#though mikey can go for the ankles

[bluesgras]

I'm betting on leo winning ngl

@tmntaucompetition

Never Better by @less-depresso-more-espresso

Teenage Mutant Neglected Turtles by @nerves-nebula

[acrid-wondrland]

TokyoRev Headcanons on Hyper Specific Talents They Have

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🐈‍⬛️Chifuyu is one of the top Pokemon TCG players

🚚Kisaki can stack cups really fast like those cup stacking champions

💤Ran can guess what language someone is speaking with 80% accuracy even though he can't speak it.

🚬Hanma knows how to fix Pachinko machines specifically.

🔴⚪️Kakucho can cook something nearly identical if he tries it once.

💊Sanzu can draw a perfect circle in one go.

🐉Draken can rap really fast.

💴Koko can memorize the way somewhere just by looking at a map for a few seconds.

🔥Inupi can make his voice sound convincingly like a girl.

🚹Hakkai can bend himself backwards into a near perfect circle and grab his ankles with his hands.

🥋Wakasa can hold his breath for almost 5 minutes straight.

🎧Rindou can do the slickback perfectly

🇧🇷South is weirdly lucky at betting on horse races.

🔐Mikey can wiggle his ears.

🎴Izana can inhale his drinks so fast it looks almost instantaneous.

🧛‍♀️Baji is really good at and can do some crazy parkour.

---

What about urs 👀

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄClose Quartersꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere College Au

❦When delinquents have a little crush on Kazutora’s roommate❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Close Quarters

“Damnit!”

Laughter filled the room as the loud clicks of thumbs hitting the buttons sporadically on the controllers echo amongst the shots ringing on the television. A hand drops the controller before the culprit stands from the floor.

“Alright, man. I’m done.”

“Aw, don’t be such a sore loser, Y/n.” The roommate with the tiger tattoo taunts, chuckling as he sets his own controller down.

“Whatever, Kazu. I know you’re cheating, anyway.” He responds, smiling as he walks behind the counter to grab a water bottle.

“Someone’s bitter.” He responds as he grabs the bong sitting beside him, lighting the remaining flower in the bowl. Y/n walks to the couch and sits with his ankle resting on his leg.

“Shut up. Anyway, can I borrow your laptop? I left mine at Mikey’s dorm.” Y/n explains, sipping his water before closing it and setting it on the coffee table. After finishing the bowl, he hands it to Y/n as he gets up from his seat.

“Yeah, I’m going to the Haitani’s so I’ll tell Mikey to bring it there.” He says as he walks to his bedroom.

Y/n sets the bong on the table and swipes through social media until Kazutora brings him the silver device. His earrings jingle as he walks to the front door, opening it and giving a small wave before he shuts the door behind him.

Opening his laptop, Y/n goes to the search engine and types their university’s assignment website. A few hours pass and he completes two discussion boards and a five page paper. Out of boredom he roams his roommate’s laptop until he finds his messages app. He finds quite a few chats though two stuck out to him. One is the chat they’re all in considering Kazutora introduced them all, and the most recent one is the group chat not including him.

Of course, they’re closer so it would make sense that they have their own group chat, though Y/n’s anxiety caused him to come up with scenarios where they might talk crap about him so he decides to open the chat excluding him. He scrolls just enough to see the most recent messages.

mikey: wat a pain

we shud do somthin

me: yeh? like wat hes straight

rin: u dk that

ran: hes dl theres no way hes not

sanzu: his gf

rin: guys do tht all the tjme

me: theh call evry njgbt which is annoying af

sanzu: could be bi

Y/n eyes the chat in confusion as to who they could be talking about. He scrolls up to see more of the conversation for context until his phone buzzes repeatedly. Viewing the caller id, he brings it to his ear after pressing the answer button.

“Hey babe.” Y/n says, backing out of the app and closing the laptop.

“Hey, how’s your day?” Her sweet voice says from the other end.

While they converse, his phone buzzes once more, causing him to pull it down and set it to the speaker.

Kazu: smoke n drink? come over

Considering he’s finished with his assignments, he shrugs as he takes his phone with him to grab his stuff. Considering the dorm is near, he decides to walk as he talks to his girlfriend. When he makes it to their door, they tell each other ‘bye,’ before ending the line.

When he walks in, he shuts the door and walks past the empty living room to Ran’s bedroom. Walking in, the guys are spread out, Sanzu working on his laptop with his back leaning on the headboard. The oldest Haitani laying beside him as he smokes a joint, Mikey sits on a bean bag chair with a controller in hand as well as Rin who sits on the floor in front of the bed. Kazutora has his feet on the desk as he leans back in the chair.

He’s greeted as he’s handed a bottle filled with the alcoholic beverage by the short blonde. Sitting beside Rin, he watches the tv as their characters run across the screen shooting enemies. They all converse as normal ‘homies’ do, playing their game as they switch who gets a turn with the controllers, along with drinking and smoking.

“I’m sick of beer. Someone make a real drink.” Mikey, tired of the bitter taste, suggests.

“Don’t be a baby, drink it straight.” Rin taunts.

“Aren’t you an alcoholic?” Mikey gives him a bored look. The youngest Haitani laughs at his response.

“Maybe so.”

“Alright, ladies. We’re gonna fix the drinks. Come on, Sanzu.” Ran says as they both get up from the bed, heading to the kitchen.

“What are they making?” Y/n asks in curiosity.

“Something good. It’ll definitely fuck us up.” Kazutora smirks.

A few minutes pass as they continue playing their game with conversation. Finally, Ran and Sanzu walk in with cups filled with a reddish purple liquid, handing it to their friends as they sit back where they were. An hour passes and by the time everyone is done with their drinks, they’re all giddy as they become less sober unlike Y/n whose head is leaned back against the bed in a deep slumber.

“Wow, he’s really knocked out.” Rin says as he attempts to wake him up by shaking him.

Mikey crawls over to the sleeping figure, smacks his face a few times, to no avail.

“Damn.” Kazutora says. “What did you put in his drink?”

“Something good.” Sanzu says as Ran stands up to walk towards the limp body.

“I’ve got an idea.” He says, picking him up before walking over and placing him on the bed.

“He’s not gonna wake up and if he does, he probably won’t remember anything.”

“What are you getting at, Haitani?” Kazutora asks with his arms crossed.

The purple eyed man proceeds to remove Y/n’s shirt, slightly looking back as he side eyes Kazutora.

“What do you think, Hanemiya?” He smirks before undoing Y/n’s pants and tossing them to the side.

“Wait, so we’re gonn-!”

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not like that. We all love him, right?” Sanzu says as he takes a sip of his own spiked drink. “Then what’s wrong with showing it however we want?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever I want with what’s mine.” Ran smiles as he eyes the limp bulge in Y/n’s underwear. The rest of the friends hop up from their seats as they walk to the bed, hovering over as they caress his body.

“You’re still sick. Move.” Kazutora says as he positions himself to sit behind Y/n as the back of his head lays on his shoulder. He moves his hands to his hips as he squeezes.

“And you’re not?” Ran laughs.

He ignores him, slowly placing his lips on Y/n’s neck as he rubs his sides.

“Honestly, this seems like a special moment.” Rin says as he grabs his phone, pulling up the camera app and setting it to record.

“Hey, what the hell?” Kazutora questions. Ran puts his finger to his mouth.

“It’s alright. Memories, you know.” He pulls out his own phone as he moves back to get a better angle.

Mikey eyes Y/n for a moment before pulling his underwear down. He throws them to the side as he leans in, hazy eyes as he stares at the limp cock. Sanzu positions himself next to the other blonde as he spits in his hand, reaching over and wrapping his hand around the muscle.

Kazutora continues his kissing which turns into licks and the licks turn into sucking his neck, hands moving to his nipples as he rolls and pinches them. Y/n’s cock twitches as the blood rushes slowly.

“So beautiful.” He whispers against his skin as he looks down at his rising length. His own hard cock rubs against Y/n’s lower back, precum leaking through his briefs.

Sanzu lowers himself as his lips close around the head of Y/n’s penis. Sucking the precum from his urethra, he uses his tongue to swirl around the mushroom top. Y/n’s hip twitches as his head slightly moves, still in a slumber as they eye him cautiously. Sanzu continues until he fits the whole girth into his mouth, the head hitting his throat as his eyes close, moaning from the stretch.

Everyone can feel their own pants tightening at the view, especially with the way Y/n twitches from the touches. Kazutora unclips his own pants, moving to where he could pull them completely off. Rin gets closer, his phone’s camera facing his hand that moves up to play with Y/n’s nipple. Ran focuses his camera on Sanzu as he bobs his head.

Y/n’s leg moves as his cock completely hardens. He releases a small grunt as his hips twitch once more. When Sanzu releases, he looks at Mikey expectantly, who answers by wrapping his hand around the tense muscle and placing his lips around the head, easing down to fit it in the back of his throat, no gag reflex detected.

“Good?” The blue eyed man questions.

“Mhm.” Mikey moans as he bobs his head.

Completely aroused by the display, Kazutora opens Ran’s nightstand drawer, finding the lube he sets it on the top. He pulls down his briefs and throws them to the side. Using the lube, he covers his dick with the liquid.

“Whatcha doin there, Kazu?” Ran taunts.

“Shut up. I’m only putting the tip in.”

“Yeah, sure.” Rin rolls his eyes.

Kazutora grips Y/n’s thighs as he pulls the legs back, leaning his own body back to position the head of his cock comfortably at the sleeping man’s entrance. Sanzu and Mikey take it upon themselves to lick and suck his cock together.

Kazutora breathes out as his cock enters the tight hole slowly. The Haitani brothers watch as Y/n’s nose scrunches. His cock throbs as his head falls back.

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself, trying all his might to not fully shove it in.

“Come on, Kazu. Take what’s yours.” Ran says with his signature smile, teeth showing as his arousal takes over.

“Yeah, you might as well. You’re already in there.” Rin continued.

“Fuck I’m sorry, baby.” He whispers against Y/n’s ear before shoving himself deep inside of Y/n’s ass. One of his hands reaches to hold his neck as the other arm wraps around his waist. He grinds his cock in and out before he accelerates his pace, throwing his head back once more and releasing a moan.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow as his eyes peak open, a throbbing pain going up his back as his body rocks up and down. He breaks out in a cold sweat as he feels moisture on his cock, confusion and exhaustion being the only feelings he can decipher at the moment.

Opening his eyes fully, he makes eye contact with two pairs of familiar eyes looking up at him. He shifts his gaze to the other two people who have their cameras facing him. His eyes tear up at the agony coming from his ass, the pain conflicting with the pleasure of his cock adding to the confusion. He turns his attention to the hot body holding him from behind.

Wait, I’m naked?

When reality hits, his eyes widen as he struggles against the hold.

“Wh-what the fuck is going on?!” He exclaims. He grunts as his hips buck when Mikey and Sanzu continue their assault without a care in the world.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, just relax and it’ll feel really good.” Kazutora whispers against his ear, sweat dripping down his head as his hips accelerate, angling his cock to hit his roommate’s. prostate.

“Ah! K-Kazutora, wh-what the fuck?!” He could barely think about anything else but the intense sensations his body is being met with. His arms were bound by Kazutora’s wrapped arms so he couldn’t use them to get out of their grips.

“Relax.” His hand tightens around his neck as well as the arm around his waist before Kazutora plunges his cock inside of him rapidly, hitting his spot each time.

Y/n’s mouth is held open as he breathes heavily, the pain turning into a pleasurable fullness that he couldn’t believe.

I can’t believe they would do this to me. We’re supposed to be friends.

“I want to try something.” Mikey states as Sanzu moves back to give him room. Kazutora slows down to small thrusts as he holds back for Mikey to get adjusted, already having an idea of what he’s about to do.

“N-no! Get away from me! All of you!” Y/n exclaims, crocodile tears streaming down his face.

“Stop being so dramatic, Y/n” Rin scoffs.

“Y-you’re all fucking sick! Pieces of sh-!”

Sanzu shoves Kazutora’s balled up underwear in between his lips, forcing him to have muffled screams.

“If you spit it out, I’ll kill your girlfriend. Watch your mouth.” He threatens as he caresses his cheek with his thumb. Y/n could only stare in horror when he heard the promise, knowing how they’re all in a gang and have killed people before. He feels as though this could be his karma for turning a blind eye, not wanting to be involved but couldn’t help but accidentally hear conversations he wasn’t supposed to hear, though that doesn’t come easy when his roommate is so involved.

While all of that played out, Mikey undressed himself before climbing on top of Y/n. He grabs the lube and covers Y/n’s cock with it.

“Please, no!” He muffled, though he was ignored. Mikey places the head to his own ass before he drops himself on top, cock disappearing into him as he bottoms out with a grunt. He picks himself up before slamming down again, moaning as the head hits his prostate. He accelerates along with Kazutora who also matches his pace. Mikey’s head leans on Y/n’s shoulder as he rides him, grinding his ass while his own cock rubs against Y/n’s stomach.

“S’ fucking good. You feel so good inside of me.” Mikey moans against his neck, sucking his skin as Kazutora did the same on the other side. Y/n could only grunt and whimper occasionally as he’s stretched out from his ass and squeezed tightly from his front.

Y/n’s phone buzzes from the floor, Sanzu picking it up and smirking when he sees the caller id. He pressed the answer button. When her face appears on the screen, her eyebrow raises in confusion when she sees Sanzu.

“Oh shit.” Rin’s smirk grew wide as he eyes Sanzu in surprise. Ran could only laugh as the moans from Mikey and Kazutora could be heard.

“Hey. Y/n is kind of busy, right now.” At the sound of his name, he turns his head to see Sanzu holding his phone.

Oh no!

“What’s that noise?” She asks in confusion.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Sanzu says before turning the camera to face her boyfriend, making sure Y/n would be able to see her facial expression. He spits the cloth out, forgetting the threat as he desperately speaks to her.

“M-Mai! I swear to god this isn’t what it looks like! Pl-please!” He cries. “I didn’t kn…!”

“See, he’s busy.” Sanzu turns the camera back to himself, eyeing her distraught face in content.

He chuckles and sets the phone down when she hangs up.

“Why?! Why did you do…?!” He’s cut off by Mikey placing his lips on his.

“Didn’t I say that I’d kill her if you spit that out? If you bite him I’ll do it slowly.”

Y/n shakes his head sporadically as he whimpers before his eyes roll in the back of his head and his head drops back, Kazutora thrusting harder inside of him, rubbing his walls as he hits his prostate each time.

“You’re doing so fucking good. I’m so close, baby.” He whispers as he kisses his ear.

Mikey continues grinding hard, hitting his own prostate as Y/n’s cock rubs against his walls. Both of Kazutora’s hands move to grip Y/n’s hips tightly as Mikey hugs around his neck, thrusting harder.

Finally, Kazutora releases deep inside him, thrusting up as he holds his cock there, Mikey following along as his ropes of cum shoot against Y/n’s stomach. Because of the pressure, Y/n’s body reacts as he convulses, orgasming hard inside of Mikey.

They all breathe heavily before Kazutora removes himself from Y/n as Mikey climbs off. The Haitani brothers hand their phones to Kazutora and Mikey as they tell them to keep recording.

They force his legs up and spread as Sanzu and Ran immediately lick up the cum on his cock. Rin pushes him up more to get a better angle of his ass before licking the rim.

Weak, Y/n tries to push them away by pushing their heads back. They don’t budge and only swatt his hands away. His limp cock springs back to life as the sensations take over once more.

Ran takes him into his mouth fully as Sanzu moves to his testicles. Rin plunges two fingers into the wet hole, specifically angling to meet that familiar spongy spot. Kazutora moves closer to his upper body.

“I hate all of you.” He hissed as his body twitched against their play. “S-so fucking much.”

“Love you too.” He responds before placing a kiss on his lips. Caressing his forehead as he angles the phone’s camera to his dick.

Ran bobs his head thoroughly as Sanzu licks and grips his balls. Rin continues using his fingers to plunge back and forth deep into his hole at a steady pace. His legs tremble as his body convulses once more, nearing his release.

Throwing his head back, his hips buck once more. Releasing a grunt he shoots his semen in the back of Ran’s throat as he swallows it all. Both men lick up the remaining slick as Rin pulls his fingers out. Kazutora and Mikey stop recording, sending the video to the group chat without Y/n.

“I think it’s time to pay her a visit.” Sanzu says as he wipes his mouth.

“No! You’re not gonna fucking touch her!” Y/n growls as he sits up.

“What are you going to do about it?” Rin challenges.

“He’s going to do nothing but take this dick.” Ran states as he picks him up and forces him into doggy style. He struggles against Ran, failing miserably as his ass is pointed in the air.

“We’ll take care of it.” Mikey states as he dressed himself.

“No! No, please! Don’t hurt her! Kazutora! Stop them, please!” His voice cracks as the tears stain the sheets. Kazutora crouches in front of his face.

“Calm down, Y/n. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get over it.” He says before walking to the doorway with Mikey and Sanzu.

“Please!” He whines as he begins to break down. Rin crouches as he stares at him with a smile.

“If you relax, you’ll feel better, okay? There’s no way we’re letting you go so you might wanna get used to this now.” He wipes a tear away with his thumb.

“Also, we’re gonna try to fit both of us in so relax your muscles, pretty boy.”

[rizsu]

to each their own manjiro sano. wakasa imaushi. gojo satoru.

sum. relationship moments

manjiro sano.

it's not a secret that mikey's private about his life—private to the point where no one knows if he even lives in japan (specifically tokyo) anymore. so, it's more than safe to say that everyone in bonten's inner circle was surprised when mikey ended the meeting early due to you being in the hospital. of course not for pregnancy—mikey does not agree with kids and you think they're a little too expensive.

we have kokonoi, who didn't hold back with his curiosity. simply asking his boss, “who's the girl and why's she in there?” sanzu, who holds back whatever he wants to say. rindou and ran, who are quiet but nudging each other as a sign. kakucho, who offered to drive mikey to the hospital. and lastly, akashi and mochi who lacks interest in the current topic. they're curious but not like the others.

mikey declines kakucho and ignores the questions, opting for a simple “do whatever. i'll be gone for two days.” before leaving one of bonten's many headquaters.

busy footsteps, random conversations and the clinks of medical glass tubes replace the silence for noise. he hates it. mikey hates the hospital. he doesn't know why nor does he want to know why—he just does. maybe it's the countless times he's been here to hear the confirmation of someone's death or maybe it's the unsure feeling of whether someone's going to die or not. whatever it is, he doesn't care.

“excuse,” mikey stops a nurse. he's been walking around in confusion because he refused to ask which room you're in but the consequences of walking around is getting to his legs. keeping his hands in his pockets, he continues, “do you know which room and floor patient y/n is?”

giving him a customer service smile, the nurse looks down to her clipboard before responding, “she's on floor four, room twelve on the left.”

you've got to be fucking with me.

mikey steps to the elevator, slapping the “floor 4” button while he waits for it to open with an attitude. maybe today isn't his day.

and you? you're absolutely calm. nothing much is going on in your room other than you eating some chips while watching the cartoon that's showing on the t.v.

raising the bag to empty all the crumbs in your mouth, you choke a little seeing a small, black silhouette.

mikey walks closer, flicking his finger on your forehead, “you.”

“listen, i didn't see it.” quick to defend yourself, you try to explain the lore behind you ending up in the hospital for a broken ankle.

mikey sits on the bed, hand caressing the bandage over your ankle. if you study his face, you can see a little smile on it. very, very little smile. looking up at you, mikey eyes your expression before asking, “are you okay though?”

nodding a “yes”, you pull his hand away from your ankle and intertwine it with yours. a silence dawns on you both—the same silence that takes over before mikey initiates a kiss and so he does.

using his free hand to hold your chin, he brings you closer and connects your lips together. you can say it's his way of continuing a conversation. after all, mikey's shows his love in actions instead of words most of the time.

wakasa imaushi.

who is wakasa if not the number one trickster? certainly not himself if he's not. it's a daily occurrence for wakasa to pull a prank on you at least three times week—at minimum that is. at twenty-seven, wakasa takes pride in being the only one who can catch you at surprise.

but sadly, all jokes must come to an end. although he's a childish trickster, he also gets drunk which makes the perfect equation for terrible drunk decisions and hangovers worse than satan himself.

“just come here, pleaseeeee.” “no.” “i'll just die then.”

there are four words to describe a sick wakasa and they're: dramatic and extremely clingy. you've been dealing with this since dawn. mr. drink-it-all had an outing with his friends and came back home knocked out, red cheeks, a hand gripping on a beer and him slung over benkei and shinichiro. now you're suffering the consequences of being a good girlfriend and taking care of him and his hungover.

making a u-turn from the kitchen to his body sprawled over the couch, you place down the bowl of soup and some painkillers, “eat up and eat it all.”

before you can walk away, wakasa grabs your arm and yanks you down onto his lap. immediately snaking one hand across your stomach to secure you there, he happily eats his meal.

“wakasa—”

“this tastes good.”

“let me—”

“make some more.”

“ok but you—”

“is there any more?”

pinching his skin, you feel your eye twitch, “cut me off when i'm speaking one more time i swear.”

laughing at your sentence, wakasa puts the spoon down. he leans back on the couch and pulls you into his chest even more. this time, both hands are circled on your stomach. lowering his head on your shoulder, he complains “feelin' like shit.”

“finish your soup and we'll go to sleep after.”

gojo satoru.

it's silent. too silent for the two that live in the house. well, when push comes to shove and arguments take place, it's bound to be a tense silence. here we have gojo satoru, a man that can't take anything seriously and y/n l/n, a woman who also can't take anything seriously but nothing good comes out of arguing with someone who's just like you.

after a heated argument, you've marked your territory by sleeping in the middle of the bed and gojo's marked his by making a “fort” with the cushions, a random sheet and his designated pillow. although both parties and comfortable they can't help but think that something's missing.

gojo's the first to make a move. he opens the “door” to his fort but stops himself. he vividly remembers what happened last time he annoyed you when you were mad. the fear still lives in him. on your side, you're already at the door, debating whether you should go to him or not. i'm sure the couch's uncomfortable, you worry. after all, gojo's long and the couch isn't.

sneaking up to the couch, you try to be as quiet as possible incase he's asleep already. tiptoeing up to where you think gojo's at, you're met with a mess in the living room instead.

“...gojo fucking satoru.” “knock before talking!”

you feel exactly like a cartoon character that has those three veins pop up when mad. if gojo's anything other than serious, he's childish. now don't get it wrong—you absolutely love him but most times he does questionable things that makes you go ‘???’

“knocking” on the cushion, you wait patiently for gojo to open it. kicking the cushion out from inside, gojo crawls out and stands up to face you. now it's him, his pillow and his grin that he's desperately trying to hide.

“okay jokes aside, i'm sorry.” gojo breaks the silence first. he awkwardly shifts around, rocking back and forth on his feet wondering if you'd let him hold you right now.

it's your turn to stifle a laugh now. he's cute, you think. if there's another thing about gojo it's that he's awkward and cute with his apologies (well at least to you..)

“it's okay, satoru. now fix that mess and come upstairs” pulling him into a hug, your hands travel up and down his back before you give him a little kiss, pulling away to walk back upstairs to leave him with his fort.

[peachy-wolfhard]

The Lair Games

a/n: raaa i love the lair games best mfing episode so whimsical and fun raaaaa also im obsessed with lair games cheerleader hc, italics are interviews (i didnt put everyones interview in only the readers)

Let me know if you would like to be on my tmnt taglist!

Warnings: donnie is a drama queen, The Incident, throwing up mentioned

Word count: 702

I love the lair games and Donnie sm

Sigh the lair games, the time when only Leo wins and then spends an entire year gloating

While it is very fun watching everyone compete a part of you feels bad for Donnie because he NEVER even gets close to winning

That is…until this year

Every year you take it upon yourself to be Donnie’s cheerleader because oh man he needs it. As long as you’re there cheering even as he's losing miserably, he's a little less bitter about it

This year was going to be different though you could feel it! History was about to be made

April had told you before that she was going to record the games, and everyone was even more excited

“Sigh, my legacy of losing will be cemented in film history”

It's now the most anticipated day of the year, the day that everyone looks forward to and trains for this year the prize would be…Leo’s room!

The first game of the day was Handstand Hill Bomb and like every year Leo won first place but this year Donnie won second!

“Let’s go Donnie Let’s go!” you cheer as it’s almost time for the next game, Pipe Goop Chicken

“My personal least favorite game if Donnie wins this one he's not kissing me for a month I swear”

“Let’s go Donnie Let’s go!” you cheer once again

“Do you have any more creative cheers?”

“No, get what you get, and don't throw a fit”

And he won! (Kind of a win-lose scenario, beat Leo and rub it in his face and lose smooches)

Win after shocking win Donnie acquired with Leo hot on his tail and you as his loyal cheerleader yelling catchy cheers while shaking purple and black pompoms

That was until…the incident

“y/n can i get a comment about…the incident?”

“Sleep with one eye open Leo. That’s all I will say on the matter”

While Donnie was recovering Leo began his winning streak

“Cough cough…y/n is that you?”

“Donnie you’re not dying stop acting like a sick Victorian child”

“Take me to the surface…one last time…” he says pulling the blanket up to be under his arms

“Shut up,” you say scratching under his chin then sadly going back to the games

“My moment!” he shouts as you walk back to Splinter announcing Leo’s next victory

Just as Splinter announces Leo’s perfect 10 Donnie appears!

“Not so fast, my friend!” Donnie announces masked in smoke (drama queen I love him)

“I’m here brother, lets bowl”

“When Donnie showed up I was stunned! Just a minute before he was pretending he was a sick Victorian child,” you explained to the camera

After all of Donnie’s dramatics, it was time to bowl. He launches himself off and attempts to get his ankle into his shell

Just as he was able to he’s launched into the mannequins knocking all down…

…But one making it a tie and after consulting the rules the next event was left up to a…

Splinter’s choice

“I knew that rat man would come up with something sinister but I didn't think it would be THAT sinister!”

The final event would be the Slippery Whippery Woo?

“If I vom please hold my hair April”

“We can hold each other's hair”

“Hold my nonexistent hair please”

“We will Mikey”

Your cheerleading was quickly forgotten about not knowing if you should root for your boyfriend to catch his slipper rat father or just leave

The match was quickly over with the words “Do you know what rhymes with second place? Leo’s face!”

“I-i- need a shower…I will claim my prize when i'm clean”

As Leo moves out of his room, April closes in for a final interview, and Donnie gloats

“I’m very proud of you Donnie,” you say kissing your hand and touching his forehead

“You’re very lucky i’m touching you right now,” you say, a lovesick smile plastered to both of your faces

Later that night the two of you are unable to sleep

The one thing Leo didn’t mention is that Splinter’s snores are amplified by the vent directly in his room

Needless to say, Leo got his room back very quickly

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Land me your wisdom how to defeat Kawata twins, Shinichiro (we all saw he is strong), Kazutora and Sanzu?

Well with the twins, the most important part of fighting them is to not fight both at the same time. With both of them (but esp Angry) they're just going to get more fired up the more they see their brother get hurt, and that's something you should avoid. Smiley seems to be the impulsive fighter, which can lead to mistakes and him missing things. We know his ankle got hurt in the battle 8/3 which could potentially indicate a weak spot or an area he tends to leave unprotected during a fight. Where as we know Angry tends to read moves when he fights then react, so you'd want to attack swiftly and not in an obvious pattern, make yourself unreadable. He also dislikes fighting in general so likely won't want to fight you or put his whole force into it.

Shinichiro is canonically weak when fighting, the only times we see him being stronger are when he beat those guys up when he was angry and had a dark impulses kinda vibe, and when he saw him dent the metal. But physical strength does not always mean strength in fights. Shinichiro is physically strong but said to be weak in fights (most likely he either holds himself back or isn't great with techniques but there is no canon answer for this). So he shouldn't be too difficult to beat, we haven't seen him in a normal fight though so it's hard to say what his weaknesses would be. He is very caring though, I could see him getting distracted by his friends and if they're ok or fighting very cleanly and being vulnerable to dirty tricks.

Kazutora has strong punches so those are what you want to avoid most, though you also need to beware that he isn't against using a weapon. He also seems to put a bit of thought into his fights and plan things out. He also seems to get a little emotional in fights and is a bit of a sore loser. Avoiding his punches until he gets tired or frustrated enough to start making mistakes seems to be the best way to defeat him.

The most important thing about fighting Sanzu is to either do it when he's unarmed or to unarm him yourself, especially if it's his katana. You 100% do not want to engage with him when he's armed. The other thing is to not be a threat to Mikey, Sanzu's main determination is protecting Mikey, therefore he's likely to fight harder and put more effort into people who are a threat to Mikey. So make it clear that he's the one you're going against, not Mikey. When Sanzu doesn't have a weapon, he seems to rely heavily on his fists, he seems to have a lot more upper body strength then lower body and focus his attacks through his upper body. Therefore aiming for his lower body, perhaps trying to sweep his legs would probably be the best way of defeating him.

[gayshroomboi]

Yandere headcanons for the rise boys!

Nothing overly graphic, deep or detailed will be here! Just some base heascanons!

—Mikey—

He’s the baby of the boys but also knows emotions, but that being said I don’t think he would realize his own right off the bat.

He’s touchy normally but after feelings start he’s going to cling and hold on no matter what like a koala!

He wants to be touching or around you constantly. Day, night, awake, asleep, if you know he’s there or not.

Mikey would get more attached as time goes on to the point where after a few weeks his clinging evolves into stalking and constant monitoring.

He would expense his love through cooking and touch.

Everything you do seems amazing to him, he’s obsessed with you.

He would do anything you asked him to do.

That person keeps bothering you? Forget them! They won’t be able to bother you with a broken jaw!

He’s far more likely to scare and slowly separate your family and friends away from you than to hurt them. If a overly nosy family member goes missing? Oh I’m so sorry how can he help?

He’s slow to violence as a yandere but will stoop to it if need be, never against you! Everyone other than you or his family is free game though!

I doubt he would kill in front of you if possible but if push comes to shove he would not hesitate to protect you and himself

If he’s not constantly near you once he’s obsessed he’s anxious, pacing, paranoid and coming up with ways to get you to stay longer.

I doubt he would purposely harm you, he knows your not made of glass but he still worries. Besides it’s far more fun it tie you up and watch you try to escape while all wrapped up!

He’s unlikely to jump to kidnapping you unless he feels it’s necessary or that you would simply be safer and happier with him. You would be constantly with him! It would be amazing!

—Raph—

This boi is protective

Protective to an extreme degree, you will not be allowed to walk on your own if you so much as bump your knee or step on your ankle weird.

He’s going to carry you around like one of his plushies and act like your made of porcelain.

He would probably realize his feelings early on but not quite realize his obsession isn’t normal

He isn’t exactly quick to anger but his is a Raph, the anger issues may not be as evident in rise but they are there.

His anger would never be turned on you but god help anyone who has ever wronged you in the slightest.

He would probably loose himself in fights if it involved you, killing something becoming very likely the longer the fight goes on.

He would be brutal, aggressive and cruel when it comes to making those who have or wish to harm you hurt.

He would probably scare himself into kidnapping you. What if you leave one day and don’t come back? What if someone finds your apartment and hurts you? You would be safer where he could always find you!

He’s gentle with you most the time but sometimes hugs tight enough to be painful or sometimes clips you on his spines and shell

If you ever said he had hurt you he would lock you in his room with him with his plushies and blankets where it’s safe till he can find a suitable apology.

Your his most precious thing after all, no plushie or person could compare to you.

The only way to keep you safe is with him and maybe his brothers, but they’re reckless with you. Your better off sat among his plushies and pillows, comfortable and safe.

—Leo—

I feel like Leo’s main go to wouldn’t be manipulation right off the bat. He’s the face man, his going to entertain and try to make you want on your own to stay before manipulating you to stay.

Probably the second most likely to kidnap you, thinking out every way to safely get you to the sewer and every way to keep you there.

He’s the most likely to use physical violence against you, not as far as broken bones but a dislocated ankle or shoulder to keep you from trying anything a second time is worth it in his mind.

He would probably deny his feelings at the start before giving up and going out of his way to woo you.

He knows his obsession with you isn’t healthy but he can’t bring himself to care to much, as long as your his he will happily be yours.

He feels useless so he would constantly do anything you ask of him, help you reach something, beat a difficult level in a game, make a teacher/boss ‘leave’. ANYTHING

He’s going to constantly show off to you, he’s going to learn things just so he can show he new skills off to you!

He trusts his family to look after and protect you when he can’t but it upsets him if you get to close or prefer one of his brothers over him.

You belong to him after all, your his! Not his brothers, his! Your his and he’s yours. Anything other than that will not stand

If he can’t convince you to stay with him without manipulation then he will slowly start to manipulate you into believing your family and friends hate/don’t care about you.

He’ll convince you the world is out to get you and your not safe but if you stay where he can keep you safe you will be alright. Just stay with him!

Killing isn’t his go to, he would much rather mutilate them so they live knowing what they did and what they are, animals. How dare the threaten your divinity with harm. Your are his, not theres.

—Donnie—

He’s obsessed, not as much as Mikey but still obsessed.

Touching is a sensory no for him but when it comes to you it’s not so bad, bearable, desirable almost.

He wants you with him everywhere, trailing behind him when he goes to a new room or him following you everywhere you go.

He definitely takes the longest to realize his feelings and obsession. He knows his obsession is bad but will convince himself he’s not obsessed and what he’s feeling is rational.

One of the first things he ever did was bug and track your phone. How can he protect you if he doesn’t know where you are after all!

Gifts! He constantly gives you gifts. Whether they’re for your or his benefit doesn’t matter!

A digital wristlet like his so you can contact them directly with a built in panic button! Cool now he knows your safe and where you are at all times, built in tranquilizer in case something goes wrong and he can always see you!

He’s the most likely to kidnap you, the thought would come to him randomly and he would latch on to it. Imagine having you with him constantly, listening to him and actually seeing him.

He would probably get the bear basics before kidnapping you on a whim, just wanting you with him already.

If he ever decided you were going to cuddle with him you would not be able to leave until he was done. Doesn’t matter if your uncomfortable, he’s going to take what he can get.

He’s likely to use physical violence against you, not in an attempt to actually harm you but if you ever try to escape or harm him or his brothers he’ll do anything to restrain you and keep you safe.

Your just scared, once you realize he just wants you with him you’ll stop fighting

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I’m the one who asked about the flashback for Ran! Just sending it back as you asked :) I’m so excited to see what you came up with, I was racking my brain for something and I couldn’t come up with an exact scenario. I just love the way you write his raw emotions and how much he loves the reader, and is tortured by what happened to her, and them suffering through the aftermath even though Mikey’s gone.

I actually found a plot point I missed when reviewing the old parts of the story! FLASHBACK FLASH BACK (you'll get another "flashback" after this one that rounds them out. I'm taking this concept and running with it.)

Hand Her Over (Part 7 - A FLASHBACK): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: calculating...

tw: flashback, angst, drinking

masterlis

Hand Her Over Megapost

The cap to the wine bottle comes undone with a loud pop. Ran tilts the glass just so, intent on catching every single drop left in the almost empty bottle. He's not sure when he started drinking again, but on nights like these, he doesn't give a shit.

No, he knows when he started drinking again. He remembers the exact moment the bottle reappeared in the fridge. That morning, he found you standing in the front yard, letting the freezing breeze and snow into the foyer.

"Sleepwalking," Ran had said at the time, excusing your behavior as a machination of your nightmares. He wasn't sure how long you'd been out there or how many times you'd done something like this. But it startled the shit out of him so bad he had to drink to ease his nerves.

Ran waits for some semblance of the dulling effect to take over. He needed to forget how you stood there, feet covered in snow, cheeks flushed bright red, and shivering. You'd been so cold and--

Ran's grip on the bottle falters. He watches in slow motion as the bottle crashes to the floor, resulting in shards of glass skittering about the wine-slicked tile. Ran feels his head loll, and he stares at the mess, wondering how he'd pick it up now. His feet are bare, too.

You come ambling toward the kitchen moments later, your eyes taking in the scene with alarm. But you don't say anything. Well, save a soft "ow".

"Shit," Ran bites out, finally reacting to the scene, spurred into action due to your injury.

And that's how things started, isn't it?

He knew Mikey was no good. He knew things had gone too far. He knew... he fucking knew and yet... He hadn't done shit about it until you'd gotten hurt.

"Piece of glass in your foot?" Ran wonders, still stuck to his stance in the middle of it. You nod. Ran picks his way around the mess, narrowly avoiding a shard himself, and scoops you into his arms. His senses are slowly dulling, but he had enough time to get you some help before he crashed.

The trip to the bedroom is short, and Ran sits you on the bed, whispering, "Don't move." You don't, and he pads toward the bathroom where the first aid kit awaits him. As he rifles through the box, memories come back to him of you doing the same thing: patching up his scrapes, putting ice packs on his bruises, disinfecting the scabs and gross knife cuts...

When had he ever done that for you?

Never.

He reappears with tweezers and a few large band aids, placing them on the floor before sitting down. He spots the offender almost instantly, though it's not large. Ran takes the tweezers and gently pulls the shard free without much difficulty. You whimper in pain, but it's momentary. Fingers work at patching your wound up with two band-aids and then Ran pats your leg with as much affection as he can muster.

"All better." The statement is punctuated with a gentle kiss against your ankle, and when he rises, he sees the fat tears that have rolled down your face. You wipe them away just as Ran feels the effects of the wine take hold. Things are a little hazy, but he has just enough strength to put you back in bed comfortably.

"I'm going to pay for this for the rest of my life, aren't I?" he whispers to no one, his mind rolling with scenarios as he stumbles into the recliner nearby.

The world is swimming but Ran grips the edges of the recliner before easing himself into it while gritting his teeth. All of his life he'd been the one to watch as someone else handled the messes, handled the delinquents, handled the repercussions of his own actions. Hell, until he raised his gun and fired six bullets into Mikey's chest, he hadn't handled shit for himself. Not really.

Bonten's undoing came as quickly as Ran had told Mikey to fuck himself, to which Mikey's haunted face replied, "You wife would know something about that, wouldn't she?"

The squeezing in Ran's chest started just as soon as he pulled the trigger, clickclickclickclick-ing until the gun itself was empty, and then some more for good measure. By the time Rindou had found him slumped against the desk beside a very dead Mikey, Ran had fired seven blanks and sixteen shots.

Money had changed hands, faces disappeared, people forgot who they were and where they lived and who Ran was, the news ran only one cycle talking about Mikey's death. The rest had been lost to time. And yet, here he is, sitting and stuck in that same spiral he'd allowed himself to get stuck in.

All for you.

Ran's eyes slide to his prize, your face turned towards him and eyes blinking in the dim light of the bedroom. "Hey," he whispers softly, trying for a gentle smile. "I'm alright. Get some sleep." You continue to stare at him and Ran knows instinctively that he's drunker than he ought to be.

"I'll get off the bottle soon," he murmurs, looking away in shame. "Promise."

You turn over to the other side and sigh but Ran can't bring himself to promise you anything else. He'd already brought so much pain into your life, and here he was, doing it again.

The image of you standing in front yard catches him off guard again. Maybe you were trying to get away from him. You'd walked so far--

Ran looks back over at you and feels the black hole in his chest yawn. It stings. The thought of you trying to escape from him burns like hell and he can't--

Ran stifles a gasp for air.

He can't bear the thought of you trying to leave. You had every right - you really did - to run away and find someone who would make you happy. He wouldn't blame you if you did want a divorce and wanted to leave his name. He killed for you, but that meant nothing in the face of your happiness.

It meant--

Ran's mind slips.

He'd count it all up to his payment for so many years of shit and terror and chaos. Surely--

The black hole opens a little wider and the world tilts.

You would be happy.

Ran grips the chair with both of his arms, hearing Mikey's voice in his ears.

"But you don't really love her, do you?"

I do, he wants to shout back at the ghost, challenging it.

The wine... it's the wine that's addling his mind. He's not normally like this - not so insecure, not so needy, but--

She'd be better off without you.

Ran jolts up and hurries out of the bedroom, running his hands through his hair and feeling the panic rush through his veins. There's only one way, one way to alleviate this.

This crushing guilt, the shame, the damn agony he feels at having to do all of this over and over and over again. Reliving his worst nightmare is like driving a stake through his skull, and he can't fucking take it anymore.

The front door swings wide and Ran bursts through it, his body propelling him to run. The urge rages through him, and his breath comes out in bursts of white air. If he had asthma like Rindou, he'd already be winded, but he's got tears freezing against his cheeks, the wind biting at his skin, and--

Ran comes to a stop at the end of the street.

What the hell is he doing?

He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and sees himself through his neighbor's eyes. Here is Ran Haitani, in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, running in the dead of winter with no shoes on. And he laughs.

Ran laughs and laughs and laughs.

He laughs so hard he has to sit down in the snow and hold his sides like a maniac.

Suddenly, he understands Sanzu. He understands the way he copes with things. He can't run; not now. Not when you're at home, needing protection. Ran ambles back up the driveway, still chuckling to himself out of disappointment more than humor.

He couldn't even outrun his own problems. A shame, he thinks, shutting the front door and latching it. What a shame I've turned out to be.

[angelpuns]

Official references with colors/age/extra info for Finch in the Window!

This is more or less a master post to keep everything organized!

These are just the rough refs but lined and properly colored, along with one for Splinter that shows him in his suit ( I'll add a ref of him in his naval uniform later ).

Anyway this is gonna be the master post for this au since the comic is coming out soon!

The ROTTMNT rural au is set in 1930s-40s Japan and is essentially just an au about the boys living in the Japanese countryside and dealing with the effects of pre-war ( and then later postwar) Japan. I'm making it in the same vein as Grave of the Fireflies, This Corner of The World and The Wind Rises in that it mostly deals with the effect of the war on citizens and how it upended their lives in the smaller ways ( rationing, losing loved ones, etc )

I'm putting a lot of research into this au, but of course if there as anything that needs to be changed or is wrong please let me know.

Time to ramble about some design choices!

Starting with Splinter: he's totally human in this au, but has much of the same personality as Rise Splinter, save for the movie star thing. He's a lot more contemplative, I think. His first outfit is a simple suit - Japan in the 1920s and 30s was starting to introduce more westernized fashion, at least for the men. Many women still wore kimonos, even in the cities. Since Splinter is a decently high ranked officer as well as moving from the city to the countryside, he would definitely have a suit. I also think that color wise, he has a more subtle blue-grey palette than everyone else. Because I just thought it looked nice. Later on in the au, as he settles into country life, he typically wears a yukata around the house. He also has another outfit, which is essentially just an old naval uniform that er wears to work in the garden. He's 30 at the beginning of the au, in 1932, but since that's when we see him the most I haven't added his later looks just yet.

Raph: so Raph is kind of the main character in this au. He's the eldest and originally he's the only one who really knows what's going on. In my original design he was a bit shorter, but realistically he's probably a lot bigger than all his brothers. Design choices! So, when they were kids Raph typically didn't wear a shirt at all, though sometimes when they went to the village he would wear a yukata and some simple monpe pants. He prefers just wearing an undershirt and the monpe pants, since he's ripped a lot of yukatas with his spikes. He also tends to roll his pants up because he doesn't like when they touch his ankles.

Donnie: so Donnie is the older twin to me always. He's a little taller than Leo, too, but it's barely noticeable. He has super thick glasses that Splinter had to really work to find when he was young , thankfully the prescription was good enough. Nowadays there's a yokai doctor in the village that can help with that stuff. He gets cold easily and tends to bundle up with a more traditional yukata, except he ties the sleeves up to keep them out of the way. He also typically wears monpe pants to do the housework. He does most of the household chores along with Mikey. They're really close due to spending so much time together. He also sucks at sewing.

Leo: Leo is hard of hearing, but usually only has trouble when someone speaks too quietly or there is too much stimuli, like the rain or thunder or things like that. He also has a tendency to wander around their farm at night and frequently falls asleep on the roof. He wears a combination of undershirt + monpe pants and a regular yukata. Typically its the undershirt and pants combo, even when he goes to the village. He also gets cold easily and has a bad immune system, but he still helps Raph with most of the outside labor. Mostly cause he's reckless. He has a long-standing friendship/rivalry with Usagi Yuichi, who I have left out of this post for now since we won't really see him in the comic til later. Leo is great at sewing and has made most of their clothes/patched them up.

Mikey: baby of the group, and spoilt rotten by EVERYONE. Mikey wears mostly a yukata with monpe pants that he rolls waaaaaaay up. Leo keeps telling him to just wear shorts, but Mikey is stubborn asf. He does a lot of the cooking, since Donnie taught him. He is also the closest with their father, if only because he used to spend the most time with him. Yoshi gave him his hat for safekeeping and Mikey has barely taken it off since. His favorite food is watermelon! Mikey is very interested in humans and likes to sneak away to the nearby human village. He also likes to go into the yokai village with Leo when he can.

So that's just me rambling about design choices, clothing things, stuff like that. If anyone has questions I'd be so willing to answer! Keep an eye out for announcements about the comic within the next week or so!

EDIT: here's some helpful links for this au

Finch in the Window comic

Apples Leosagi fanfic

FITW Comic (social media version)

[aealzx]

Better Genes part 29.1

Part 1 of 3 extra, illustrated writing additions to the Better Genes comic.

Takes place between page 29 and 30.

Contains: Use of sedatives, character injury, blood, TV Medicine, TV Science, panic attack, mutation body horror, injured eye, severely sprained ankle, overall body pain

Comic: Start     pg 26-29  

Writing:  Part 2    Part 3

____________

I got a couple comments about being excited for monster Donnie content (despite mentioning that there wasn’t going to be much) and felt kind of bad for not having much. ;v; There was no way I was going to add another 30 pages or more to the comic though, especially since I’ve never even tried to do fight scenes in comic form before. X’D

So instead I wrote 8 pages and drew 3 more flat colored pics as a sort of middle ground.

Talking with my platonic waifu, since the comic is on tumblr I’m also going to put the writing on tumblr instead of AO3 despite it being long because cross platform content can be annoying. Everything will be split into 3 posts, underneath a read more break to hopefully not stretch the screen a horrendous amount.

____________

(Story and drawing under the cut)

With a quick swish of his temporarily manifested blade, Leo opened a portal to the part of the sewers that was a short distance from where he’d sent Donnie. He didn’t want to pop in right next to him and startle him into attacking them after all. It would be better if they could sneak up on him and pop a few rounds of sedatives into him first. Unfortunately, when Leo stepped through the portal he was greeted with Casey’s back coming in hot directly at his face, having gotten bodily launched across the sewer tunnel by Donnie’s clawed hand. With a startled, halfway muffled yelp, Leo dodged to the side slightly and flung an arm up quick enough to catch Casey and help him regain his footing instead of crashing into the others filtering through the portal as well.

“Alright there Case?” Leo asked with a forced grin, trying to remain optimistic despite the scene before him being the unwanted route. So much for sneaking up on their brother.

“Sorry Master-! Ah… Sorry Leo. He noticed we were following him and got angry,” Casey babbled hurriedly. His upbringing made him quick to give an update on the situation, which also ended up answering Leo’s unasked question about what had ticked Donnie off.

“Yeah, that sounds like Donnie,” Leo chuckled, removing his hand from supporting Casey now that he had his balance back. “He always was quick to lash out when we got in his space when he didn't want us there. Too bad it’s time for his medicine, so we can’t give into his cranky wishes for alone time,” he added dramatically, gesturing to the injection pens Mikey had now that he and April had joined them as well. “We got the antibodies, so we’re ready to take him down and bring him back home. Thanks for sticking it out until now.”

Casey’s expression turned into a sheepish yet grateful smile, but before he could respond Raph’s bellowing voice echoed through the tunnel from close by.

“LEO! You didn’t mention he’d grown another meter!” Raph complained emphatically as he was grappling Donnie’s mutated mouth with ninpo covered hands. He didn’t fancy getting bitten by Donnie’s new set of fangs, considering his original set of teeth already did enough damage when he was legitimately angry. And if Raph knew anything about Donnie’s levels of anger, then he would guess Donnie was beyond pissed at the moment. That combined with his new size made grappling him a losing battle, Raph’s heels dragging paths in the dirt as he was shoved backwards.

“I figured that was rather self explanatory considering what he got infected from,” Leo sassed back, loading one of the sedative darts into the gun and taking aim. He was hesitant to fire with Raph directly in the path, but luckily for both of them a quick snap from Splinter’s tail saved Raph from being Donnie’s new chew toy. The forward momentum was broken, and Raph quickly opened his hands as Donnie’s head was knocked to the side.

As April rushed forward, her name belted from her lips, Leo figured he should pass a word of caution to them all just so it would be explicitly known. “Try not to piss him off too much please. We need him rather still for Mikey to administer the antibodies,” he warned, pulling the trigger on the tranquilizer gun when he felt he wasn't going to hit anyone but the intended target. He ended up wincing in apology the dart smacked Donnie in the side of the nose, causing him to recoil slightly from the sting before shaking the dart dart off and turning to snarl at Leo.

“...Maybe you shouldn’t shoot him in the face then,” Casey commented lightly with a weak chuckle, a slight tease, and an analytical pause for an opening before he ran forward to join the fray once more.

“Okay, so aiming in real life is a lot different from video games,” Leo defended with a sheepish shrug. Donnie apparently thought that was enough of an offense to warrant revenge, for he started to charge towards Leo, causing him to start backing up. “Mikey, I need a weight estimate.”

“Got it!” Mikey chirped, securing the injection pens into his belts and darting forward to dash towards Donnie before feinting to the side. Considering Donnie was way too tall for him to grapple anything but his arms or legs now, Mikey had coiling chains wrap around Donnie’s middle as additional ones helped fling him overhead. Twisting in the air, Mikey latched onto the handholds he’d created and used them and his momentum to heave Donnie into a rather gentle toss a few meters away. “Uhhhh….He’s kinda like one of those tiny smart car things?” Mikey called back to Leo after landing on his feet again in a crouch. “When do I start poking him?”

A smart car? That was a weird comparison. But it actually made sense when Leo remembered Mikey’s usual choice of throwing arsenal. But that definitely wasn’t something he knew the weight of by memory. Which meant he was digging his phone out of his shell for a quick internet look up. “As soon as you’re confident you can hold it in place for 8 seconds,” Leo answered, half distracted by the phone. About 700 kilograms? Well, it was better than a complete guess. He’d just have to play on the safe side and maybe do one or two doses less than calculated for that weight. Loading another sedative dart as he calculated the maximum quantity he was allowed to use in his head, he tried to push away the usual second guessing his brain did. Based on the tests he’d done in Donnie’s lab with the left over blood sample, the mutated physique caused him to have a slightly accelerated metabolism rate with the sedatives, and therefore he should be able to safely use 8 darts before he risked an overdose. Now that he had a set number Leo raised the gun and fired another dart, stabbing Donnie in the crook of his shoulder. 

That made two.

This felt too slow. Half of his team was already worn down somewhat, and he was taking too long to aim and wait for an opening with all of them swarming around Donnie like flies on old cheese. Every time they tried to break away from him though he was immediately lashing out at one of them, causing the others to rush back in to support. Sliding another dart into the gun’s slot, Leo started walking towards his brother, hoping that closing the distance would make it easier and faster to hit him with more sedatives. It would also be great if he didn’t have to reload the gun after every single shot. But Donnie apparently hadn’t made the gun for rapid fire. Unusual for him honestly. Taking aim, Leo’s focus was split as he pulled the trigger when Raph gave an unusually pain filled yelp. Donnie’s new tail had caught him in the side of the head, close enough to the tunnel wall to bounce him off the surface slightly. It was enough to cause Leo to suck in a tense breath, knowing that Raph’s scar was fragile, and look towards him before the trigger was fully pulled. Consequently, the third shot ended up missing, crashing into the opposite wall and probably snapping the needle. That was fine. That’s why they filled an excessive amount of darts. There were more important issues at the moment.

“Raph?” Leo called in a nervous question, seeing his older brother pushing a palm against his right eye.

“I’m okay!” Raph assured, keeping his palm in place until the sting subsided, then pulled his hand away. While he checked to see if there was any blood on his fingers, Donnie’s back foot knocked him over and ended up using him as a pedestal to stand on while he avoided April’s swinging bat. Raph’s breath left him in a huff, and he wrapped his arms around Donnie’s toes to try and relieve the pressure on his chest.

Figuring he should help Raph out, Leo dashed forward as Mikey lept into a split arc over the top of Donnie, apparently having the same goal. Splinter was focused on keeping Donnie from hurting the others, knocking his clawed hand away when he swiped at April. “Boy! You better watch where you're swinging those!” April hollered, having ducked and shielded her head before realizing Splinter had protected her.

“Try not to hurt him too much, it’s still Donnie!” Leo hollered in return, rushing to dive underneath Donnie in a slide while also pointing the tranquilizer gun at him half blindly and pulling the trigger while barely missing getting swatted instead. Being this close to him it would be hard to miss. Or at least he hoped as such. But he also needed to check and make sure Raph was okay. Skidding to a stop next to Raph, Leo allowed Raph to use his ninpo to shove Donnie’s foot off himself before he took a glancing look at his squinting eye.

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

28 and 29

I combined the two, hope you don’t mind! Also, um, I went a little far with this. Make sure to check the tags.

@daboyau

Leo thrashes around violently against the restraints keeping him to the table. The Kraang who brought him there had taken out his portaling ability the first chance they got. It feels like years since then. Maybe it has been. The Kraang aren’t exactly generous when it comes to their prisoners.

Especially not one they’re trying to break.

He stops moving as much when a certain former warring warrior scientist walks in. He was taken at the same time Leo was.

That doesn’t mean he’s also a prisoner though.

“I-I want to be mad at you, but you’re like this and Mikey isn’t….you turned into such a freaking softy. Sacrificing yourself for the greatest mystic warrior ever? He’s not even a kid anymore.” Leo scoffs.

Draxum’s half Kraang covered face doesn’t change expressions. It was worth a try. It’s not like this could get any worse. It is torture by the world’s evilest creatures after all.

He lifts up a syringe filled with a green substance.

“What….going to double mutate me? It’ll do exactly what you’re trying to avoid.” Leo insists.

The reason Leo isn’t part of the grossest shade of pink ever hive mind right now is because they want someone to infiltrate the resistance undetected. That means he can’t look like Draxum does right now.

It also means they have to get him under their control another way.

He had been kept in a cell for a long time before this. Every day, Draxum would come in and use something new on him to make sure he never got used to the torture.

Leo’s healing factor meant that it could go on for a long time. Wounds closing just to be torn open again. A fresh canvas to splash with blood.

Just recently, he’s been making a lot more serious escape attempts. He almost made it the other day. The Kraang were really pissed about it.

This is probably punishment.

Draxum injects the liquid into his vein and immediately it feels like his insides are on fire. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds. He’s shocked when it hasn’t begun to heal already.

There’s….no way he just….?

The pain throbs through his whole body and he can suddenly feel it where he hadn’t before. A broken ankle that he was able to walk on now is absolutely killing him.

His wrists burn and bleed from how much he just tried to free himself.

He really did it.

Draxum took his healing factor.

A saw appears in his line of vision that is pressed against his arm.

His cool persona starts breaking as he feels the words to beg for this not to happen on the tip of his tongue. They’re only barely held back by the fact he knows it’ll only encourage The Kraang.

Draxum begins sawing.

Slowly.

Leo feels the scream come deep from his core. The pain is completely unbearable. There’s absolutely no drug to get him through it.

He hears liquid dripping to the floor. It’s easy to imagine both the tears pouring from his face and wound mixing on the ground.

Leo starts passing out from the pain. He feels something else inject to his other arm and his brain buzzes back to life.

Adrenaline.

He’s keeping him from going to into shock. From passing out. From escaping the worst pain of his life.

It keeps going on and on. It’s so slow. He can feel when his nerves die and shut off. It’s only some.

He’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone he’s hitting bone-

Ah.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!

RAPH!! DONNIE!! MIKEY!!

DAD! GRAM-GRAM!

ANYBODY! PLEASE!

A wall blows open.

Finally, finally, something other than the sound of his flesh and tendons being torn through.

The saw stops as he’s vaguely aware of Draxum getting tossed so hard he’s not sure he’s ever going to get up again.

There’s screaming.

A lot of screaming.

Oh, he recognizes those voices.

He’s barely able to turn his head to look his family there.

His brothers and-

Ha.

Who’s letting Casey J.R. see this?

Gross!

Leo starts laughing.

His brothers all start trying to help him. Casey J.R. stays back, eyes wide and full of absolute fear.

Leo laughs more.

How awful.

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter four

[ 5k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three ] [ masterlist ] "he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: vague conversation about assault (no actual assault happened against any canon character), organized crime activities, mild claustrophobia

when you push open the door, you expect to find richie tucked away safe from the harsh wind, leaning against the wall in his usual spot. instead, he’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of your building, his ass on the curb and his feet on the asphalt, like he’s daring the cars to run over his toes. he doesn’t look like he’s waiting for somebody, he looks abandoned.

you tuck away your latest story—egyptian history is clearly not meant for tonight—and walk over to him. what’s up? 

he says nothing. 

all right, then. you sigh and you drop into a squat beside him, both feet flat, knees under your upper arms, and arms loosely crossed.

i can do this all night, you say.

his eyes don’t so much as flicker. his big black leather jacket has always looked ridiculous, oversized, like he’s playing dress up in his dad’s clothes, but there’s a touch of pathos to the slouch of it now. there’s a weariness that has soaked into him because he’s been marinating in it over the months. there’s pain, too, so much that you can’t help but think of michael. 

it’s eva, he finally says.

the richie bad news thing? you say. it’s a wild guess but better than nothing. you have to say something, anchor him before he drifts off again.

he shakes his head. she said this man at school, he, uh. he really freaked her out today. i don’t know. 

your stomach drops. nausea sets in immediately, but you push past it. step one is to protect her, and everything else can be dealt with later. you’re horrified to discover that after all that painstaking care you spent making sure he’s never cross-contaminated with your business, now there’s no choice. now there’s a threat. whatever the cost of the method, the threat has to end.  

uncrossing your arms, you reach out and put your hand on richie’s arm, grip him firm through the leather jacket, and look at him squarely. 

he blinks, looks down at your hand—you’ve never touched him before—and then up at your face. 

slow, steady, marshaling every word of your command to pierce through the fog he’s in, you say: don’t do anything. i know a guy. 

at that, his eyes sharpen and narrow, baffled. what are you talking about? he says. ow, jesus.

you search his face hard and clutch his arm even harder, like you can wring the truth out of him by the strength of your fingers alone.

she’s okay? you say.

she’s okay.

oh. pause. when the relief hits, it hits so hard, it’s nearly grief and it’s far too late. your mouth has gone bitter and your heartbeat is like a jackhammer to cement, reverberating through your body loud and fast and unstoppable. you let go of him.

richie’s face wrinkles with confusion, and he figures it out entire minutes too late. why would you think—

because it’s always some dirty old man, there’s always—you have to stop. your voice has gone transparent and you’re helpless to fix it. swallowing hard doesn’t help. standing up so fast that you’re lightheaded, that helps a little, though you don’t like the useless swing of your arms at your sides. 

finally, you manage to say, i’m not crazy, these things fucking happen. 

these things happen, but eva’s okay. nothing’s happened to her. richie says it with a terrible gentleness you can imagine him bestowing on a car crash survivor or a starved stray dog. his hand closes over your ankle through your jeans, the touch a shockwave that goes right through you. hey, i’m sorry, he says. 

between leftover nausea and fresh embarrassment, you can’t even look at him, so stare far over his head and say, don’t.

he lets go. you wish he didn’t. 

after a while, he says, you’ve never even met her.

she’s yours, though.

and there it is. the truth. you don’t know when this happened, but somewhere along the way, your care has stopped being richie’s inheritance from michael. now you care simply because it’s richie. it’s a surprise to find that there is someone left alive you’d kill for, but it also feels completely natural. if you’re dropped in water, you will swim. if you’re hit, you’ll hit back. if eva ever does get in trouble, you’ll do what you have to do. and that’s it. 

the thought becomes so real you could touch it like a photograph in your back pocket. there’s someone left that you’d kill for. good to know.

you turn away from him, using the wind as an excuse, sheltering your cigarette and lighting it up again. richie stays sitting right where he is, as though you haven’t confessed anything. there really is a merciful streak in him about five miles wide.

the nausea abates, after a little while. the thought occurs to you that you can’t just get lost in your head again. he’s still sitting there, he still needs you.

so what’d this guy say. you keep your voice as casual as you can. the man at the school. what freaked her out so bad?

never mind, richie says. it’s okay.

i swear to god, richie, after all that, you better tell me about it. 

okay, he says, every bit as exhausted and miserable as before, but at least no longer fully bogged down in his own head. you wanna sit down?

no.

he nods. into the fraught silence, his words come slower now. he speaks like he’s groping in the dark for the shape of his thoughts, fitting his hand to each individual word, mindful of sharp edges. 

a poet visited her school today. he’d written something for them about the class caterpillar that died last week. i don’t know whose genius idea that was, but anyway. he pauses. now she’s asking me about things dying. people dying, you know. her mom. me.

after a second, you say, fucking poets, with real sympathy. 

he nods wearily. somebody shot at the beef today too. we’re fine, nobody got hurt, it’s nothing, it’s. he rubs his forehead with his hand. it was a nice poem.

yeah? you say. 

whole city’s just fucking…

he gestures once, gives up, and lets his hand dangle from his knee. 

after a second, you sit down next to him, cross-legged and companionable.

what was it like? you say. the poem.

i can’t remember the words, he says. the general idea was, like. all a caterpillar needs to do is be what it is. eat everything, dream of flying. that’s what it’s meant to do. he looks over. you know what we’re meant to do?

he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart. you shake your head.

me neither. when he looks back out at the street, his eyes rest on the shadows in a way that makes the shadows seem that much more desolate. i mean, i’ve done things, but not. he doesn’t finish the thought aloud. 

finally, he says, what would a poet even do with me?

a dark suspicion tries to grab onto, but it’s so ludicrous and so extreme that you bat it away. you just made the mistake of falling prey to a baseless, sick fear once. twice in one night, that’s too much.

what would a poet do with either of us? you say. but you’re not gonna die.

i might.

the worst thing about it is how quiet richie says it. it's not an argument. it's just a fact.

you’re not, you say fiercely.

richie turns his head and looks at you, his blue eyes fraught and unwavering. 

how do you know?  

ping! 

fuck. your phone shouldn’t go off now, of all times. you haven’t had to deal with so much as a simple flesh wound since little caruso got shipped to the hospital, and now is the moment you get called in? if you ignore this text while you’re supposed to be on call, you could get fired or worse. 

you ignore the text. back to the question: how do you know richie’s not gonna die? because he can’t. because you won’t allow it.

you say, if you’re not around, who’s gonna explain to your daughter that poets are all a bunch of shitheads? 

ping! ping! ping!

fuck me, you mutter, putting your phone on vibrate.

it’s all right, never mind, richie says. he looks faintly sick, or maybe that’s just the cold and the time of night. 

it’s not all right, but you open your phone anyway. as you start reading the texts, your heart rate goes into overdrive and the eerie calm of crisis descends on you. 

i’m sorry, you say, meaning it. i’m really sorry. but you gotta get out of here.

as if to drive home your point, your phone vibrates in your hand with two more texts.

at first richie doesn’t move, and you’re afraid he’ll argue, or protest, or do anything that will force your hand to choose cruelty so you can get rid of him fast. but instead, he finally hauls himself to his feet. 

you know a guy, huh, he says.

you don’t want to acknowledge the insinuation with any kind of an answer, which as it turns out is a mistake.

it’s all right, he says. i’m kind of a diy guy myself.

you look up. don’t be.

the wind is tearing at your hair, and at that angle, in shadow, his eyes look unusually dark, not one hint of blue.

i can’t track the fucking joke with you sometimes, richie says.

i’m not joking. 

your phone vibrates once again.

fuck. you have no choice. you stand up, look at him as kindly as you know how, and say, get out of here. please. 

and he does. 

.

.

.

the texts come from an anonymous number, just like always. 

> 28 ppl carbon monoxide poisoning

> 2 dead already

> no hospital

> beth can’t come

> 3 dead

> be there soon

the answer is obvious. if the poisoning has gotten so advanced that some of the victims are already dying, then only in-hospital treatment can save them. even a quick google could’ve come up with this answer, and yet it feels like it’s taking you twice as long to reason it out when half your brain is helplessly looping over and over on you’re not gonna die and i might.

when a black corolla pulls up next to you only a minute later, you yank open the passenger’s side door only to find the seat already occupied.

holy shit.

jack? you say, stunned. i thought you were in prison.

he’s big, round-shouldered and full-bearded, and he looks even bigger squashed into this small car. he’s also sweating like a motherfucker. 

i was. get in.

you hurl yourself into the backseat and the driver takes off before you’ve even managed to get your hand on the seatbelt. the sudden violence sets you back on track. who cares how the oldest caruso kid got free? what matters are your patients. 

listen, if we don’t do a hospital drop, these people are all dead, you say.

why? 

you’re so grateful it’s jack. he’s brutally competent and efficient, not a word or a breath wasted, and he’s the only caruso kid who ever actually listens to you. 

if carbon monoxide poisoning is this bad, we can’t just slap a bunch of oxygen masks on them and call it a day. that’s not enough, it won’t work fast enough. not with three dead already. 

what do we need?

your skin is practically humming. hyperbaric chamber. lay them in an airtight container built specially for the purpose, fill it with pure oxygen, crank up the pressure. this is the kind of equipment that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars, so they probably don’t even have them at a place like saint anthony’s. these people need a level care of care that only northwestern-level money can buy, okay? or maybe uic. i don’t even think they’ll have enough chambers for all of them in one building, we might have to do two separate dumps, or—

no hospitals, jack says. we have orders. 

now you remember why he’s the worst of the caruso kids too. he’s the smartest, which means he should fucking know better. 

how much do these people know? you say. when that gets you nowhere, you drop subtlety and go straight for the jugular. are you really willing to kill twenty-five people just to please your fucking dad?

i’d kill you if i got orders, he says. don’t waste time.

it’s a breathtaking thing to hear, and yet, on some level, you were expecting it. after a second, you say, they’re dead, then. but tell me what we got.

no hospital raids, not around here. dad says it might fuck things up for little if a theft cranks up hospital security. but you’ve got as many oxygen canisters as you want down at the blackbird processing plant. 

and that’s where we’re headed?

yeah.

okay, you say, and it sounds like a question. but then, five minutes later, you say okay like it’s the answer too.

jack fully turns around in his seat to look at you. he’s going prematurely gray at the temples, and in the dark, his eyes look bottomless.

what do you need?  he says.

and for once, you know. what you need, what you are, and what you’re meant to do. so you tell him.

.

.

.

when you arrive, there are only a few lights on inside the factory. you and jack get on an indoor vehicle, a little white golf cart, and speed through a looming, shadowy forest of metallic machinery. 

your patients are waiting for you, all of them unconscious and laid out neatly like logs in two rows on the ground. their faces and clothes look sickeningly similar to each other, so you glance at jack and mentally add human trafficking to the long list of his family’s crimes. 

there’s also around two dozen men who all came to attention when jack stepped off the golf cart, standing silent and expectant. one of them is different from the others, a short man with the distinctive, overwhelmed expression of a civilian who just got drafted. that must be roberto, the floor manager that you talked to earlier on the phone. 

sedatives? you say, and one of the men hands you a big plastic bin full of smaller boxes. you pick one up and squint at the tiny print on the white and orange label. fuck me. 

the sedative they managed to get on short notice? it’s dormosedan. which is mean to be used on fucking horses. horses. jesus christ. yeah no, you’re not giving that to your patients. 

we’ve got ahold of ten oxygen masks, says jack. eta twenty minutes. 

you shake your head. you can see everything in viciously crisp color, time has slowed to syrup, and you can clock even the far-off horn of a distant train. oxygen masks aren’t enough. 

turning to roberto, you gesture at the massive section of piping in front of you. is that it?

i don’t think it’ll work, he says, this close to shaking. 

you speak past him to the assembled men. load them.

beside you, jack nods. with that, the men begin picking up your patients and carrying them to the wide-open hatch in the huge pipe, getting down on hands and knees, crawling, and pulling the unconscious people after them. 

you can’t do this, roberto says. we have to call the cops, we can’t just—

jack reaches for the gun tucked into his jeans and you close your hand over his wrist just in time to stop him from pulling it out. if he gives this guy a heart attack, that’s just one more casualty for you to deal with.

roberto, this is fucking happening, you say. you let go of jack’s wrist, go over, and lean in close to him, ignoring his flinch. you lower your voice. please don’t make me deal with another casualty, we’ve got enough of those already.

after a second, roberto walks away and put his password into the control pad.

when the hatch closes, there are two bodies left lying on the floor, people who are already dead and thus not worth loading. how many patients left living does that make? twenty-four? twenty-three? you’ve lost count.

flood it with oxygen and then increase the pressure, you say to roberto.

how high do you want the pressure?

double whatever the psi is right now.

you can actually see the movement of roberto’s adam’s apple as he swallows.

hey, you say warningly.

after a second, he types in the command. you can hear the humming of the machine as the pressure increases.

you want me to pause it in intervals so the pressure doesn’t increase too fast? he says. 

you have no fucking idea. no, you say. just do it.

you take out your phone and start a timer. you don’t even know how long these people should be in for, or how long the canisters will last, but you sit there with your pencil and paper, gather what you know, and get to work.

they can’t stay in for too long, because you’re terrified of one of them improving enough to wake up trapped in the dark. they’d die of a fucking heart attack, breaking into the list of the world’s top ten most miserable deaths. on the other hand, they have to stay in as long as it takes to oxygenate them, or they’ll be dead for certain. and a third consideration? if they’re in for too long, there is such a thing as oxygen poisoning. which. fucking hell.

you write out your calculations so hurriedly that you can barely read your own figures. god only knows if they’re correct. you finally come up with a number of minutes, and once that time has passed, you tell roberto to lower the pressure. in intervals this time, with pauses in between. after all this maniac effort, you’re not gonna lose anyone to the bends like they’re fucking scuba divers. no, no. you’ve entered the stage when everything is hopeful with zero basis in fact. they’re all gonna make it. every last one of them. 

this is the worst part. the part when all the decisions have been made, and all you can do is stand there and wait. you abandon your paper and pencil on the floor and begin to pace like a maniac, not caring who sees you. 

jack is texting to somebody on his phone, mountainous and intent, but when you pass by him, he says, homemade hyperbaric chamber.

are you supposed to feel fucking encouraged by that?

if they all die, you’re gonna have to kill me too, you mutter in a venomous undertone.

don’t make threats.

the oxygen masks arrive. turns out that only eight of them work, but at least they come with appropriately sized canisters. you instruct jack’s men on how to use the masks on the patients once they emerge from the pipe. if more than eight patients end up making it, they’ll have to rotate the masks between the patients in fifteen-minute intervals. somehow, you don’t think that will be a problem. 

you can hear roberto praying quietly in the background.

time disappears, and the one thing you want most in the world is a smoke, though you can’t have it, not with all these gas canisters around. just one cigarette, that would save you. not a menthol, a sapphire. or maybe just standing partly sheltered from the wind in a spot that smells of those cigarettes, drinking half a smile over a stupid joke, you want it to be over already, you want to go home—

finally, the pipe has been completely depressurized and the patients are taken out one by one and laid out once again in their two rows. you dart forward, accidentally bashing your shoulder against an unexpected bit of machinery in the dark, and kneel beside the first one you see. 

the woman is weathered and broad shouldered, somewhere in her forties, and looking as peaceful as if she’s just taking a nap. there are strands of gray in her dark hair and laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. you don’t want to check her pulse, but you do.

she’s alive. 

all around you, there are footsteps padding by you, quiet words being exchanged. survivors are being laid out, men are fixing the oxygen masks on them, and somewhere in the background, roberto is trying to argue with jack, his voice pitching ever higher with every denial he’s dealt. some of the machines are being turned on in preparation for the morning’s work, great dark monsters humming and growling at each other in the dark. 

this is not over. there is so much left to do. and yet, for a moment, you close your eyes and feel her pulse murmuring it into your fingertips: still here, still here.

.

.

.

when you were first charged with the care of these people, twenty-five of them were alive. by the time they’re carried away from the factory and you’re forced to go home, only nineteen of them are still breathing. 

it’s nineteen more than you thought you could save. it’s still not enough.

when the car drops you off at your building, your eyes go to the spot where richie should be standing, but of course he’s not there. it’s morning, not his hour. why you were expecting him, you don’t know.

you want to tell him about this night more than anything, but you know you never can and you never will. 

.

.

.

you find him laid out neatly like a log, gone cold and facing up. no blood, no wound, nobody else. at least this time they let you come and see him.

the sun comes up over the bridge and stains the cityscape as gold as good. oh, michael.

you kneel without a prayer, run your fingertips across his sweater, soft and slow as though you could still wake him up. your knuckles knock against metal, so you stop short, look down, and there it is: the gun, your gun, the ready death you try to pull from out of his fingers. 

baby, let it go.

his grip goes tight, his blue eyes open slow.

.

.

.

the sound of your evening alarm tears you out of your dreams. you find yourself clutching at empty air so tightly that your nails leave red half-moons in your palms, and at first, you remember nothing but the feeling.

it all comes back in bits and pieces jumbled together: the little white golf cart speeding through the factory floor, the sunrise over the bridge, closed eyes above oxygen masks, the rows of bodies, richie’s eyes. you’re not gonna die and i might.

you sit up fast, fully awake. a chest-crushing certainty takes hold. all the old excuses are carried away from you like paper in the wind. 

he says shit that would scare anyone into wondering if he’s okay, but then he turns around and jokes like nothing’s wrong. he has people he loves dearly, but he still comes to you for comfort that you are hardly able to provide. he has access to a gun. this time, it’ll be his own. other than that, it’s all the same as last time.

the fact that you’ve noticed the pattern is no comfort to you at all. by now, you know richie right down to the ground, from his peculiar little habits to his pet baseball peeves to his customary jewelry to the shape his mouth makes when he doesn’t want to admit that you’re funny. you know him so well.

and you’ve only ever been able to save people if they’re total strangers.

.

.

.

by the time richie strolls up to your building, it’s occurred to you that somewhere in the haze of grief and touch starvation and whatever words a shrink would use to describe the feeling of twenty-five lives depending on you, maybe, just maybe, you’ve gone a little fucking crazy yourself. 

jack won’t return your texts or calls, so you have no idea how your patients are doing, and that is so deeply fucking upsetting that you swerve right back to richie. 

maybe richie’s not deeply depressed. maybe it’s like the time—literally yesterday—when you assumed eva got hurt and psyched yourself up to request permission from old caruso for a full-on murder. 

also, and this cannot be emphasized enough: you only slept for two hours. 

so, mustering the last bit of mental strength left at your disposal, you head downstairs early and decide not to bring up your batshit theory unless you’ve got actual evidence that you’re right. 

richie seems a surprised to find you waiting for him, and he approaches a little awkwardly, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. the sight of him alone is enough to calm you a little, the reality of his stained shirt and haggard face. 

hey, you say, in your very best imitation of a normal person. 

yo, he says. last night was.

yeah, you say. then, as casual as you can, you good?

he shrugs. i am if you are?

you nod. in the silence, you can feel the awkwardness draining away, so you give it a little while before you finally say say, so what’s the story, morning glory?

his nose is running a little and he’s as tired as ever, but the smile is real. you wanna see something crazy?

always.

he gets his phone out of his pocket and flips through a blur of emoji-studded texts to find the thing he’s looking for. 

my buddy tim got video of this crazy fight on the l this morning. looks exactly like that one with the nerd. like, same fucking thing, i swear to god. 

he turns to you and catches you watching him close, soaking him up. he’s stubble-cheeked and grinning, he’s standing solid, he’s completely fucking fine. he has to be.

what one with the nerd, you say, a little too late. noticeably too late, so you add an explanation. i didn’t get much sleep last night.

yeah, i wasn’t gonna say, but. he raises his eyebrows, tilts the words playful enough so they’re not a threat. secret agent?

you hum a bit of the james bond theme song, then point at his phone. you’re gonna have to show me the nerd one first, cause i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. 

you’re gonna love this, he says.

you shake your head as you get out your pack and your lighter. you have no idea what it’s gonna be, but you’re smiling already. am i actually gonna love this, or is—

no, you’re actually gonna love it, he says.

cause you remember the one with the fuckin poacher trying—

well, maybe my tastes are a little too eclectic for you, a little too avant fucking garde, but—

avant—you burst out laughing. you bruce springsteen motherfucker, don’t talk to me about avant garde. 

bruce springsteen is the man, was that supposed to be an insult? before you can say a thing in your defense, he interrupts. shh, it’s starting. 

you lean against the wall and watch. you’re not gonna cry, but there’s something in the way his body protects you a little extra from the wind. he’s okay. he’s okay, so you must be too.

the video turns out to be exactly the opposite of what you expected, because the nerd wins. in detail, a meathead picks a fight with a skinny little twentysomething redhead, and the redhead retaliates so fast and dirty that even the meathead’s friends seem impressed when they arrive on the scene drag the redhead off him.

right? richie says, when the video ends, supremely satisfied. it’s so funny to you that he loves that video, because between meathead and nerd, you wouldn’t have guessed him as identifying with the nerd. rather than ask him about it, you settle for a childish little poke. you’re too exhausted to do anything else. 

that’s a nerd to you? you say.

he’s wearing fucking glasses, what else do you want.

everyone wears glasses, numbskull. you flick the screen with a finger. that’s not a nerd.

richie splutters. and he’s short!

everyone’s short to you.

richie half turns to you and leans a little into your personal space, looming in a way that makes him occupy your whole field of vision. you stand your ground on instinct.

yeah, you’re short to me all right, he says.

well, you’re fucking… 

he’s so tall, and that’s terrible, and yet you kind of wish he was even taller so his face wouldn’t be so close to your face. there’s really nothing you can think of to say. you’ve well and truly lost the plot.

richie bursts out laughing.

…a pain in my ass, is what you are, you say. rick. 

so you got no sleep last night, he says, still laughing but moving back a fraction, letting up. 

you shake your head ruefully. like none.

then what are you doing vertical?

good question. technically, it’s against the rules for you to sleep while you’re on call, but at this point you’re pretty done with the carusos and their fucking rules and you really only got out of bed this morning so you could see richie. 

you shrug and raise your cigarette, half hoping he gets it and half hoping he doesn’t. 

he does, of course. you can tell by the way he says, go, then. go take a nap.

you should be grateful that you’ve gotten through the conversation without making an utter fool of yourself with your little conspiracy theory, but being with him right now feels so easy, you don’t want to leave it behind. 

you good? you say.

i’m fucking golden, baby. 

so you leave. as you wait for the elevator to come down and get you, you look back at him one last time through the glass of the apartment building’s doors. he’s standing there watching one of his videos, totally engrossed, totally delighted, his fist pressed to his mouth.

sleep should be safe for you now, right? sleep should be safe for you now.

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[ chapter five ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[terrahlee-cup]

My hand slipped there’s more now @mousermayhem. This poor kid needs some damn soup and a hug. That is in no way my fault.

Splinter hummed softly, gently running his hand over their guest's scales. He'd walked in to find the turtle thrashing in his sleep and every protective instinct told him to calm the child down. He was glad his sons had, for the most part, stayed wary of the larger turtle. For him, though… he couldn't stop seeing an injured teenager that had been created only to fight.

The turtle's own brothers had been willing to harm him to the point of almost killing him. Had the child ever been treated gently? Had any of them? He was so young, inexperienced and vulnerable in ways Splinter's own children wouldn't be able to understand. It disgusted him that any adult would do things this way. Copied memories were not a true substitute for living. Knowing how to fight in theory did not give these children the muscle memory, the practice, that had been so important for his sons' safety.

A soft whine and a bang brought Splinter out of his thoughts to murmer soothing words to the injured teen. When the turtle's tail stopped whipping against the bedframe, Splinter looked to the notes Donatello had written out earlier that day. The times listed on the paper confirmed Splinter's suspicions that the pain medication was wearing off and leading to the increased distress.

He wasn't surprised to see his son step into the room shortly after his look at the notes. "Oh, hi dad. I didn't expect you to be in here?"

"I unfortunately cannot keep myself from watching over injured teenagers. I have too much experience with them pushing themselves too quickly." Donatello grinned,

"You mean Raph pushing himself too quickly."

"He may be the worst of you four, but you have all done it." His son stuck his tongue out before turning to administer the pain medication.

"I try not to, but I have so much stuff I want to work on! I can't just sit in bed all day. By the way, this stuff isn't going to keep him asleep, so he might wake up soon. Just… so you don't get bit or something."

"I will keep that in mind, thank you."

As it turned out, the child would sleep for another hour. Splinter took the chance to read while he waited. When the turtle did eventually start to stir he stood to fill a glass of water— far enough to avoid any initial panic, but close enough to help if necessary. Thankfully it seemed they needn't have worried, the teen simply yawning and carefully pushing himself into a sitting position. Catching sight of Splinter he tilted his head and blinked, "You're… their dad. Right."

Splinter smiled gently and nodded, "Yes. Now here, have something to drink, I'm sure you're dehydrated after everything that's happened." The turtle took the cup without complaint and Splinter returned to his seat. "May I ask why you chose to come here specifically?"

The teen opened his mouth to reply, only for his head to snap around to watch the door. Splinter raised an eyebrow. Did the child have enhanced hearing? Mikey skid to a stop just outside the door, grinning as he entered the room. "Hey, you're awake! Feeling better?" The other turtle gave a hesitant nod, tail curling around his ankle. Leonardo's entrance was far less happy-go-lucky.

"Mikey we don't know if he's safe-!"

"I can confirm that everything is fine, Leonardo, you have nothing to stress over. Come, sit." Seeing Mikey safe, Leonardo's shoulders sagged in relief as he moved to sit in a chair near his father. Mikey meanwhile began chattering to a mildly alarmed Dark Raph, who seemed unsure of if he should be responding to what was being said. Donatello joined them moments later, checking the computer before he spoke.

"How are you feeling? Any pain? The meds shouldn't be wearing off yet, but we already have a boosted metabolism so I'm not sure about you…" The other teen shrugged,

"I feel fine." After a moment of hesitation, tongue darting out to lick his lips, he continued, "My hip is a bit sore still."

"Yeah that's pretty much to be expected, but I can have one of the bots scan it just in case." 

"The-" Seeing the bot pop up next to him had the turtle jerking back in surprise, eyes warily tracking the machine as it started its scan. Donatello didn't seem to notice, eyes still on the computer as he looked over the images. Mikey, however, whipped out a sketchbook and nudged the other teen until he was looking at art instead of what was happening.

"Everything looks fine, but if you want to walk around at all you should probably wear a brace for now. That way you won't have to worry about anything popping back out of place." Still distracted by Mikey's sketchbook, the other turtle only hummed in reply.

Donatello's deadpan look had Splinter smiling in amusement and shaking his head. "I can make sure he actually heard you later, my son." His son huffed, but rolled the computer chair over to sit with him and Leonardo.

"Oh yeah! Guys, we need to give him a nickname! We can't just keep calling him Dark Raph or whatever if he's sticking around." Mikey seemed excited by the idea, but the other turtle frowned, eyes narrowed.

"You… want me to stay."

"Yeah of course we do! Right, guys?"

"Mikey if he has somewhere to go we can't keep him here. Wait, do you have somewhere to go?" At Leonardo's question the teen eyes skittered away to glare at a the wall.

"No, I don't." Donatello raised an eyeridge,

"Well I'd prefer you stay until you're healed at least. I mean, we can't just let you wander around the apartment, but… yeah."

"Yeah, what Donnie said! C'mon you should stay. Pleaseeee." Dark Raph immediately looked away from Mikey's puppydog eyes, still frowning.

"I- what's the catch. You want me to fight my brothers or some shit?" When all of his sons froze, confusion written across their faces, Splinter stepped in.

"There is no catch. We would not ask you to fight your brothers. If you really feel like you must give us something for letting you stay, any information you have on Darius Dunn's plans would be helpful. However, we are not going to force you to do anything." The teen was still visibly suspicious of their intentions, but he did seem to consider his options. Splinter waited in silence for the turtle's answer. It did not matter how much they wanted to help; if the child felt like a captive they would only be able to do so much.

By the time the teen spoke Mikey was bouncing in place, quickly running low on patience. "I'll… stay. For now." Mikey cheered at the answer,

"Yes! I'm making a celebration dinner bye!" His son was halfway out the door before he'd even finished his sentence.

"He forgot about the nickname thing, didn't he?" 

[dandylovesturtles]

Rise Dad Simulator: Part 1.9

Readers chose: [Encouragement] That sounds like a good idea.

Orange knows his limits; Splinter trusts him not to do anything that is too taxing. And he did tell him that sometimes a little pain is worth the gain...

Besides, his older brothers will make sure he's taken care of.

"That sounds like a good idea. I'm sure they'll be happy to help you with this."

"Yeah!" Orange's legs stretch off the hammock, and he swings them back and forth in excitement, sending the entire thing swinging. "And if we can make my hands steady, then I can do art! And cook! And play ball... and arcade games... and do handstands... oh, oh, and-"

"That all sounds wonderful, Orange," says Splinter from where he is now wrapped desperately around the hammock, "but if you keep swinging you are going to launch me across the room!"

"Oops! Heh heh..." Orange stops swinging, though his feet still kick at the ankles. "Sorry Pops."

Splinter shakily lets go, sliding off the hammock and onto the crate he used to climb up onto it initially. "You have gotten so strong! What have we been feeding you?"

"Pizza and fruit roll-ups mostly." Orange is still grinning, but it starts to fall. "Hey, Dad? I'm worried about Raph."

"About Red?"

"Yeah. I mean... I guess I'm worried about Leo too..." His little kicks turn slower and more forlorn. "But Raph... He just looked... really upset."

"Upset about the fight?"

Mikey chews on his bottom lip. "Yeah... I think so. Can you go talk to him, too?"

Previous

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 21 - Lost Control

The silence of the hallway did nothing to relent the growing noise in Raph’s head. Over and over, he replayed the past 5 minutes of his fight with Leo. 

‘ He’s never done this before.. It’s always “ You should’ve known better! “ or “ WISE UP, RAPH!”... And what the heck did he ask me..  AGH! STUPID BRAIN- Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. ‘

However deep he scraped into his mind, Leo’s words to him still remained hidden.

And it was driving Raphael mad.

‘ A question.. He had his brows up… It was a question- Ok what would he ask??.... 

Uh maybe “ Can I look at your arm? “... ‘

Raph’s cheeks softly warmed at the reminder of the pitiful squeak that escaped his face when Leo grabbed his sore arm. Despite the embarrassment of the memory, Raph let out a small smile. Even though Leo had been so angry with him, as soon as he knew Raph’s arm was in pain, he relinquished his tight grip. And then later switched to Raph’s left arm.

‘... Even when he’s as angry as me… He’s still above me. ‘

The times his oldest brother’s temper made an appearance were far and few between. Even when they were kids, when Sensei’s patience was on its last breath trying to recall the names of his four sons, he resorted to calling them “ Shizukana “( Tranquil ), “ Kisho “ (Temper), “No” ( Brain ), and “ Hanten” ( Spots).

Sensei knew what he was doing when he called Leonardo “ Tranquil”.

For as long as he’d kept watch over Leo, the little mutant always carried a soothing calmness to the chaos of the family. Whenever the brothers got into their usual tussles, Leo would quietly waltz into the room, pause and listen to both sides of the argument, process and discern who was in the right, and going by his judgment, grab and pull the instigator into a separate room to Sensei.

Somehow at a very young age, Leo carried a maturity only a senior person could hold.

And then…

.. there was Raph: The one who instigated the most.

The one who could never control the burning fire flickering in his heart…

… The one who hurt his brothers.

“ Mmmmnghhhh… “

Raph jolted at the sound of Lotus’ quivering voice. He looked down at her, cradled helplessly in his arms. He had forgotten he was even carrying her… It only felt like he was carrying Sensei’s thicker robe, or maybe a 8 year old Mikey.

He was somewhat used to the sensation from years of carrying his brothers.

There were times growing up that training became far more draining, leaving Raph carrying a very exhausted Mikey to bed, or a sore Don to his beanbag chair. But Leo never allowed someone to carry him. Even Sensei. No matter how physically spent he felt, he’d much rather drag his heavy feet and aching limbs to his bedroom on his own, than risk such humiliation. He was the oldest, and therefore he had to be the strongest. 

‘ “Weakness isn’t a trait a leader should possess. NOT EVER.” ‘

Raph found it ironic when Leo stepped up as Team Medic at the age of 15. How the heck can someone be so good at carin’ for others when he’s so bad at carin’ for HIMSELF??? Leo was always the one to come running when one of the brothers scraped their knee, or twisted their ankle, or whatever. The brothers would joke that he slept with the first aid kit under his pillow.

.. How can that same brother get caught with blood all over his hands alone in the dead of night?

How can that same brother be found with an ice pack over his dislocated shoulder?

How can that same brother ask Raph to never tell his family about any of it?

‘.. At least I know when to ask for help..Sort of..’

Raph looked down, escaping from his memories, to study Lotus.

Her breathing had finally slowed down to a normal pace, and her eyelids fluttered and winced. 

Now that he was holding her, he got to really see all the scars and bruises plaguing her body up close. Her skin was so pale. And the insides of her arms were bruised with black and blue. He could feel her bones nearly poking through her thin skin.

‘ This girl’s really gone through heck and back..’

Raph walked slower through the hallway, flattening his feet to make less movement so as to not disturb Lotus. With all the bruises and cuts, he knew to be more careful with his jostling movements.

He also realized, while focusing so hard to not move Lotus too much, that he was now squeezing her limp body up to his plastron. He could feel the small breaths rise up in her chest and then extinguish with a faint sigh.

They were way too short.

Normally a deep breath would last about two seconds.

Her's weren’t even lasting one. 

‘ Gotta make sure to tell Leo about that..

Ughh… After.. I apologize, that is….’

As Raph arrived back at the brother’s bedroom, he noticed his youngest brother in bed laying on a pile of dirty clothes reading comics. Mikey gave his brother a small look, but then shot up when he saw who Raph was carrying.

“ Awwwww Raph, you’re a big softieeeee~” Mikey cooed as he reached to grab his phone.

Without skipping a beat, Raph immediately grabbed his lone sai left on the ground and chucked it full-force about 3 inches away from Mikey’s snout. Mikey let out a startled gasp, covering his nose with his other hand, and looked back at Raph with his eyes bugging out.

“ I WILL END YOU. “ Raph mouthed with the fierceness of a lion as he shone his sharp fangs to Mikey. “ PUT THE PHONE DOWN. “

Mikey paused for just a moment, contemplating if it would be worth it to retaliate.. But the look of barely- contained seething anger in Raph’s eyes made him rethink his choices.

But consequences have never stopped Mikey.

SOMEHOW- AGAIN- In the span of a FLIPPIN’ MILLISECOND- Mikey swiped up his phone, tapped the screen, slid down the ladder from his bunk, and zipped out the door.

Raph stood there, still holding Lotus, with his mouth gaping open and his head flipping from Mikey’s bunk to the door. 

‘ ………….. I always thought three brothers were too many. ‘

With a low growl, Raph braced his core and bent his knees as he carefully placed Lotus onto the mattress. Thoughts pushed into his head as he pulled the covers over her, tucking her in as best he could. But this time, since he wasn’t in the annoying presence of his brothers, Raph allowed such thoughts to gain the front of his mind. 

Normally, he would push against things that would pull unwanted emotions to the surface of his rough exterior. However much Mikey encouraged him to “ not ignore his feelings”, Raph knew better than to listen. Feelings lead to emotions. Emotions lead to hugs and tears; Something so awkward and… VULNERABLE for everyone involved. So, yeah, no thanks. Not his thing. He’ll leave that to Mikey. 

However..

If there ever WERE times he would allow such things to cloud his mind and judgment, they would be felt BEHIND DOORS. NO ONE present.

Raph scoped out the room. It was only him and.. his unconscious roommate. 

‘ …. Guess it’s safe enough to… ugh… feeeeeel. ‘

His eye brows lowered as he watched Lotus from the edge of the bed. Theories of the causes of her various cuts and bruises flew through his mind. He’s seen all kinds of injuries, (mostly by being the older brother of Mikey), bruises included. He also understood that they weren’t made by any trip or fall. The ones wrapped around her wrists seemed to be spread over a sizable dent imprinted into her skin. 

Raph’s pupils constricted as he remembered the cuffs that had been strapped down on his own body. The jerks at that lab made sure to make them way too tight. He remembered how simply clenching his fists would squeeze a painful pressure into his wrists and upper arm.

He absentmindedly rubbed his right wrist as he shook his head to bring his mind back to the present.

‘ NO! I’m HOME. I’m SAFE. I’m OK. ‘

He thanked God that the shaking didn’t start again. He hated when things were out of his control. ESPECIALLY if it’s his own dang body. 

That thought brought more to Raph’s mind. He laid his hand down next to Lotus’ on the edge of the bed.

‘ Looks like you’ve never been in control of anything in your own life…What the heck were you doin’ at that lab? What did they want with you… ‘

Raph jolted by a faint groan and a small voice.

“.... Th- thank you…Raph… “

He turned his head to look at Lotus, whom was now fighting to stay awake. Her eyelids hung low as she spoke looking up at him. 

Raph allowed a subtle smirk on his face as he plopped down on the floor next to her. His eyes stayed glued to the ground as he patted the top of the covers where Lotus’ hand was peeking through. 

“... No problem. “ 

Just as Raph began to lift his hand, the feeling of something quickly wrapping around it shocked his senses. His eyes shot up to see his hand clutched between Lotus’.

Everything went silent including Raph’s brain.

That's it for this chapter! :) This one was one of my easiest to write by far. ( Probably helps that Raph is the focus.)

Hope you enjoyed!

To God be the glory!

Masterpost <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Tongue-tied

A/N: In honor of @sillyrabbit81's milestone event. Congratulations on the milestone, hun 🥰 I kinda ended up combining two prompts I got for Mikey, because this accidentally just took a turn in that direction.

You can find the masterlist for the event here! (And my masterlist here)

Pairing: Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Prompt: Playful & Happy + Tied up // Smug & Sadistic + Dirty talk

Summary: There's this thing Mike has always wanted to try...

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (f receiving), light bondage/ use of restraints, dirty-talk, very very very very very very soft!Dom Mikey.

@geralts-yenn @fvckinghenrycavill @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae I know I should be getting you guys 179CS's NYE, FixU23, UO3 and a whole bunch of other stuff... But I got distracted and just... have this little Mikey-drabble, instead.

The sentence ‘please, babe, I’ve always wanted to try it’ and a pair of bright blue puppy eyes. Apparently, that is all it takes for you to agree to let your boyfriend tie you to his bed. You’ve never realized just how big a fan you are of hiding until right this second, when Mike finishes tying your ankle to his bedframe and looks at you. The look of curiosity and excitement in his eyes is so incredibly endearing that you almost forget to ask him in all honesty how he got the restraints he used on you if he’s never done this before.

“Eighteenth birthday,” he says. As it turns out, his friends thought it would be really funny to have him unpack a bunch of silly gifts in front of his parents, but they forgot to take into account the ‘Mike factor’ – his words, not yours. You feel they should have known better than to think the gifts would embarrass him, though. Like… You’re talking about the guy who took you to his parents’ place for the holidays, and when his mom walked in on you two getting it on, he just looked her dead in the eye and said: “And this is why it’s a good idea to knock before stomping into your son’s room.” You were mortified, of course.  

“Are you okay?” He asks as you’re on your way back from pushing that memory all the way down, because it sure as hell isn’t something you can use right now. You nod in reply to his question. You’re really just a little nervous, even though you know you can trust him. Mike straddles your hips, and you immediately try to raise your hands to touch him. Mike is grinning at you from above like an absolute idiot, which means you won’t be able to hold that scowl a lot longer. You can already feel the smile break through on your serious face.

“Don’t laugh at me, Mike.” You pout as you say it. “I just want to touch you.”

“But you can’t because you’re tied to my bed,” Mike singsongs, still smiling like a fool.

“You haven’t thought about what you’re going to do with me at all, have you?” You already know the answer; Mike is not a ‘planning’ kind of guy.

“I didn’t have to think about that,” he says. You don’t like the sound of that, if you’re being perfectly honest. “I can think about it now.” His kiss is soft, slow, and over as soon as you started to really enjoy it.

“I can do anything I want with you,” he continues as he kisses along your jaw to your ear, and down into your neck. Every time he comes across a spot that makes you gasp, he makes a point of lingering on it. Sucking, nibbling… And then he stops and sits up again.

“Or I can do absolutely nothing and just leave you laying here for a few hours.” For a moment, he tries very hard to look as if he’s actually considering it. “Nah, that would be a waste. I can hug you.” He wraps his arms around you as he says it, and just holds onto you like some sort of giant koala for a minute. You sigh, which is the only thing you can do to keep yourself from laughing.

He moves away to sit between your legs, still putting on a face like he’s thinking long and hard about all the possibilities. And maybe he actually is, who can tell.

“I could give you lots of kisses?” He falls forward, catching himself just in time before crushing you, and continues the path he was making down your neck. “Or I could lick you everywhere. I know you hate it when I lick you.”

“I don’t always hate it,” you say innocently. In reality, you only hate it when he jokingly licks your cheek in public. Or when he randomly licks kinda unusual spots on your body. Like your shoulder, completely out of nowhere?

Mike seems to completely ignore what you just said, and continues his musing about all the things he could do to you: “I could finally spend a decent amount of time with my favorite titties.”

Of course, he immediately comes into action on this one. He’s meticulous in his treatment, making sure to lick, suck and nibble on every inch of skin that can reasonably be considered part of your boobs, until way past the point where you’d normally be begging him to move further south. And by ‘begging him’ you mean ‘physically shoving him further down your body’. Which you can’t do now, because you’re tied to his fucking bed. No, today, your only option is to actually beg him, crying out as his tongue slowly draws the millionth circle around your swollen and sensitive nipple, and his fingers softly pinch the other.

“What? You want me to keep doing this? Ok!” You protest loudly, the noises that come out of your mouth are more sob than moan at this point, and you squirm, straining against the silky ties around your wrists and ankles.

“Mike, please, for fuck’s sake!” you cry out. “Please eat me out!” Apparently, begging works on him, because he makes his way down your body, dragging his tongue over your skin as he does – much to your dismay. At least Mike seems to be having the time of his life, so you’ll forgive the licking. This time.

“Whoa!” Mike sounds very surprised when he reaches his destination and runs his fingers through your folds. “You are super fucking wet, baby.”

“Ehh…” You can’t speak, you’re searching every remote corner of your brain for an excuse. Of course you don’t find one, because the only explanation you have for it is that, yeah, you’re absolutely turned on by what Mike is doing to you.

“You like this, don’t you?” Mike asks. He bites his lip, and looks up at you as he slips two fingers into your pussy. From the way he asks, you can tell he’s clearly expecting an answer, but you lose the ability to speak as soon as he curls his fingers inside you and finds just the right spot. The only thing you can do is whimper.

“See, baby, I don’t need your instructions,” he says as he moves his fingers exactly the way you want him to. His tongue hits your clit just the right way, and for a moment, you squirm and squeal – and then he disappears. Both his mouth and his hands leave you, and he leans over you again.

“Alright, baby, here’s what’s gonna happen.” Oh. Oh. That smug grin he’s flashing at you makes you weak, sends shivers down your spine in a way he’s never done before. It’s good to know that Mike gets cocky when he’s in charge, and that you like it. A lot.

“I’m gonna eat your sweet little pussy, and I’m gonna make you cum so hard you won’t even remember your own name, just mine.” You listen closely, failing every attempt to swallow down the lump in your throat. Part of you wants to yell at him to get to it, instead of talking all that talk, but you’re fairly sure you won’t be getting anything if you try that. You also know there’s a ‘but’ coming…

“However…” Yeah, that’s the same as ‘but’. “If you try to get involved in this, in any way – and I’m serious; One hint, one piece of advice, even a ‘right there’ – I’ll gag you. Are we clear?” Your cheeks are burning as you look down at those messy curls and the quirked eyebrow and the panty-dropping smirk between your legs that only widens when you finally speak: “Yes, Sir.”