#nick and troy

[obsxssedwithstuff]

[hugpluto]

trick shit posts are good for the soul

[dawn-1386]

Forever will be obsessed with these two 🖤

[hugzlino]

tried to fix this sketch :) hopefully its better than the first one

[doingartiguess]

Some more new FanArt for the season, as a treat 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈✨❤️‍🔥

ENJOY, VILLAINS!

I did art from the animation not Stevenson’s original work not out of disrespect to anyone, I just found the animation first! But thanks to all for making me ugly cry on my couch 🫠

[dailydccomics]

Dick and Donna by Nick Robles

[momentarybleu]

I made a thing

[obsxssedwithstuff]

Mmmm i like these

taking a break from being insane to post trick

[noemitenshi]

[acerbitasss]

girl, so confusing

[obsxssedwithstuff]

From "He's a MURDERER" to "I will literally cover up all the crimes he's committed to keep him from harm"

[hugpluto]

ill never run out of stupid memes of them atp

[grimesgirll]

“c’mon, you can do better than that.”

“you think so?”

troy nods, moving nick’s nimble fingers aside to lean down and engulf your nipple in his mouth. you exhale shallowly in response, every muscle twinging as he runs his tongue along your sensitive bud.

“yeah, she loves this,” the ranch leader’s son muses, making a point to gently graze your nub with his teeth.

you whimper with delight. tremors and tingles of electricity hit you like a shock as the mouth on your chest just continues licking and sucking while a new sensation takes over between your legs. nick’s prodding touch tickles it’s way from your thighs to the top of your clit within seconds and suddenly you’re not sure how quiet you can stay.

“you’re right, she does,” nick agrees. “don’t you, pretty girl?” he traces a line from your lip to your chin as if his hand wasn’t attached to your clit.

“mhmm.” you agree as well, albeit through a series of muffled moans. nick picks up the pace and introduces your newly sopping cunt to a fat finger. the pleasure of that new stretch has you gasping.

you hadn’t been expecting to find both troy and nick down in the armory when you traipsed down here for some quick gun cleaning. what should’ve been a quick chore before your shift on perimeter watch turned into an opportunistic trap. not a single firearm had been cleaned since you stepped foot in the basement. instead, you’d been assailed by lips and teeth. lovers threatening to leave the door unlocked, instead focusing on the pleasure points they could plunder.

nick was the one to run up the stairs and lock the door - not that you’d seen it, too busy wrapped up by troy in a bear hug. you couldn’t resist being engulfed in his arms for a second. not at night, not when he sneaks up behind you when you’re on watch, not when he’s trying to distract you from your chores, and most certainly not now. it’s the same reason as to why you remain in his arms and don’t march up the stairs and off to your shift.

a challenging choice that would’ve been but even more challenging is trying to keep cool beneath the tongues of the men tearing you apart.

a tear threatens your waterline from all of the overstimulation; it trails down your cheek as it puffs out with each uneasy breath you take. “troy,” you’re whispering aimlessly into the mop of blonde hair atop you.

“what’s that, baby?”

“pretty sure my shift on the perimeter starts in ten minu-,”

“pretty sure all you need to worry about,” troy smirks at you, adding, “pretty girl, is cumming all over nick’s tongue.”

you nearly fall apart at his words.

the blonde devil raises an eyebrow. “hmm? you wanna let nick lick you stupid?” his smirk reappears. “or do you want to be on time for your perimeter shift?”

“that’s-,” you shudder at the feeling of the alphabet being traced onto your vulva. “-that’s not a fair question.”

“it’s just a question,” nick says from between your legs.

you lift your head to make eye contact with him but suddenly your face is being cupped and a pair of familiar lips draw you back into his center of gravity.

knowing nick will be there when you’re released from your romantic restraints, you lean into troy, trying to disregard the nearly searing orgasm burning at your core. your long haired lover licks painfully wicked stripes up your center. none of your bucking or squirming deters them; your california boy’s strong, sinewy arms - courtesy of all of the ranch duties he’d tended to in the texas sun - pin you down to hold you in place just in time for your core to collapse and for you to exclaim his name into troy’s mouth.

crushed between the men, your orgasm has you shuddering and your torso aflame with pleasure. nick licks you through your high and grips your hips to pull them closer to your face until troy’s freed your lips. the chapped things land on your neck as nick spreads your legs even wider. a finger pumps into you.

“wanna get filled up, good girl?” nick asks and comes closer to steal a kiss before you can reply. “you were so pretty coming. i know you’re gonna feel good on my cock.”

“she wants it. right, pretty girl?”

troy’s on the shell of your ear now. he’s nearly in your ear - the world’s most attractive brainworm.

you’re not surprised or even sensible enough in the moment to hesitate when you nod your head. you don’t think twice when they’re suddenly pulling their pants down and kissing more hungrily at your desert tanned skin.

they can pull you into any position they want, pull you from patrol, just so long as they keep their hands on you. one touch is all it takes and you’re putty in their hands.

fuck patrol, you’d rather get fucked.

[afeveryoucantgleekout]

Happy Pride month to some of my favorite gay couples

[happyvoltz]

[happy74827]

In The Eye of The Storm

[Troy Otto x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When your refusal to harm the living puts you in a life-threatening situation, you find yourself saved by the one person who embodies everything that you can’t bring yourself to become.

WC: 1446

Category: Slight Angst {Innocent!Medic!Reader, TW: Death, Hints of Assault}

My first fic of 2025!! As a New Year resolution (not really), I finally started binging FTWD after finishing all the other Walking Dead shows. It's pretty good imo. I don’t understand why it’s so hated… but then again, I’m still only on Season 3 LMAO

『••✎••』

The world hadn’t ended in one violent explosion but in slow, agonizing pieces. You thought the worst part would be watching people you loved turn, but the truth was darker. The living had become worse than the dead, and sometimes, you wondered how long you could keep your ideals intact before they got you killed.

You clung to the idea of doing good, of helping others, even as society crumbled around you. You had studied to be a doctor back when the world was still standing, and for now, that knowledge hadn’t gone to waste—at least not yet. It made you useful and valuable even though, in this world, kindness wasn’t enough to survive.

Nick had tried to make you see that more than once.

"You’re gonna get yourself killed, y’know," he’d said after you patched him up for the third time in as many weeks. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it carried that edge of concern he tried to hide beneath his usual cynicism. "You keep thinking people are worth saving. Not all of them are."

You hadn’t argued with him that day, but you hadn’t agreed either. How could you when the instinct to help was ingrained in you? It wasn’t about naiveté or blind hope—it was about holding onto the last thing that made you feel human. If you gave up on that, what would be left?

Still, Nick wasn’t the only one who had warned you. Even Madison, who had once praised your level head, had pulled you aside after one close call and made it clear that mercy wouldn’t keep you alive. And Troy—well, Troy never passed up an opportunity to remind you just how weak you were.

"You’re soft," he’d told you once, his voice laced with that infuriating mix of disdain and amusement. "The world’s gonna chew you up, spit you out. You know that, right?"

It had taken every ounce of self-control not to snap back at him. Troy didn’t care about you in the way Nick or Madison did. He wasn’t trying to protect you—he was observing you, picking apart your flaws like they were things he could exploit. And yet, there had been something in his tone that day, something almost curious, like he couldn’t quite understand why you were the way you were.

And now, standing here, cornered by a group of men who saw you as nothing more than easy prey, you wondered if they had all been right all along.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands gripping the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. But it didn’t matter how hard you held it. You couldn’t make yourself move. You couldn’t make yourself do what needed to be done.

"Look at her," one of the men sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Shaking like a leaf."

The others laughed, and the sound sent a cold shiver down your spine. You tried to steady your breathing and summon the courage to act, but your body refused to cooperate.

The scarred man at the front of the group took a step closer. "What’s the matter, sweetheart? Too scared to use that knife?"

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Every instinct you had screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.

And that’s when you heard a calm, cold voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

The laughter stopped. All eyes turned toward the source of the sound, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Troy stood a few yards away, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, his posture loose but poised, like a predator biding its time. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his pale blue eyes glinting with that dangerous, unreadable light you’d come to associate with him.

"Gentlemen," he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "This a private party, or can anyone join?"

The leader of the group—the man with the scar that came running down his jaw—snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Keep walking, man. This doesn’t concern you."

Troy’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking to you briefly. Something in his eyes made your heart race. Not out of fear, but out of a strange, twisted sense of relief.

Because you knew what Troy was capable of. You knew that these men had no idea what kind of storm they’d just walked into.

"See, that’s where you’re wrong," Troy said, his voice deceptively casual. "It kinda does concern me." He shifted the rifle off his shoulder, cradling it loosely in his hands. "She’s with me."

The scarred man’s eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

Troy didn’t miss a beat. "Try me."

It was strange how your fear shifted from terror at the threat before you to unease at the prospect of what Troy would do. Because there was no doubt in your mind that he would kill these men, and you didn’t know if you could handle the aftermath.

The poor irony was that these… men, they didn't even recognize their own danger. You saw the way the leader of their group sized Troy up, the way the others fanned out in a flanking position. They thought they had the upper hand.

Numbers come across as intimidating in the long run, but in truth, the numbers are only as good as the skill of those wielding them.

So, from a glance, it was three men against one.

But in reality, it was three men against an unstoppable force of nature.

"Don’t." You said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Troy, don't—"

You didn’t know why you were trying to stop him. They would have killed you … or worse, without a second thought, and the fact that Troy was actually willing to stand up for you was something you weren't expecting.

And yet, a part of you couldn't stand the thought of him taking a life—even the lives of men like this. You couldn't stand the thought of blood being spilled, all for the sake of defending you.

You knew what he would say: that it was the way of the world. That it was necessary. But you couldn't bring yourself to accept that.

Troy didn't answer, didn't even look at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the men, his grip tightening on his rifle. That… you suppose, told you that his ears had heard, and he was choosing to ignore.

The man with the scar glanced over his shoulder, meeting his companions' gazes. They shared a silent exchange, a silent debate, and then the man turned back to face Troy, his expression darkening.

"Let's see how tough you are, pretty boy."

It took about two minutes. Maybe three.

By the end of it, the ground was soaked in blood, and the air was filled with the sharp smell of iron.

The leader of the group had been the first to fall, his skull shattered by a well-placed shot. The others hadn't lasted much longer, their bodies littered with bullets from Troy's rifle.

You'd watched it happen, too stunned to move. It had been like watching a hurricane, powerful and destructive and utterly unstoppable.

When the last man fell, Troy turned to face you, his expression inscrutable. "You're welcome."

You should have thanked him, should have acknowledged his help. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not when you'd seen the cold, calculated look in his eyes, the way he'd relished in the violence.

So, instead, you looked at him, your voice wavering with emotion. "I didn't want this."

Troy snorted, rolling his shoulders as if to release the tension. His rifle slid back over his shoulder, the barrel still warm from the discharge.

His gaze held yours, a challenge in those pale blue eyes. After a moment, he spoke, his tone calm and clipped. "Fine." He nodded his head slightly towards the dead men. "Next time, I'll leave 'em to you."

With that, he turned and started to walk away, his strides confident and purposeful. He didn't look back, didn't seem to care if you followed.

And in that moment, you hated him. Hated him for his coldness, his ruthlessness, his refusal to see your point of view. But most of all, you hated yourself because despite everything, despite all the death and bloodshed and destruction, you were grateful.

Grateful that he'd been there.

Grateful that he'd saved your life.

And no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you knew the truth.

Troy Otto was right.

You were soft.

Weak.

And no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you pretended, sooner or later, the world was going to swallow you whole.

And no storm could save you from that.