#splinter tried his best

[rynlie]

Raph standing at Splinter's grave

Raph: I'm not angry anymore

Mikey standing at Splinter's grave

Mikey: Well sometimes I am

Leo standing in front of Splinter's grave

Leo: I don't think badly of you

Donnie standing in front of Splinter's grave

Donnie: Well sometimes I do

[whattraintracks]

I kinda feel we didn’t much of raph and splinter’s relationship in 03 thoughts?

Hmm, I suppose that's fair. I've heard it said that 03 isn't a very character-driven story, and I agree we don't see as many character dynamics or arcs explored as we could have.

Below the cut are the pieces of Raph and Splinter's relationship I've pieced together for myself.

Splinter's bio on Raph in Tales from the Sewer presents this interesting duality in Splinter's perception of him. He's a difficult child but just a kid. He trains the most but he's a difficult student. He makes poor decisions but Splinter has the utmost faith in his abilities. As both father and teacher, Splinter sometimes struggles to approach his sons and their needs in the appropriate role, especially when it comes to Raph.

For example, his hands-off approach to Raph's rage, or what I usually think of as emotional dysregulation (either as a product of neurodivergence or his young age). When Raph nearly maims Mikey during a rage attack/dissociative episode (see S1E4 "Meet Casey Jones") Splinter doesn't try to stop Raph or separate him and Mikey, although he very well could have. He doesn't step in until after Leo and Donny have broken up the fight. Despite addressing Raph parentally, he comes at the issue like a teacher offering those ninja master-esque nuggets of wisdom about rage being a monster and a true warrior is balanced in all things. I think he wants to come across sympathetically (gentle voice, physical contact, calling Raph "my son") but there is a sense of disappointment and unmet expectations in what he says.

In the aforementioned bio, Splinter notes that of all the turtles, Raph trains the longest and hardest. He likely equates length of training with dedication to ninjutsu and assumes that because Raph exhibits these things he should be something he isn't: more disciplined less angry. Perhaps he compares Raph to Leo who apparently trains less but fits Splinter's prototype of a good ninja. Speaking of Leo, later in the same episode we see Splinter chastise Mikey and Donny for interrupting Leo's practice and tell Leo to keep practicing his split kick without offering any advice on how to get it right.

We see this idea directed to Raph in Splinter's comment about a true warrior finding balance in all things. It's not particularly informative. This is his version of telling Raph to keep practicing but it's not what Raph needs at this moment, hot off such an overwhelming experience. So instead of reading this as the patient, parental advice I think Splinter intends it to be, Raph's body language screams chastised. He doesn't meet Splinter's eyes and he runs away. Raph (like all of the brothers) wants Splinter's approval and he's devastated to have fallen short in this instance. Then Splinter doesn't let Mikey follow after Raph. And yeah, Raph likely needed that space but it's this hands-off approach, again. Another example comes from the one of Raph's diary entries in the Raphael: Collector Book. He talks about Splinter assigning him more meditation exercises to help him control his emotions and temper. Perhaps training, space, meditation, and nuggets of wisdom are effective tools for Splinter to self-regulate his emotions, but Splinter is also an adult. Raph needs more guidance and practical advice at this point in his life that Splinter isn't providing. The tools aren't enough, he needs to be taught how to use them.

So. Raph responds in a couple ways to Splinter's hands-off, more-teacher-than-father approach. The first is to train harder, and longer, and learn everything he can about ninjutsu. If Master Splinter says becoming a true warrior will help him find emotional balance then he's going to try his hardest to become one. When he meets Casey, he shares with him verbatim the true warrior line but confesses to Casey he's not sure how hot-heads like them are supposed to do that. He still takes the advice to heart even if it's not helpful or he doesn't understand it because he wants to please and obey his father. The collector's book shows us that Raph has taken the time to learn aspects of ninjutsu that are confusing, uninteresting, and even inaccessible to him. This book contains a lot of technical information about ninjutsu techniques and teachings. It presents Raph as even more of ninja nerd than Leo! Some of this stuff appeals to his interests, for sure; the different punching techniques for instance. Some of it, he seems to have only learned to gain Splinter's approval. He has a detailed spread on hand signs that he explicitly finds too mystical and confusing, claims it took forever to learn, and he can't even use it as a three-fingered being, but he hopes Splinter will be impressed with him.

Second, he goes behind Splinter's back. If there's something he wants or needs and he thinks Splinter won't approve of it, he'll take it for himself. Such as going to the surface when he needs space or bringing his brothers to the surface when he thinks there's something important they need to do. This feels, to me, like access thievery, which is the concept (typically applied to disabled/neurodivergent folks) of taking what one needs (time, space, resources) without asking for permission or waiting to be offered it (because you likely won't be). Again in the collector's book, Raph exhibits an awareness of his faults and a self-compassionate recognition that he's just a teen. Splinter know this too but has shown that he can't always offer what Raph needs or won't give him it in some cases (forbids them from going to the surface). So Raph has developed a willingness to take what he needs for himself and sneak around Splinter to avoid the disapproval he fears.

All that aside, I think they're very similar in their fierce love and devotion to family and the ways it can drive them to anger, fear, hatred, and vengeance. There are traits Raph inherited from Splinter they bond over, too. They're both competitive. The Battle Nexus Tournament isn't their thing but we see them playing pokey in "Dragons Rising." I love the idea that they play a lot of games together! They have a similar sense of humility. They know they're skilled but they're more likely hang back and play support while their other family members take the spotlight than boast. Unless it's really personal, then they'll take over, like how Splinter's quest for vengeance guides them in Exodus and Raph's desire to help Casey leads the brothers to sneak out with him in "Meet Casey Jones." I think, they have a similar sense of humor, too. Raph has this silly line in the collector's book about Splinter being proud he used his head, that is, like a battering ram, and you cannot tell me Splinter wouldn't chuckle at that.

[janetbrown711]

Why Am I Like This?

Mikey gets really bored one day and decides to play with Raph's shiny new toy, despite being told several times not to, and breaks it.

Raph does not take this well.

Ao3 Link

Mikey was bored.

And not just regular, every day bored, nonono. This boredom was the mind-numbing and annoying type– the type that left you paralyzed and unable to think of anything to do, but Mikey had to do something.

He could practice with his nunchucks, but ever since he was downgraded to foam instead of wood, it just felt like a joke. Sure, he liked whirling it around, but Master Splinter always said this was supposed to be for self-defense, not fun, so playing around was strictly forbidden.

He could just reread his comics again, but while Splinter had gone for a scavenge recently, he didn’t bring Mikey anything of interest, other than those finger skateboard things. He’d already played with that thing to death, so that was also a total “no-go”.

Now, he could try and hang out with Leo or Raph or Donnie, but Donnie was busy trying to find a way to recharge lightbulbs, Leo was watching the second season of Space Heroes for the bajillionth time, and Raph was doing one-on-one practice with Splinter, so that wasn’t happening.

Mikey groaned, flopping his head into his pillow for the billionth time. “If only Leo liked a different, cooler show,” he sighed dramatically, before sitting up.

On the topic of “different” and “cooler”, Raph had been given a super special super cool still-in-box action figure of Aspara-Gus from Fantastic Four Food Groups. Mikey would’ve totally claimed it for himself, but he hadn’t heard Splinter call for him until Leo knocked on his door. From what the box claimed, it was supposed to light up and say up to six catchphrases! Mikey had been sooooo jealous, but Raph said he couldn’t play with it.

Wait– no. What he specifically said was, “Mikey, if you touch my Aspara-Gus, I’ll turn you into a pulp.” Classic Raph.

But– like… it wasn’t like he’d know. He was busy training with Master Splinter! Plus, he heard Raph open it up earlier, so it was practically begging to be played with!

Mikey grinned, hopping off his bed and bolting to Raph’s room, before opening his door all ninja-like and finding the bright green action figure sitting right on his bed next to a broken red car toy that was missing two doors.

Mikey practically had stars in his eyes as he admired the nearly mint condition of the doll, with its see-through green sparkly plastic and smooth edges. He giggled with excitement before pressing the little green button on its side.

“Eat your vegetables, kids!”

Mikey’s face felt flat and he tried again.

“You’re no match for the power of vitamin K!”

“Man, why does Raph even like that stupid comic,” Mikey muttered and gave it one last try.

“It’s Aspara-Gus to the res–” the phrase was cut off by a sudden, ear-piercing shriek.

“ACK!” Mikey immediately covered his ears, before getting the idea to try and smother it with Raph’s pillow. That it didn’t work well enough, the sound still splitting his skull. Out of desperation and panic, he sat on top of the pillow, which finally muted it enough so the pain stopped.

“Whew, that’s a relief,” Mikey wiped off non-existent sweat from his forehead. The ten-year-old continued sitting on the pillow until the faint ringing finally stopped, and he got off, picking up the figure again and–

Uh oh.

Apparently, sitting on pillows over action figures could cause their arms to break off. Who knew?

“Well… at least the toy was busted anyway…?” Mikey laughed nervously. He knew that totally wasn't gonna be good enough for Raph, though, and he'd totally flip when he found out.

“Okay, well– maybe I can fix it! Yeah! I just gotta pop that bad boy back on; it’ll be good as new,” Mikey picked up the action figure and arm and tried reconnecting the broken pieces, but alas, it wasn’t a simple “pop off”. Instead, the hinge had cracked into two and without both pieces being together and stable, there was no point attempting to reattach it.

Shin splints, he was totally screwed.

“Yeah, yeah, be right there, Leo,” Mikey heard Raph call from not too far, causing him to panic and hide the evidence under his brother’s pillow before booking into his room where he caught his breath. Once that was all in control, he put on his coolest, most calm-est and collected-est face he could manage and walked super, duper casually to the pit and sat next to Leo, catching only a casual and cool glance at Raph.

“Oh hey, Mikey! Whatcha been up to,” His eldest brother smiled.

“Ohhh, you knowww,” Mikey tried to wave him off, fidgeting with his knee pads anxiously.

“Oh, well, I was just waiting for Raph to start the new episode of Space Heroes, since it's his favorite and all,” Leo gave him a weird glance before turning back to the TV. “It’s the one where the Dr. Mindstrong goes back to his home planet and meets up with his–”

Leo rambled on for a little bit, which Mikey usually liked listening to, but right now he was way too on edge. He just kept glancing back to the hallway to their bedrooms and waiting for his inevitable doom.

“–smiles! He actually does! But Raph just likes it for the fight scene at the end, I dunno. What do you think?” Leo asked Mikey, who quickly tried to act like he had been paying attention.

“My favorite episode is still the one where the dude grows a beard and the vampires,” Mikey decided to say.

Leo laughed. “That’s my favorite too.”

“What can I say? I have imbeccable taste,” Mikey grinned nice and wide.

“It’s impeccable, Mikey,” Leo laughed more, which Mikey joined in to cover the fact he said that by mistake.

However, the laughter couldn’t last long, as there was a ground-shaking slam and angry stomping into the living-area as Raphael–

Oh frick–

“MIKEY!!!” Raph shouted, face almost as red as his mask.

“Eep! Save me, Leo!” Mikey jumped and ducked behind his eldest brother.

“Wha–? Raph, what did Mikey do?” Leo looked around all confused.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what the little punk did,” Raph growled, only getting closer and closer. “He broke my brand new Aspara-Gus!!!”

Leo gasped, turning to his brother. “You– you didn’t actually…?”

“I-it was an accident, I swear! I-I was just–” Mikey tried to defend himself, but didn’t get a chance as Raph practically tackled him and the two started wrestling.

“It was brand new, Mikey! Right outta the box and I told you–I told you you weren’t allowed to touch it!” Raph shouted at him, despite being inches away.

“It was already broken, man! I-It made a high-pitched screechy noise– I was trying to fix it!” Mikey pleaded tearfully, trying to kick his brother off of him, landing a hit right in the plastron that winded him.

Mikey would’ve scuttled away, but Raph managed to grip his arm tight and twisted it until Mikey was on his knees begging for him to stop.

“I always tell you not to touch my stuff! And you always do! Are you deaf or just a stupid, dumb little idiot?!” Raph growled and twisted tighter.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I-I didn’t mean to–! I just–”

“GOD– you just always do this! You’re just– you’re just so stupid and annoying and useless– why do we even keep you around when all you do is break our stuff–”

“Yame!” the commanding voice of Master Splinter rang from the dojo, and Raph instantly let go of Mikey’s arm, though kicked his shell and he fell completely to the ground. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Mikey broke the brand new Aspara-Gus action figure you got me! And I specifically told ‘im he couldn’t play with it!” Raph accused.

“Michelangelo, is this true?” Splinter looked at him, eyebrows all down and serious like.

“I-I– I didn't mean to–”

“He never listens to me or anyone, Master Splinter! I told him not to! He's such a screw-up!” Raph interrupted him.

“Raphael– a word,” Splinter narrowed his eyes on his elder brother.

“What?! Me?! But it was Mikey wh–!”

“No ‘but's. Now.” He ordered, and Raph stormed angrily back into the dojo.

However, Splinter wasn’t finished, and gave Mikey a look too.

“We will talk later, Michelangelo,” He sighed heavily and followed the steps of his furious child.

Mikey knew he was already crying, but he wanted to cry even more now.

“Mikey… why did you break his Aspara-Gus?” Leo asked.

“I didn't mean to! I-I don't wanna be a screw-up! I-I don't wanna be me!” Mikey shouted.

Leo winced. “Mikey, you aren't a screw-up.”

“Yeah, you just don't know how to listen,” Donnie piped up near his “lab”.

“Donnie,” Leo whisper-yelled and gave the purple turtle a look.

“What?! I'm just trying to–”

“Yeah, well, just let me–”

“You're always the one to–”

“Well, maybe if you were actually ni–”

Mikey couldn't stand all this fighting. He needed to get out here– and not to his room; Splinter or Leo would find him there, and they'd tell him he messed up, and blah blah blah he was a big stupid screw up– which he already knew! He just– he didn't need to hear it. He didn't need any of this–

If he wanted to get away unnoticed, he needed to go now.

Mikey glanced around, seeing Leo and Donnie still arguing, and no sign of Raph and Splinter leaving the dojo any time soon. And so, using all the super quiet super ninja skills he knew, he made his way to the water and lowered himself down until he was completely and silently submerged. Calmly and carefully, Mikey fought the urge to cry even underwater, and swam far, far, far, far away.

So far away, in fact, that when Mikey finally emerged for air, he realized he didn't have a clue where he was.

“This is fine, this is a-okay,” Mikey told himself, finally pulling himself out of the water and onto the cold concrete path. He rolled onto his shell, exhaustion suddenly hitting him all at once.

“This… This is super fine. I wanted air, and now I’m getting it,” He sniffled a little, a dull pain in his chest growing sharper.

Raph thinks he’s useless. And annoying. And a screw-up.

Mikey doesn’t mean to. He loves his brothers and dad! He doesn’t mean to always be so distracted or impulsive or whatever. He swore he tried. He tried so, so, so hard to be good.

But he wasn’t. Again, and again, and again, Mikey wasn’t good. He broke things. He went too far. He didn’t pay attention. He didn’t listen.

His brothers could do all those with ease, even Raph. That had to mean something, right?

Of course it did. It meant Michelangelo was bad. He wasn’t really trying his best to be good because if he were, then he’d be good already. It wasn’t hard for his brothers, but it was hard for Mikey because Mikey was bad.

The tears were quick to return as Mikey picked himself up and started walking further into unknown parts of the sewers. He didn’t care if he was getting lost, he deserved it. He was a bad kid, just like Raph said, and they’d be better off without him.

They’d be better off without him.

.o0o.

Raph was angry.

He sat on his knees in the dojo, filled with rage, hot and heavy in his face and chest. It made his breathing heavy and fists curl in his lap as his head just swirled and swirled and swirled until–

“Raphael. I understand Michelangelo made you very upset by breaking your toy, and I’m very sorry that happened, but calling your brother a ‘screw-up’ will not go back and fix things,” Splinter said as he kneeled right in front of him.

Raph’s fists tightened. “I-I– it was brand new, Master Splinter– We never get new things a-and I just– I was so excited,” he confessed, his voice wavering.

Splinter smiled sadly. “I know, my son, I know. I am sorry I cannot provide such things more often, and I’m sorry Michelangelo broke it. I’m sure he feels absolutely terrible about it.”

A lump formed in Raph’s throat as he kept his eyes low and focused on his father’s knees. “But– he just– he doesn’t stop, a-and– and it just– it makes me so mad…”

Splinter nodded slowly. “Your anger is understandable, my son. Nobody likes to have their things destroyed, but that is not an excuse to make your brother feel worthless.”

Raph sniffled. “I– I didn’t… I didn’t actually mean to– I just– I get so mad,” he whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face right before he felt Master Splinter take him into his arms and hold him close.

“I know you are not a mean boy, Raphael. You have a very good heart that gets blinded by very strong and powerful emotions,” Splinter assured, wiping some of his tears away.

“I just– I-I can’t fight it– it’s like I can’t stop myself, I just– I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him so bad,” Raph wept into his father’s sleeve.

“But you don’t now, do you?” Splinter asked.

Raph shook his head. “I don’ wan’ him to hate me…”

His father laughed a little. “Michelangelo doesn’t hate you– I don't even believe he can. You know, you two have much more in common than you think.”

“But I can hate him. I-I can hate him a lot– does that make me bad?” Raph sniffled again.

“You don’t actually hate him, Raphael. If you did, you would not feel remorse for your actions,” His father assured, rubbing soothing circles on Raph’s shell.

Raph didn’t know what to say, looking back at the ground and resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Anger is an emotion that occurs in all living creatures, even myself. You are not wrong for feeling upset that something precious to you was harmed, but there are more productive ways to problem-solve than breaking your brother’s arm,” Splinter chuckled a little.

“... Like what?” Raph ventured to ask.

“Well… there is always breathing and meditation–”

“But it’s so boringgggg,” Raph interrupted.

Splinter laughed. “I know it is hard, but allowing yourself to feel and understand your emotions can help you rid yourself of all this confusion in your young mind,” he stroked the top of Raph’s head for emphasis.

“I-I guess…” Raph looked at his hands.

“Or perhaps you can try going to your room to separate yourself from the situation until you feel more in control of yourself. You could do things like draw or read comics or even scream into a pillow until you feel all better,” Splinter then suggested, which didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

“I guess I can try that,” Raph shrugged a little, smiling a little when he heard his dad sigh a bit in relief.

“You are a good son, Raphael...”

“Thank you, Master Splinter,” Raph said, still not quite looking at him.

“... Which is why I know that you’ll apologize to Michelangelo as soon as possible, no?” Splinter asked, and Raph tensed a bit.

“I– yeah… I should…” he bit his lip and Splinter hugged him a little tighter before setting him down.

“Good,” He smiled at Raph softly, which Raph managed to return before they both stood and went to the dojo doors, where Splinter opened to find Leo and Donnie arguing about something by themselves.

“Leonardo, Donatello– where is Michelangelo?” Splinter looked left and right as he stepped out in the living space.

Leo stopped arguing and looked around. “I– wasn’t he right here?” he asked Donnie.

“I thought so?” His purple brother shrugged.

The confusion made a knot tie in Raph’s stomach, especially when he saw how it made Splinter’s eyebrows grow close and wrinkly before he shook his head.

“Perhaps he has just gone to rest in his room. I’ll go check on him,” Splinter patted Raph’s head before speed walking to the bedrooms.

Raph could feel his brother’s eyes, the second Splinter was gone, which only made the knot tighten. “You got a problem?”

Donnie backed up. “Me? No. We just– umm…”

Leo wasn’t as much of a scaredy-cat, though, looking at Raph and asking, “Are you okay?”

Raph rolled his eyes. “M’fine, it was just a stupid toy.”

“Of your favorite comic book character,” Donnie pointed out.

“Yeah…” Raph kicked the ground a bit. “But I– I went too far, like always…”

Leo smiled a little. “I’m sure Mikey’ll forgive you.”

Raph stayed quiet.

Splinter came back in not too long, looking around frantically as his eyebrows just got more and more scrunched together with worry.

“Master Splinter?” Leo spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Their father stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Is there anywhere around the lair your brother could possibly be hiding?”

Leo, Donnie and Raph all looked at each other nervously.

Donnie was the first to suggest, “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”

Splinter shook his head. “I’ve already checked there. Anywhere else?”

Leo bit his cheek. “Maybe under his bed?”

Their father shook his head again.

Donnie suddenly snapped his fingers. “He likes hiding in the kitchen cupboards sometimes!”

Splinter sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I have already checked there as well.”

The knot in Raph’s stomach tightened. “S-so he’s…?”

“I will go out to find him. You three stay here. I will be back soon,” Splinter decided, finally stepping down into the pit, where they hugged him tight.

“Is Mikey gonna be okay, Master Splinter?” Leo asked.

“Of course, my son,” Splinter assured, patting the eldest brother’s head, but Raph could tell he was lying by the tension in his hands.

The hug broke, and the turtles watched as Splinter went to the turnstiles, but stopped right before he would’ve disappeared into the endless tunnel systems.

“I will be back soon, my sons, do not worry. Stay safe,” He smiled at each of them (especially Raph) before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Leo and Donnie both hesitated, but sat back on the couch, meanwhile Raph couldn’t help but pace around the pit.

“Why would Mikey just run off like that? He’s never done that before,” Leo looked at Donnie.

“I don’t know, it’s really not like him. He's always been so afraid of the outside, it doesn't make sense,” Donnie shrugged, but Raph just rolled his eyes.

“You two have got to stop pretending this isn’t allmy fault,” He snipped, and both brother’s eyes turned to him.

Leo stood. “Raph–”

“Stop!!!” Raph shouted. “I hurt him! Because of a stupid toy! And called him useless and a screw-up a-and–” Raph internally cursed himself as he felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes once more.

“Splinter will find him, Raph. It’ll be okay,” Leo smiled and tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but Raph brushed it off.

“I'm gonna go look for ‘im,” He announced, making his way to the water entrance.

“Raaaaaaph, Master Splinter said we need to stay here,” Donnie whined, looking around nervously.

Raph huffed and rolled his eyes. “Think of it this way: Master Splinter is going north, and I'm going south. One of us'll find him eventually.”

“You're leaving out east and west,” Donnie looked unconvinced.

“Whatever. If you two wanna do that, be my guest. I'm going out,” Raph went to jump, but Leo suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Raph, Splinter doesn't need us running away right now,” Leo pleaded, and Raph snagged his arm away.

“Stay here then, for all I care. We'll see who really finds Mikey,” He glared before diving in and swimming away.

.o0o.

Mikey was cold.

Of course, he usually was after swimming around and stuff, but there were also a lot more grates outside the lair than inside.

He wished he could reach them. That he could stick his fingers through and feel the fresh night– or catch a cigarette butt, more likely.

Then again, who needed to reach for cigarette butts when they could just fall on your head?

Mikey had dusted off five butts before he just decided to keep moving past the grates.

Probably the smartest thing he did all day.

Mikey sighed and hugged his arms. He had no idea where he was anymore, and there was still a voice in his head telling how stupid he was for getting himself lost, but he was just so tired of it. He already knew he was an idiot, no need for reminders.

Besides, it was his goal, right? He wanted to run away so he'd stop ruining everything for his brothers and Splinter.

He was a screw-up. This plan probably wouldn't work, and he'd get his dad worried to death about him because he was a stupid crybaby.

… He wished he could go back. He didn't actually want to run away. He missed his brothers– he missed his Papa– he was so, so cold.

The answer for the chilly temperature suddenly appeared when after Mikey rounded a corner, he saw a massive stormwater outlet that–

Woah…

A bitter, cold breeze stung through, but Mikey didn't care, approaching the view of the sparkling lights of the city off of… a river? The ocean? Whatever it was, it was a lot of water and Mikey was mesmerized. Trees were also visible, though most were missing their leaves since it was late November. Mikey didn't mind that, though, as it was still one of the prettiest things he had ever seen.

He didn't deserve such a pretty thing. He'd probably ruin it somehow. Maybe he'd blurt something out, and it would make all the animals scared or angry, and then they'd try to attack him. Or maybe a human would find him, and then he'd get experimented on, like in alien comics.

Mikey's head ached, and so despite his want to leave, he decided to sit there and rest awhile.

He got roughly five seconds of peace before his stomach growled painfully.

“Man, all that swimming really got me hungry, eh?” He joked to no one, hoping it would make it hurt less.

It didn't.

The ten-year-old closed his eyes, trying not to imagine how worried Splinter would be and the lecture he’d get for being all stupid and impulsive despite being told many, many times to just use his stupid head.

Another gust of cold wind blew by, causing Mikey to shudder. He wished he had a blanket or something with him, but then again it would’ve gotten totally soaked, and he would’ve ruined a perfectly nice blanket that Master Splinter worked so hard to get for them.

He would do just about anything in the world to swap brains with Donnie, or Leo, or even Raph.

His brothers were the coolest people in the world, even if they could be a bit mean. Leo was so nice and always picked up any moves Splinter taught the fastest. Donnie was super good at math and stuff and was always working on super sciencey stuff that had Mikey convinced he should win an award or something. And sure, Raph had his anger issues, but he could fight the best out of all four of them, and Mikey wished he could be half as cool as him.

But he wasn’t. He was just stupid, annoying, useless, little screw-up Mikey who couldn’t listen or sit still or focus or remember anything.

… He wasn’t surprised when he noticed himself crying.

He opened his eyes again, surprised to find a beetle crawling up one of the pipes of the outlet.

“Hi, Mr. Beetle. I’m Michelangelo,” he joked, holding out a finger that the bug didn’t climb onto.

“Ah, you don’t wanna be my friend? It’s okay, I wouldn’t be my friend either,” He smiled as he felt tears start to rush.

“S-see– I’m a big jerk. I break my brother’s toys, a-and I don’t sit still or stop makin’ annoying noises, even when they ask all nicely,” the ten-year-old wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Master Splinter says it isn’t my fault– b-but I know he’s just being nice. Raph’s right, I’m just a big screw-up and a jerk, too.”

The beetle twitched its wings a little, making Mikey laugh a little again.

“I’m probably annoying you right now, too. I bet you got a family nearby, and I’m keeping you away from ‘em. M’sorry, Mr. Beetle,” Mikey’s lower lip trembled as his stomach rumbled yet again.

“Say, you– uh… wouldn’t have some food on you, would you?” he joked, but the beetle flew away, causing the boy to break into sobs.

“M’so sorry, Raph,” he whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t mean to be bad. I just can’t stop. I know I’m a failure, I just– I wanna be good so bad, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

He let himself break into sobs as more wind rushed by, causing Mikey to instinctively curl tighter as he felt himself start to shut down into sleep– which was weird because it wouldn’t be bedtime for three more hours.

Maybe it was just all the crying like a baby he was doing. He was weak like that.

“M’sorry I don’t listen, Papa– I really wanted to, b-but I can’t– I’m not good like them. I know you tried– m’so, so sorry,” He sobbed further, fully leaning into the circle so he faced the bars.

The sky looked so pretty as snowflakes began to fall, making Mikey feel like he was almost in a snow globe.

Mikey took a long breath, feeling sleep slowly but surely overcome him as all he could focus on was the glittering skylights, his hunger, and how he already missed his family more than anything.

“I’ll go back soon, I just gotta–” Mikey yawned– “take a little nap first…”

Mikey yawned, curling tighter as with this rush of air he fell into a deep, deep, deep sleep.

.o0o.

Raph was getting nervous.

Looking for Mikey was harder than he had expected, but his guilt kept him moving on despite the ever-growing feeling he was starting to get lost…

“You owe Mikey to find him, Raph. Just keep moving,” He told himself just as bits and pieces of a sandwich that had been dropped fell on his head.

“Man, I hate being in the sewers alone,” Raph muttered, wiping the mayo-soaked lettuce bits and a tomato off his head while also avoiding stepping on a broken phone and what looked like a (thankfully) squashed cockroach. Of course, this was entirely his own fault, but this was a good thing; he was taking responsibility for his actions, just like Master Splinter always told him he should. And he was!

Sure, it was also against Splinter’s direct instructions not to leave their lair, but it was also following his instructions to apologize to Mikey as soon as possible! Yes, yes, truly the most flawless logic turtle-kind had ever known.

Raph was just glad Donnie wasn’t here to rub that in.

The boy walked for what felt like forever, when he noticed a sudden temperature drop that had him shuddering and rubbing his arms.

“Jeez– someone got an evil snow cone machine going wild?” He grumbled, referencing one of his comics.

As he got closer, he realized he could hear wind blowing fiercely from what had to be more than just the regular sewer grate. As he turned the corner, he could see that yep, it was a stormwater outlet and–

“MIKEY-!” Raph cried, rushing to his brother’s side, startled to find him asleep.

“Mikey?! Mikey, wake up! What’s wrong with you?” Raph asked, panicking more and more by the second.

“Ughhh… Raph?” Mikey mumbled, barely cracking an eye open.

“Why are you so tired? You hate bedtime!” Raph pointed out, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not– Look, I came here to say–”

“M’tired… talk soon,” Mikey clicked his tongue weakly before his eyes closed again.

“What?! Mikey, you jerk wad! I was apologizing!” Raph growled and shook his brother, but it did nothing to wake him.

Alarms triggered in his head as he tried shaking his brother again, but nothing happened.

“M-Mikey…? Mikey, you’re okay, right?” Raph looked around for any signs of danger or trouble, but couldn’t find anything other than the picturesque night sky and snowfall.

“Woah…” Raph momentarily forgot his panic to admire it, since Master Splinter not only said they were super banned from going outside, but they were double banned from snow because they could accidentally trigger hibern–

Oh no.

“Shoot– Mikey! You know we’re not allowed to–” Raph kicked himself mentally as he realized he was already falling through on his promise. “Look– you’re gonna be okay, okay, Mikey? I just gotta– um…” Raph looked around for anything that would be remotely warm but was just met with moss covered walls, and was it just him or were there suddenly a lot more bugs around here than there were before?

However, he figured just getting his brother away from the drain would get him warmer, and so stood up and tried slinking Mikey on his back as much as possible.

“It’s okay Mikey, I’ll get you back safe and warm in the lair, I promise,” Raph bit his cheek as he struggled readjusting his brother on his shell before starting to walk off.

It certainly wasn’t easy though. While Raph was older and a little bigger, it wasn't enough to make this a breeze. Plus, Mikey wasn’t even trying to support himself since he was all tired and stuff. To make up for it, Raph had to take big, long steps that didn’t always mesh well with the algae, garbage and bug-covered sewers.

However, he promptly halted when he finally reached the remnants of that sandwich that got dropped on his head, which now had a humongous pile of cockroaches on it.

“Gross gross gross gross–” Raph gagged, taking a frantic step back and almost dropping Mikey in the process. He looked around nervously to see if there was some other way he could get to the lair, but that rapidly proved itself to be a waste, as more and more disgusting pests were gathering by the second, and no amount of will power summoned an alternate path.

“M-Master Splinter? Can you hear me?” Raph called, desperate to get out of here already.

He looked at the bugs again and took another instinctive step back. “D-Dad, I really, really hate bugs, I don’t wanna do this,” he felt tears threaten to fall, which just made him more angry at himself. He was trying to save Mikey from accidentally falling asleep for the next three months, he did not need to be acting like a baby!

“Okay, Raph, y-you got this– you can save Mikey, I believe in you,” He told himself, taking a careful and calculated step forward, and a wave of nausea hit that made him want to turn and puke.

But he couldn't! He was a turtle on a mission here! He couldn’t get sick on Mikey now– especially because the drain wasn't too far and that grate was channeling pretty strong winds– If Raph stayed for too long then he’d get all sleepy too and Master Splinter would be double disappointed.

“Alright, guess I’ll just…” Raph mentally prepared himself, stepping one foot at a time at a very slow pace– until the fourth step, where he definitely stepped on a bug, and he completely froze. His instincts were completely useless as he felt two more try to crawl on his leg, causing him to instantly book it as fast as he could.

“Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew–” He kept whispering to himself before he suddenly slipped on the mossy floor and he and Mikey fell into the sewer water.

He completely lost all contact with his brother as he fumbled around in the current, and it took a solid minute before he could get his head clear and broke for the surface.

“MIKEY!” He called, looking around for his brother, but not finding him.

He dove back underwater with urgency and found his little brother beginning to sink. With a grunt of determination, Raph swam with all his might to grab his arms and drag his still cold body to the surface.

“R-Raph?” Mikey croaked between coughs.

“MIKEY!” Raph hugged his brother tight. “Mikey, it’s okay! We’ll be back home soon, I promise,” he assured, and Mikey chuckled weakly.

“You really do care, you big sap,” His little brother smiled weakly.

“Shut up or I'll let you drown,” Raph tried acting tough again, but Mikey's exhaustion made him hard to threaten. “Whatever. Just wrap your arms around my neck, I’ll swim us both home,” Raph grunted, and Mikey thankfully did as he was told.

It took a frustratingly long time to get back to the lair– so long that Mikey had already fallen back asleep by the time Raph recognized his surroundings. It made him nervous, but Raph wasn't going to crack now that he was so close.

“Alright, Mikey, just under here real quick,” Raph glanced at the wall that mostly separated their lair from the sewer system before dunking his brother under and quickly pulling him up on the other side with minimal bonking.

“We made it, Mikey! C’mon– we gotta tell Leo and Donnie so we can–” Raph looked up and found Splinter standing right at the edge of the pool, with Leo and Donnie standing nervously behind him.

“H-hi dad,” Raph looked down at his murky reflection.

“Raphael, I specifically told you–” Splinter was about to reprimand, but his eyes landed on Mikey and worry immediately overrode his anger.

“Bring him over,” Splinter ordered Raph, and of course he obeyed. He watched as Splinter took his youngest brother in his arms and set him down on the couch, placing an ear on his chest.

“His heart is slow. Raphael, what happened? Was there a fight? Was he injured at all?” His father asked. Raph shook his head, getting out of the water and joining Leo and Donnie as spectators.

Splinter frowned, placing a hand on Mikey’s forehead and flinching. “Donatello, warm up a heat pack from your lab.”

“Hai, sensei,” Donnie said, and he was gone in a flash.

Leo looked at Donnie for only a moment before his eyes went right back to Mikey. “Is he gonna be okay, dad?”

Splinter nodded slowly. “He should be okay, he’s just a little cold, is all.”

“Oh! I can get him his blanket!” Leo immediately offered.

“Good idea, Leonardo,” Splinter approved, and before he knew it, Leo was gone too, leaving Raph alone with his dad.

Raph’s heart was pounding in his chest, as he was pretty sure Splinter knew just as well as he did this was all his fault, and he wondered what kind of grounding he’d get this time.

His anxiety certainly wasn’t helped when Splinter suddenly asked, “How did this happen, Raphael?”

Raph gulped. “I found ‘im by a stormwater drain, asleep. I think he was watching the snow or something and just kinda passed out, so...”

“I see,” his father replied, stroking Mikey’s head and taking off his soaked orange mask. “I should have known he would have gone to the water; he’s always been so afraid of subway cars,” he laughed a little sadly.

“It’s not your fault, dad, it’s–” Raph frowned as Leo ran in with the blanket.

“Found it, Master Splinter!” Leo called before handing it to their father all nice and folded.

“Thank you, Leonardo,” Splinter nodded in approval before unfolding it and draping it on the still-napping Mikey.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Leo asked in that eager way he always did.

“No, we do not want to overwhelm him or his body. We just want enough to wake him up at his own pace,” Splinter explained, and Leo nodded, taking a step back to join Raph.

A moment after that, Donnie emerged too with the practically steaming bag of dry rice, which Splinter thanked him too before placing it on his forehead.

“There. That should do it for now,” Splinter nodded to himself, stroking Mikey’s left arm a bit before finally allowing himself to sit on the couch next to him.

Nobody said anything for a while, most everyone’s eyes focused on Mikey except Raph, who kept watching his father. He was waiting to receive his scolding for running away and almost getting Mikey knocked out for months. However, the more he stared, the more it seemed like it wasn't going to happen, and after a couple minutes, Raph couldn’t take it anymore.

“Master Splinter, I’m real sorry I ran away, but I knew it was all my fault– I mean, you know how much I hurt him and his arm– so it was totally my fault! I had to make it right, and I knew that if I didn’t find him, you would, so I figured it really wouldn’t hurt! Plus, you told me I needed to apologize to him as soon as possible, so technically I wasn’t really disobeying you– but I know I really was, and–”

“Raphael,” Splinter cut off his rambles with a soft look. “I am not mad at you. If anything, I am relieved you found him because if it were not for you, I do not think his condition would be fixed so easily.”

“You don’t… know that, though,” Raph kicked the ground.

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Of course he knows that. Hibernation takes several hours to fully take hold in a turtle, and if Master Splinter had spent all night looking for Mikey he would have certainly been too late and Mikey would spend the next several months practically asleep.”

“Donnie!” Leo punched his arm.

“What? It’s just science!” Donnie defended his rather blunt word choice.

“It’s alright, Leonardo, Donatello is correct,” Their father assured, looking again at Raph. “What you did was very risky, and not something I want to become a habit… but you did very well, Raphael.”

“Not really, Master Splinter. When we ran into a ton of cockroaches, I totally freaked out and dropped Mikey into the water,” Raph confessed and Donnie laughed a little, getting him a quick glare that shut him right up.

“Ahh, but don’t you see? When faced between your fears or bringing your brother to safety, you chose very bravely,” Splinter placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder.

“Thank you, sensei,” Raph bowed and Splinter chuckled and stroked the top of his head a little.

Right then there was a little cough, followed by a groan, followed by a– “Raph? Papa? What’s goin’ on?” from Mikey.

“You are back home, my son,” Splinter quickly turned his attention to his youngest, holding his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired n’ warm,” Mikey yawned.

Splinter smiled a little. “Of course. It is rather late, after all, so the four of you should go to bed.”

“Aww man, but I just slept a bunch,” Mikey whined.

“You need to gather your strength, my son. Do not worry, I will carry you to bed this one time,” Splinter teased Mikey a little since he was always asking to be carried. It seemed to work since Mikey immediately stopped protesting, and he was whisked away.

“You had Master Splinter really worried, you know,” Leo spoke up.

Raph rolled his eyes. “You heard him, I did something right for once.”

“You know what I mean, Raph. If you wanted to find him yourself, you should’ve at least tried to tell him before you left,” Leo crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you ever get lost in the sewers, I won’t come looking for you,” Raph pushed Leo away and headed to his room, hearing Leo sigh dramatically and choosing to ignore it as the door slammed closed behind him.

His broken action figure was still on his bed, but instead of angering Raph, it just made him feel… disappointed. Sure, it was partly due to the fact he had been so excited about it just earlier today, but now it was more like he was disappointed how angry he’d gotten. It was just some cheap plastic with a broken voice box, after all. It wasn’t worth making Mikey run away and almost freeze himself into hibernation.

Besides, he’d definitely still play with it. Sure, he would now be missing an arm, but most everyone’s toys were broken in some capacity, so maybe now the other toys wouldn’t get jealous. Not that toys could get jealous, but– whatever. Raph was exhausted.

And so, Raph set his newly broken Aspara-Gus up on the shelf, alongside his much older broken red car, and flopped onto his bed to try and think about sleep.

.o0o.

Mikey was as snug as a bug in a rug after his father tucked him nice and tight into his bed, making him feel like the specialist and also the stupidest kid in the whole world.

“Papa… I’m sorry I ran away. I wasn’t thinkin’, which I know I do a lot,” he looked away as Splinter checked his temperature with a thermometer.

“Don’t worry, Michelangelo, I am just grateful you are alright,” Splinter smiled kinda sadly.

“Still… I didn’t wanna scare you, I just– I always mess up, a-and I really don’t mean to! I try to stop, I really do, Papa, but I just can’t,” Mikey confessed, face red with shame.

The thermometer beeped, but Splinter didn’t even look at it before setting it aside and removing the heat pack from his forehead.

“You are a good son and brother, Michelangelo. Your weaknesses do not erasure your kind smile or your cuddly disposition or your humor. We are all very grateful you are a part of this family, and everyone– including Raphael– missed you terribly in your absence,” Splinter stroked Mikey’s cheek with his thumb.

“I know, but I still break things and don’t listen and stuff, which is still bad of me,” Mikey looked away.

“But that does not make you bad, Michelangelo,” Splinter said with certainty. “Everyone in this sewer has flaws– even myself.”

“Even you?” Mikey gawked.

Splinter chuckled and nodded. “I am not always the most rational mind and can be swift to punishment, but that does not mean I am cruel and unjust. It just means I have something to be aware of and work on.”

“Oooh… cool,” Mikey smiled a little at the thought of him and his papa having something in common.

Splinter laughed more. “It is getting late, my son. Be sure to rest up.”

The rat was going to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand. “Do you have to goooooooooo?” He asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Splinter hummed happily and kissed his son’s head. “Maybe tomorrow night. I suspect someone else will want to talk to you tonight.”

“Who?” Mikey tilted his head.

“You’ll see,” Splinter patted his shoulder before turning out his light, causing Mikey’s glow-in-the-dark stars to shine. “Sweet dreams, Michelangelo.”

“G’night Papa!” Mikey gave a wide grin before Splinter nodded and closed the door.

Man, Mikey really was tired. But also not. He certainly wasn’t as tired as he’d felt by the stormwater drain, but all that swimming and walking and being all toasty definitely was doing a number on him.

However, before he could decide if he wanted to fall asleep or not, there was a knock at his door.

“Uh… come in?” Mikey said, unsure of who it could be, and startled when he saw it was Raph.

“Hi…” His older brother looked at the ground before he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

There was an awkward moment whether neither brother really knew what to say or how to say it. Instead, they both just looked around Mikey's disaster of a room, avoiding eye contact.

After a bit of this, Raph decided to break the silence with a, “I’m sorry I made you run away, Mikey. And for calling you a screw-up, and useless, and a punk, and a stupid, dumb idiot.”

Mikey laughed a little. “It’s okay, Raph. I already know I am.”

“No! You’re not useless! I said that just because I was mad,” Raph sat on Mikey’s bed urgently. “You’re like– the funniest brother and you give good hugs, which is nice when you want ‘em. That's totally useful!”

Mikey looked away. “You don’t gotta say that to me, Raph. I know I’m the weakest and the least patient and most distracted or whatever, I just gotta deal with it.”

“You know I’d save you if you ran away again, right? And that I– I don’t mean to always hurt you, right?” Raph asked, nervously picking at his nails.

“Aww, you big softie,” Mikey teased a little, and Raph rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah– I’m apologizing here, so do you wanna accept it or not?” He scoffed.

“I’m sorry I broke your toy, Raph. It started making this really loud noise and I panicked,” Mikey explained himself first.

Raph scoffed a bit. “Figures something had to be wrong with it… but still, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“I shouldn’t’ve broken your toy and run away, so I accept your apology,” Mikey gave his brother a crooked smile. “You accept mine?”

Raph laughed a little. “Yeah, you big baby,” he punched his brother’s arm a little, making Mikey laugh.

“Thanks for saving my life too, by the way. I could kinda hear you and I know it was pretty scary, so… yeah, thanks. You aren’t as angry as you think you are,” Mikey placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Raph seemed a little shook by this, but he eventually just chuckled and shook his head. “Wasn’t a hard decision. Without you, this place is a total dump.”

“Still. Thanks,” Mikey tried to get through his thick skull.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Raph tried to keep playing it off, shaking Mikey’s arm off of him. Raph started to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand on impulse.

“Uh… yeah?” Raph looked at him confused, and Mikey cursed himself a bit.

“Sorry–! I just– um…” Mikey let go and started fidgeting with his blanket. “I was just wondering if you’d wanna– you know… sleepover?”

His elder brother paused, clearly debating it, making Mikey instantly feel bad.

“You don’t have to, though! It was a stupid idea, I mean– we aren’t five anymore, so you can say n–”

“Sure, why not?” Raph shrugged all nonchalantly, and Mikey felt relief flood his body.

“Cool!” Mikey beamed, scooting aside to make room for his older brother, whom he immediately cuddled against the moment he was settled.

“Jeez, Mikey– you ever heard of personal space?” Raph quipped, but Mikey knew he didn’t mean it. If he had, he would’ve pushed him away or moved off the bed.

But nope, Raph stayed right next to Mikey for the entire night, and Mikey wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[holystressresponsebatman]

Okay, so, I’ve seen other people post about this quite a bit—but it’s always bothered me how, in the season 1 finale, Splinter tells Leo that he has to save the world and that nothing else matters, blah blah blah, including that bit about sacrifice and junk and I just.

Why.

Why would you say that to your Teenage Son—who you know would do anything to protect his brothers? Who had already been shown to have those self-sacrificing tendencies in “Follow the Leader”?

Just makes you think about some things…

And I will never be one to suggest that Splinter is a bad father (because have you seen the way he interacts with his sons??). Like yes, he’s old fashioned and his wording can seem stilted or distant at times, but c’mon people! He makes sure to spend time with each of them individually. He is constantly helping Raph work through his anger issues, gets Donnie to see that his brothers rely on him more than for his intelligence and what he can make, makes Mikey see that being a goofball with a tender heart can be a good thing, and helps Leo see that not every decision needs to be made alone and/or at his own expense.

Yes, Splinter does make it clear to Leo that his brothers’ safety is of the utmost importance when they leave the lair, but at no point in time does he say that Leo is less important than his brothers or that he wants Leo to sacrifice himself!! Leo reads into the messages way too much in the moment (or perhaps doesn’t read into them enough??) and makes decisions that HE thinks are for the best.

[skcirthinq]

Finished the first series I had for @tmnt-event-blog 's winter bingo, so I decided to do a more rendered piece.

New Card, and even! New turtles!?

I figured an episode where they build a fireplace (in a place there. Really shouldn't be one) so Santa will visit them is very much in line with the kinda shenanigans I remember from watching 80s cartoons as a kid.

[dadatello]

Is there anything Dadatello is purposefully doing differently in raising Minitello and Leo to the way that Splinter raised him the first time? Also, is there anything specific he has purposefully carried on doing with his boys that Splinter did with him? Any traditions or anything like that?

"You know, I don't often show emotion, but it's scientifically proven to be beneficial for a child's development. Which is to say... this is important for the kids.

Losing Leonardo at the end there... had me thinking. I shouldn't act like I take my family for granted. He was a champion. And a damn good leader, too.

Just don't tell 'Nardo Junior all of that. It'll go to his head."

[skeleton-in-a-hoodie]

Ageswap Leo and Yoshi's relationship drives me a insane. Putting this under a readmore cause it's quite long. Some spoilers for ageswap below:

Just, there's so much love there. Leo loves the bones of that kid and would do whatever he had to in order to keep his nephew safe. He'd die if it meant Yoshi had the chance to live. (Yoshi does not want his uncle to sacrifice himself. He'd actually never forgive Leo if he died for him - he wants his uncle to live.)

But that doesn't mean as!Leo didn't mess up and that he didn't hurt Yoshi without meaning to.

From being small, Yoshi knew that he was Leo's heir. It's hard growing up in a warzone knowing that if the slightest thing goes wrong you'll lose one of your parents and suddenly all their responsibility will be left to you (Raph, Donnie and Mikey wouldn't just dump all Leo's baggage on Yoshi, but being the head of the Hamato Clan did not appeal to this kid when he was 8.) That's so much responsibility, and if it's hard for a turtle teen, it's just as hard for a rat teen.

And Leo tries to prepare Yoshi as best he can for the day he takes over. Leo hopes that'll be a long, long time in the future, but there at war and stuff happens. So Yoshi gets extra training, whilst his sisters play and watch tv, he sits with Leo and goes over strategy. There are chess games, which Yoshi enjoyed a lot less when he realised what it was training him for. Leo thought it'd be a nice, child friendly way to introduce Yoshi to important concepts. He won't throw his nephew in at the deep end.

(He's good at chess, and learns to quickly think he way through sticky situations. But he never wants to have to think of Mayday, June or Shadow as being pawns or bishops. They're his sisters. He can't help but wonder if it's possible to change the game.)

He can't mess up. He has to be perfect. Has to know all the rules, how to break them, how to shift the fight into his favour, to know what to lose a battle so he can win the war.

(It's so much.)

(It's too much.)

(Not his sisters. Not his uncles or aunt. Not their friends.)

(Please please not his family.)

Yoshi pours all his free time into training. Leo is both proud and relieved to see Yoshi is a fast learner. Sometimes the turtle will joke to his brothers, April or Casey that they can hardly keep up with him. Lessons that were supposed be last a month are covered in a week. He thinks if they train Yoshi well enough, he'll be able to weather whatever storm the universe throws at him.

(Yoshi's so gifted! He might be a progidy! He'll be safer!)

(He has nothing else.)

(He has to keep them all safe. He's already lost his mother and brother.)

(Not his family, not his family, please not his family.)

There's meditation too. He struggles with that at first - there's so much to think about, so much responsibility and he's still a child - but it's nice to have some quiet time, where he can let go and exist in the space between his thoughts.

And the visions start early. Nightmares, mostly. No one realises what they are until the end of the ageswap space arc, when Raph flips through their then 4 year old nephew's drawing and finds horrible monsters on every page. The drawings a crude, he's only a small child, but Raph recognises the shark, the scorpians, the ice dragons. Yoshi hadn't gone to space with his aunt and uncles. The child has a habit of dating his drawings, and each is from before they got back.

(The one that disturbs Raph the most is all metal and glowing red eyes. At first he thought it might be Tokka, but no, that's not right.)

(The red eyed, armoured monster keeps appearing in Yoshi's worst nightmares.)

Leo can't help Yoshi here. He's trained all his life for a similar sensitivity. Mikey and April both have it, and are both more skilled with it, so they take over Yoshi's training in this department. But he's always open to Yoshi talking to him about it!

(His uncle has so much going on already. Yoshi doesn't want to bother him with imaginary monsters. And as he gets older, he thinks he's too older to tell his family about nightmares anyway.)

And as the war with the Kraang continues to ramp up, more responsibility is given to him. He helps June look after their sisters.

(He's the third child, but he's also their future clan leader, so he feels he has to).

Yoshi even starts helping Shadow with her training, which takes some of the load of his uncles. Leo is so proud of his nephew, barely 12 and already training his own student.

(He's parenting his 6 year old sister. He won't complain. Shadow deserves a proper childhood).

Leo loves Yoshi and does everything he can to prepare him. Leo tried so hard.

And Yoshi adores his uncle! Won't hear a word against him.

But there's also momumental expectations, and resentment, and Yoshi feeling that his childhood was forfeit for his sisters, and knowing his uncle did not know what he was doing with him, and not knowing how to say he needs help and he's scared, so scared.

(The older Yoshi gets, the more the red eyed monster appears in his dreams. And when he's 14, he starts dreaming of fire and a woman screaming and someone dressed in amour that imitates the red eyed monster's. He wakes from each dream clutching his abdomen.)

They love each other, but that doesn't mean mistakes weren't made

But they love each other, so they're willing to work together to put the broken peices back together again

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[tapakah0]

My morning serotonin destroyed...

I don’t think anyone has noted on the timing between UncleTello dying and Leo realising it

When Casey arrives it’s either right before or a little after Donnie dies, when Donnie is crawling to the mech

The turtle pile is still untouched

And when Casey races to him and takes Donnie to the future, the pile is still untouched

When Donnie dies, there are some particles which imply he’s still around

It’s only after the particles dissipate- after Donnie leaves with Casey- that Leo realises that Donnie is gone and freaks out

Which, with this context, explains why Leo is so shaken up by Donnie’s death and why he’s so filled when Donnie brings him back

The constant hum of the twin sense hes lived with all his life suddenly gone and he’s left in eerie silence

It also possibly explains why he feels turbulent when the group is sent back to the past- the silence returns and his everything is telling him he’s lost Donnie again but Donnie is with him this time, via programming shenanigans

(Also also this might add to younger leo’s anxiety)

Love everything you do, hope life’s treating you well <<333

[lxnarphase]

mattsun is a big guy with big hands, and he tries so hard not to grab the headboard, he really does, because you both have just moved into your new home and it's just a temporary bed until the kingsize frame comes to replace this one

but you keep refusing to cum, telling him you wanted to make him cum first, teasing him with pretty whines and giggles of how cute he looks when he's frustrated. but issei is determined to fuck you into an orgasm.

his hands are death-gripping the headboard now, trying his best to ground himself so that he doesn't fill you up before he gets to feel you milking his cock with those soft, velvety walls.

just before he gets a chance to say anything, a loud crack fills the room, making both of you stop. "i-issei?! what happened? is-is the bed breaking," you asked, trying to sit up. you follow his eyes to see where he's staring and...

"uh...i didn't mean to," he says, his lips pursed. you gasped at the sight, eyes wide in shock. the headboard it...was splintering where he was holding it. and yeah, sure, it's a cheap headboard, but...

"o-oh."

"did...you just squeeze me because of that?"

"absolutely not, you broke my fucking headboard, mattsukawa!"

"oooh, you liked it. aww, lil' thing likes that I'm so strong?"

"you BROKE the head that I BOUGHT! temporary or not!"

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

-

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

��I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

_

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

-

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

[risestarkiss]

Orange, Baby!

Rise Ramblings #316

When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.

As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.

On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.

At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.

Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.

Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.

Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.

Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!

Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.

In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch. (For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)

At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.

For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.

In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.

But here is Mikey to the rescue!

Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.

Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.

Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.

How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?

You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.

Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.

Let me explain.

All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).

Well, what does Mikey struggle with?

In my humble opinion, nothing.

The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.

Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.

Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.

And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:

and this,

and this.

Let’s get back to the scene in the library.

Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.

He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.

This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.

Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.

It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.

Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more. Over…

and over,

and over again

he trusts them completely.

And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…

and over…

and over again.

Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.

All because, he’s Orange, baby!

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[manyunhappygreenies]

I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT 2003 SPLINTER

Father first. Sensei second.

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: 🤭)

Word Count: 621

Summary- You can take it. You will take it; just like the good girl I know you are

Warnings: Size difference, Things break, Emmett stuffs you like a boston cream donut

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Emmett Cullen x Fem! Reader: Kinktober Day 6- Size Kink + Cumflation

--------------------------

"S'too big~" you moan.

Emmett's arms bulge from grasping the headboard above you as he works his cock into you. His muscles almost pulse from restraint.

"You can take it," he grunts out, wood creaking under the force of his grip. "You will take it."

You feel like you're being torn apart in the best way possible. His girth stretches you well beyond what you thought was possible. He always does -not that you can complain.

The further he shoves his cock into you, the further your back seems to arch off of the bed. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck- Emmett~"

You're surprised the sheets haven't ripped with how hard you're gripping them.

Emmett grunts out, eyes shut as he bottoms out. He practically shakes with the effort of holding back.

Your pussy clenches as it tries to get used to the sheer size of your mate.

*crack*

You don't have to open your eyes to know the headboard is splintered under his grip.

"God damn it, babe-" he grits out with clenched teeth. "If you do that again, I won't be able to hold back-"

"S-sorry," you gasp out. "Please move- please, Emmett- fuck me…"

A vicious snarl tips through the room at your words. Without warning, Emmett pulls out of you and slams back in. Your hands fly up to claw at his back and side; anything to ground yourself against the onslaught of pleasure as his carnal desires take over. The room echoes with the sound of skin on skin and the filthy squelch of your soaked pussy.

You cry out as Emmett pounds into you. His name falling from your lips in a symphony of lust and ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, baby-" Emmett growls above you. He heaves with unnecessary breathes as his hand sinks further and further into the solid wood of your bed frame.

"Oh, god~" you gasp, moans being punched out of you with each hit to your cervix. You can feel yourself spiraling insanely fast towards release as he abuses your cunt.

It only worsens as Emmett tosses one of your legs over his shoulder, burying himself inside you impossibly deeper. You swear you can feel him in your womb with how deep he's hitting.

Sharp huffs and grunts are falling from Emmett as he hangs his head between his shoulders. "Feel so damn good- s'like this pussy was made for me. You were fucking made for me, baby- my sexy fucking baby~ look at you, taking my cock so fuckin' well."

It's all you can do to keep your sanity as you cum. Your thighs shake with the force of your orgasm as your knuckles go white with exertion.

With how tight your cunt clenches around him, Emmett quickly follows, emptying his spend inside of you with a low rumble. His palm shoves through the headboard, punching into the wall as he falls forward. Specks of drywall and wood land on the bed around you as he continues to fuck into you.

Your silent scream turns into a soft whine as his balls pump more cum inside of you. You feel like you're going to burst with how full you are.

"Too much-" you moan out, hips shifting as he sets your leg back down.

All of a sudden, Emmett stills inside of you. "Fucking hell- Baby-"

You force your eyes open at the tone of his voice. He's staring down at your stomach with a mix of concern and pride.

Following his gaze, your own eyes widen:

Your stomach is slightly distended from how full you are. With his cock still plugging you up, Emmett's cum had pooled inside you to the point of inflation.

"Damn that's hot as fuck-" Emmett breathes out.

[leclerced]

my girl | op81 cs55

summary: mafia!oscar is possessive over his best friend who he hasn’t seen in months due to his work. he has to step in when a rival tries to ignore his city wide ban on her. inspired by this brainrot from j about mafia oscar

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. possessive oscar, degradation, carlos being tied up, reader getting fucked in front of carlos, mentions of violence (its a mafia au what do you expect?) unprotected sex, marking, etc.

author’s note: will eventually write about them talking. but wanted to post and am too tired. this is 7.7k worth of smut. please let me know what you think 🫶🏻

Carlos has always known about the protective order, it’s part of what makes the chase so fun. He’d seen her around town and asked about her and his men told him she was off limits, deemed so by the leader of his rival gang. Many told him they’d tried hitting on her and were later threatened by someone to stay away from her, usually when they went for a drink or a piss. Carlos wants to laugh at the idea of someone scaring his men away from a woman, but then someone says they know people have been beaten half to death for getting too handsy in a club, people who disappeared when they didn’t listen to the warnings.

Carlos is the one she’s dancing with when Oscar finds them, Lando had pointed out her presence in his club when she arrived and he’d been searching for her. It would have been preferable to find her with anyone except his rival, but there she was, in a slinky black dress with her arms around his neck and his thigh slotted between hers. He’s sure his rival is here just to bother him, but he has a rule where no business is conducted on club grounds, so if Carlos is just here to party, he won’t start trouble. But this- he knows Carlos knows that she’s off limits by his own word. He can’t help the way his possessive side comes out when she sees her grinding against his rival.

Oscar doesn’t think twice before he sandwiches her between them, his hands resting over Carlos’s and the man’s eyes flutter open. He grins wickedly at Oscar, the very man who has a do not touch order on the woman he is very much touching right now. Carlos pulls her closer and presses his thigh up and she whimpers, her head falling back to rest on the shoulder of the new body behind her when the smell of his cologne hits her. It makes sense why the touch felt so familiar, why she felt so comfortable when a stranger joined them. Oscar.

She would have frozen if Carlos wasn’t guiding her body with his, she suddenly feels exposed as her best friend trails his hands down her hips. Suddenly, he tugs her back against him and at the same time, he pushes Carlos’s leg away and replaces it with his own. “Really? Didn’t think you think you had it in you to be riding a thigh in the back of some club.” The alcohol coursing through her veins prevents her from thinking clearly enough to remember he’s her best friend and best friends don’t do this; ban others from touching them and then interrupt their would be hookup, but it feels so natural she doesn’t think twice about rocking her hips down on his thigh.

His lips brush against the shell of her ear and he feels his rival try to guide her body back to his but he tightens his grip and holds her to his chest. “Don’t fucking think about it, Sainz.” Her mind splinters as she realizes they know each other, that Carlos definitely knows about the rule she didn’t know about until a few nights before when one of her best friend’s new buddies told her of it. She wants to ask him where he went, where he’s been for the past six months, but he presses his thigh into her pussy and she can’t do anything but gasp. She can feel him smirk as he rocks his body against hers, and she leans into him unconsciously.

His next words send a shiver down her spine, “Were you planning on taking her home?” Carlos nods and her stomach tightens, pussy fluttering at the thought. Oscar’s fingers twitch against her hips and he presses her down against his thigh. She lets out a moan as her clit rubs his thigh and he asks her, “You think he could make you cum? Is that why you’re here tonight, looking to get fucked?” She can’t help but nod, her hands tugging Carlos’s hair as she rolls her hips against Oscar’s thigh desperately. Carlos tries once again to pull her back to him and Oscar snaps, “You’re in my fucking club, Sainz, remember that. My girl, my club.” His sharp tone causes Carlos to stop pulling on her. He’s never called her his girl before and it makes her moan embarrassingly, in shock and satisfaction at hearing the words she’s always longed to hear. Oscar directs his next words to her, “Did you know that, doll? You came to my club, looking for cock.” She gasps at his words, wondering how her childhood friend could own a club, but he doesn’t give her time to ask for clarification before one of his hands slips between her thighs and presses against her panties. “You came to the right place, baby, I’ll give you what you want.” She grinds against his hand as Carlos glares at them, her eyes lock with his and she can see the hatred burning in them as her lips part in a moan when Oscar’s fingers slide her panties to the side and find her clit easily.

She doesn’t know where he’s been, what happened to him, hadn’t heard from him other than occasional texts or flower deliveries. She doesn’t think this is her Oscar, the sweet boy who picked daisies for her on the playground, or the one who makes her soup when she’s sick. No, this is someone she doesn’t know. This is an Oscar she hasn’t met before, one who bans a city of men from dating her because she’s his. One who owns clubs and claims her like this in them. She wants to know where her Oscar went, but she doesn’t want this Oscar to leave her. She’s drunk on him, soaking in the feeling of his middle finger swirling around her clit as his lips begin working at a mark on the side of her throat. Her head lobs to the side, and his lips drift further south. It’s like he’s searching for something when he pulls her hair back and ghosts his lips over the nape of her neck. Then he’s whispering in her ear, “Where is it?”

Her mind spins with confusion and she mumbles, “What?”

He nips at the lobe of her ear then growls, “The necklace. Where. Is. It?”

She shivers at his tone and one of her hands leaves Carlos’s neck to reach for the bare spot on her chest, where his initials have hung for years, but finds nothing. She almost panics before she remembers how she specifically took it off, not wanting his initials branding her when she went out looking for another man tonight. She doesn’t have to say it. He knows, and it makes him angry. The fact that she’s worn that necklace every day since he gifted it to her, but chose tonight to take it off. He bites her throat, really bites it, she think there might be a bruise tomorrow in the shape of his teeth, but the thought turns her on instead of angering it the way it should. The possessive gnash of his teeth on her flesh hurts, digging in enough that the momentary pleasure turns to pain and she’s clamping her thighs around his and whimpering.

Carlos watches the act, doesn’t know what Oscar whispers to her, but he sees his lips move, feels her hand leave his hair and meet her blank chest, lips parting in a silent gasp. Then Oscar’s giving Carlos a look that should scare him, as he sinks his teeth into her flesh. Her eyes flutter shut and he sees a grimace of pain on her face as Oscar releases his hold. Then, he bares his teeth at Carlos as he slides the strap of her dress down before sinking his teeth into her shoulder, and her other hand leaves Carlos to reach and tangle into Oscar’s hair. When he releases the second bite, he grunts, “We’re leaving.” He says it to Carlos, and something about it tells him to follow, that Oscar wants him to follow. She looks at Oscar like she’s in love, turning her head to him and brushing her nose against his cheek affectionately.

She’s not expecting Carlos to follow them or Oscar to let him follow and climb into the backseat while Oscar opens the passenger door and ushers her in. He even buckles her in, pressing a kiss to her hand before he ducks out of the car and shuts the door before rounding the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. She assumes they’re going to Oscar’s, she isn't sure where that is anymore, she tried going to visit and it was up for rent, and he didn’t return her texts to hang out. It sends a pang of hurt to her heart, the way he’s ignored her for months, and the anger she should have felt earlier begins to set in as she realizes he’s been ignoring her until he saw her with another man. He seems to sense her unease and rests and hand on her knee, she wishes it didn’t, but his touch immediately relaxes her and the thoughts fade away.

Instead of Oscar’s mysterious new place, she finds herself recognizing the route back to her apartment. She stays silent the entire ride, wondering what Oscar’s planning in his head. Once they make it inside her apartment, Oscar grabs a dining chair and begins walking towards her bedroom, so she follows him, Carlos in tow. Oscar sets the chair in front of the bed and she waits behind it, Carlos by her side, as he begins looking through her dresser. A moment later, he pulls out a tie, an old one either he or an ex left behind. “Sit, Sainz.”

The older man rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest, “Like hell you’re tying me up.”

Oscar glares at him through the vanity mirror as he begins searching through the jewelry box on top, “Sit down, or get the fuck out.” She glances between them and Carlos looks at her, probably expecting her to speak out for him, but she does nothing. He sits. Oscar turns a moment later, a gold chain in one hand and the tie in the other. She recognizes it instantly, and her hand drifts back up to the space just under her collar bone where the gold letters always sit. He doesn’t have to ask her to lift her hair when he moves behind her, she does it automatically and he clasps his initials around her neck like a collar, brushing his fingers over the still darkening teeth marks on her skin. He nudges her aside and crouches behind Carlos, tugging his arms behind the chair and tying his wrists together. Carlos instinctively tries to pull his arms away when Oscar finishes to test the knot, but it holds. Oscar pats his shoulder as he stands and mockingly says, “Good boy. Now stay.”

The order makes Carlos see red, and he begins to react, to jerk up and out of the chair and smash his fist into Oscar’s jaw, but the knot fights his strength and the position he’d tied in holds him back against the chair so he can’t even stand up. He slumps back after a moment of writhing, Oscar’s hand burning a hole through his shirt. He realizes then he’s about to be made to watch them fuck, not partake like he’d foolishly thought at the club. He should have known, should have let them leave and found someone else to sink his cock into.

He can hear lips smacking and then they’re in his side view as Oscar pushes her towards the bed. His cock twitches in his jeans as he watches Oscar unravel her with a kiss, her hands grasping at his shirt to pull him closer as she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him harder, moaning into his mouth. He can feel his heart pumping faster, can feel the blood pumping through his entire body as he fights the restraints. Oscar easily lifts her onto the bed and her legs wrap around him automatically, grinding her pelvis against his and she moans again. It’s easily the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he can tell Oscar is putting his all into the kiss and she’s taking it all and giving herself to him. He’s never wanted to be anyone other than himself, but in this moment be would kill to be Oscar.

The instant Oscar’s lips are on hers, the man she met earlier in the night vanished from memory. She can’t get enough of him, if she thought his lips on her neck earlier felt good, this was euphoric. He keeps biting her lip too, nipping and sucking at them before slipping his tongue back into her mouth. She’s never been kissed so good before, she never wants to stop kissing him. Then he pulls away, tugs her lower lip between his teeth before letting it smack against her upper lip and diving in for another sweltering kiss. She can feel how wet she is in her panties, the feeling of soaking fabric would be annoying if the ridge of his cock wasn’t pressed against her. She wondered if she was soaking through his jeans with how wet she was, if he could feel how hot she was for him down there.

It’s as if he can read her mind, his hands on her hips pull her closer and he grinds his hips against hers as he pulls back from the kiss. He brings one hand up to curl around the dainty letters hanging at her throat and she imagines him twisting the chain around his fist to choke her with it. The image makes her whimper and she looks up at him, awaiting.. something. Oscar licks his lips, can taste her strawberry lip balm on his own lips, the same one she’s used since she found it a decade ago and hailed it as her personal holy grail. He knows the taste well from having borrowed it over the years, but it’s much better coming from her own lips. He keeps the chain hanging from a finger as he lifts his hand to her jaw and squeezes lightly, “Open.” She blinks slowly at him and it reminds him of her cat, he wonders where it is, he didn’t notice the orange pest when he walked in, and then forgets about it again as her jaw falls open and she blinks at him again, just as slowly as before. He leans down over her and gathers saliva in his mouth before spitting onto her awaiting tongue. She flinches as he spits but doesn’t close her mouth, just blinks a few times in quick succession as her cunt throbs with need. She’d expected him to press the necklace into her mouth, not spit. She’s too turned on by the possessive act to be grossed out, and then he tells her to swallow it and she can’t help but moan as he presses her jaw closed for her.

Carlos has never heard something so erotic as the sound that leaves her when she swallows Oscar’s spit. The sound is so needy, he can feel precum dribble out of his cock as he squeezes his eyes shut and imagines she’s making that sound for him. He opens his eyes again when he hears her gasp and finds Oscar on his knees between her legs. She’s blushing and staring right at Carlos like she’s forgotten about him in the time that Oscar was kissing her. He clenches his jaw then teases, “Forget I was here? You look surprised to see me.”

Oscar laughs from his place between her thighs, “Haven’t even touched you yet, and I’m all you can think about, hm? I told you she was my girl, Sainz.” Carlos growls at the words but doesn’t deny them. Neither does she. There’s no point, not when her cheeks flush more at his words and she looks down at him fondly as she pushes his hair back off his forehead, leaving her hands curled in his hair. He watches as Oscar leans into her touch momentarily, imagines he’s letting his eyes flutter shut as he relaxes into her. Then, his hands are on her legs and he’s pressing a kiss to her knee before stands back up. He tugs at them hem of her dress, and she lifts her hips so he can pull it up. She automatically raises her hands above her head so he can lift it off, then lets her hands fall to his chest as he drops the dress behind him on the floor, his hands finding new purchase on her thighs. They teasingly slide up until they meet her panties and he hooks his fingers into them and tugs. She lifts her hips again so he can pull them down her legs. He kneels like before, pressing her legs apart so he can fit between them. Her hands find his hair again, running through it before stopping halfway through and resting on the crown of his head.

Her eyes meet Carlos’s again, briefly, before he looks down to take in how bare she is. The gold letters glint at Carlos as his eyes rake down her body. They’re the only thing remaining on her, marked with bite marks on either side of the gold chain and a hickey further up her throat. Her tits are as nice as he imagined, as plump as they looked in her dress. He wishes he could touch them, kiss them. Disappointingly, Oscar’s blocking the view of her pussy with his head.

Oscar’s lips find her thigh and he begins trailing kisses up her thighs until he meets her center, her hips unconsciously shift to meet his mouth. She keeps her eyes on him as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and brings his hands up to part her lips. He groans at the sight, and his warm breath against her makes her shiver. He lets his lower lip fall free as he leans forward and presses his lips to her swollen clit. The action makes her stomach twitch and she whines, pressing her hips forwards again for more contact. He pulls back and she huffs impatiently, but before she can complain he leans back in and flattens his tongue against her, licking from her entrance to her clit before sucking the bud between his lips.

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth as she lets out a moan and Carlos groans, wishing he was the one tasting her. Her hands leave Oscar’s hair to press into the sheets and her head falls back between her shoulders as a louder moan spills from her lips. He tries again to slip out of the tie around his wrists, but doesn’t feel it give, doesn’t hear the fabric begin to tear. The skin around his wrists is sore already from his attempts to get out, he doesn’t know what will happen if he does get out, but he needs to touch her like Oscar is. She looks delectable as Oscar pushes her legs up to rest on his shoulders and nuzzles his face into her pussy. She arches her back as she falls back on the bed, catching herself on her elbows at the last minute. Her hands find her tits and she whines blissfully. Carlos watches as she pinches and tugs at her nipples while grinding her hips against Oscar’s face, her brows scrunching and lips parting each time a moan slips out. He would do anything to touch her right now, he can’t think straight because of how good she looks. His mouth is watering, he keeps licking his lips and swallowing down the spit that gathers in his mouth. It’s unfair. Carlos has never been more turned on his life, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Oscar moans against her pussy, he’s never tasted something so good in his life. This is where he’s meant to be, between his best friend’s legs with his tongue fucking inside of her. She sounds like an angel above him, whimpering his name and grinding on his face. When he flutters his eyes open and looks up at her, he’s blessed with the sight of her glossy eyes staring back at him. Her perky nipples are pinched between her fingers and she twists them as he moans against her again. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as her head tips back and she moans, but then she licks her lips as she reopens them and cries, “Feels so good Osc, ‘m so close.”

He really can’t help but moan again as she clenches around his tongue and he shakes his head to the side, his nose bumping her clit. He suddenly pulls his tongue from her hole and he licks flat up to her clit before mumbling, “Cum for me.” At the same time, he slips two fingers into her entrance and curls them. He reattaches his lips to her clit and sucks softly, gently nipping it with his teeth. He’s rewarded by her thighs clamping around his head and a warm gush around his fingers as she moans sweetly.

Carlos can hear the slick squelching noises coming from Oscar’s fingers in her as she cums, mixed with the sounds of their moans. He wants to mock Oscar for moaning into her pussy, but knows he’d be doing the same in his position. He can’t believe he’s fucking drooling watching his rival eat the object of his fantasies out. At this point, if Oscar told him he could touch her if he begged, he’d get on his hands and knees and kiss the floor at his feet for a chance at tasting the nectar between her thighs.

Oscar doesn’t stop lapping at her pussy until her thighs relax around him, then he suddenly releases his hold and kisses his way up her body. A moment later, his wet hand is grabbing her jaw and pulling her in for a hot kiss. Oscar’s hips grind against her’s as he kisses her, licking into her mouth as he moans. She can feel her pussy clenching around nothing as his cock rubs against her through his jeans. She detaches her right hand from her now sore nipple and drags it down his chest to slip under his shirt and press to his abdomen. “Fuck me, please, Oscar.” She pulls back from the kiss and whines, rubbing her nose against his softly.

He grins and stands to look back to Carlos. He looks angry and turned on, Oscar can see his cock hard in his jeans, and can feel the anger radiating off of him. He can’t help but tease, “You look fucked.”

Carlos snarls at him and tries to fight the restraints again and Oscar laughs. Laughs. He looks fucking gleeful, his slick mouth opening wide as he squeezes his eyes shut, his head falling back. Carlos tries to stand and can’t, and it makes Oscar laugh harder. Then, suddenly he goes quiet and his face softens, but he looks at Carlos with pity, not fondness. “Be good, and I might let you cum.” The idea that Oscar has any control over Carlos makes his stomach twist, and he spits at Oscar. It lands on his shirt and the older man smirks. The younger man returns it and leaves his place between her legs and grabs Carlos’s jaw. He can taste her on Oscar’s fingers when he squeezes his jaw and shoves two inside.

Carlos gags as they hit the back of his throat and pants, his tongue unwillingly pressing out. Oscar smirks as he spreads his fingers and forces Carlos’s mouth wider, then spits on his tongue. Anger flares through Carlos and he tries to yank his arms free, tries to jerk his face out of Oscar’s hold, but it only hurts his wrists and forces Oscar’s fingers back into his throat. He hears her gasp behind Oscar and feels humiliated at the thought of her witnessing this.

Oscar groans at the feeling of his fingers spreading his spit over Carlos’s tongue. “Can you taste her? Does she taste good?” He’s surprised the older man isn’t biting his fingers off when they press into his throat and he fucks them into it twice. He retracts them at the idea and the man’s mouth snaps shut, he can feel his jaw tensing under his fingers as he grits his teeth and swallows. He lifts his knee and presses it into the man’s crotch, softly, and is rewarded with his eyes fluttering shut and his head tipping back as his jaw relaxes and his lips part. Then he seems to catch himself and his eyes jerk open and he kicks Oscar away with a grunt.

Oscar releases his hold and turns back to find she’s made herself at home in the pillows. He strips himself quickly before joining her on the bed, grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the center. She lets out a surprised squeal and his stomach flutters at the grin that briefly takes over her face. He trails his hands up her legs and taps at her thighs. “Sit up for me.” His voice is soft and she instantly follows the command. She pushes herself up with her elbows, then hands, and tucks her knees under her as he slips behind her.

As soon as he moves, she locks eyes with Carlos and her entire body flushes as she takes in the way he looks. She can see his chest rapidly rising and falling, can hear the pants falling from his lips as he stares at them. He’s not glaring anymore, his eyes have glazed over and he just looks starved. Or fucked, as Oscar said. He meets her eye and she almost wants to ask Oscar to take pity on him and untie him, but then he’s lifting her hips and she can feel his cock against her ass. She wishes she had taken a look at it when he was in front of her, but she was too preoccupied thinking about her best friend spitting in Carlos’s mind. She breaks eye contact with Carlos to look down as Oscar’s hand sides from her hip to between her legs and watches as he swirls them around her clit before slipping two back inside.

Carlos finds himself following her gaze down and is met by the sight of Oscar’s fingers dipping inside of her. He looks back up to catch her reaction and finds she’s tipping her head back on Oscar’s shoulder as she gasps. He watches as she lifts a hand to curl it in Oscar’s hair behind her, to pull him impossibly closer. Her other hand wraps around his wrist to keep it between her thighs. He can feel Oscar staring at him and he meets the boy’s eyes.

Oscar curls his fingers as Carlos looks at him and she whines. “She’s so pretty, yeah? See why I won’t let anyone else touch her?” Carlos nods stupidly, he wouldn’t let anyone touch her either. Oscar smiles a little as he continues, “Haven’t done this before, y’know?” He presses a kiss to her neck and she sighs, tilting her head to the side to give him more room but he leaves it at one chaste kiss. “She’s so perfect, I didn’t wanna ruin her.”

She arches her back and presses her hips down on his hand, his fingers brush deeper inside her and she mewls. “Want you to ruin me, Oz.”

He snickers at her words, “I’m going to, and he’s going to watch. Gonna enjoy it too, aren’t you? You’re going to love every minute of it, watching me make her mine.” Oscar pulls his fingers from her cunt, she tries to push his hand back into place but he shakes her off and brings his hand around to wrap around his cock. She relaxes when she feels his hand behind her and realizes he’s about to replace his fingers with his cock.

He sighs as he guides the head of his cock to her entrance, dragging it through her slick to bump her clit. “Can’t believe I waited this long, can you, baby?”

She tugs his hair as she shakes her head, “Too long, Osc.” He slips his cock back to her entrance and she feels him press inside slowly. A whine leaves her lips at the instant stretch and she reaches behind her to grasp at his thigh, “Oh god, you’re big.” He presses further in and moans into her ear. He lets her adjust for a moment, his hands find her hips and he strokes his thumb across the skin soothingly as she pulsates around him. Then, he suddenly tugs her flush against him. She screams at the sudden intrusion, she can feel him in her stomach as he bottoms out. It burns, her cunt clenching around him helplessly to accommodate him. She almost falls forward but he catches her before she can, his hand quickly sliding up her body and wrapping around her throat to hold him against her. He doesn’t put any real pressure on her throat, just holds her.

Carlos can’t tear his eyes away from the pair, he can see her pussy stretching around Oscar’s cock, can see her slick soaking his cock. His own cock twitched at the sound of her scream and dribbled precum at the sight of her taking the other man’s cock. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t kicked Oscar’s momentary touch away. Her entire body is stretched out for Carlos to see, Oscar’s hand keeping her in place around her throat. The pretty gold necklace taunting him. She looks so fucked out just from Oscar being in her, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering open and closed like she can’t keep them open but she wants to see. The idea that she wants to see Carlos in front of him makes him groan.

The sound piques Oscar’s interest, distracting him from the feeling of her squeezing him. “She feels so fucking good, mate.” He shifts his hips, barely drawing out before pushing back in, to see if she’s ready. When she moans and it doesn’t sound pained, he repeats the action. “Feel good, baby? You like taking my cock?”

She sighs and nods, “Feels so good.” His hand on her hip moves between her thighs, skimming over the soft patch of hair there before he finds her pussy. He presses two fingers to her entrance around his cock, slicking them up before her drags them to her clit and begins tracing his name into her clit one letter at a time. Her entire body convulses on the R shape, so he repeats it and he feels her thighs twitching against him.

Carlos looks defeated to Oscar. He’s slumped over in the chair, head hanging limply as he watches them. He keeps licking his lips and swallowing, but that’s all he’s doing. Watching Oscar’s cock slowly thrust in and out of her. He decides to give him a show. He picks up the pace of his thrusts and the room is filled with the sound of her moans and his pants, the slick squelching of his cock entering her eat time and his skin slapping against hers. Her back is arched beautifully, probably painfully, as she tugs on Oscar’s hair and presses herself back on his cock each time he pulls out.

It doesn’t take long for her to come unraveled, he can feel it before she tells him, the way her cunt flutters and her stomach contracts. It almost does it in when she tells him, whiny and breathless, “‘M gonna cum.”

He brings his lips down to her ear and says, “Cum around my cock, pretty.” She moans at his words and he presses harder on her clit, fucking into her harder. He sinks into her neck again, just under her ear, and the pain sends her over the edge. He holds her against him as she tries to pull away with the force of her orgasm, he wants Carlos to see it all. He keeps his eyes on the man as he fucks her through it until she finally goes lax in his grip and he lets go, of the bite and his hand around her throat and she slumps forward. He feels bad when she doesn’t even catch herself, lets herself fall face first into the plush mattress. Her body shivers once more from the sensitivity of her orgasm as Oscar leans over her and his cock shifts again. He looks Carlos in the eye as he says, “She’s my cockdumb whore, got it?” Then sinks his teeth into her shoulder. She whines and tries to jerk away but he bites harder and she stops squirming. Her pussy flutters around him blissfully and he groans against her skin. When he releases the bite, he flicks his tongue over the indents of his teeth and kisses it before pulling back to admire it. He brings his hand that was around her throat to press into it and she whimpers. His voice suddenly goes soft as he softens his touch and traces the outline and coos, “You want me to stop? Is it too much, honey?”

She shakes her head, spit slick lips dragging against her duvet as she mumbles, “Feels good.” She knows he can’t understand the muffled words as soon as they leave her and she quickly turns her head and presses her cheek into the sheets and repeats it clearly.

He presses down on the mark, “Yeah? You like it when I bite you? Mark you?” She repeats herself again, and he grins. His hand trails down her back until it rests on her hip and he pushes himself back up. “You’re so fucking wet, baby, all for me. Soaking my cock.” He wants to fuck her like this, with her face buried in the sheets, staring at her pretty ass, but he has a better idea. He pulls himself out of her, his grip tightening on her hips as she pushes back to chase his cock. He taps her hip with one hand, “Roll over, on your back.” She huffs but follows the order, rolling onto her back then shuffling underneath him. She automatically lifts her legs and wraps them around him to pull him closer. He allows it, brings his hands to rest on her hips and lifts her, holds her to her chest and shifts them closer to the edge of the bed then drops her, her head hangs off the edge and Carlos has the perfect view of her face and the necklace sitting pretty between her tits. He hadn’t realized his grip had tightened so much when she was cumming, but there’s a pink imprint of his hand. He wants Carlos so watch him fuck her like this, in the perfect position for her mouth to be fucked by him, but restricted from doing so.

Oscar lines back up with her entrance before he places his hands on her thighs and buries his cock in her in one swift movement. She chokes on a moan, and Oscar finds himself jealous of the sight Carlos gets when she arches her back and claws at the sheets. He tightens his grip on her hips to hold her steady as he sets a bruising pace, eyes locked on where her pussy stretches around his cock. He hears her whimper and casts his gaze up to see she’s playing with her tits again, squeezing them with both hands before pinching her nipples and repeating the action. He releases his right hand and grabs her hand to press it into the sheets, then dips down and wraps his lips around the abandoned nipple. Her hand fights his grip and he releases it out of curiosity, and she tangles it in his hair as she moans, “Oscar, more.” He lets go of her nipple and mouths at the flesh of her breast before he sinks his teeth into it. Her legs tighten around him and she moans sweetly, he releases the flesh before he cups the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss.

She whimpers into Oscar’s mouth as his cock brushes her sweet spot on every thrust. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders for a moment before she curls them around his neck to hold him against her. His nails scratch against her scalp as he licks into her mouth. She can feel him all over her, fingers digging into her hip and scalp, his cock in her stomach, sweaty chest pressed against hers. She drops her head back to gasp for air and his lips find purchase on her throat, nipping and sucking harshly. She meets Carlos’s eye again and licks her lips as she thinks about his cock in her mouth. His lips are bitten red and she wants to taste them, see if she can taste herself, taste Oscar, on his tongue.

She’s suddenly overwhelmed by pleasure when the hand on her hip moves and he presses his thumb to her clit. Her back arches as she moans his name, fingers slipping into his hair and tugging as he nips at the column of her throat. Oscar moans softly before teasing, “G’na cum around my cock already? So good for me.” His words push her over the edge a third time and she tightens her legs around him so he can’t move as her orgasm rocks through her. He resigns himself to grinding his cock into her, apparently perfectly so because her moans suddenly get pitchier and she writhes beneath him. Her pussy is hugging his cock so well, pulsating around him as her orgasm rolls through her body. She collapses underneath him after a moment and gasps for air. He pushes himself up to look at Carlos, his own cock twitches at the sight of his rival. He kind of looks pretty the same way she does, red lips and glossy eyes. His cheeks and nose are flushed and his hair looks soft, nice to run his fingers through. He looks down the other man’s body, to the obvious bulge in his jeans and feels his stomach stir. It probably hurts, he almost feels sorry for him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes the thoughts aside, refocuses his attention on his best friend beneath him when he reopens his eyes. Her tits are bouncing with every thrust, the necklace shining in the light. He leans down and captures the pendant between his teeth then drops it into her own mouth, hanging off the bed. She instantly closes her mouth around it and whines. “That’s my girl. You look so fucking good like this. Doesn’t she Sainz?”

Carlos lifts his head slightly and groans, “Fucking incredible.” He wants to ignore Oscar, tell him to fuck off and untie him, but he’d agree to anything right now. She whines at his words and he instinctively bucks his hips up in search of friction and moans pitifully when he finds none.

Oscar dips his mouth back down to wrap around her right nipple, tugging on the bud with his teeth before sucking on it. She pets the back of his head as she sighs and presses into his touch. He’s so fucking close, he’s barely holding himself together as he quickens his pace to bring her to the edge with him. He stops circling her clit with his thumb and traces the letter R again, and she begins trembling around him again. “You almost there, baby? Gonna fill you up, mark you as mine.” A long, drawn out moan falls from her lips and she grips him so tight he almost explodes, but then she gasps, “Please, ‘m so close.” He groans against her skin and drags his lips from her breast back to her throat and skins his teeth into the flesh. Her body seizes under him as her orgasm crashes over her and the feeling of her gushing around his cock again sends him over the edge. He releases his bite to moan against her skin, pressing his lips to the indents his teeth made. His entire body shudders as he spills his seed inside of her, he can’t help but press his hand into her stomach to feel his cock bulging out.

Carlos has never been harder in his life as much as he would like to protest it. His jeans have a dark spot where his cock has been steadily leaking precum and it aches with a need to be touched he hasn’t felt before. He groans as he watches Oscar empty himself in her, his ears burning from the sounds of their mixed moans. It’s a sinful sight, Oscar rolling his hips into hers and her blinking dazedly at Carlos as her orgasm crashes through her. He finds himself moaning as he grinds his hips into nothing, feebly searching for satisfaction. She finds it in herself to grin at him, before her mouth falls back into an O as a moan spills past her lips and her eyes roll back.

Oscar pulls back from her throat when he’s sure he’s done cumming, but the sight of the marks on her throat and chest force another ribbon of cum out of him and he hisses. He slowly pulls out of her and immediately moves to Carlos, pressing his knee into the man’s crotch again. He doesn’t fight it this time, so Oscar curls a hand in his hair and forces him to look up at him. “She’s mine, got it?” Carlos nods as best he can with the hand holding his hair. “Say it.”

Carlos grits his teeth before admitting, “She’s yours.” Oscar nods, pleased. He maintains his hold but steps away from Carlos, turning back to his friend. “Darling, come to me.” She whines but rolls over and sits up, crawling to the edge of the bed before she swings her legs off the edge and stands. She wobbles and tips forwards into Oscar, he catches her then lowers her to the floor between Carlos’s legs. Oscar presses her face down with a gentle hand on the back of her head and she immediately places her hands on Carlos’s thighs and leans in. She lets her mouth hover over the wet spot before Oscar gives her another nudge and she begins lapping at his cock through his jeans. The moan he lets out goes straight to her cunt and she clenches around nothing, Oscar’s cum dripping out of her to the hardwood floor beneath her. She moans at the taste of him on her tongue and sucks at the fabric, earning another moan from Carlos.

Oscar’s once again struck by the thought that Carlos looks pretty when his eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a moan. He lightly tugs on his hair, not to be mean, just because he wants to, and is rewarded by a soft sigh and Carlos pushing his head back against Oscar’s hand. He tightens his grip and pulls harder, drawing a moan from the other man. “Look at her,” he coos and releases his hold on Carlos so his head drops again. He moans at the sight of her mouthing at him through his jeans, at the feeling. “She’s only doing it because of me. You get to cum because of me.”

Carlos groans at his words, his cock twitching at the bare mention of an orgasm. He’s worryingly close already from watching, from not being touched for so long. She looks up at him as she finds the head of his cock and begins sucking at it through his jeans and he can’t do anything to stop his orgasm from crashing over him. His head tips back as he moans and shudders, fighting against the restraints to tangle his hands in her hair and the pain of the fabric rubbing his wrists raw makes his mind spin.

Cum seeps through his pants and she eagerly laps it up, much to Oscar’s enjoyment. “How’s it feel to cum in your pants? Can’t say I’ve done that before.” Carlos starts to retort back to Oscar’s teasing, but then her teeth skim his sensitive cock through his jeans and he whimpers instead. It causes Oscar to snicker and pull her head back, “That’s enough, I think.” Carlos sighs and slumps into the chair, sucking in air as he stares down at her slick lips. The golden necklace is shiny as ever on her throat and he wishes he could rip it off and replace it with one of his own.

She looks up at Oscar and smiles like she didn’t just suck Carlos’s cock through his jeans, and then leans forward to press a kiss to Oscar’s bare hip. He ruffles her hair like a pet before stepping away, behind Carlos. He feels cool hands on his wrists, then a moment later his wrists are being massaged by cool fingers. He wants to jerk back from the touch but he doesn’t have it in him, too relieved to finally be released from his confines to care that his rival is doing something caring. A moment later, his arms are let go and he immediately brings them to his face to investigate the damage. His wrists are red and chaffed, sore, but nothing too bad. As he’s studying his wrists, he feels a nudge to the back of his chair, “We’re going to shower. You can let yourself out.” Carlos frowns at the words, jealousy burning in his stomach as she stands and he takes in her bare body again, hopefully not for the last time. Oscar’s hand finds her waist and he takes her hand and guides her to the bathroom. The door shuts, and he hears the lock click behind them.

He spends a few moments collecting himself, running through the last few hours, before he pulls out his phone and calls his friend Lando to come get him, hoping he doesn’t notice the wet spot on his dark jeans when he arrives at the sent location.

[moondirti]

animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.” 

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie. 

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long. 

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.) 

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way. 

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic. 

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios. 

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?” 

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop. 

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time. 

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now. 

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in. 

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way. 

You’re not dead. 

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too. 

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead. 

But– 

You’re not dead. 

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is. 

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly. 

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be. 

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later. 

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor. 

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben. 

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke. 

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here. 

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–” 

“Leave us.” 

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order. 

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly. 

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours. 

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure. 

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you. 

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you. 

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away. 

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck. 

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp. 

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer. 

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time. 

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own. 

He’s huge. 

Closer. 

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer. 

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something. 

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either. 

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected. 

(World-shattering, all the same.) 

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

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