flesh slapping against flesh growing louder. Copia released his arms from around you, straightening his body. Temporarily halting his thrusts, he moved his hands to his shirt, skillfully unbuttoning it. Turning your head to watch, you clenched your walls around him, the anticipation building as his body was slowly revealed. His hairy chest formed a trail of masculinity down to his happy trail, prompting you to bite your lower lip.

Fueled by lust, you seized control, slamming your hips against him and taking charge of the rhythm, fucking yourself on his length. Copia let out a guttural growl, tearing off his shirt and tossing it aside. His hands returned to your hips, and he watched you intently as you moved your hips against his.

"Sì, sì, sì," he moaned. "Sì-Ah! Amore mio, you're amazing, so perfect for me, so eager," his fingers digging into your skin. "So hot, so wet, so tight, so incredibly beautiful as you ride my cock."

His eyes brimmed with lust, the hunger evident in their depths. His hands on your hips guided your movements as he started to move his own hips against yours. Abruptly, he pulled back, eliciting a whimper of emptiness from you as your hips fell onto the bed. Rising from the bed, he swiftly pulled his pants down, leaving them discarded on the floor.

Copia returned to the bed, crawling on top of you. Lowering his face onto the top of your back, he pressed a tender kiss on your shoulder and cheek. "Are you ready to cum for me, amore?" he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek.

Your eyes locked onto each other, a silent understanding passing between you as you nodded. Copia responded with a smirk, supporting his hands on the bed, lifting his body. Skillfully moving his hips, he adjusted his position behind you and effortlessly guided his member back inside you, delving even deeper.

The moment he entered you, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You felt his shaft stretching you to the limit, filling every inch of your body with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming as he began to move inside you, each thrust sending waved of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Make me cum," you purred. "And fill me with your cum, Papa."

Continuing his rhythmic motions, he clutched the sheets for leverage. You pressed your hips against him, mirroring the increasing intensity of his pace. Your body responded eagerly to the sensations he crafted. His breathing grew heavier, each exhale carrying a sense of urgency, and his movements became more intense and erratic.

"I'm going to cum, amore," he announced. "I'm going to fill your tight, warm pussy."

You could feel his member pulsing inside you, and then, with a final thrust, he released himself within you. The sensation of his seed filling you up sent you over the edge. Your body trembled as the waves of your orgasm washed over you. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing against you as you both caught your breath, your bodies shuddering in the aftermath of pleasure.

Copia delicately withdrew from your body, a lingering trace of his essence left behind. Reclining beside you, his body turned towards yours, he extended a gentle hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. A weary smile adorned your face, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

With closed eyes, you slowly shifted towards him, seeking proximity. Copia encircled his arms around you, pulling you closer. His forehead parted from yours, planting a tender kiss on it. As you bit your lip, your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze with a mix of emotions.

"I love you," he declared, his eyes brimming with adoration.

"I love you more," you playfully countered.

"That's impossible, amore mio," he chuckled. "After all, it was I who proposed to you tonight, so that means I love you more."

"Does it?" you began, adopting a teasing tone. "But Copia, if you proposed to me, where's the... ring?" you chuckled.

"Uh... Eh!" With a confidant grin, he turned his back to you reaching for his pants on the floor, delving into his pants' pocket. He pulled it out with his hand closed, turning his body back to your direction. With a theatrical flair, he opened his hand, revealing the ring nestled in his palm. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

A soft chuckle escaped you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss onto his lips. Copia reciprocated by reaching for your hand, bringing it closer to his face and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of your hand. His touch was gentle yet deliberate as he delicately slipped the ring onto your finger. As the ring found its place, a radiant smile adorned his lips, and his eyes sparkled with joy as he admired the newly adorned hand.

"Well, I guess that means we're stuck with each other now," you said, a warm smile playing on your lips.

"Forever, amore," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and affection. Leaning in for another kiss, he paused just before closing the gap.

Yearning for him to close the gap, your hand goes to his face, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "What's wrong?"

His eyes sparkled with adoration as he caressed the back of your hand. He stared at you in silence for a moment, you can see his eyes tracing the features of your face “I'm really in love with you," a wide smile start to grew on is lips. "Merry Christmas, my soon-to-be forever partner."

And then, with that, Copia closed the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both sweet and slow. The taste lingered, carrying the feeling of the shared promise of forever.

Grammar

Amore (mio) - My love

Per favore, mi dispiace - Please, I'm sorry

Ti amo così tanto - I love you so much

Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti - Group of old, grumpy idiots

Fratello - Brother

Stai zitto - Be quiet

Vecchi - Old

Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame - Let's eat, I'm starving

Vero - True

Sì - Yes

Certo - Certainly

Non preoccuparti - Don't worry

Buona notte - Good night

Bene, molto bene - Well, very well

Buona fortuna - Good luck

Vita mia - My life

Vieni qui, amore mio - Come here, my love

Capito? - Understood?

Comportati - Behave

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 17th

Threesome or Moresome, Papa Emeritus III & Ghouls x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Gang bang; public gang bang; predator prey; role play; game; fear play; fingering; tag-teaming; exhibitionism; fellatio; minor degradation; cunnilingus; hand jobs; mild cucking; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; bukkake; anal sex; spit as lube; objectification; titfucking; pussy slapping; face fucking; double penetration; spanking; praise kink; creampie; recommended listening: RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. The cold sweat on your brow mingled with the dirt and leaves that clung to your skin as you darted between towering trees, their branches clawing at your clothes. Behind you, a group of relentless men pursued, their heavy footsteps and urgent shouts echoing through the darkening woods. Each step you took, each breath you drew, was a desperate attempt to outpace the ominous figures closing in on you, their motives unknown and their intentions menacing. The ominous symphony of rustling leaves and the pounding of your own feet merged into a haunting cacophony, as the chilling realization set in that there was no escape from this relentless pursuit.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the forest floor, which you navigated with all the stealth and agility you could muster. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins seemed to blur the boundary between exhaustion and determination. The harsh, urgent voices of your pursuers grew closer, their presence an ever-encroaching nightmare. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way to shake them off, to find refuge in the vast labyrinth of the woods. Every twist and turn, every broken twig beneath your feet, betrayed your position to those relentless hunters. You needed a plan, a moment’s respite, anything to gain the upper hand in this deadly game of chase.

In the midst of this heart-pounding pursuit, your eyes darted frantically, scanning the surroundings for a glimmer of hope. That’s when you spotted it—a massive fallen log, its rotting underbelly a sanctuary from the prying eyes of your relentless pursuers. With your breath held, you sprinted toward the log, the thundering footsteps of the men growing ever closer. As you reached it, you slid beneath the decaying wood, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. The earthy scent of damp soil and decay enveloped you, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle any sound. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the shadows of the men draw near, their voices now mere whispers in the distance. Time stood still beneath that log, as you clung to the hope that your concealment would be enough to thwart their relentless hunt.

As you lay hidden beneath the fallen log, the darkness around you seemed to stretch into eternity, and every rustle of leaves or snapping twig sent a jolt of terror through your body. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was remaining unnoticed.

Then, the dreadful moment arrived. A twig cracked nearby, much too close for comfort, and your heart leaped into your throat. You strained to keep your breathing silent and shallow, your eyes locked on the opening where you had crawled in. A pair of boots appeared in your line of sight, inches away from the log. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead as the boots hesitated for a moment, and then a masked face came into view, peering beneath the log.

Your eyes met, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and in that dreadful instant, the world seemed to freeze. His eyes widened in realization, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping for your ankle. Panic surged through you, and you yanked your leg away with all the strength you could muster, scrambling to retreat deeper beneath the log, your heart pounding louder than ever.

“Papa! I found her!” He yelled, his voice giving him away. Omega. He reached forward to grasp at your ankle and in desperation you kicked at him. But this gave him the right opportunity to clutch onto you.

Despite your desperate attempts to pull away, Omega’s grip tightened like a vice around your ankle. Adrenaline surged through you as he yanked you out from your hiding place with a sudden, brutal force. You cried out in pain and shock as you tumbled onto the forest floor, your limbs tangled and your heart racing.

Surrounding you were the remainder of Terzo’s Ghouls who had pursued you, their faces hidden behind their masks, but their eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and menace. You had been outmaneuvered, cornered like prey in a deadly game. As you gasped for breath, Omega loomed over you, his expression devoid of mercy. In that harrowing moment, the realization washed over you that escape was no longer an option, and you had been ensnared in their sinister clutches.

With a strength you couldn’t hope to match, Omega swiftly moved to restrain you. He pinned you to the forest floor, his knee pressed firmly against your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rough hands immobilized your arms, binding them tightly behind your back with a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs. Panic and desperation surged through you, but resistance was futile.

You struggled against his grip, gasping for air and pleading for mercy, but his eyes remained impassive, a look of determination. His comrades formed a menacing circle around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and malice. In that heart-wrenching moment, the realization of your vulnerability and the sinister intent of these men weighed upon you like an inescapable nightmare, casting a shadow over the once serene forest that had become the backdrop to this chilling ordeal.

As you lay there, pinned to the forest floor by the man who had captured you, the tense silence was shattered by the arrival of another figure, the apparent leader of this sinister group, Papa Emeritus III. He stepped forward from the shadows, his face concealed by a twisted grin that sent shivers down your spine. His voice carried an eerie authority as he addressed his comrades, “Well done, gentlemen. It seems our little game has come to a fruitful end.” He looked at Omega and widened his eyes a little. “Perhaps you should let her breathe, no? We wouldn’t want the game to meet a tragic finish.”

Omega relaxed his grip significantly, allowing you to take shallow breaths as the leader continued to survey the scene, seemingly only just realising how into the game he’d been. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto yours, and he chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that filled you with dread. “You’ve been quite the elusive prey, haven’t you?” He said, his tone oozing with satisfaction. “But now, tesoro, you’re in our hands, and you will do exactly as we say.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of your situation became painfully clear. You had fallen into the clutches of a malevolent force, and Terzo’s sinister pleasure at your capture left no doubt that the ordeal had only just begun.

Terzo’s sinister grin turned into a shit-eating one, the kind of smug look you want to slap off his face. “You see, tesoro,” he taunted, “you’ve lost the bet. Alpha!”

“Yes, Papa?” Alpha said,stepping forward at his master’s acknowledgment.

“What exactly was it that she wagered?”

Alpha’s eyes from behind his mask crinkled as though he were smiling. “She bet that she could outrun us and we couldn’t catch her. If she won, we would have to help her redecorate her room. But if we won… well, you give the orders, Papa.”

“Of course, thank you, my friend. you said if we catch her we fuck her, yes?”

“Yes, Papa!” The Ghouls said. Some chuckled quietly to themselves.

Your mind reeled as you tried to process this revelation. It had all been a silly game, a twisted challenge that you had accepted without fully understanding the stakes, or rather, in your hubris believing that you could outrun six men whose livelihoods revolved around fitness. The gravity of your predicament now became even more surreal; you had unwittingly placed your safety on the line, and your defeat meant you were at their mercy.

The other men exchanged knowing glances, their expressions shifting from triumph to amusement. They had not only captured you but had also won the twisted game they had orchestrated. The forest, once a place of serenity and refuge, had become the backdrop for your ill-fated bet, and the consequences were far more dire than you could have ever imagined.

“Of course, tesoro, if you don’t want to continue then by all means speak now. We will let this go with only minor public humiliation.” He crouched down so he was closer to your head which was still on the ground. “But if you wish to continue, you should realise that every person here will be inside you at some point tonight, sì?”

Terzo was giving you an out and there was that small, very intimidated voice inside of you telling you to take it. Six men. You were surrounded by six men. All of which were a varying degree of horny, and were prepared to fuck the life out of you in the middle of the Ministry’s forest. But there was a crazy part of you that just so happened to be winning your internal struggle that wanted you to go on with your bargain. You lost, fair was fair, and the thought of the very same men who had hunted you down like an animal taking turns on you was enough for your entire body to light up in anticipation.

“What say you, tesoro?” Terzo prompted.

You were silent for a moment. “I lost… time to face the consequences.”

Terzo’s face lit up with excitement even though he tried to keep his cool about it. He raised his hands and stood up, taking a few steps back. “Omega caught her, I think it’s only fair he should be the first to have a turn.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Omega responded. He flipped you onto your back and knelt down in between your legs drinking in the sight of your body. Omega was a big lad, nice and chunky - a little smaller than the average rugby player. Your habit, in your struggle, had rose up and allowed him a glimpse of your thighs and panties which had all the Ghouls groaning when they saw you. As one of Terzo’s favourite Siblings, you tended to be off-limits to most members of the Clergy - though it was more of an unspoken rule than an actual enforced law. But the Ghouls were certainly never allowed to touch you in a sexual manner. But they wanted to. Oh, did they really want to.

Omega ran his hands up and down your exposed thighs, feeling the way your body moved at his touch and appreciating this once in a lifetime opportunity. But with four of his brothers and his Papa watching, he knew he wouldn’t be able to savour this moment for much longer. And thus, he began to undress you - maneuvering you into whatever position he needed to in order to completely rid you of your clothes, shoes and all. He hooked his hands underneath your panties and pulled them down - the final item of clothing now removed and leaving you as naked as the day you were born in the middle of the forest.

He used his spit to lube up his fingers and set to work on your core, gently rubbing this thumb over your clit to get you relaxed enough to take his other fingers. At this point you were only letting out little whimpers of pleasure given that his fingers felt good, but they weren’t really hitting the spot just yet. This was the warm-up, not the sprint portion of the night, and you could tell that he was trying to take care of you. That was until he deemed you wet enough to take his middle finger inside of you.

“Tap up, Omega.” You heard Terzo say from somewhere in the distance. “It drives her crazy when you do.”

Omega nodded and obeyed, and immediately you released a loud moan that seemed to echo through the trees. You didn’t know how far away it reached, but you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for passers by to come looking and discover the scene. It didn’t take long of Omega stretching your cunt out before he was able to add another finger and increase the pleasure you were feeling. Your hands immediately flew to your breasts, your own fingers working at your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked to take more of the pleasure Omega was giving you. You looked over at the other Ghouls, each one also at various stages of arousal. Gale and Moss were rubbing their hard cocks through their pants, their eyes trained on your body and the way it was moving at both your hands and Omega’s. Alpha and Stream had, by this point, pulled their dicks out entirely and were brazenly stroking themselves at the sight of you. You looked at Terzo who was leaning up against the log you had been pulled out from underneath, his arms folded and his cock hard in his pants but completely untouched. His mismatched eyes were dark with lust and also focussed entirely on the scene in front of him. Terzo was the only one out of all of them here who knew your body like the back of his hand. He should after all the time he’d spent buried deep inside you.

“Alpha,” Terzo’s voice sounded, “she needs something in her mouth. Feed her your cock.”

Alpha, “Yes, Papa.”

Omega’s twin bounded over and knelt at your head, his hard cock now fully in your face. He was long and thin - he wasn’t going to make your jaw ache but he was going to make you gag on him. A little bigger than average. You lifted your head up and started working on his length, focussing on his sensitive and uncut head first before even attempting to battle the rest of him. There was also something so degradingly hot about everyone talking about you as though you weren’t there. How all of the questions about you and your body were directed to Papa rather than you, simply because you, like the Ghouls, belonged to Terzo and thus, he had spent more time with you than anyone else.

It was as you were beginning to suck on Alpha’s balls you heard the zipper come down on Omega’s trousers. He spat once onto his cock and rubbed it around before placing himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Sister?”

You nodded.

Omega was a little smaller than his brother, and you were actually quite grateful for it. Omega was perfectly average sized, just right for the first cock of the night that’s for sure. You thought he was going to just dive right into you, but in reality, he merely didn’t want to exhaust you too soon. He began slowly, easing himself in and out at a speed that was almost teasing, as if he were trying to drive you crazy. Though, when he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours practically drowned out the sound of the other four groaning at the sight of you getting fucked on the forest floor. Omega couldn’t help himself once he noticed how incredible you felt. The rest of the Ghouls had all shifted somewhat closer to each you for a better look, but you hadn’t noticed to begin with.

“How does she feel, boys?” Terzo asked.

“She’s got such a tight pussy, Papa.” Omega commented.

“Her throat opens up so well for me.” Alpha added, punctuating his sentence with a loud groan. “I can’t wait anymore.” You overheard Alpha utter. “Open up, Sister. I can no longer handle this.”

While Omega pushed his cock deeper into your cunt with his aggressive pace, Alpha slipped his length into your mouth. When Omega fucked into you very hard and laughed at the squeak you let out, which was then followed by a moan. Alpha felt it; your moan made him feel it vibrate around him. “There she is.” His hand tangled in your exposed hair as he pushed himself deeper into your throat.

“She fucking loves this, doesn’t she?” Omega commented.

“Of course she does,” said Terzo. “She can be a bit of a whore when she wants to be.”

When you squeezed Omega, he let out an especially loud moan from between your legs. “Fucking hell, Sister. You feel so good.” He continued thrusting, his pace picking up a lot more. This time there was less control and precision. “She’s gonna make me cum. I’m so close.”

Terzo looked at you and moved a little closer so he could watch. “You want his cum, tesoro?”

You moaned around Alpha in affirmation.

“Omega, pull out and cum somewhere else.”

“But-”

“Only I get to cum inside her.”

After one particularly harsh thrust, Omega pulled himself out of you and came on your pubic mound, his timing not good enough to hit anywhere else. You felt the drips of his seed pour onto your skin as he kept rubbing the head of his cock, trying to brand you as much as he could before the next Ghoul came to play.

Given that his cock was already out, Stream was the next one. But instead of going straight for your cunt, he straddled your stomach. “Someone else can come and take this pussy,” he said reaching behind him and giving it a smack, “I want these beauties.”

Terzo gestured to another one of the Ghouls, “Moss, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Moss was the calmest of all of Terzo’s Ghouls, and usually the most respectful. Which absolutely played out that night. He knelt down in between your legs and again lubed his finger with his spit. “Papa, may I make her cum?” So fucking polite.

Terzo chuckled a little. “Of course.” He replied, tapping Moss’ shoulder.

Moss immediately got to work, using two of his hands to finger you. His left thumb played with your clit as three of his fingers worked your g-spot and refused to let up their pace.

Alpha was now pushing his cock further into your throat, being a little rougher with his thrusts. Terzo’s white gloved hand came to yours and gave it a little squeeze, his eyes looking at you quizzically as if to ask if it was too much. It wasn’t. The idea of all these men using you for their own pleasure should have made you sick at the thought, but the objectification you were feeling only added to your arousal. And so, Alpha just taking what he wanted had you clenching around Moss’ fingers.

Stream, at this point, had pushed your breasts together and started thrusting between them, occasionally spitting in the valley between them to lube your skin up and make the slide more comfortable for him. His thrusts were a lot rougher than Omega’s, and you knew most of that was down to the fact he had been playing with himself as you were being used by the first two Ghouls. “How’s that mouth feeling, Alpha?” Stream asked, watching his cock as it was engulfed in your tits.

“Fucking sinful. She takes it so good. It was like she was made for it.”

“Papa’s gonna kill me for saying this, but I been thinking about these tits for so fucking long. Always wanted to do this.”

Moss, “She just tightened around my fingers.”

Stream, “No shit? I guess she likes hearing about what a tempting Jezebel she is, hm?”

You moaned which earned a similar one from Alpha. “Oh yes she fucking does, listen to those whines. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Pull out!” Papa instructed.

Like Omega, Alpha didn’t pull out as fast as he would have liked. So instead of his cum landing at a more comfortable place on your body, it ended up spilling all over your face, but primarily on your lips, effectively sealing them shut. If you were to open them, Alpha’s cum would just start pouring in. Papa hit the back of his head and gestured vaguely to your face, basically telling him to move his shit before it causes a problem. And so, instead of using his hands, Alpha rubbed his softening and sensitive cock to smear himself around your face and away from your mouth and nose. This meant a lot of it slipped down your cheeks and into your hair, already matted with leaves and soil from the forest floor.

As soon as Alpha walked away, your mouth opened and let out the loudest whine. Hips bucking and a knot tightening in your stomach, you only managed to let out a, “Oh fuck!” before you were cumming around Moss’ fingers. Your hips bucked more violently at the orgasm that was ripping through you, and when you made eye contact with Moss, you saw his eyes light up. He did that. He made you cum. Omega didn’t bother he only stretched you out to make it hurt less, neither did Alpha or Stream even make an attempt for you. That was all Moss’ work. And if you could see his face, you were sure he looked like the cat that got the cream.

The sight of your cum-covered face contorting into an orgasm forced Stream to tip over the edge afterward, his cum now shooting out over your neck and spilling off your skin and into your hair, joining Alpha’s. “Fucking hell!” Stream moaned as his thrusts got weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether. He climbed off you and tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Omega a high five when he’d joined the twins watching the scene play out without them.

“Are you okay, tesoro? Do you want to stop?” Terzo asked, on his knees next to you and holding your hand.

“‘m fine, Papa. It feels so good.” Your voice was very husky and strained as you spoke, Alpha’s cock having done a number on you when he used your throat.

Terzo kissed your hand. “Use the safe word when you need to, amore mio. I’ll kill them if I have to.”

You laughed at his protectiveness but knew it wouldn’t be necessary. The intimate moment you were sharing with your lover was broken by the timid voice of Gale coming over to take his turn. “Papa… may I take her ass? I don’t want to hurt her throat any more than it already is.” His posture was nervous - not because he was typically afraid of Terzo, just because he was a naturally nervous guy. Never wanted to burden or kick up a fuss.

Terzo looked at you, and at your slight nod he gave Gale and Moss permission to do what they needed to as long as they were gentle. Moss lay on his back beside you and beckoned you to straddle him to grant Gale easy access to your ass. Moss took this opportunity to play with your clit once more, circling and swirling his fingers around you to distract you from Gale’s fingers prodding at your second hole. He also used his spit as lube, but made sure he was really taking his time with you because he knew just how painful it would be if he didn’t.

Your second orgasm hit you when Moss’ fingers were moving quickly in tight circles around your clit and Gale was three fingers deep in your ass. The sensation wasn’t one you were used to, as you and Terzo never really did anal that much. But being so full in one hole and empty in the other felt oddly pleasant.

When you were ready, Moss lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed at your hips, sinking you down onto him and taking him completely. Moss was thick - really thick - but a little too short to hit that sweet spot at the back of your pussy. The drag of him against your walls was exquisite though, and every time he bounced you off his hips you could feel him gently brush against your heavily abused g-spot.

Gale entered you next, his cock moving much slower than Moss’ did just to make sure that you were comfortable. Gale, much like the twins, was average sized - or rather, just right. Not so big he hurt you, but not so small you couldn’t feel him. And the added thickness of Moss meant that every part of you was stimulated wonderfully.

The two Ghouls set a pretty even pace to begin with ensuring that you were always full with at least one of them. Every time Moss pulled out, Gale pushed in and vice versa. Eventually,

“Oh, Azmodeus!” You heard Gale grunt from behind you after a particularly sharp thrust. “Sister, your ass hole feels so tight!”

Moss, “Her cunt, too. I won’t last much longer if she keeps squeezing like this!”

“Spank her.” You heard Terzo say from above you.

You felt Gale’s hand come down on you harshly, making you tense and clench around Moss’ cock. “Fuck!”

“She gets tighter, doesn’t she?”

“So much!” He shuddered at the sensation.

Gale, laughing, did it again, this time harder. You clenched again and watched Moss fall apart beneath you. Gale took your ass, while Moss played with your cunt, once again touching your clit and as they felt you tighten, they refused go gentle with you. You found yourself screaming the more merciless they became. That rhythm they built before got faster, and so much rougher, causing your cries to amplify and echo between each of the trees. It felt so incredible to be fucked like that. Two cocks at the same time, rubbing against each other while they were inside you and hitting every single spot so good. You loved the feeling of it.

Terzo’s eyes were blown out to the point where he looked completely crazy. He crouched down to the side of you, at first watching your holes get obliterated by his two Ghouls, but then to the look of pleasure on your face. You reached out to him, your hand holding onto the base of his neck and top of his shoulder as you were railed, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. He got the hint, and leaned forward crashing his lips to yours and giving you the intimacy that you were clearly desperate for. His tongue entered your mouth, and his hand ran all over the parts of your body that he could reach. When he pulled away, he spoke. “Tell me, tesoro, how does it feel?”

“So good, Papa! I - sh-shit - I feel like I’m about to burst.” The moans you were making were absolutely pornographic, but they were real noises being ripped from you. It drove Terzo absolutely insane to hear. A small part of him loved watching his Ghouls use you for their pleasure, he loved hearing what they were doing and he loved that you were feeling so good because of it. He loved that he was also the one calling the shots, ordering them to do things but saving parts of yourself for him.

“You like it when other men fuck you, hm?”

“I do! B-but Papa’s cock is the best!”

“That’s my good girl. Will you cum for us, tesoro?”

“Yes, Papa!”

Moss’ fingers, for the third time that night, tipped you over the edge. Your holes had the both of them trapped in a vice grip as you collapsed onto Moss’ clothed chest. Once you let them both go, they pulled out of you and lay you back on your back, knelt over you, and jerked themselves off until their cum added to the rest of the dried stains on your body. both men moved away to allow Terzo space to get down to your level. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. You were so fucked out, Terzo didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you or fuck you until you passed out.

He whispered, “Can you take any more, tesoro?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He kissed you hard, positioning himself between your legs and taking his cock out of his trousers without breaking the kiss. Eventually, he lined himself up and entered you, his body draping over yours and keeping your faces as close as possible. Terzo was not only blessed by Satan in his name, but also in his anatomy. Terzo sported as much thickness as was proportionate, and always stretched you to your limits as though he were made for you. He would always hit the right spots inside you, and have you seeing stars every time you came on his cock. He continued to kiss you, dote on you, a gloved hand moving down to play with your clit as he snapped his hips, those fucking hips that knew how to love you right. He slammed himself into you, over and over again, trying to be gentle at first but the images of his Ghouls taking turns on you turning him into a horny and feral monster.

“Is this enough for you, slut?” He asked. “Having the sixth cock inside you. You sated enough?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Look at you. You’re an absolute fucking mess. You’re filthy. I like my whores filthy, though.”

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. Your voice was hoarse from screaming all night. You couldn’t keep it in. Even when you had cocks in your mouth you couldn’t stop the noise from coming out. “Feels so good!”

“How are you still so tight after taking all those cocks? Fucking hell, ___. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

Terzo wasn’t a stranger to praising you in bed. Though he enjoyed degrading you, he also knew when it was too much. And right now you had been a good girl for him, for all of them, and you deserved the praise. You felt so good around him. He loved your cunt so much. It’s why you were his favourite, you aligned so perfectly in taste and sensation. He loved wrecking you until you were nothing but a shell of what you were when you entered his room, and you loved being the victim of his frustrations and desires. And even though he was fucking in front of his subordinates, this was still the best sex he’d ever had with you. He was moaning and grunting louder than he ever had before, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in both Italian and English, and his fingers expertly working you, making sure you came before he did.

“Oh God, amore mio. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. Shit. Oh fuck!”

Terzo was sure he’d never cum that hard and that much in his life. So much of it spilled out onto the floor when he’d finally pulled out of you. Terzo was breathless, but he was nowhere near as exhausted as you.

You stayed there, weak and unable to move, you could barely keep your eyes open. All you could think about was how amazing that felt. But Terzo would be damned if he let you pass out, butt naked on the cold, dirty floor of the Ministry’s forest.

You don’t remember how you wound up in Terzo’s bed - you don’t even remember it being the next morning. But there you were, swaddled in his deep red, velvet sheets with his hairy and naked arm draped over you. There was not a part of your body that wasn’t sore - and also thoroughly cleaned. The cum and the majority of the dirt had been cleaned off you, no doubt Terzo did that when he’d got his Ghouls to bring you inside - or at least, you assumed as much. If you were awake for any of it, none of it was coming to mind.

Waking up next to Terzo was always an intimate affair. He loved waking up to your kisses all over his face, but this morning he was awake before you, giving you a lazy and sleepy smile. “How are you feeling now, tesoro?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. “You need to rest, little one. Come, snuggle into me as you like to do. Sleep some more.”

“Anything you say, Papa.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[imababblekat]

A Rare Sight

Prompt: A silence has befallen the ninja turtle lair, and three brothers catch an unthinkable sight of their rugged sibling, Raphael!

~xXx~

Not a voice or sound of clanging weapons resounded within the lair, just the soft hum of technology echoing from an unoccupied lab and the whir of the sewers. In such strange quietness, the youngest of the ninja turtles who had just recently returned with a new box of pizza looked around inquisitively. Seeing two of his three brothers, Leo and Donnie, standing over the other behind one of the lair walls, he quickly walked over. “Hey! What are-mumph!” Mikey was quickly silence by two hands slapping over his mouth followed by aggressive shushing. Both brothers slowly lowered their hands, Mikey doing his best to talk in a quieted tone. “I know I’m the life of the party, but why are y’all being so quiet?!” Leo pointed toward his eyes and then out around the corner to where Donnie had returned his own intense gaze. Setting down the box of triple meat and cheese pizza on a nearby rail, Mikey crept forward and shoved himself under Leo who grunted slightly annoyed. It took all of the orange clad ninja turtle to keep himself from squealing at the sight that had his brothers so intrigued. In the common area of the lair, beneath the glow of warm fairy lights, sat Raphael and you huddled close together on the couch. Both were fast asleep, a stark contrast to how Mikey had seen you two before leaving to get pizza, each one in a loud banter about who was the best DC hero and why. The way you two were so close was absolutely adorable, your head rested on Raph’s shoulder, and the fierce turtles head rested atop yours. The boys were used to the serenity of your sleeping state, but to see their brother whose color matched his typical rage of character in such similarity was absolutely baffling. Not to mention the fact that he had even fallen asleep so close to another person! Raphael was not exactly known for outwardly expressing his closeness to others, that including his own brothers. “How long have they been like that?!”, Mikey all but excitedly shrieked, both his brothers shushing him once more. Turning his attention back to the two most likely unintentional snuggle bugs on the sofa, Donnie’s nose scrunched in thought. “Could not be for long. I stepped into the lab only a few minutes after you left, and I could still hear them arguing over the recent DC movies.”, he whispered out, much quieter than his ecstatic brother. Mikey sighed, resting his chin on a propped elbow and seemingly kicking back his feet like a high schooler in the mist of day dreaming. “Dudes, I bet they’re item. Yeah, they’re totally an item~.” Above the swooning turtle, Leo shook his head, the tails of his mask swaying ever so lightly. “I doubt it. Just last week I saw (y,n) adjust his bench seat to get back at him for mocking her height again. Raph couldn’t even squeeze his big head into the space between the seat and bar.” Before any of the trio could make another comment, a noise from the center of the room had them freeze in place. As soon as they realized it was just you yawning in your sleep, they had relaxed. Curious gazes watched as you shuffled in place, snuggling in closer to the outwardly brutish ninja turtle, who turn had adjusted as well for closer proximity. Seeing Raph be so soft with your smaller form as it cuddled closer into his side, was not a sight any of the brothers thought they’d witness. Even in his sleep, Raphael seemed know to be gentle with you beside him, and despite the foreign feeling of having someone so physically close, his subconscious had clearly wanted it. Regardless, the scene of seeing their typically short fused brother so at peace in the arms of someone they all held dear brought a warmth to their hearts. Knowing that someone as strong headed as Raph, someone who often threw up a tough guy front to hide the softness deep within, found and got to experience such a wonderous moment, was all that they could wish for. With a content smile for his the brother he often butted heads with, Leo stepped back from spot against the wall. “Come on. Let’s give them some-“ CLICK! The eyes of Leo and Donnie shot open in pure surprise and horror when they snapped their sharp gaze towards the loud noise, only to find Mikey holding a camera he seemingly pulled out of thin air. Cheeks heating up in embarrassment at not realizing how loud the device would be, Mikey awkwardly chuckled. “What, they’re sleeping! There’s no way they heard right? Right?!” As if to answer the mischievous youngsters question, a groggy and familiarly angry tone reverberated off the lairs wall. “MIKEY!!!” Said turtle yelped and turned to find his two other brothers having fled with haste, leaving him to deal with the furious approaching sounds of a now awakened Raphael, all the while you sat in the background still half asleep and very confused about all the kerfuffle.

~xXx~

[theghostisametaphor]

problems with trying to actually locate a physical copy of Armadale by Wilkie Collins:

almost all the covers are supremely ugly.

the need of every description to go on and on about how Evil and Hardened and Manipulative the female antagonist is. shut uppp.

Lydia has never done anything wrong in her life actually.

She is my poor little flagrantly mentally ill meow meow and i am wrapping her up in a blanket and giving her hot soup as we speak.

So she poisoned her husband. He was a jerk.

Anyway she deserves a happy ending where she and her boyfriend and his boyfriend live in confused but manageable polyamorous bliss, and no bad things happen to her anymore.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'745

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped Reader, Captive Reader, Implied death and torture (not reader), Brief descriptions of blood, Possessiveness, Implied abusive behaviour.

Additional Notes: Ya girl gets chronic nightmares, so I'm being self-indulgent here.

Nights like these were always rough.

It was cold. Cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for an additional layer of protection against the frigid air.

The sound of the hammock’s ropes resonated throughout the empty chamber of the sewer, creaking as you rocked it back and forth. The hamstrings in your calf had begun to burn over an hour ago from the repetitive motion of pushing from the heel of your foot to the ball, but that didn’t stop you from doing it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each motion accompanied by the sound of rope straining under weight.

At times you swore the weight of sleeplessness added onto your actual biomass.

He wasn’t there. Mahito usually wasn’t when you woke up like this. Cold. Tired. Achy. It almost made you miss him, but the sane part of you that remained was thankful for the absence.

He had already seen far too many sides of you for your liking. Him seeing another would be… well. Gut-wrenching was always a good way to describe it, but violating came closer.

Back and forth.

Part of you wondered where he went in the evenings. Curses didn’t sleep, and he typically got his fill of you during the daylight hours, so - as far as you knew - once you drifted off he was gone in favor of unleashing whatever horrors he desired to inflict that night. Sometimes you’d hear distant screams echoing along the vast expanse of the sewers, and you knew he wasn’t far.

Those nights you folded the single pillow in the hammock over your ears and muffled the sounds of suffering to the best of your ability.

But there were no screams tonight. Just the creaking of the ropes and the distant drip of water from a leaky pipe.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Mahito’s sudden voice from behind startled you so badly that you over-calculated the rocking motion of the hammock and sent yourself spiraling onto the concrete floor.

A new sound filled the air - his degrading, overzealous cackle bouncing off the walls while he held an arm over his stomach, doubling over at the sight of you.

“Look at you, you should see your face!”

The tired glare you sent him only earned another round of laughter and you sat up with most of your weight supported behind you on the palms of your hands.

“I thought you went out.”

“I did~.” He said, reaching out and pulling you back up to a standing position by your upper arm once he was finished with his laughing fit. “And now I’m back.”

You hummed lowly in acknowledgement, brushing bits of idle debris off your clothes using your free hand but stopped when his grip tightened on your bicep.

He leered closer to you, the hot rot of his breath hitting you directly in the face.

“Well?”

You swallowed. “Welcome back.”

He grinned, teeth flashing in the dim lighting before he pulled you with him, falling backward into the hammock with you between his legs, back resting against his chest.

It was deceptively domestic, especially when he ran his fingers up and down your arm absentmindedly. The additional warmth of what little body heat he provided did not help in the delusion, either.

“Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“I know that.” He poked your cheek, the nail of his finger digging into the soft skin and leaving a crescent moon shape. “I asked why.”

You shrugged, not giving a verbal answer outright, but the sigh that followed gave away far more than you intended to.

Mahito clicked his tongue and put his hand under your chin, forcing your head to tilt back so you had no choice but to look at him. It was a little awkward with the semi-upside-down positioning, but things like that were never of any concern to him.

“Details, sweetheart, stop stalling.”

You made a face at the pet name he had chosen for this week. It was tacky and tasteless, but in your opinion anything he picked was. That being said, it was better than what he had chosen the week before.

“I have nightmares, okay?”

His face filled with child-like wonderment and he let go of your chin. A small grunt of relief left you and you rubbed the back of your neck while Mahito repositioned the both of you so he could look at you better - slotting you beside him.

“Poor little thing gets nightmares…” He cooed mockingly, running a hand through your hair. “Am I in them?”

It took everything not to sneer at him. Of course, that would be the first thing he would ask. Not that you were surprised, but that didn’t lessen the near-overwhelming desire to kick him in the teeth.

You forced your feelings down and shook your head. “Not all of them.”

His smile returned, eyes gleaming at the subtext of your words. “But I have been.”

You cringed and went to look away from him, but his cool fingers wrapped around your jaw and brought your gaze back to his.

“What happens in these dreams?”

“A lot.” Your answer was clipped, not wanting to offer more, but his grip didn’t waver. Your jaw clenched. “I can’t remember all of them.”

“But you remember some.”

“Some are hard to forget.”

He pulled you closer - wrapping his arms around you so you were completely trapped against him in an embrace that made your skin crawl.

“I’m all ears~.”

Your lips formed a thin line, the silence and tension between you growing ever palpable with each second you remained quiet.

Mahito sighed, tracing patterns along your back, but his amusement never wavered. “Do I kill you, is that it?” He let his fingers slide up along the upper half of your spine, dragging them across your shoulder blade and back down again before repeating the motion. “Do you beg me for your life like you’ve heard so many do before you?”

He giggled and ran his other hand along your jaw, “You can tell me~.”

A shiver went through you, from the cold you reasoned, but you still stayed quiet - not willing to confirm the small yet horrifically accurate details of his guesses. 

Anything you feared him doing to you in the waking world, he’d done in your dreams. Killing you. Maiming you. Making you wish you were never born, but really that one was a constant even when you weren’t asleep.

He chuckled again at the silence and patted your cheek, “So predictable, I wonder if that’s what you dreamed about tonight for you to be so mousey…”

The near-hopeful curiosity of his tone had your stomach in knots and you swallowed bile.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm?” His expression fell, a bit of disappointment shifting onto his face but it was quickly overtaken by interest and the patterns being traced along your back came to a stop. “What was it then?”

You made a face. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, sweetheart, yes it does.” Mahito squeezed you tighter, the look on his face a little… manic. “I want to know what’s going on in that little mind of yours.”

He tapped his fingers twice against your temple in emphasis, each time making you flinch a little bit. “Spill.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, the skin already chapped and dry before you had even begun.

“It’s a reoccurring one, and it’s always the same.” You started. “I’m in a building that has endless halls and endless rooms. There’s no light coming from an obvious source, and it doesn’t illuminate everything - leaving some parts in complete black.”

Mahito raised an eyebrow, seemingly not very impressed so far, but you continued.

“There’s no exit. No way of getting out. Any emergency exit leads to another hall, and any stairs that would lead to the roof are sealed off by a wall that shouldn’t be there.

“None of the rooms are the same. Some are harder to get into than others and they don’t have a door. I have to crawl on my belly or shimmy my way between two panels that are so close together that I can’t even breathe as I move through them…”

Even the memories of the claustrophobia made you shiver.

“Sometimes the rooms are… coated. Absolutely coated in blood, but there are never any bodies. It’s thick and hot, like it had just been spilled…”

Mahito huffed, toying with a strand of your hair. “Doesn’t seem that bad, I thought you’d have thicker skin after all I’ve done to you.”

That made you both flinch and cringe, but it was quickly overtaken by a wave of anger and you shot him a look. “You asked.”

The words were bitter - doing nothing to mask the sickeningly real sting of hurt you felt.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” He cooed, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Go on.”

Your frown deepened and you shook your head. “That’s essentially all there is to it.”

Mahito sucked on his teeth and tsk’d. “‘Essentially’ isn’t everything, what are you leaving out?”

The look on his face was still one of morbid interest, but you could see the impatience starting to build behind his eyes.

Impatience meant boredom, and boredom was never good.

“...As I move through the rooms, I sometimes feel like I’m being followed by something, but when I look back there is nothing there.”

Something more serious replaced the look in his eyes in the time it took to blink. “By something or someone?”

“I don’t know!” The frustration fully bled into your tone for a moment and you cleared your throat after a beat. “I just know I can feel whatever it is watching me, sometimes so closely I can feel them breathing down my neck…”

You rubbed your neck in discomfort as if you could still feel it. “It stays that way until I wake up…”

Mahito was silent for a bit, his expression not changing and he gripped you to the point it was painful. Controlling.

Possessive.

Eventually, his grip loosened, but only enough so he could slide his hand down along your neck, the touch lingering.

“Sounds like you need different dreams, then.” He said, cold fingers wrapping around your throat, but not squeezing just yet. Goosebumps blossomed over the flesh and this time you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“I can help with that~.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[yuesya]

Far beneath the royal capital of Leyndell and its myriad splendors, there lies a sprawling maze of darkened waterways and shadowed tunnels; antithesis to all that is good and gold upon the surface. All creatures who are shunned dwell down here, to while away their days within the dark.

Morgott and his twin brother, Mohg, had been cast down here upon birth. Demigod children of Queen Marika the Eternal and Elden Lord Godfrey they may be, even such godly, royal blood did not prevent exile. For they both were born Omen –wretched creatures who were not blessed with the grace of the Erdtree. The blood that ran through their veins was cursed, a quality that manifested upon their physical bodies as monstrous deformities. Hulking figures, and bestial horns.

It is a mercy that they still draw breath. That they are only chained and bound beneath the cavernous depths of the royal city. Other Omen are not so lucky; their horns are forcibly excised at birth, an act that more often than not results in death.

And death is something that Morgott is familiar with, too. There are corpses floating in the sewers, those of Omen and vermin alike. Bloated, deformed, crawling with maggots. It is a common sight, this scenery that is ever-present and ever-constant in the dreary darkness of this world.

(The only world that Morgott knows.)

“Brother!”

The distinct clink of chains is preceded by his twin brother’s booming voice. Loud, and echoing. Rats are sent scattering at his approach, fleeing in a messy wave that rattles Morgott’s own chains. The shackles upon his limbs hang heavy, as does the collar affixed around his neck, but this does not stop Morgott from lifting his head to heed his brother’s call–

–what is that?

… Wading through the foul sewer waters, Mohg’s towering, horned figure does not strike an unusual sight. What is unusual, however, would be the child sitting docilely in the crook of his arm, gathered haphazardly to his chest. No visible signs of any distress, or even any alarm at all.

It is a girl. Pale white hair, standing out starkly against the gloom of her surroundings. Blue eyes, abyssal and ringed with a distinct glow. Her appearance is one that is free of any blemishes and other such deformities –she does not appear to be cursed, so it is utterly baffling that such a child is here.

What madness is this?

“You –what have you done?” Morgott demands.

Mohg smiles. “Nay, ‘tis not I who is to blame for any of this! A little stray seems to have managed to wander down here on her own.”

“‘Fell,’” the girl corrects, tugging at the hem of his brother’s tattered sleeve with no compunctions. “I didn’t wander. I fell.”

“Ah, my apologies,” Mohg promptly acquiesces, readjusting his hold on her for better balance. “She seems to have slipped and fallen through the cracks –is that right?”

The girl nods agreeably.

… Except one does not just fall down into the bowels of glorious Leyndell like that. What is this child? And, more importantly–

Morgott clicks his tongue, “How are we to return her to the surface?”

Benign visitors from above are quite vanishingly rare, and for the most part the denizens of the depths below are simply cast aside and left to their fates. Morgott does not know when, or if their Lord-Father would choose to visit them again, and should this child expire during that time–

“Why?” Mohg asks. “We should just keep her.”

Morgott scowls. “Do not say such things in jest. You cannot just keep a child –surely she has family on the surface who are searching for her!”

Mohg peers down at the girl in his arms, “Do you?”

The white-haired girl shakes her head in clear dismissal of the notion. “Queen-Mother would only search for Godwyn.”

Morgott stares at the girl. So does Mohg, for that matter.

Queen-Mother. Godwyn.

The implications of her words–!

“… Your parents,” Morgott finds himself saying slowly, “You are a daughter of Queen Marika?”

“Yes.”

This strange child –one whom Morgott cannot sense any trace of divinity or his mother’s power from– is their younger sister? Half-sister?

This is… certainly unexpected.

[httpvomitello]

Can we get a bayverse tmnt boys scenarios for each one what if their S/O decides to scare them for fun one day by sneaking up on them but they end up hurting them really bad with their weapon out of reflex and the s/o has to go to the hospital and almost lost her life? I need something ansty😃

omg YES! I also need a little bit of angst right now. I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

In Too Deep *⁠.⁠✧

Leonardo

It was meant to be a harmless prank. Just a playful scare, something they thought would make Leo laugh. After all, for someone as serious as him, he could use a good surprise every now and then, right? They watched him in the training room, his focus unwavering as he practiced with his twin katanas.

The perfect opportunity.

They waited for the right moment, and when his back was turned, they leapt out from behind a pillar, shouting, “Gotcha!”

Leo’s reaction was instant, years of training kicked in. Before they could blink, he spun around, katana flashing through the air. The blade met flesh, and then, all they felt was pain. A sharp, burning pain as the katana sliced deep into their side.

Their scream echoed in the room, and Leo’s face went pale.

“No...” he gasped, his katana slipping from his hands and clattering to the floor. His heart raced as he rushed forward, catching them as they crumpled to the ground. Blood, so much blood, was already seeping between his fingers as he tried to apply pressure to the wound. "I... I didn’t mean... I thought you were someone else!"

Their breathing was shallow, their skin pale as they struggled to keep their eyes open. "Leo..." they whispered, their voice weak.

Leo flinched at the words, guilt gnawing at him. "I... I didn’t mean to…"

"Yeah, well you did," they provoked, though the effort drained them. Their anger was quickly overshadowed by the searing pain, but the frustration remained.

Leo’s heart felt like it was breaking in his chest. He was the leader, the one who was supposed to protect them. And now, he had hurt the person he cared about most. “Don’t talk, save your strength,” he urged, though his voice cracked. His hands were soaked in their blood, and it was spreading too fast.

Without a second thought, Leo carefully scooped them up, cradling them in his arms, and bolted toward the surface. Every second felt like an eternity as he sprinted through the sewers and into the night. His heart pounded as he reached the hospital, slipping through the back alleyways, making sure no one saw him.

Once he reached the back entrance, Leo gently laid them on the cold ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking as he dialed April’s number.

"April, I need you at the hospital. Now," his voice was strained, thick with guilt and desperation. He couldn’t stay. If anyone saw him, it could make things worse. "Please… they’re hurt. Bad."

Before she could even respond, he hung up, casting one last glance at their pale, unconscious form. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered before slipping away into the shadows, but staying close to the hospital room window once they received treatment.

Raphael

Raph had always been on edge. It didn’t take much to set him off, and they knew that. But still, they couldn’t resist trying to scare him, just once. He always teased them about being too slow to sneak up on him, so today, they decided to prove him wrong.

They crept up behind him while he was lifting weights in the training room, knowing he was in his own little world. When they were close enough, they grabbed his shoulders and shouted, “Surprise!”

In a heartbeat, Raph whirled around, sai in hand, swinging hard. His weapon struck with a sickening thud, embedding itself deep into their stomach.

Their body jerked from the impact, and their eyes widened as they crumpled forward, collapsing into Raph’s arms.

“Fuck!” Raph gasped, his sai falling to the ground as he caught them. Blood poured from the wound, staining his hands as he pressed desperately against their abdomen. "Shit, no! What the hell was you thinking?" His voice cracked, thick with panic and fear.

Their breaths were shallow, weak. They blinked up at him, eyes filled with pain and fury. "You idiot!" they wheezed, wincing at the sharp pain. "Who... swings a weapon that hard without looking?"

Raph’s face paled as the guilt hit him like a freight train. "I—I didn’t know it was you!" he stammered, the panic in his voice rising. "Fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to..."

Their groan cut him off, and the anger drained from them, leaving behind only pain. Raph could see the fear and confusion in their eyes, and it made his chest tighten even more.

Without wasting another second, Raph lifted them into his arms, bolting through the lair and out into the night. His heart raced as he ran, their body limp in his arms.

By the time he reached the hospital, his chest was heaving with panic. He didn’t stop until he reached the emergency room back entrance, carefully laying them on the pavement. He couldn’t stay, not with people around, but he couldn’t leave them alone either.

He pulled out his phone, dialing April with shaking hands. "April, you gotta get to the hospital," he rasped, his voice barely recognizable. "Please... they’re hurt. Bad. Just get here." He hung up after she respond, his chest tight with fear. He bent down, placing a kiss on their forehead, and whispered, "I’m sorry... for everything."

Donatello

Donnie was always absorbed in his work. His mind ran a mile a minute, lost in blueprints and inventions. They knew it was hard to get his attention sometimes, but today, they were feeling playful. Sneaking up on him while he tinkered with his latest project in the lab seemed harmless. He’d never expect it.

They crept up behind him, heart racing with anticipation. Once they were close enough, they grabbed his shoulder, shouting, “Boo!”

Donnie spun around, staff already in hand. Before he could register who it was, his bo connected with their ribs, the impact sending them crashing into the shelves behind them. The crack of bone echoed through the lab, followed by a choked gasp of pain.

“What the...” Donnie dropped his bo, rushing to their side as they crumpled to the floor. They clutched their side, gasping for air, their skin paling by the second. Blood dripped from their mouth, and Donnie’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

"You didn’t have to hit so hard, you know," they tried to laugh, glaring up at him, their eyes filled with pain but also a flicker of annoyance.

Donnie’s face blanched, guilt hitting him like a tidal wave. "I-I didn’t mean to… I thought…" He stammered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix it, but the sight of them bleeding, pale, and weak in front of him shattered his ability to think straight.

Their breaths were shallow, labored, and panic surged through him. He couldn't let them die. Not because of him.

Donnie gathered them in his arms, moving faster than he ever had before. His mind screamed with every step as he raced to the hospital. Once there, he slipped through the back, ensuring no one saw him. Gently, he laid them on the ground, his hands shaking.

He pulled out his phone and called April.

"April, please, you have to come. They’re hurt," his voice cracked. "I can’t… I hurt them." He didn’t wait for her response, too overwhelmed by the guilt clawing at his heart. He brushed a trembling hand over their cheek and whispered, "I’ll fix this. I promise."

But as he slipped back into the shadows, he knew some things couldn’t be fixed.

Michelangelo

Mikey loved a good prank. He was always the one pulling jokes on them, so this time, they decided to get him back. It was innocent enough, right? Just a scare. They saw him on the couch, totally engrossed in a video game, and figured it was the perfect time.

They crept up behind him, suppressing their laughter as they leaned over the back of the couch and shouted, “Surprise!”

Without thinking, Mikey swung his nunchaku back in defense, the metal striking hard against their temple. The force sent them crumpling to the floor, blood already trickling down their face.

“Oh no!” Mikey gasped, immediately dropping his nunchaku as he knelt beside them, his hands trembling. “No, no, no, no! What did I do?” Tears welled in his eyes as he cradled their head in his hands, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Of all the reactions, you chose to hit me?" they muttered, their voice weak. "It was a joke, Mikey."

Mikey felt like he had been punched in the gut. “I didn’t mean to! I swear!” He could see the frustration in their eyes, but it was quickly fading into pain, and his heart broke.

They groaned in pain, their eyes unfocused, struggling to stay conscious.

"Mikey…" they whispered his name.

Tears streamed down Mikey’s face as he scooped them up, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he whispered, panic rising with every step he took toward the lair’s exit. He ran through the streets, his focus solely on getting them help, their weak breaths the only sound he could hear.

When he reached the hospital, Mikey carefully laid them down near the entrance. He couldn’t go inside without risking exposure, but he couldn’t leave them alone either. He fumbled for his phone, trying to call April with shaking hands.

“April, please,” he begged as soon as she answered. “Get to the hospital. They’re hurt… and it’s my fault.”

Mikey hung up after she confirmed that she would soon arrive there, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he bent down, brushing a hand over their hair. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered before slipping into the shadows, but staying close when he saw April coming.

[yorshie]

11 & 10 with Raph, a sort of confession\first kiss type of deal please! I need my boy to discover being loved.

-justalotoffanfic ❤️

Oooooooooooooo. First kiss. I think you might like reading this if you haven't yet, But Also Thank You for Requesting on Blurb Day! Let's have Pining Soft Raph to fight off those Mikey Brooms for a bit, eh? (edit: uh..... I guess this turned out more pining Reader and hopeless kiss. oops) also, sorry i forgot to do this with the other side blog requests but @justalotoffanfiction

Being with Raph wasn't always....a straight line. The curve of progress sometimes doubled back on itself, or stalled for a bit before resuming at a glacial place.

It was easy enough to understand, you thought, watching him move purposefully through his workout, racking weights and eyeing the amount before he slotted himself underneath on the inclined bench. There were things you'd probably never know about, but the few big ticket items you had heard of left several things completely clear.

The Turtles had been hunted, and could be so again in the future. They weren't human, and people sometimes reacted badly to that. And the last thing, probably the root of your problem with Raph, was that there would always be someone 'better' for you, in his mind.

Someone that didn't live in the sewers, that didn't have a shell and a different amount of fingers, someone that didn't tower over you or place themselves in danger over and over again.

He was stubborn, you thought with an exhale, watching him knock off a weight from each side and slot himself under the bar once more, the suicide set causing his muscles to twitch under the exertion.

You watched the tensed line of a vein curling over his tricep, the little hollow below his elbow dipping in and out of existence with each flex. Your eyes followed the strain of his deltoid where it disappeared under his plastron-

"Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?" His gruff voice called, words bitten short from exertion, and you blinked, pulled from your line of perusal.

"What?" You asked back, shifting in your seat, playing innocent even as you drank in his figure again.

"There's something rattling around in that pretty head of yours," He paused, knocked off another pair of weights, and you followed the beads of sweat running down the back of his elbow without conscious thought. "Gotta be something you're not telling me, isn't it?"

Your mouth pulled to the side, not quite a frown, not quite a smirk, and you finally stood when he paused once more, chest heaving as he re-racked the bar and glanced your way.

You could be stubborn, you reminded yourself, but another little voice echoed the words, sounding a lot more sure of itself than the immediate bravado. You could also push too hard.

"I just..." You trailed off, but Raph ducked a shoulder and leaned forward, resting his shell against the bar. He lifted one eye ridge towards you, clearly waiting.

When you still couldn't get the words out, he gestured you over with a jerk of his head, repeated the motion with more sass when you took too long.

When you finally stood in front of him, eyes taking in how his plastron swelled with each breath, the obvious way his arms had all but doubled from the exercise, you swallowed heavily.

Raph snorted at your ogling, one large hand coming up to tuck against your waist. "I uh," He tapped his fingers, slowly, against the back of your hip, obviously thinking, " I don't.... I really don't wanna end up doing the wrong thing here, sweetheart, but-"

He broke off, staring at your face, and you couldn't care less who moved first, just that you did-

And you were both stubborn idiots, it seemed, because you both bobbed when one should have weaved, and the first time you missed completely, lips nudging along cheeks instead of finding each other.

Your fingers found his jaw halfway through his eye roll, and his hand cupped the back of your head through exasperation more so than any tender feeling, but the tiny well of ire at how stubborn he was disappeared the second his lips landed true.

They were wide, and soft, and you could tell he was trying so hard to keep it sweet. After the third tentative scrub you finally lost your patience and opened your mouth to lick against his lower lip, and he pulled back with a grunt and a look in his eyes that promised retribution.

You grinned at him, feeling drunk, and a little bit stubborn yourself.

[pixeechix21]

The Ritual

Reader x Slytherin boys (Matteo and Theo)

Summary: When the ritual begins, the dark gives light to desires that need to be satisfied. You are a Slytherin and there’s the initiation for Last Year students. Pansy begs you to go, but what makes you agree is because, the Slytherin boys were betting you wouldn’t because you're a goody two shoes. When you arrive at the bonfire in the Forbidden Forest you're teased by Matteo and Theo.

TW: where do I start??? degradation kink, praise kink, primal, threesome, rough, M/M/F, blood, fighting, oral, p in v, fear kink, being chased, almost suggestion of rape (didn’t happen phew), trapping(idk wt it means necessarily but like it makes sense), teasing

WC:2.8K ish

Heading towards the dungeons you were ready to take off your tie and huddle up, hidden away from them. Entering the high vaulted main room, you search for them making sure you're safe. Pansy shrieks excitedly as soon as you take a step further. She runs up and hugs, “bitch where the fuck have you been!” she takes hold of you and steers you to the large leather couches situated in an arc, full of giggling girls. “Hey, y/n,” a couple smile and continue gossiping in whispering voices. You let yourself curl up between Pansy and Oliva. 

“Yeah, Snape wanted me after class to talk about extra work,” you explain, trying to play it cool and that you definitely weren’t getting some from Gryffindor. 

“Boo! You overachiever,” Pansy teases. “So you going?” She looks eagerly. It takes you a moment to realize what she was asking.

“Ehhhhh-”

“For the love of god, you better be,” she threatens.

“But I have to study and honestly I don’t want to be out there freezing my ass off,” you complain. You wanted to go but you really did have work you hadn’t done any of the assignments for tomorrow.

“You won’t be freezing your ass off if someone’s grabbing it. Pleeease,” she grabs your arms giving you faux puppy dog eyes. “We can even leave. After midnight,” she negotiates. You’re unsure, you’re low key excited about the Ritual, but… your brain tries to reason.

“Yeah pleeease, I know someone that’d want to get some,” Matteo's voice mocks from behind us. Aw shit, the Heirs. 

“Shut up Matteo, go find a fourth year to play with,” you retaliate facing the group of boys. Each tall and darkly handsome each in their own right. 

"Aww don't say that you know i prefer third years," he mockingly puts a hand to his heart in hurting. "I was merely offering an option."

"Ew Matteo," you, Pansy and Liv say in unison, rolling your eyes. "Anyways she would go for a dick like you, she's got Simon from Ravenclaw to help" she points out completely forgetting that that was said in confidence and that he broke it off to pursue "true love" or some shit. 

"We all know Simon couldn't please you," Tom chirps in walking along, already bored of this child's play. You roll your eyes and face forward ignoring their laughs echoing down from the boy's dorms. 

"He's not wrong he has that rat out of a sewer vibe," Liv agrees watching as your face screws up in a smile as you agree. 

"I'll go," you finally say.

"Yes bitch!" Pansy squeals again, jumping up and running to your room. 

The ritual is a customary initiation for final year Slytherins. All the staff know about it but they don't have enough energy to deal with stopping it from happening. It happens on the last weekend of autumn term, where everyone drinks endlessly and there's always a game involved. Hunt or be hunted; separate the mundane from the ambitious. 

As soon as Snape is reported to be tucked away in his master room, the students slowly scuttle out of the dungeons like mice, out to the dark forest. 

Pansy is readjusting her tits to be pushed out further, you shake your head giggling. "Shut up you're blessed with amazing tits," she dismisses you pulling down your shirt to stop you from hiding yourself. "Show what your mama gave you babies." The cold encircles your body and the full moon lights the path into the forest. In the middle behind a tangle of trees there's a small clearing in the middle a large bonfire burns. You see a page flutter up in the flames, probably used old books instead of fire, you think. You're nervous, unsure of the darkness and the rowdy teens drinking. Pansy spotted her boy toy and she left the bottle in hand. You walk around talking to others, slowly warming up as the fire burns brighter. Then just as everyone settled down, there was a shouting announcing, “everyone shut the fuck up!” On top of a newly fallen tree stood Draco. 

“As you all know tonight is the sacred night of the Ritual!” Everyone lifts their drinks shouting in excitement. “Alright alright, tonight’s special game is Tag, boys versus girls, as we are gentlemen we’ll let the ladies have a head start.” He goes on mischievously. “The Forbidden Forest is filled with monstrous creatures, but don’t lose sight of the real dangers. Us.” There’s geering all around. You search for Pansy but she’s nowhere to be seen. Don’t be a pussy, a small voice tells you. Inhaling deeply you accept the consequences whatever they will be. It’s a game, and you’re the chestmaster you got this, you hype yourself out. 

“We’ll start in 10 minutes,” Tom shouts. Everyone spreads out, you head out to search for a route. “The winners will be given the honorary title of King and Queen of Slytherine, and will be placed as head girl and boy of Slytherine house.”

“You warmed up?” Matteo cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. “I can give you a hand. Get you ready,” he steps closer. You instinctively step back. 

“Where you off to little bunny, we haven’t said go,” Theo breathes out smoke. The pungent smoke fills your lungs as you suck in your breath. He’s directly behind you, sandwiching you in.

“Go fuck yourself,” you say snarkily. Your chest rising up and down, tits rising and falling out of your small shirt. Matteo’s dead eyes look down to your chest, and smiles slightly, running his tongue over his teeth. Like a wolf ready to eat. 

“Trust me, I’d rather you do it,” he says slowly, inching closer. Theo chuckles as you step back again, this time his large hands take hold of your waist to steady you. A small hum of agreement comes from him. 

“I’d fuck your dad before you,” you spit out glaring up at Matteo. Challenging him further.

“Ha! I never thought power would be what gets you hot and heavy y/n,” he teases.

You’ve had enough, there’s too much adrenaline and alcohol running through your body to the point you’ve lost all reasonability, because suddenly you’re getting extremely hot. There’s a stirring down between your legs as he grabs your chin so that you look up at him. Feeling both of their hands holding you there, you feel trapped, encircled and being toyed with. 

Draco is counting down to zero and you’re starting to anticipate your escape. “Be careful little bunny,” Matteo starts.

“Wouldn’t want a big bad wolf to catch you,” Theo finishes, flicking his cigarette away. As Draco shouts zero, they both step aside, a devilish smirk plastered on their faces. They watch you intently as you start to walk away backwards then you turn around and bolt it.

There’s screams and giggles of girls as we make our way through the dark forest. I don’t even want to be the head girl you think regretting coming, the comfortable thought of your books and studies sounds like a much better option. You’ve slowed your running shouting and giggles only  distant echoes now. “Run run, bunny,” a voice says. You stop spinning around trying to gauge where the voice came from. The silence chills you to your bones, and you go into a sprint again. There’s laughing all around. You want to barf from the heavy breathing and alcohol. You check behind you, “GOT YOU!” Caleb James shouts, scaring the living shit out of you as he jumps out and takes hold of you. “Look who it is, the slytherin heirs’ slut,” he jeers, his breath stinks as he talks closely to your face, you turn your head in disgust. “Bet you’ll open your legs for me,” he starts to manhandle you and you scream for help. Your wand had fallen to the floor when he caught you. “Shut up slut,” he shakes you vigorously. There’s a snap of a twig in the dark. He stops his movements. You try to break free. Two dark figures step out of the shadows, their black clothes like camouflage. You never thought you’d be happy to see them. One of them advances upon you guys, he raises his fist and punches Caleb. A splatter of blood falls on your face, you step back watching them. Matteo dodges a swing and gets him in the ribs. Theo goes from behind and holds Caleb in a lock, “don’t you ever fucking try that you mud blood,” Matteo growls as he lands punches mercilessly. “Let him go he’s mine,” Theo steps back and Matteo tackles him to the floor.

Caleb gets Matteo breaking blood, a small stream coursing on his face. “Stop! Teo stop you’re going to kill him!” You yell. “Stop him Theo!” You jerk your head to Theo who’s watching happily taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“No this is all him,” he chuckles. Matteo’s knuckles are covered in blood and the boy isn’t responding any more. Face swollen and already purpling. After a second of two, Theo pushes off the tree, “alright I’m bored. Get off Matteo,” Matteo grabs Caleb's shirt and pulls him close, he says something that you can’t hear and then pushes him down.

He looks up at you as he gets up. “You okay?” He says quietly. His breath is erratic, a wild excited look fills his dark eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” you start.

“A thank you would be polite,” he says sarcastically, approaching you. You can smell the blood and mint and he exhales from his mouth. Without you realizing your hand goes up and swipes his split lip, wiping some blood away. Suddenly he stops you by your wrist mid air. He takes you in close. He towers over you, “thank you,” you whisper. You’re released and snap out of the trance. Theo offers his blunt, taking it you relax as the smoke cradles you. “You caught me,” you laugh, not sure how to process those brief seconds you were scared for your life. 

“What’s the prize?” Theo teases, raising an eyebrow. 

“Come here and I’ll give it to you,” you joke. Well you thought you were joking until his shadow blocks the light of the moon and his black eyes gleam cravingly. You pull his head down, he opens his mouth slightly. You kiss him. His hands wrap around you and his tongue dominates your mouth. Ravaging your lips. Wanting to play with them like they did you, you break apart he looks disappointed at this. You put the blunt to your lips and breathe, exhaling as you eye Matteo who’s looking jealous at the scene in front of him. “And you,” you direct at him. Already your panties are wet with the idea of having them both. At the same time. 

Pansy would laugh her ass off, you think humorously. 

He comes to you with his hands snaking to your ass as he pulls you in close. He licks his lips, his eyes hooded heavily in lust. His kiss was determined. He wanted to show you. Force you to see that he’s the one you need. Behind you you feel Theo press himself into your ass, already growing harder you feel his dick on your back making you gulp. Reaching for him you pull his face into your neck, obediently he places hurtful kisses and bites up and down it. Matteo’s hot body firmly pushes you to Theo. Matteo’s hand needs your tits, as Theo’s moves down in front to your panties, his cold hands play between your wetness. You moan as you're over-stimulated. Turning your face to take Theo’s lips and bite. A clash of teeth and tongue. “You’re so wet for us bunny,” he moans. Matteo distances himself and looks at you both. Staring. He gets turned on at the idea of you entangled in his best friend's hands. He envisions himself giving you unbearable pleasure. How it’s hard to restrain himself and take you all for himself. “Take it off. Now.” He crosses his arms glaring at you as you make eye contact with him. Theo breaks away. First your pants fall to the floor. Your nipple hardens evermore at the chill and pure neediness. “More,” Theo presses. Lifting your shirt over your head that joins your pants on the floor. Tantalizingly you undo your bra. Then look through your lashes as you take off your pink panties.

They inhale at the sight of your beautiful naked body, both of them on the edge of tearing you apart. Your skin buzzes excitedly as you get on your knees in front of them. Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of having them both. “Want us both?” Matteo provokes. You nod your head, your hands eager to undo their belts. 

“Greedy little bitch,” Theo takes your hair and pulls it harshly. Your clit is crying to be touched, throbbing painfully. You can’t take it anymore. An unspoken agreement went between the boys, Matteo took you and Theo stood and watched. You have no time to react as you're thrown down, you hear the jingle and zipper coming undone. His hand palms your ass bruising it, you feel him slide his large tip up and down your slit, pushing in slightly then pulling out. Sexual frustration builds in you so much that you press your ass to him. “Needy little whore,” he chuckles as he thrusts himself in. Your back arches as he unfurls his hatred for you. There is no gentleness in his thrusts, none. He takes his hand to your front and starts edging you to your orgasm. Circling fast then slowly, taking you almost to the top then lets you settle down. Over and over he plays these cruel games. Theo eyes flare up as you look at him, eyes half open as if drugged by the sex, mouth open, you pant and moan. 

“You sound so pretty,” he crouches down, clearing a loose strand of hair, tucking it delicately behind your ear. He kisses you then stands up taking off his belt. “Take this Matteo, give her a lesson or two about power,” he hands his belt to Teo. He releases his grip from you and snaps the belt. The loud snap echoes in the dark.

 The Ritual so sexual and forbidden, it inspires even the most demonic of creatures. 

Matteo lets the belt hit you once, twice, three times each time, stinging more than before. You’re going to hate sitting down tomorrow. Theo comes back into your sight, his hard cock begging to be released. 

“Open wide bunny,” Matteo commands, setting down the belt and going back to circling your clit feverishly. As you come opening your mouth to let out sounds of pleasure Theo thrusts his dick into your mouth. His hands steady your head as he face fucks you, “fuck you’re better than I’d ever imagined,” you see sweat build on his forehead. “Look at you, such a beautiful little whore,” he wipes the strands of hair that are plastered to your face. 

“Fuck- God y/n you feel like heaven,” Matteo brakes out, as his own fucking doesn’t slow. You're so full that you start to feel another build up, it’s too much. It’s just enough. It’s not enough. Delirium comes over you as you cunt throbs, and you can breathe. The boys’ moaning and animalistic fucking sounds like a symphony to you. You cry out as you come again losing all control of your body. Theo finishes and wipes his come from your lips and you lick them clean as told so. Matteo’s nails mark you as he finishes ruthlessly. 

All three of you are a mess. Theo offers you a hand to stand up as Matteo helps you dress, picking out leaves from your clothes. Both treating you like a queen. You are lost, and they guide you back. “We found her! The Queen of Slytherin!” Theo takes your hand and bows. You are absolutely bamboozled at the fact that there were students playing tag and that they’re all cheering not knowing what just happened. Pansy yelled happily and you just nodded, thanking people as you passed by and headed to bed.

Because God knows the pain you’ll be in tomorrow.