#i think you would be muzzled though

[t4ct1c4l-b4ckup]

Hey babe, if there was a zombie apocalypse and I got bit, what would you do?

Probably keep you somewhere and try to find a cure.

[oil-bh]

Do you think, when he was arrested, that Cell was seen as the same as any other prisoners? Do you think he resided in the same places, ate the same food, performed the same work? Do you think the guards saw him and his violent history and let him roam the same as the thieves whose POV we saw it through?

Or do you think they saw this barely 18-year-old, who turned to violence and cannibalism as a means to survive, and recognized the danger he posed? Do you think they held him down, fought against his struggle, and let the other prisoners know that he wasn’t like them?

Do you think Cell was confused, confused as to why he was so different from the other Brazilians that lived in those same conditions? Do you think that he saw them as threats not because they were ones, but rather, because he knew that they lived so much better than him, yet still wound up here?

Do you think this man— if you could even call this teen a man— saw JV, Pac, Mike, and Guaxinim as threats out of jealousy? Empty wishes that he could have lives their lives and made smarter decisions to be a free man roaming the earth?

Do you think he cried when they held him down and put that infernal thing on him?

Não.

Ele é um animal.

Os animais não sentem.

[nightmarecountry]

y'know what though. he SHOULD be muzzled. literally. leash that fucking hound we can't trust him not to bite someone.

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

[hurlingdown]

thinkin’ about . . . gunplay with fushiguro toji. you’re a notorious mafia boss, and he’s a sharp-witted spy sent out to honey trap you. what comes next?

tags. sub! toji, dom! reader. gunplay, oral, cock-stepping, dirty talk, degradation, slight feminization, sir kink, toji being a (cock)slut.

fushiguro toji would have never thought his honey trap mission would end up with him being on his knees for you and a gun to his throat.

“don’t tell me,” you muttered, patting the barrel of the gun against his cheek, “you actually thought you would be able to pull this off without getting caught?” 

toji was staring up at you with such composure that normally would have pissed you off, but you didn’t miss the way he visibly swallowed when you traced his jawline with the muzzle, betraying how affected he really was. he couldn't help it. the way you were treating him was exciting, and he had to remind himself that you were holding a weapon that could end his life. 

at his silence, you slowly trailed the mouth of the gun down the vein of his neck, cold metal scraping against hot skin, making him shiver. 

“so quiet,” you sighed, angling the gun in a way that circled his adam’s apple, his breath hitching at the slight pressure on his windpipe. “and to think you were talking so much earlier, when you attempted to seduce me in that bar.” 

toji smirked. “n’ i damn near succeeded.” 

“if you did, you’d be in a far better place than here, kneeling at my mercy. don’t you think?” 

“y’were ready to bend me over the table,” he drawled, lazily meeting your eyes. “if you didn’t see the gun—you would’ve fucked me in fronta everyone.” 

eyebrows furrowing, you gripped his hair forcefully, lifting him to meet you face-to-face as he grunted in pain, struggling to stay on his knees with his hands bound behind him. “—fucker. give a warning.” 

you clenched your jaw.

“i can see why they sent you,” you said nonchalantly, a carefully constructed facade for your anger—hot gaze trailing down the tempting crevice of his chest, down to the erection that practically bulged obscenely against the front of his trousers. “with this slutty body of yours. could make you half a woman with the size of those.” 

“could it,” toji wheezed. it didn’t come out like a question. “got a thing for whores with big tits? or ‘s just me, sire?” 

what was he playing at? you jerked his head back roughly, lining the gun up at the base of his throat. 

“open your mouth again, and i’ll put a bullet through your pretty face.” 

toji stared the gun down as though being held at gunpoint was a routine for him at this point, completely unfazed. his gaze darted towards you right after, face contorted into a strangely smug expression, like he knew you weren’t going to shoot him. you watched as he carefully parted his lips, taking his tongue out and shooting you a naughty gaze through his lashes. 

it took you a moment to gather your bearings before you snarled, half in anger and half in awe. “you fucking slut.”

if he wanted something in his mouth, well, you were going to give him something.

ignoring the glint of wariness in his eyes as you raised the gun from his throat, you pressed the tip of it against his lips before slowly pushing it past the rim. it had to taste bitter, with residual gunpowder staining the edges, but toji didn’t show it. if anything, it looked like he was enjoying it, jaw slackening as he allowed you to push in further. 

toji’s eyes fluttered shut as you finally bottomed out, trying not to gag as the muzzle hit the back of his throat. there was a small frown fixed on his face in concentration, and he tilted his head expertly to allow it to slide in deeper. 

his lips were wrapped taut around the thick barrel up to the trigger where your finger laid, lewd gurgles now sounding as saliva rapidly gathered in his mouth at the overstretch. a line of drool tantalisingly dripped down the side of his chin, dribbling down the exposed column of his throat. 

the loud click of you cocking the gun had him letting out a pathetic whimper, swallowing hard as he tried his hardest to take it in deeper. he glanced up at you through smouldering, watery eyes, looking for something akin to… approval. 

“think i underestimated how much of a whore you are,” you muttered, yanking his head to the side, to which he whined lowly at. “got a thing for sticking dangerous objects down your throat, toji, or is it just my gun?”  

toji let out a muffled response, or tried to, as you took the opportunity to flatten the side of the barrel against his tongue, the heel of your foot simultaneously digging down hard onto his clothed erection. he groaned, hips bucking up as he tried to chase the sudden stimulation, the overwhelming pleasure making his eyes roll back in an erotic display.

“that’s enough,” you rasped, pulling the barrel out. it was now thoroughly drenched in his spit, and a lewd string of saliva connected the muzzle and his lips. he looked up at you with dazed bedroom eyes.

“i want the real thing now,” toji purred. “sire.” 

kinktober masterlist! main masterlist!

[ellecdc]

James' Love & the Adventures of Padvix

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is very foxy [1.2k words]

CW: animagus reader, modern AU but still magical, they're staying at an airBNB, padfoot and vixen are out of control and James [+ Remus] are smitten

Remus looked so pretty; his cheeks and nose kissed pink by the cold, a soft, satisfied smile on his face, and the snowflakes landing on his hat and tawny curls poking out from under it that took their sweet time to melt under his effervescent warmth. 

James was in love. 

“Are you going to help me here or are you just going to keep staring?” Remus commented then, not bothering to look up at his boyfriend whilst a cheeky smirk danced on his lips. 

James wanted to kiss him senseless. 

So he did. 

Remus tasted like the peppermint hot chocolate he enjoyed earlier, the peppermint hot chocolate he’d probably enjoy when they got back inside, the cold winter air, and happiness. 

James was in love. 

“Sorry Moons.” He murmured against his lips before pressing one more, two more, let’s make it three more kisses to his lips before he did indeed help load the chopped wood into the strong IKEA bags.

The two of them stepped into the steamy warm cabin. No, it wasn’t actually steamy, that was just James’ glasses. But before James' bag of firewood even hit the ground, gentle fingers were pulling them from his face before Remus pressed a kiss to his nose. 

James was in love. 

De-fog-ified, James’ glasses made themselves back home on his face as he looked around the living space of the small cabin the four of you had rented for the week. 

“Where’d they go?” He inquired aloud, hearing a canine ‘oomph’ in response. 

Remus and James both moved to stand behind the sofa to find you and Sirius - or, rather, Pads and Vix - on the rug in front of the fire. Padfoot appeared to be laying casually (which told James and Remus that he was very much up to something) whilst Vix performed dramatic “mousing” jumps onto Padfoot’s back, eliciting those canine “oomph’s” they had heard upon entering. 

James was in love. 

“I’m pretty sure this airBNB was ‘no pets allowed’ you two.” Remus teased, though he seemed no less pleased at watching the two of you roughhouse. 

“Please.” James scoffed as he lazily fell over the back of the sofa. “A quick vanishing spell and we’ll be leaving this place cleaner than we found it.” 

“Why do you think we get perfect ratings for every place we rent?” Remus chuckled as he navigated around the sofa like a normal person, lifting his leg when you started to zoomie across the area rug and nearly collided with him. “Merlin, Vix, you’re a hazard.” 

Padfoot let out what sounded awfully close to a laugh before Vix went to do one of her mousing jumps at him again, only for him to roll onto his back so that her front paws landed into his stomach and then rolled back over, completely encapsulating the much smaller fox under his large frame. 

If James was none the wiser, he would have assumed that the dog was the only animal in the dwelling; Padfoot returning to laying far too casually. 

James was in love. 

“Padfoot.” Remus chided, giving the dog a look of faux exasperation. “Can she even breathe under there?” 

The dog huffed in a way that told both boys he was rolling his eyes before two front paws circled the tip of his tail and two back paws started bunny kicking the base. Padfoot seemed to be cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at the little vixen as James started cackling. 

“She’s wild today.” 

“I have a feeling it’s not one sided.” Remus murmured in response as Vix’s head popped out from under the large dog's fur, the two of them staring each other down before both of Padfoot’s front paws slammed down onto the rug in an invitation to play, and Vix launched herself at his face. 

Vix ended up on her back between his paws as she swatted and nipped at Padfoot’s muzzle and bunny kicked the thick fur around his neck as Padfoot mouth-wrestled and gently nipped at Vix’s scruff. 

“Oh come on you guys,” James moaned, “you’re gonna be all slobbery!” 

Padfoot stood then - tail straight up in the air and wagging slowly - allowing Vix to stand and bolt in one direction, reappearing from the other side of the room before Padfoot even began his chase. 

James was almost dizzy when all he could see was the occasional blur of orange fur and Padfoot pausing in the middle of the room with his ears and tail up before the blur reappeared and he took off again after her, Remus laughing so heartily at the chaos that he ended up nearly collapsing into James’ side. 

James was in love. 

The room fell eerily quiet for a moment before Vix flew over the back of the sofa, landing between James and Remus, and Padfoot appeared in front of them looking disturbingly close to launching his very large frame at the bunch of them. 

“Pads, don’t you dare!” Remus shouted through a laugh, holding his hands up as if ready to fend off the large dog. 

Vix seemed to think it was hilarious too; the high pitched cackling sound foxes often make leaving her mouth as she flattened herself to the sofa - so happy, so excited, so full of love that her entire little body seemed wholly incapable of staying still. 

James was in love. 

Padfoot let out an excited bark and licked excitedly at Remus’ hands before moving his affection to Vix’s head. 

“No!” James laughed before scooping the fox up into his arms. “I want cuddles before the two of you are covered in slobber.” 

Vix melted into James’ embrace whilst Padfoot clumsily made his way up onto the sofa that he was a little too big to fit on, though Remus still did his best to accommodate him. 

“The two of you are menaces.” Remus muttered good naturedly as he threw his arm over the back of the sofa. 

“She started it!” The now human form of Sirius argued as he leaned into Remus's side.

“Who? Her?” James asked as he held Vix’s little face up against his own, both of them shooting Sirius their best puppy dog face. “Sirius, look at her. How could she be the problem?”

“So what? I’m automatically the problem?” Sirius scoffed in offence. 

“Yes.” James and Remus chorused. 

“I’m cute too!” Sirius nearly shrieked then. 

“Adorable.” Remus agreed quickly. “But you’re the kind of cute that screams trouble.” 

“Oh, as opposed to what? Her innocence?” Sirius muttered then, gesturing to Vix with a frustrated hand. 

His ire melted away, though, when the fox gave his hand a gentle lick. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, she’s adorable.” He grumbled petulantly as he stole the fox from James’ embrace, cradling it in his arms so Remus and James could admire you from over his shoulders.

You melted back into yourself then, smiling widely up at the three boys; love, mischief, excitement, and contentment oozing from your being that could only come with knowing how loved you were and loving them just as much in turn. 

James was so in love.

[coryosbaby]

You fog up my brain, you make me insane… Hannibal Lecter x fem! Reader

Synopsis: examining your shared obsession

content warning . 18+, MDNI oral fixations, codependency, heavy biting kink, mentions of cannibalism. Blood, teeth, and body worship

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Hannibal opens his mouth for her whenever she asks. Nimble, soft padded fingertips touch the tip of his tongue and move even further. Over his teeth, the expanse of his gums. She rubs her tongue over her own canines in retaliation. The urge to bite into him is so incredibly chastising.

She almost does it, a few times. When his throat is close, she leaves a few marks. Her teeth sink into him and leave a clear indent, though she vows never to reveal muscle, blood, or bone. Her hands run through his hair, and she douses her own in his shampoo when she’s in the shower. His nails are clipped short; she bites hers clear down to the nub. He tells her to kiss him, and she does— teeth biting his lip, tongue roaming that mouth she loves oh so much. Close to drawing blood, but not quite.

Until he tells her to. One mindless, rainy night, her body is sprawled out on top of his, thighs on either side of his hips. The ribbon in her hair is the only thing you could consider covering her. And him, the rings adorning his fingers. His bare chest is enticing, and she leaves sweet lipstick prints along the skin. He soothes her heated neck with his hand, proving coolness and relief. She runs her blunt nails through the hair peppering his chest.

“I want to crawl inside your skin and never leave.” She mumbles, her face nuzzling him.

He doesn’t find this to be scary, or vile. He feels exactly the same way, and nods along. He trails a finger up her hip and back down again.

“I would let you,” and then, as his nose moves up to nuzzle her own, “you’re special.”

Her lashes flutter and she sighs in content. His arms wrap around her back and he pulls her down to his lips. When he kisses her, it’s on the cheeks, forehead, and nose.

“My special girl.”

A small smile, pouty lips kissing him right back. She grabs his much larger hand into her own, presses his wrist to her lips and feels the heartbeat underneath the skin.

He licks his lips and guides her hand to his torso, settling right above his navel.

“Bite me here,” he murmurs, and she lets out a tiny squeak.

“What?”

“Here. Bite me here, I want to feel your teeth.”

She can never deny him, and she would never dare question him. She moves lower so her head is face to face with his waist. Her teeth scrape against his flesh, tasting sweat and skin.

Hannibal. She tastes Hannibal.

She bites, hard. The older man below her lets out a groan, feeling her break the skin and draw red rivulets of blood, finally.

She’s no vampire, of course. But his blood fills something in her— a completion. A promise.

When she pulls away, her teeth are red. The large indentation on his skin makes her rut down against his thigh. Her fingers slip against the wound as she adjusts— a happy little accident. She presses them into his mouth and feels the soft expanse of his tongue and his teeth. He stares up at her as he sucks them. He releases them from his mouth with a lewd pop, inhaling through his teeth. She tilts her head, almost in awe of him.

“You’re beautiful.” she says timidly.

He smiles softly.

“And you’re perfect, you know,” he replies. “Anyone would be a fool not to worship you, darling.”

Heat creeps up her neck, and when the man reaches up to tug the pink ribbon out of her hair, she whines.

“It took me forever to do my hair like this!” she exclaims.

“Mmm..” Hannibal replies, and looks at her hair, as if examining. “I already ruined it when I was fucking you, don’t you think?”

She flushes. The man below her begins wrapping the ribbon around her head. Her brows furrow, but not before they’re raising as he slips the ribbon into her mouth and gags her with it.

“Need to muzzle you good, don’t I? Since you love biting me so much.”

He watches the way her drool begins soaking through the fabric. Seeing her distraught face, he coos, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweet girl. But you need to be controlled, disciplined,” and then, “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

She whimpers, hips grinding down onto his crotch. He’s hard now, leaking and ready to slip inside her, and that he does. Spreading her cheeks apart, his tip probes her already filled hole. He had fucked her an hour before, filled her to the brim with his seed, and now he intends to do it again.

He sheathes inside in one go. Her eyes roll back, clit throbbing as he flattens his feet on the bed and thrusts up. Her body falls forward, causing him to bury his face into her collarbone, and he grunts against her. She feels something sharp against her shoulder— teeth.

He bites down, hard. She lets out a yell, feeling him sink into her skin. He has surely drawn blood, because when he pulls away his lips are stained red.

“See?” He asks her, licking his lips. “Now we match, lover. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

Tears fall down her cheeks, and she nods. It is perfect.

It’s even more perfect when Hannibal uses the strength of his hips to turn the girl onto her back. She lets out a mewl, and with his cock still in her, Hannibal grabs her roughly by her thighs as he’s on his knees. Her back arches as he pulls her legs over his own, fucking her down onto his thick length. He grabs the soft expanse of her waist, grunting as he watches her tits jiggle with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he breathes, as she squirms underneath him. “Such an obedient girl for me.”

She doesn’t know where to put her hands, so with her most basic instinct she presses them on top of Hannibal’s own. He grabs them, holding them against her skin and cooing.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

These words comfort her, bring a relief to her fuzzy brain, and she needs him closer. Closer, closer, closer.

She pulls his hands towards her, signaling for him to move. He moves forward, pressing himself against her body.

“I don’t want to crush you,” he says, and she bites her lip.

“I do.”

He does anything she asks, really. He puts all of his weight on her, lets her nails rake down his back and draw blood. She sinks her teeth into him more, rubs the blood on her lips and kisses him. He licks into her mouth and when he pulls away it’s so he can spit onto her tongue. She swallows it greedily, her heels pressing into his hips as he pounds her mercilessly. One hand moves to her clit, rubbing it deftly between his fingers, and his other hand goes to her throat, which he lightly squeezes.

“Look at you,” he praises, watching her lidded eyes. “So pretty and pliant for me. So beautiful.”

“Hanni—“ she starts, but it’s cut off as her orgasm rapidly approaches. “I’m gonna cum—“

“Cum for me,” Hannibal growls. “Cum for me, gorgeous. Fucking soak me.”

That’s all the command she needs. She seizes up, whimpers loudly as she reaches her peak, her eyes rolling back as she cries out his name. Hannibal watches with a small smile, but not before the clenching of her orgasming cunt has his mouth falling open as he gives two final, harsh thrusts. He spills into her with his teeth on her neck, fucks his cum into her, warm and wet.

She milks him for all he has. Her cunt takes his spend greedily, spilling over the rim of her hole and onto the sheets. Hannibal stays inside for a moment to catch his breath, deciding to collapse onto her. Not that she minds; he isn’t that heavy, and she likes the weight of him. He buries his face in her neck and sighs, absolutely spent.

“My darling girl.” he murmurs, as if in a trance. She hums a timid reply, her fingers curling into his graying locks. He kisses her on the jugular. She kisses him on the forehead. He means everything to her.

“My darling boy.” She replies. He chuckles, lifting his head and kissing her on the mouth again. She bites his bottom lip teasingly and worries the skin in between her teeth. It draws more blood, and she licks it up with her tongue.

When Hannibal pulls away, his cock slips out of her. She feels his cum dripping out of her entrance, but she ignores it. Instead, she opts for curling up on his chest again, her leg slung over his hip and her hand rubbing over the bite mark she had given him. He grabs her wrist, slipping her index finger into his mouth and suckling. She runs the pad of it over his teeth, a little crooked but absolutely perfect to her.

When she falls asleep, fingers in his mouth, she’s never been more satiated.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy

[cyborgkanojo]

Rabid dog. -- Boothill x Fem!Reader -- 18+ MDNI

___________________

It was almost adorable that you thought you could reign Boothill in like this, that you could "tame" him. Perhaps that wasn't fully your intention though, otherwise the restraints you used wouldn't be quite so flimsy when faced with the strength of his (literal) machine of a body.

Even so, he would indulge you a little - you were so damn sexy when you took the reigns like this, the lingerie you wore clinging so deliciously to your body as you straddled him.

He'd make a note to absolutely tear it all to shreds off of you in due time, along with these restraints.

___________________

Boothill feigned struggling against the ropes tied around his wrists behind his back, but still managed to smirk up at you regardless. Under more normal circumstances, he'd idly wonder if you actually planned to turn him in for his bounty, maybe you had grown tired of that fiery personality of his and all his quips and comebacks....but, the skimpy lingerie you wore as you straddled his waist seemed to prove otherwise.

As you glared down at him, he'd think to himself - Holy hell, what a woman.

"Now now, what's the occasion, darlin'? Have some business with a dangerous man like me~?" His voice was playful but still held a hint of warning, which you didn't think nor care to pick up on. Your eyes narrowed as you grabbed him by his chin.

"Don't get cute with me, cowboy. You were way too rough with me last time. You made it so I was sore the next day even though you knew that would be a problem for me. It's about time I give you a taste of your own medicine." He shifted beneath you some, his smirk looking a little more awkward as his gaze avoided yours. Boothill was a surprisingly good actor. "Ahaha, about that.....look, I made it up to you, didn't I? S'just untie me, and I'll---" "No."

Forget about "his own medicine" - he wanted to taste your fucking cunt more than anything right now.

Hell, even your lips....ugh, drool into his mouth, get real rough with him, you could slap him right in the face and he'd be hard as steel in his pants. Well, he was -always- hard as steel when it came to you (and because, well y'know, he's a cyborg), but that was besides the point.

He'd also started to notice that you hadn't exactly tied the restraints properly. Devious thoughts began to bubble up inside of him. Was it possible you did this on purpose? It was hard to say, since it wasn't like he wouldn't have trouble breaking free right now, and your efforts were close enough in that this would keep the average human tied up for a decent while. Boothill, however, was very much not your average human.

The cowboy was pulled from his thoughts the moment ou shifted on top of him, your hand reaching down and unzipping his pants. You then pulled out....a collar and leash?

"If you're going to act like a horny mindless dog, I'm going to treat you like one."

Damn. If his body could sweat, he'd be drenched in it. As you took the time to put that collar around his neck, he bit back a low, almost feral sounding growl. "You'd best be careful, now. This dog bites."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, unfortunately for you, I didn't come prepared with a muzzle. But I know a way to keep that silver tongue of yours busy."

It took every ounce of him not to start actually drooling and panting like an animal once your heat was just a few inches above his face, your panties tugged to the side - a smart move on your part, otherwise he'd have ripped the thin fabric clean off of you with his teeth alone.

He didn't need any guidance now. He pushed his head up with a ravenous snarl, without you so much as tugging on his leash, and devoured you. Lips sucking on your folds loudly, his tongue lapping at you and giving your swollen little clit some extra attention, the moans you gave him as he ate you out only encouraging him further.

You'd start to grind against him in turn, your hands wandering along is body, your fingers feeling like feathers that teased him. He noticed you avoided reaching for his cock, but that's fine by him. He ate your cunt more fiercely, eager to make you cum, make you give him more of your slick juices, more of those pretty sounds, he was greedy for it all.

"F-fuck, I can't...last like this...!! I'm gonna cum, Boothill~" He'd suck on your clit, flicking his tongue against it, letting out another growl. Your sharp cries as you were being pushed over the edge were exactly what he was so desperate to hear, and he lapped you obediently afterwards. You were certain he was like putty in your hands now, at least in his own way.

As you pulled yourself off of his face, you heard him let out a low, satisfied hum, a long with a chuckle. "Heh, not bad. Since I've been such a good boy, you'll give me another treat, won'cha~?" Boothill bucked his hips upward ever so slightly, bringing your attention to his neglected cock. You let out a shaky sigh, smirking a bit, and went back to straddling his waist, positioning yourself on top of him.....before slowly taking his dick inside you, your tight, hot, soaked insides accommodating his girth.

And, perhaps just to remind him who was still in control here, you rugged on his leash harshly before starting to bounce up and down, the meat of your ass and thighs clapping loudly against his metal body and the bed creaking beneath you both.

He had to wonder, just which part of this was a punishment for him, again? Fuck, it didn't matter. He was having fun playing along with you....and with how the restraints on his wrists were loosening up more and more, with you none the wiser to it, he knew it wouldn't be too much longer until he'd really get his hands on you.

"Nngh, there ya go~ Ain't every day this cowboy's the one bein' taken for a ride, huh?" Boothill grunted out, giving you a toothy grin as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. You went at your own pace, taking it painfully slow, which was starting to wear down on the cyborgs thinning patience...

Snap.

"Oops, would ya look at that~ Guess I don't know my own strength."

You could hear the restraints you used suddenly being ripped apart. A wave of panic suddenly struck you....but it also made you 'clench and tighten up around his cock.The look in Boothill's eyes was now wild, completely feral.

"...My turn."

__________________________

 

The lingerie you wore had since been torn to shreds, hanging loosely off your body. Your ass burned red, and you definitely had some fresh bite marks scattered along your bare skin. 

It didn't matter that you were still on top of him. With Boothill's hands now free to grip your backside nice and hard, he was slamming his hips up wildly into you, his cock jackhammering in and out of you at a pace you couldn't dream of keeping up with. All you could do was moan out desperately, the grip on his leash had now loosened so much, it was like you weren't even holding it at all. You were forced to cum, again and again and again and again, another searing wave of pleasure about to crash against you at full force. 

"Y'see, if yer gonna call me a rabid dog," He panted out into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. "Then it's only right that I act like one."

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader]

Note: I have no idea what to call this AU, but I don't think a lot of people will read this so... Haha~ Mental AU? Chaos AU?

Update! This AU is called Mana Chaos AU! Plus there's Part 2 up!!

Part 1 (here) 一 Part 2

Once, the world’s strongest Hunters were revered as humanity’s saviours and heroes for the weak and ordinary. They were once treated like celebrities and hold the highest power and authority. They were respected, praised, and idolized. They still were, now, with a hint of fear.

It all happened due to the infamous incident now dubbed as <The Outrage Incident>. It happened like any other day, in any other country, in any other city. But to only that one strong Hunter. He was an S-Rank Mage, a successful and loved one at that. The story goes like this. 

One day, this powerful Hunter was out on the street enjoying a day off, but something set him off and he used his powerful ability to set things right. It would have been the end of it since an S-Rank’s threat was enough to make the majority crumble. However, his power got out of control and caused an outrage to his being. He was using his powers in public and there was no dungeon outbreak or monsters nearby for him. No amount of justification could calm the public.

After that one incident, other countries’ S-Rank or higher started to experience a similar issue. The worst case was that even Healers of their level didn’t escape such a phenomenon. Soon, the public feared the strong protectors they once saw as shields and swords against the gates. 

Researchers and scientists were put to work quickly to investigate why and how this issue was happening now. The answer was in the overflowing mana levels within their bodies that couldn’t be contained since the human body was weak and frail for such a change. Addition to that, it correlated to the Hunter’s emotional level and their control. Institutions were built to imprison house the S-Ranks while monitoring their situation. 

Whenever an S-Rank’s mana levels and emotions show signs of <Outrage>, a term they now use to describe the Hunter going haywire with their powers on everything and anything around them, they will be sent to a dungeon alone. In the people’s eyes, it was better for that one Hunter to die in battle than kill innocents. Because at first, it was only the S-Ranks, but then some A-Ranks would fall victim to <Outrage> as well. 

The professionals have named the correlation as Emotional Mana, EM for short, which made way for the Emotional Mana Institution, EMI for strong Hunters. The Hunters were treated like mental patients or worse, forced into a straitjacket and some had a muzzle for certain Hunters. These were specially designed and created items that limit and restricts a Hunter’s use of their powers and abilities. 

It was a miracle that someone managed to create such equipment. That someone was also targetted by the S-Ranks after being announced and killed for such a disrespectful act, still the blueprints and prototypes were created and other talents that took over were able to finalize the perfect form.

“Personnel 002, you were specifically requested by SM-10.” 

You looked up from your laptop and paused in your rapid typing for just a few second before you looked back to your screen and continued typing. That code name was to protect you and everyone else that worked in EMI or have some form of connection to it, so that no innocent is sacrificed for the greater good. Still, you can’t get used to it nor do you want to. “I’m busy.”

“Please… SM-10 is way too picky with the people that enters his cell.” This person, Supervisor 843, was one of the newest employee to join the crew. Though, unlike the name of the duty, they were people that were disposable hence the frequent newcomers and high number. “Please help me.”

You sighed and glared up at the person who had a mask over their head and a voice changer to mask their identity. Though, with the way they were speaking, you could deduce this person was a ‘she’. You got up and snatched the file extended to you. Just when you thought you could rest and work in peace, trouble comes knocking on your door. “Get me a drink and some refreshment, I want to see it on my desk by the time I’m back.”

“Yes? Yes!” Supervisor 843 bowed and clapped her hands together, “I’ll do so!”

As swiftly and automatically, you made your way through the hallways and doorways, tapping your access card to unlock needed doors and lifts for your travel. On the way, other Supervisors nodded their heads and bowed in your presence when you walked by. Unlike them who wear a uniform, you only have a lab coat over your usual outfits. You don’t even have a mask or voice changer. 

Why?

You stood in front of the door that was labelled in bold ‘SM-10’, meaning the 10th S-Rank in Korea that belonged to the Mage class. The guard dressed in black from head to toe nodded their heads at you before they started unlocking the various security checkpoints and locks for you to enter into a battlefield in its own right.

“Will one hour be enough, Personnel 002?” One of the guards asked.

“Not sure, just be alert in case I need to rush out.” You spoke stoically with indifference.

Step by step, you walked in, announcing loudly of your arrival to the individual inside. The doors closed behind you and locked you inside with what everyone feared. You sighed and put away your glasses since there was no need for it right now. The room was eerily silent and cold, something you were long used to. 

You took a few more steps, walking deeper into the room where it seemed to get darker and darker even though the lights in all housed Hunters would be on 24/7 to monitor their actions and activities within the room. 

Just when your vision failed you to the point where you can’t see what was in front of you, you were enveloped in a pair of strong arms, your entire form effortlessly pulled back till your back was pressed against a firm wall of muscle one would call chest and abs. Hair tickled one side of your cheek and neck, you felt a breath cooed before a deep voice rang in your ear, “I’ve been waiting for my favourite Personnel~”

It wasn’t at all odd that your name was called as well, if it was someone like him, he’d know everything there was to know. In fact, everyone should be worshipping him right now for his controlled and well-mannered behaviour. Especially when he could have destroyed this entire facility and killed everyone in it within seconds if he so wished. 

“Jinwoo. I need to work, don’t bully the newcomers.” You sighed while looking to the side as if making eye contact with him. 

“I like it when you call me by name and not some code, thanks for that.” Jinwoo hummed as he played with your fingers. “I guess I’ll think about it. It’s a bit bored here, you understand.”

“You removed your straitjacket again.” You let him fiddle with your fingers as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’ll get caught one of these days and then it’ll be game over.”

“Igris helped me remove it. You know how they are with seeing me constrained and imprisoned here.” He chuckled and leaned back, but it turned out he was just taking a seat, presumably on his bed since you still couldn’t see anything in the darkness. “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure no one could see me free and they didn’t kill anyone. Yet.”

Every Hunter that was admitted into the EMI was evaluated and thoroughly investigated to create the perfect profile for reference. All their fighting style, powers and abilities, weapons of choice, gear type, and any other detail was accounted down. It was all for people to be prepared in case one would have an <Outrage> and they were needed to be countered by weaker Hunters. 

For Jinwoo, however, his profile was lacking to put it in the best terms. His mana levels were unmeasureable, yes, so he was placed as an S-Rank. Though, his powers and abilities were unknown. Since he was a Reawakened Hunter, most would assume he was the same class as he was as an E-Rank; a Fighter Class. But he exhibit <Telekinese> and <Shadow Manipulation> so he was placed as into Mage class.

That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. 

You saw through his innocence and lie, uncovering his true powers and abilities. To be honest, even if you told your higher-ups of Jinwoo’s secrets, there was nothing they could do to counter it. Jinwoo was a league of his own and only you knew it. He was no mere S-Rank, he was definitely a National Level Hunter.

Ah, yes. The question as to why you don’t wear a mask or bother having done anything to hide your identity. It was not because you’ve been in one of the people who has been in service of EMI for the longest time or wanted something as shallow as respect from the newcomers or other coworkers. It was completely because you knew it was useless to hide when someone like Sung Jinwoo had his eyes on you.

“I’ll try and arrange a dungeon for you to raid.” You marked down on your phone while Jinwoo continued to treat you like a teddy bear.

“You have to join though. If you don’t…” Jinwoo’s voice went deeper as glowing eyes stared at you from the shadows, “I don’t know what I’ll do to get your attention…”

You nodded, pushing down the urge to flinch or jerk away from him. It was normal, something you expected but still unnerving to hear with your own ear from his lips. You swear this place made the Hunters mad in the head, it was a place that made them sick and mentally ill, it wasn’t actually helping them at all. “Yeah, of course. I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear it.”

Jinwoo smirked as his arms tightened around you, his face buried between your neck and shoulder. “You’re the only reason I stay here. Remember that. If you leave here… Leave me… I’ll do what Thomas Andre did to America.”

Note: I can't help it, it was supposed to upload the requested ones first, but then this idea hit me like a truck (without the isekai part), so now here it is. There are like 2 requested stories written and ready to be posted, but I'm double checking and stuff. Hope you like this AU/idea.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none at the moment)

[charliemwrites]

1fur1 Price part 2

(Sorry if this isn’t, like, spectacular. It’s been a minute since I wrote for this au)

The house is getting an upgrade. Two wolf dogs was a cozy situation, but manageable. The addition of a third, especially one as big as Konig, was pushing it. Like, really pushing it.

Now that Skipper has adopted himself into the family…

Not that you mind, of course. Skipper has been a bit of a blessing in furry disguise. You know that “Alpha Dog” dynamics aren’t an actual Thing with wolves, but if they were, you think Skipper would be it.

He must have some sort of shepherd in his blood because he wrangles the rest of the boys masterfully. They spend too long in the yard, he’s barking and nipping and rounding them up. Johnny’s being too insistent about “sharing” your food, he’s inserting himself between you two. Ghost and Johnny get rambunctious, he’ll tolerate it for a couple minutes but then he’s breaking it up with a grumble — especially if they’re acting up inside.

You appreciate the help.

It’s not that the boys don’t listen to you. They do! With almost perfect obedience. But it can still be overwhelming to keep an eye on everyone all the time.

“Oh darling, why is it always you?” you sigh, scratching at Konig’s chin. Receive a whine in return.

Your poor sensitive guy. Stepped on a bee in the yard, it seems. The vet cooed over him, gave him some meds, and now he’s all but collapsed in an anxiety-exhausted heap by the fireplace.

Johnny is pacing behind you, making upset noises and nosing at your elbow.

“I know you’re worried, bud,” you soothe over your shoulder. “He’s alright.”

You’re working a sock over Konig’s bandages so that he doesn’t pick at them. Johnny takes that as an invitation to insert himself into the mix, bumping into your shoulder hard. Your hand pushes into konig’s paw as you catch your balance and he yelps. The noise surprises you, scares you, hands jerking back.

Skipper is on him in an instant, teeth on his scruff and yanking him away from you and Konig. For once, Johnny resists, yelping and whining crying.

“Jesus, enough!” You raise your voice a bit to be heard over all the canine yelling. Get a hand in Skipper’s scruff and give him a shake. “Release.”

He does, though not without an indignant growl, twisting around to glare at you. You didn’t even know dogs could glare with so much indignation.

“What are you gonna do, bite me?” you challenge, hand still buried in his fur. “Grow up.”

You turn to Johnny, who’s making a great show of looking pathetic, tail down and ears back.

“Got to bed,” you instruct, pointing with your other hand to the cushion Ghost is on. Those two are thick as thieves, you’re sure Johnny will feel better after some cuddles. Sure enough, Johnny drags his feet over to ghost, who grumbles as he makes room for the other dog.

You let Skipper go, who makes a big scene of shaking off. But he doesn’t go making trouble with Johnny, so you let him be. Which leaves Konig, who isn’t making eye contact with anyone.

“You alright, baby boy?” you croon. He licks your offered hand.

You manage to finish getting the sock on in peace, dropping a kiss to the scar on his forehead.

“My little trooper, good boy,” you murmur.

With him settled, you sit back with a sigh. Skipper is sitting, looking mighty offended. You groan.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you offer, extending a hand to him. “I was just stressed and all that fussing freaked me out. I know you were just trying to help.”

A long, long look at your palm. And then he sighs and sets his chin in your hand. You waste no time scritching along his jaw, coaxing him closer until you can leave kisses all over his muzzle and forehead.

“Big strong boy,” you coo, grinning into his ears when you see his tail sweeping slowly back and forth. Like he doesn’t want you to notice. “Such a good helper. Thank you, handsome.”

Peace restored, you settle onto the couch until dinner time.

So yes, four wolf-hybrids is pushing it on space.

—

You’re being minded.

It would be funnier if your dog wasn’t better at taking care of you than you are.

“You must have been in service dog training or something,” you muse, accepting the pill bottle from Skipper’s mouth. “Someone wanted you to work.”

And work he does.

If it’s not helping you keep the boys in line, it’s patrolling the yard with Ghost. Or nudging you to eat at mealtimes. Or putting you to bed. Hes a busy boy, hardly ever settles on the couch with the rest at night for snuggle time.

And when you do strong arm him into it, his ears are perked at every little noise, ready to protect.

There’s also this. The bringing you meds. (You try not to think about how he managed to get into the cabinet. Maybe you left them out on the counter?) Or sometimes he picks up things you’ve dropped, like pens or keys or even your phone.

It’s sweet, but you worry he’s bored. When you do buy him enrichment toys though, he gives them a perfunctory sniff, then leaves them for one of the others. (Johnny in particular loves the treat puzzles.) So you figure he’s stimulated enough, considering bored dogs usually tear into anything and everything.

“You know I’m supposed to take care of you right?” You tease, patting his big, sturdy side. “I take care of everyone here. You’re my boys.”

Skipper snorts and sits down, watching you, eyes pinging between your face and the pills. You huff, amused despite yourself.

“Alright, alright! Rude mutt.”

A little “boof” — agreement or offense? You amuse yourself with anthropomorphizing his noises while you chug water with your meds.

“See? Done. Ta-da!” You say when they’re done.

Another “boof” and then he’s trotting off. Pauses to give you a significant look. You check the time. Right, it’s lunchtime. Best to take meds with food anyway.

“I’m coming,” you groan, shuffling after him.

All the dogs are waiting for you in the kitchen, big eyes and perked ears.

“Look at you lot,” you laugh, dropping a scratch to Ghost’s head as you pass. “What is this, an intervention. I’m not giving you guys enough peanut butter?”

Skipper ignores you, taking his usual place at the entrance to the kitchen. A good vantage point to keep an eye on you and the rest of the house. He only accepts a little bit of shared food after everyone else gets a bite. You hum as you consider all of them, crammed into your kitchen because they’re a clingy lot.

“Might be time for a move, guys,” you sigh. “Or maybe another story.”

You glance at the ceiling with dread. Either way, you’re not looking forward to it.

Main Story | Price pt.1 | Gaz

Masterlist

[avocado-writing]

Thinking abouttttt young Logan going into a rut and totally losing control 💕 because when it hits him, it really hits him. He tries to get you to leave him alone so he can be locked up somewhere and ride it out - he knows how vicious and wild he gets when these times come and he doesn’t wanna hurt you, not you, his most precious thing.

Of course you love him so much you’d never have him be by himself through it. You’ll look after him no matter what. So you get some adamantium restraints made up for him, some chain, a muzzle - if this is as bad as he says it is you want to be prepared after all.

The change starts one morning when he’s more amorous than usual. Burying his face into your neck to scent you, practically humping your leg in his desperation to be inside. You let him, of course, and he fucks you so wildly you think you see the humanity blink out of his eyes for a little bit, he’s so lost in the base instinct to mark you as his and fill you with his cum.

When he’s done he is just clear headed enough to growl out, “babe, it’s time. You gotta chain me up and don’t let me go until this is over.”

Who are you to say no?

So you snap the handcuffs to the specially made restraint and keep him safely in place in the corner of the room.

He is unrelenting the next couple of days, vicious and snarling to anyone who tries to come to your room to talk to you - not you, his mate, his love, his. Eventually you have to put the muzzle over his jaw and lock it in place when he gets a bit too bitey with someone who isn’t you (because you love it, after all). He whines and sulks and mopes until you come over and bury your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp, at which point he finally relaxes.

“Baby,” he growls, even less vocal than usual, “need you…”

Oh, he’s insatiable. Needs to fuck at every moment. You got his permission before he fell into this state - how far are you allowed to go to take care of him? His answer had been, “as far as you want, but be careful. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You know that your Logan would never hurt you.

Occasionally you take off the muzzle and let him eat you out, knowing he’s desperate from the way he nuzzles as your cunt, practically gnawing to get to you. “Fuck. Love you. Love this.” He’s only happy when he’s face deep in you, covered in your cum and snarling. He’ll fuck up against your calf because he’s so desperate, spilling all over himself in need.

At the height of it you finally let him fuck you, holding onto the chain which attaches to his collar the whole time - can’t have him going too far after all. A sharp tug will bring him back. He’s a good boy, after all. He digs his fingers into you so tightly that he leaves indents, but for each rough thrust he fucks you with he burrows his face into your neck to kiss you. “Fuck… wanna put a baby in you…” He knots you and finally calms down, laying there safe in your arms as you whisper his praises.

He finally comes round after that. Head clearing, able to think of things besides his instincts. Still presses tightly against you though.

“You okay, Lo?”

“Better for having you to help me through it.”

You guide him to your lips with a tug on his leash and he grins.

“Any time, baby.”

[yandere-daydreams]

wait wait i think geto gets you different sized plugs and maybe even rewards you when you can take a bigger one. also this reminded me of the petplay dynamic you have written about before and it could work there as well

non/con, implied kidnapped, wildly unbalanced power dynamics, and petplay.

every day i seek to escape the grasp of the satosugu petplay au. anyway back to the satosugu petplay au.

it helps that everything suguru would just be so,,, ritualized. satoru's eager enough to fend for himself, but you'll still try to claw off your muzzle if you're left unsupervised. he doesn't mind giving you a little more help, though - especially not if it means spreading you over his lap, either too heavily exhausted or too heavily sedated to squirm as he rubs circles into the small of your back and tells you all about how proud he his of your steady improvement, how quickly you're catching up to satoru, how if you're not careful, he'll run out of tails in your size. he spends more time than he really needs to preparing you, whittling away the small hours of the morning as he spreads your ass open on his fingers, making sure you're in tears and humiliated by the time he finally eases a plug of his choice (rabbit or kitten, rabbit or kitten, he can never seem to decide without your half-coherent, choked out input) into your abused hole. if you're good, he might even let you play with satoru as he cleans himself up - or, rather, he might even watch satoru fuck your tear-stained face as he tries, but ultimately fails to prepare for his day in favor of playing with the two of you. the only thing you can really be thankful for is that he only has the time to be so self indulgent once a day.

well, until he starts to notice how neglected his precious pet is and starts to find other ways to pamper you, at least.

[ventique18]

Warning: crude language

🐉🌸♀️ but he turns into a child due to a magical accident. Back to his little dragon form so his actual baby actively tries to destroy him because the boy thinks he's a diabolical stranger trying to steal his place in the family.

🐉, in dragon tongue: "What are you doing?! Stop trying to rip my tail off! I am your father!"

🐉🍼: "Villain! What did you do to papa?! Are you trying to steal mama too? I'm going to destroy you, motherfucker!"

🐉: "Motherfu-- WHERE DID YOU LEARN SUCH A HORRID LANGUAGE? And indeed I am quite literally your mother's fucker, FOR I AM YOUR FATHER."

🐉🍼: *Tries to bite his horn off his head* How dare you fuck my mama! I'm going to kill you!" <- He thought fuck meant hit

🐉, pushing him away with a paw: "Well you wouldn't be alive otherwise, utter fool! And you are no longer allowed to watch YuuTube for a hundred years! I swear on my name once I return to my proper form--"

His baby goes complete fury mode and starts snapping his muzzle at every part of his body he could sink his teeth into. He could only dodge in response. His toddler instinct is taking over. He wants to cry. He's so frustrated and he wants to fight back against this utter injustice so badly, but what little is left of his adult sanity is telling him that he would've failed as a person if he gave in.

🌸, picking him up gently: "I just went to the restroom for a minute and you're already fighting? Baby, stop bullying your dad. You know he's sensitive. What if you break his poor little heart and he cries himself to sleep?"

🐉: "I am not sensitive! I do not cry!"

Of course she can't understand him, though.

🐉🍼: "That's not papa! Papa's not as weak as this fraud!"

Fraud! Weak! This nasty little--

🐉: "Silence! If I were not hindered by morality, I would have burned you to a crisp--"

🌸: "Aww, you're sobbing."

🌸, rubbing his back soothingly: "Are you sleepy? Are you hungry? Want some milk?"

Yes, yes... A warm glass of milk will really-- NO!

🐉: "I am not a child! You of all people should--"

His complaints, which she thinks is an anguished cry of hunger, are muffled by her shoving a bottle-- a baby bottle complete with a silicone nipple, into his mouth.

Thank the seven Silver and Sebek barged in just in time before his wretched baby instinct could take over and convince him to discard his pride and feed.

When he reverts back to his original form, he gets back at his son by making a beautiful batch of nuggets and slowly eating it in front of the boy, without offering him one. Until his wretched father instincts took over and he ends up hand-feeding him some while watching that ridiculous Bluey cartoon on the TV with him.

He still hasn't finalized a rightful punishment for his wife for humiliating him with a bottle of milk, however. But oh, what terrific ideas he's coming up with.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! Can you do a Damian and reader who are friends, and one day the reader goes over to the Wayne Manor and called Titus? Like both Damian and the reader got into a silly little joke about who Titus loves more? I think it would be funny if Titus went to the reader because they had treats or something in their pocket haha

‘This is utterly ridiculous.’

‘What? are you too chicken that Titus might like me more.’ You taunted as you then started clucking like a chicken in Damian’s ear, to which he then shoves you away by the shoulder.

‘I am not chicken and besides it was only one time that Titus wrongfully ignored me for you.’ Damian replied but you weren’t buying it.

‘If you aren’t chicken then why are you trying to get out of our bet then? Hmmm? Seems a little suspicious there Wayne.’ You asked and Damian could only curse himself for acting so brash and accepting the stupid challenge you pestered him with as Titus patiently stood a good distance between you and Damian, tilting his head to the side as though to ask him what was taking so long.

‘Our bet? You mean your stupid-‘ you raised your brows at Damian as you started clucking again, though softer this time and Damian knew there was no version of this where he got out of participating in your bet. Not a single one because you wouldn’t let him live it down otherwise and Damian prides himself of being a man of his word, no matter how ridiculous it might seem. So Damian bites his tongue and swallows his pride before moving a couple of spaces away from you before muttering under his breath. ‘Let’s get this over with before anyone dares see me in such a state.’

You smiled and then looked towards Titus, who was still stood perfectly still in his spot, before dropping down to your knees and holding out your arms saying. ‘Titus! Come here boy! Come here!’ Damian scoffed at this display and looked at the Great Dane expectantly as he clicked his fingers and pointed to the spot in-front of him. ‘Titus. Come.’ He commanded. Titus didn’t move for a good couple of seconds, as though contemplating who he should go to, his owner or his owner’s friend who gives him the bestest tasting treats he’s ever tasted; which was saying a lot coming from a Great Dane who’s owner was the son of a billionaire.

‘Titus sweetie come to y/n!’ You called out sweetly.

‘No. Titus come to me.’ Damian commanded again.

Titus walked forwards a little, still hesitant on who to choose, but as though he was being chased by a bat out of hell, the Great Dane bolted over to you and rammed into you hard. So hard I fact that within a blink of an eyes you were knocked to the floor either Titus sticking his muzzle into your face, his rancid and warm dog breath cascading over you, as Damian stood over you with crossed arms and what looked like a pout.

‘You cheated.’ He said after a while.

‘No. I won.’ You replied pridefully at your victory over him.

‘No, Titus was coming towards me, only to stop and run towards you instead. You did something, I know you did and I’ll find out what it is.’ Damian barks, bearing his teeth at you but you were more than use to his occasional outbursts that ultimately mean nothing.

You shrugged as Titus then decides that he wants to lie down, but as he does lie down he goes and rests his head on your stomach and a paw on your leg, making it so that you wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon if Titus had anything to say about it. ‘You’re just a sore loser Damian.’ You tell him as you laid a hand atop of Titus’ head and rubbed behind his ear just the way he liked. ‘I won the bet fair and square. Titus likes me and there’s nothing wrong with loosing once in a while.’ You concluded and Damian grits his teeth.

‘Tt. Whatever, I’ll prove that you cheated one way or another and until then you can keep parading this so called victory because I can assure you it won’t happen again.’ He threatens as you and Titus visibly perk up at this. ‘So you’re saying there’s a next time?’ You asked and Damian throws his head back a groans before walking deeper into the Manor and away from you and Titus, murmuring under his breath as he goes. ‘That’s all you took away from that? Unbelievable’

You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders and dig into your jean pocket to pull out a dog treat for Titus, who engulfed it with one quick bite of his powerful jaw. ‘There was no rules against bribing your best friend’s dog with dog treats.’ You justified to yourself as you fed Titus another treat, ‘after all what Damian doesn’t know won’t hurt him, isn’t that right Titus?’ You then asked the Great Dane who only sneezed as he looked at you expectantly for more dog treats for his participation in your schemes against his owner.

‘Good boy.’ You praised as you continued to feed him treats to his hearts content.

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |