#Wondering how much Mikey weights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tmntxthings · 7 months

Note

Hey, I hope this request motivates you a bit! I was wondering if you could do little scenarios with the Rise boys reacting to accidentally hitting their S/O while they stretched?

You know that thing that happens when you're standing too close to someone and they move or do something and end up hitting you in the face, it happened to me at college sobs 😭

Have a lovely day! <3

一∑ Accidents Happen・゜・。

author’s note: sksksks sure sure, I wanna say this has happened to me too but I can’t recall a specific scenario which makes me think it has happened just I’ve obliterated it from my memory out of embarrassment?!?

note 2.0: so I did Raph’s first, forever ago and a bit of Leo’s then just now I did Donnie’s and Mikey’s, everyone’s is a bit different and it’s like 3am idk how to feel! BUT WE POST ANYWAYS

warnings: cursing, injuries caused by accident, attempts at humor, crack, fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph was super excited to help you learn self-defense! It was a great skill to have. Just in case ya know! Plus it would make you feel more confident too.

“First things first! We gotta loosen up, I usually start with arm stretches.” Raph said with a toothy grin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being able to hang out with you, but you had asked him personally to train you for self defense. Not any of his brothers! He was honored and didn’t want to mess up!

Raph then grabbed his left elbow and started to pull it, making the muscles there taunt. You immediately started to copy him. Asking if your form was right which had Raph moving closer and correcting you just slightly. “Just like that! Now other side!” And when Raph went through with the motion of doing his other arm, it was too late.

The smack resounded throughout the weight room and if things couldn’t be anymore horrible, because of his stature, he had quite literally smacked your face.

Stunned you held your cheek. It stung. And Raph was a ball of tears instantly. “Oh— Y/n!!!! Are you okay??? I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to, I should’ve backed up!! I got too close and— Raph’s so so sorry.” He was on his knees in front of you. Telling you to smack his face in return. And you just laughed, saying that it was okay.

“Once I learn these self defense moves you won’t be able to land a hit like that again!” You joked.

Raph could only whimper. He felt horrible. He was a horrible teacher! And it took some convincing from you to get the ball rolling again. He sniffled here and there because he just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was hard on himself for sure. Even though it was an accident he wouldn’t forgive himself!!

Leo was prone to doing weird shit randomly. Like striking a pose anywhere, anytime he saw fit. So while sure I could totally come up with a prompt for stretching like I did with Raph…but in my head…more realistically… it would be because Leo was up to his regular shenanigans again!

He had texted you not that long ago that he was planning on portal-ing over! It was a common occurrence, it made for traveling back and forth to the lair fast. If only the side effects wouldn’t hit you like that one ride at the fair, the Spaceship 9000?? The one that spins, and spins, and spins so fast that the piece of metal your buckled into moves up and down??? Right?? I’ve only went on it once so this is like a very bad descriptor but hopefully someone knows what the heck I’m talking about.

Going through a Leo portal was like that. The feeling of getting spun around so much that your stomach didn’t feel like it was in your body anymore. More like it was splattered all over the ground. Or three miles back in the direction from which you came. You wondered absentmindedly if all portals were like that. Or if that was just because of Leo?

Anyhow, it had been a while since he had sent you that message. You were used to him coming instantly after sending the message. Really not even giving you enough time to read the damn text! You sighed and got up from your bed and headed to the living room where he would be portal-ing in. But instead of going to the couch, you wanted to try and guess where the fool would land. Maybe closer to the actual door, as if he had used it to begin with?

It was while you were thinking, that a blue portal opened above head not but mere inches to the left of you. There had been no whirring or whizzing noises. No “Geronimo!!” Or “Heads up!” call outs. It was ninja silent stealth mode at which Leo came in. Eyes closed, and once he was through, only then did he holler, “And he sticks the landi—“

A loud thwack could be heard as one of his hands collided into you as he did a ridiculous windmill motion with his arms to steady himself. And it hurt like hell where he had slapped your arm. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiittttt!” The force had knocked you a little ways away too! As you held your arm where it stung and closed your eyes to not start crying, and then your mouth to not start yelling.

“Y/n???” Leo opened his eyes and shook the hand that had hit your arm. “My bad! You’re usually in your room when I come, and I just— I don’t know!” He rambled, a nervous smile on his face as he watched you close up.

Silence. Breathing. That was all that could be heard. Leo started feeling really guilty. He hadn’t been holding back his strength because he was an idiot and didn’t know you were there. “I’m really sorry..” he murmured. Not coming in close because he didn’t want to anger you further.

“It’s..cool!” You shook your arm, eyes opening and god damn it they were watery. “Oh no it’s not. Let me get you some ice. Fuck. I’m really really sorry.” Leo springs into action at the sight of your unshed tears. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” You tried to console him but didn’t deny the need for ice. Relief was felt when the ice pack met your skin. “Still wanna come over?” He asked timidly, wondering if he had ruined today in general too. “Duh, I’m going to be fine Leo! How about we stop for ice cream, on you and then it’s all even mkay?”

Because you knew if you didn’t say this then he would just continue to hold onto the guilt despite all your words and reassurances. “One waffle cone coming up!!” Leo cheered, his dramatics back on as he twirled a sword to make another flashy portal, you could only hope you would survive the journey.

Donnie has a stick. “Technically Y/n, it’s a bo. Bo staff. Not a stick.” Your eyes narrowed in on his weapon of choice. “Looks like a metal stick to me.” You told him plainly. He huffed. He knew that his weapon wasn’t always the one to wow people away. It wasn’t flashy like some people *cough* *cough* leo *cough*. “Okay I lied, it’s not just a bo, it’s a tech bo!” Donnie emphasized, spinning the said weapon around between his fingers before making it land on the ground vertically. Before you could question further he clicked a very inconspicuous spot on the bo, which was basically a finger-print reader that took half a millisecond to expand out and show off a variety of other weapons attached to his bo.

A saw, a drill, and the list could go on but those were the main two you recognized before it contracted back into stick form as you liked to call it. “Nice,” you nodded, giving Donnie his props where they were due, because it was pretty cool. It was like a multi-tool. You said that aloud too.

“Yeah but way better cause I made it.” Donnie amended because he couldn’t allow himself to be compared to such everyday items. He was better. Much better.

You opened your palm out, “can I try?” Insinuating you wanted a go at holding his stick. Well, his tech bo. But he made you spell it out for him. “Try what exactly?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. “Holding the stick” “It’s not a stick.” “Okay okay, can I try to hold the tech stick?” “Maybe, if you say it properly and also realize that you are most definitely going to hurt yourself with my tech bo.”

You made a face at that. “I most certainly am not!” You retorted and made a grab for the tEcH bO. It was out of your reach before you could even get close. And this game of keep away continued until you, asked with a “pretty please can I hold your almighty tech bo!?” Donnie was satisfied, clearly, with a smug look on his face as he allowed you to snatch it away from his hold. Finally.

You turned it around in your hands. Making slow circles. Donnie immediately trying to coach you on a better method, “Your feet aren’t in the right position~!” He chirped happily, as if correcting you was an absolute pleasure. He continued to badger you, despite your genuine efforts to improve. And at one point it all became too much, like he was being haughty. Holding it over your head that you weren’t catching on quickly.

“I get it Donnie! I suck!” You yelled and brought the metal bo down sharply. Right on your toes. You did have socks on. But the thin material did nothing to prevent the instant pain that had you crumpling down, bo falling out of your hand to instead cradle your injured foot.

It was embarrassing. The loud clatter of the bo hitting the ground, the rush of Donnie coming in close, kneeling to try and analyze the damage. You were so angry and so embarrassed that despite the pain, you pushed him away. Sniffling and whimpering, “Leave me alone!” You cried. And yep you were crying. Rocking back and forth now on your butt in an attempt to somehow ease the pain that was flowing from your toes, through your foot, all the way up to your ankle. Had you broken something?!?

Of course you hadn’t pushed him far, nor hard enough to knock him down. But he felt horrible. He felt like he was the reason this had all happened in the first place. Egging you on and messing with your head, truly being a bit of a jerk. “Just let me look please? It may be broken Y/n, it’s..high grade titanium…” he muttered the last bit because he was in no way trying to show that off in this moment. And the look in your eyes when you finally met his concerned stare was heartbreaking. He saw how red and puffy they were from the agitated tears, your cheeks ruddy as well. “Please?” He tried again. Coming in close hands up and out as a show of meaning no harm.

Slowly, your hand came away from your own toes, and Donnie peeled off your sock and assessed the injury. Light touches here and there and profusely apologized when you hissed in pain. “It’s not broken! Just bruised, pretty badly, I’ll go get some ice and then some wraps, just stay right there, don’t move!” And he was off moving swiftly as went in search for the items he required.

He gave you the ice, letting you decide how much pressure to put on the wound, and he stayed silent as he got out a few different wraps. As your tears dried and the sniffling ceased, you noticed how serious Donnie looked. When he came back down to kneel by your foot, he decided to checkup the entire area. “What about this, does this hurt?” He asked pressing lightly on a different part on the top of your foot. “Not really, it’s all getting kind of numb now,” the ice was doing its magic. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I should wrap it now,” he said but made no move to start until you gave him the go ahead.

He was very careful. Taking all the time in the world to make sure the wrapping was perfect. When he finished he sighed, and looked up at you sincerely, “I’m sorry for being such an ass… you were doing really well but I just kept..” he sighed again shaking his head as it dropped. Looking back down at your wrapped foot. “Dee.. we like to get in each other’s nerves, you just did a really great job this time around,” you admitted with a slight laugh. But he only smiled weakly, still feeling so guilty. You huffed and shoved at his shoulder lightly, “hey, honestly I think it was your bo getting back at me for calling it a stick so many times!”

He couldn’t help but smile at that one. If only a little. “How about this? You grovel for the rest of the day, andddd order my favorite pizza?” He was quiet, thinking. “How about I just get the pizza?” Finally looking up and looking a bit better, “I don’t knowwww…” and the two of you were going back and forth once more, laughing it off.

Mikey, bless his heart, was having a fabulous time when it came to your yoga sessions. You had gotten into it and dragged the brothers into your new hobby. But the only brother who truly stuck with it was Mikey. Of course this should’ve been a no brainer, what with his acrobatic skills when it came to soaring into the air, from building to building.

So it wasn’t odd that the two of you were together in the gym alone at the lair. Sometimes he’d come over to your flat and the two of you would yoga in the only big room you had (the living room). But most times it was more convenient to do it in a space that was created with exercise in mind. After getting nice and warmed up, talking about each others day and updating one another on any tea it was time to get down to business.

“What’s on the roster today??” Mikey asked already bouncing lightly back and forth. Pumped to do anything when it came to hanging out with you. “Ahhh let’s see!” All the gossip had left your brain clueless to the new yoga you had learned recently so you needed to open up your phone and check your notes really quickly.

Mikey (ever the busybody) came in close, going up on his tippy toes to peer at your screen. Your elbow went out playfully, hitting him in the side plastron. He feigned injury, staggering back clutching where you had touched. “Betrayal!” He fake coughed. “And I thought Leo was the dramatic one!” You teased further.

At this both hands moved to cover his heart. “Take that back!!” He gasped though he could hardly hide his pleased smile. “And if I don’t??” You countered, forgetting about the phone as the screen turned black under inactivity. “Then I’ll make you!” Mikey’s face turned downright villainous (as much as a cutie patootie can), hands up and fingers at the ready to tickle you into submission.

Immediately you were fleeing. You were no stranger to Mikey’s tickling in fact the last time you had been caught in his clutches you were begging for mercy. You almost gave in right then and there at the memory but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this time you could get away.

Fool. What a foolish thought.

You were a yoga hobbyist. Mikey was a fucking ninja! The odds would never be in your favor, but he did let you think you had a chance. Letting you run around in their home gym, getting by with barely a fingertips distance away. You were breathless by the time he caught you which only worsened when he started tickling at your sides and neck.

He had you trapped, he was on top of you, between your legs, hands moving fast and causing you to laugh out of control. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, your leg jumped out and tried to slam into Mikey’s side to free yourself from further torture. But he had actually bent down lower making the trajectory straight for his head. It must’ve been ninja instincts because he caught your leg easily in a tight grasp.

“Mercy!” You called out breathlessly. To which he clicked his tongue, letting go of your leg to go back to tickling. That obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay! I take it back!” You pleaded, batting away his hands quickly. To which he continued to try and get past until he moved way too fast for you, smacking your chin accidentally when he had been aiming to just tickle your neck.

Time force. As the sound resounded, with your punctuating “Ow!” Mikey froze. Hands still, pupils shaking as it replayed in his mind. He had hit you. Accidentally of course. But. He had hit you. You were still in pain, recovering from the shock and rubbing your sore chin. While he was receding into his shell, his hands moving back into himself as he apologized. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what, it was just so fast, I’m sorry!!” He was blubbering, by the time you opened your eyes to see how much this had hurt him too.

“Angie! I know! Hey, we were just roughhousing! It got out of hand, it’s okay! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident!” And he clung to that word. “It really was an accident. An accident. I’m so sorry. What should I do? Lemme see!” His hands moved suddenly to touch your chin but it was like the sight of his own hands getting close to you made him fearful. He retracted once more, squeezing them into fists and putting them to his chest as he moved to get off of you. To give you space.

“Mikey!” You chastised, getting up and following after him. You grabbed his hands, holding them. “Hey hey, it’s okay! Look I’m not afraid of them and neither should you. It was an accident Mikey, plus I’m already feeling better.” Slowly his fists unfurled and you brought his hands up to your face, positioning them to cup your face. He looked up, with a watery smile. “I’m really sorry,” he said one more time. “I know,” you smiled down at him. “It’s okay!” You made sure to say. And he nodded, relaxing a bit as a shaky breath went through his body before his hands held onto you more securely. Rubbing his fingers back and forth soothingly.

Then he moved back, only to jump and tackle you into a crushing hug. “Yoga?” He asked while digging his head into your neck. “Yoga!” You agreed, and he held onto you like a monkey for a bit before clambering off to return to his mat. “Alright alright, position number one!”

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faith-forgxtten-land · 2 months

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Hihihi!

I'm not sure if your requests are open, but the fic I just read was a request and was posted within the last 24 hrs, so I'm gonna take the chance that they are (can you tell I'm autistic yet?😂)

Could I request a slightly nsfw (just a lil spicy) Bay!Raph fic where the Fem! Reader is watching him workout and offhandedly mentions that she wishes she could lift as much as he does?

Her question prompts him to let her lay on the bench and "lift" the weights (obviously he's carrying almost all of the weight). Just a corny little piece that shows our Big Red some love.

Thank you for your time!💜

Spotting | Raphael

requests are open dw!! honestly feel free to send as many requests as you want at any time, if they're not open you'll know because i'll plaster it somewhere obvious. and corny pieces are the best kind <3

since its valentine's day, i kind of went extra corny with a vague valentine's plot... i hope you like it and lemme know what you think! it's only slightly spicy and suggestive because tbh i wasn't sure how far to go.

warnings: suggestive, slight choking? (oops) valentine's day mentions, single people try not cry too much. everyone is 18+!! never proofread

summary: it's valentine's day and for some reason you have nothing better to do than watch raphael lift weights

word count: 1195

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Why are you lifting weights on Valentine’s Day?”

“Why are you watching me lift weights on Valentine’s Day?” Raphael retorts quickly and it’s such a good question that you pause.

Well, then. You sniff in mock indignance. “I’ll have you know that I was asked out by 12.5 different people ahead of today, thank you very much.”

You can’t see it, but you can tell he’s smirking. “12.5?”

“I figure Mikey only counts for 0.5 since I’m pretty sure he’d ask every woman he sees if he could.”

Raph snorts and your mouth pulls into a stupidly wide smile knowing you’ve amused him. He’s so relaxed like this, when it’s just the two of you, and your smile turns soft at the thought. There’s no one you’d rather spend the day with – Valentine’s Day or not – and the view isn’t bad either.

Speaking of... you tilt your head. Rivulets of sweat trickle down his green skin and you bite your lip watching the flexing of his muscles. He’s so much bigger than you, you’re pretty sure his bicep is bigger than your head, and he could cover your entire face with his palm – he’d done it just yesterday when you wouldn’t stop pestering him about a romcom you wanted to watch (it’s okay, you knew they were secretly his favourite kind of movie too, he didn’t have to protest so much – even grown turtles should be allowed to indulge in some Richard Gere and Julia Roberts).

His size had intimidated you at first, had made you hesitant, but now it makes your knees weak and makes your heart accelerate with something entirely different to fear. It’s quiet apart from his breathing and the clang of his weights and you wonder if he can hear the thundering of your pulse.

“You’re staring.”

“Hmm?”

His muscles flex again and you’re quick to press your thighs together. You’re certain it's deliberate at this point. “You’re staring,” he repeats, his voice a little deeper.

You flush as you realise what he’s saying. “Not my fault you can bench press a truck,” you grumble to hide your embarrassment. “I’m jealous.”

The terrapin smirks again and sits up, his eyes bright. “C’mere.”

“Ex-squeeze me?”

It’s Raph’s turn to grumble. “You’ve been hanging around Mikey too much.”

You grin because it's true and walk slowly towards where he’s waiting. Your feet are clearly more sensible and less fuzzy than your brain (you are definitely not still thinking – and staring – at his arms, nope) because they stop just before you can stand between his legs. His eyes run along the curves of your calves and his gaze feels like a dizzying caress as it glides up your torso, lingering on the bare skin around your throat in a hungry way that makes you swallow just to watch him watch the movement. “What’s the plan, Red?”

Your voice doesn’t feel like your own and you’re kind of impressed by how put-together you sound. It’s not the breathless wheeze you expected, it's low and sultry and suggestive and your eyes flutter as his breath hitches. The two of you have flirted before but this feels different. It’s intimate beyond your typical friendly banter and you have the urge to touch him.

He reaches for you first, pulling you closer and resting his hands on your hips. His hands are huge, and your mouth feels dry as he squeezes a little too hard to be innocent. “Raph...”

He squeezes again at your murmur. “Lie down.” His voice is rough and you shiver. He brushes his fingers across the goosebumps he’s raised, and you let him manoeuvre you with ease.

It probably looks so silly, and you fight the incredulous laughter that bubbles in your chest. The bar above you is ridiculously oversized and heavy and the thought of you lifting it is absurd and your laugh can’t be stopped this time as you look at the green-skinned ninja above you. His lips are twitching as you cackle and your eyes focus on the scar that decorates them, longing to soothe your tongue over it, as you regain your composure. “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him. He’s so fucking cute, you think. You can see his nervousness now even if he tries to play it off and you feel like you’ve just swallowed a bucketful of butterflies. “Are you spotting?”

Raph runs his tongue – you do not shift your hips at how thick it is – across his upper lip, over that scar you want to taste for yourself. He looks torn for a moment, building himself up, and places his heavy hands on the bar above you. “Something like that,” he agrees before instructing you on how to position your hands.

You push up and immediately swear at the impossible weight. Raph snickers and you pout and glare simultaneously. “Don’t be mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean, baby.”

Oh. Your glare falters. That’s just not fair and he knows it. He’s grinning now and you curse him in your head. You push again and this time the bar lifts, as light as a feather. His hands are still wrapped around it and you’re not lifting a single thing, but the moment feels heavy. He hasn’t let his eyes drift from yours and you don’t dare look away. It feels intense and intimate and you can admit that your skin is on fire and your pulse is throbbing knowing how easily he’s carrying a weight that you couldn’t budge with all your might.

He guides the bar back down after a moment that could have been seconds or minutes or hours and you release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He’s still looking at you as you sit up and he invades your personal space. You have to tilt your head back to maintain eye-contact and you shudder as his palm cups your chin.

He’s so tall and imposing and you have to bite your tongue as his hand trails further down. You let him wrap his fingers around your neck and you rest your hand on top of his in encouragement, unable to stop a needy whine as he heeds your silent request and squeezes gently. His pupils are blown and he’s breathing harder than he had been while working out and you feel smug knowing you’ve caused this reaction. In a blink he’s pushed you back and he’s leaning over you. He smells like sweat and his skin is damp from exertion and it's kind of gross and it really shouldn’t be turning you on, but it is and your legs spread involuntarily.

You expect him to close the gap between your lips as he hovers above you and your eyes that had fluttered shut open again when it’s clear he has no intention of moulding your mouths together. He’s got a soft look in his eyes paired with a devilish smile and it makes your chest burn. You don’t expect the next words out of his mouth.

“Be my Valentine?”

You splutter and he laughs as he finally presses his lips to yours.

#tmnt raphael #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raph x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raphael #tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse raph #tmnt imagine #i never know how to feel about my own writing

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mochiimadness · 3 months

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hi! i really like your works, so i'd like to request a ( sort of angsty ) scenario where the rottmnt boys react to their s/o losing their memories after getting injured from a bad guy fight, so they completely forget who the boys are

Hello! I want to preface this by saying: this is mostly from their POV, so their thoughts are very much self-blaming, even if what they think is not at all the case!

Slightly angsty, filled with self blame and anxiety.

Rottmnt x S/O who loses their memories after a fight

Neon Leon

Leo feels the weight of this horrible situation crush him like a fallen building.

If only he had just been a little faster- or planned ahead better

Maybe if he had been more serious about his s/o and their safety this never would have happened.

He’s in shock at first when you flinch away from him

Whether or not you were genuinely scared or just shocked at seeing a mutant ninja turtle-

It hurts him all the same because of one thing

The genuine confusion on your face-

No trace of recognition in your gaze

He shuts down for a few moments as his brothers try to figure out what they can do to help

The ringing in his ears grow loud until the high pitch whine is all he can hear

He can’t even see you nor his family in front of him anymore- everything far too blurry

Just vague shapes and blobs of color…

Distorted and unrecognizable

Is that how his s/o saw him??

All he can think is;

He should have gotten to you quicker

He couldn’t even portal to you because he didn’t know where you were.

It’s his fault that you don’t remember him,

The life you two have life together,

All the laughter you shared,

Just gone… like it never existed…

…

He should’ve been better.

Don Tron

Donnie’s already trying to scan his s/o and check for any injuries the second he finds them

What could’ve caused their condition??

Blunt force trauma to the head?

Mystical memory wipe??

What’s ever caused it, he’s going to find it

And he will not rest until he can reverse this.

Absolutely could not handle your reaction to him-

Not knowing who he is,

Not knowing all the wonderful progress you two made together,

Helping him with his experiments and machinery,

Getting comfortable with prolonged touch,

The late night rambles-

Immediately started murmuring the statistics of regaining your memory under his breath

You had to get their memory back- you absolutely had to.

Statistics be damned- he’s making sure it’s a 100% chance.

There’s anxiety gnawing away at him slowly from the inside,

Creeping and burning like static in his bones.

Not even the numerous photos he has of the both of you are helping- maybe it’s just too soon

You did just wake up after all… but why-

Why couldn’t he have prevented this?

All of his fail safes,

The numerous emergency alert devices he gave you,

He weapon he had specifically designed to be easy to conceal and have on you at all times,

Even his GPS tracker-

None of them had worked to keep you safe…

He failed, and this was worse than any experiment exploding in his face.

He failed you and now you have no idea about just how close you two actually are

…

He will fix this- there’s no room for error this time.

Mystic Mike

Mikey’s on the verge of waking up the person who was cruel enough to harm you this badly- just so he could beat them up again.

They hurt you- hurt you so bad you can’t even remember his name

Let alone everything you two have been through together

Mikey feels rage

At the situation,

At the villains who did this,

And at himself-

Why hadn’t he been strong enough to stop this?

He can throw buses, skyscrapers even,

He can maneuver his way around places with ease with his razzmatazz mastery

But what was all that strength and skill for if none of it could help you?

He’s frustrated enough to cry

But he’s also the quickest to compose himself

Several deep breaths in and out before he's able to pull himself together enough to crouch down beside his beloved s/o

Gently reassures you that he means no harm,

That you were in a bad fight and letting you slowly collect yourself.

He also uses photos- but rather than doing this to specifically try to jog his s/o's memories,

It's more to show them that they actually do know him-

Trying to get your memories back can wait for later,

His main focus is making sure his s/o is calm and comfortable around him- at least enough to trust that he won't harm them.

Once you feel that they can trust him- even if only a little bit,

He'll take you home and make sure you're alright physically.

Later on, he sneaks off quietly to the gym area

Demolishes the punching bag they had-

All of his worries and frustrations are taken out with every punch

Would you ever remember him?

If you never regained your memories, is there any chance you two would ever have the relationship you once had again??

They're going to need more punching bags,

All the extra ones are destroyed too.

His family is worried, but Mikey is only focused on two things;

Helping you remember him and getting revenge for you.

He will make sure this won't ever happen again.

Big Red

What do you mean you don't remember him??

You're his s/o!

His partner!

Surely you must be playing a prank or something-

He is in complete denial at first,

Then, as his family explains that no-

You aren't joking,

You genuinely don't remember him,

His denial shatters into gut wrenching dispair.

How did this happen-

Why did this happen?!

...

This was all his fault.

Why wasn't he there for you when you needed him??

He's suppose to be able to protect those who he cares about

Especially his beloved s/o

Yet he failed

He wasn't there,

He wasn't able to help you, to stop you from ever being hurt this badly

And now you can’t remember a single thing about him, your relationship together, nothing.

RAPH is still able to move and check on you-

Though, it’s more like hovering worriedly while Donnie and Leo do their best to patch you up

He is watching like a hawk, making sure that you’re in no additional discomfort or pain

Once you’re clear enough to be able to go home though

Raph is stressing

If you leave now you could get hurt again!

But he doesn’t want to scare you off by being too overbearing

Especially if he wants any chance of you remembering him-

He can’t cause you to feel uncomfortable around him- or worse

Frightened.

He’s able to stop his anxiety fueled spiral before it consumes him

Focusing on making you’re you get home safely

Even if you decline having him walk with you-

He’ll make sure to follow stealthily from a distance

Once he’s certain you’re absolutely safe and sound

He’s pacing around the lair and pulling at his mask

What if you don’t remember him?

Donnie said you likely just had “mild amnesia” but what if it was worse?!

There’s a chance you’ll never be able to remember him-

And it’s all his fault…

He couldn’t protect you

It all boils down to one simple fact ringing in his head:

He wasn’t there

…

He’ll make sure he’s always there

He will be there for you.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed

Also for those who may not have watched ROTTMNT- Mikey is shown to be a little angry ball of revenge at times, while Raph is shown to be full of anxiety and mother-henning™️

So they may seem a little ooc compared to other versions of them!

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kathaynesart · 5 months

Note

I remember when you first started Replica and I haven't been here in a hot minute!

May you please do a debrief of what it is, the characters and their relationships.

I want to be able to give my friend (who I finally dragged down into this TMNT rabbit hole) a good explanation of your wonderful comic!

(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Aw thank you so much! Hm… I suppose a summary would be good to have on hand. For the uninitiated with no context, here is the basic elevator pitch:

The year is 2044 and the last remaining Resistance of Earth has just fallen to the alien invaders known as the Krang. In a last ditch effort to save the planet, Casey, a freedom fighter is sent back in time to undo the events that first led to the invasion. While he is ultimately successful in his mission, the state of his original fallen timeline remains unknown. The last of the freedom fighters, his family, perished to ensure his safe escape, leaving their world to the mercy of the Krang.

Which brings us to the ultimate question: when you already know the heroes are doomed to fail, what can be gained from being told their story?

For the rest below, I’m going to write with the assumption that the reader has some basic knowledge of the series and the film because I feel that this story is best enjoyed with proper context.

SUMMARY

Replica is a story meant to answer many of the questions the first 4 minutes of the movie left us wondering. It’s to explain the basic history of the bad future timeline and how it came to be. The plot focuses particularly on the later half of the apocalypse, all with the intention of leading up to the opening scene where the Krang wins and Casey Junior is sent back in time to fix the mistakes that Leo and his family could not.

It’s to answer questions like:

How did Leo get injured?

Why is Mikey so old looking?

What were these characters like in the future?

What happened to Raph, Donnie, and April?

Where is big bad Krang Prime in all this?

How did the Resistance finally lose to the Krang?

Did they plan to send Casey back in time in advance?

What happened to this world/time-branch after Casey Jr was sent into the past?

MAIN CHARACTERS

For the most part, the cast is comprised entirely of characters from the series. My goal is to keep this as canon as possible, so no new OC's... save for one (kind of).

Omega Bootyyyshaker 9000 is where this story starts and ultimately where it ends. He is a brain scan AI of Donatello, created to act as both a support system for the Resistance after the turtle’s untimely death and also a key component in a plan that will hopefully put a stop to the Krang should the Resistance fail. Omega is great because he adds some much needed levity to the story, acting a bit more like the aloof but silly teenage Donnie (a side affect of not having to experience the usual physical weariness that comes with being an organic, aging organism in an apocalypse). However, he also adds more weight by being the thing that is supposed to outlast all of them and act as the last line of defense for the remainder of the universe. He claims to merely be a "replica" of Donnie's mind, but whether he's just a digitized scan, his own AI person, or somehow connected to Donnie in a deeper way has yet to be seen.

Leonardo Hamato: the man, the myth, the legend. Casey Junior spins tales of how great his sensei was in the movie, but in this story we really get to see Leo go from his lowest point as a pawn for the government, crushed by the shame of his past actions, to his greatest height as the leader of the Resistance. He is going to fail a lot in this story... but ultimately his greatest success is overcoming his own inner demons and coming to terms with being the father figure he had never asked to be. He cares deeply for his family and Casey... but he thinks he'd be a horrible dad.

Michelangelo Hamato: the only other surviving turtle to see the end of the world. He is the emotional bedrock of the family and a stand in therapist when he's not being a silly little guy. His mystical powers are unparalleled, but in his attempts to regain his lost Ninpo he taps into something far deeper, leading them down a path that intertwines the destiny of their doomed future and a past that has yet to occur.

Casey Jones Jr: a sweet boy taken in by the Hamato family. He strives to become a great warrior like his mother (Cassandra) and his Sensei (Leo). We are going to watch him grow from child to teenager as he slowly takes on the roll of being a fighter in the resistance. Through it all he must walk an unsteady line that allows him to find the strength to weather the storm but retain a certain spark of hope that helps keep his family going.

April O'neil: Commander of the Resistance and another honorary Hamato family member. She is the voice of reason and most emotionally stable of the family. Even after dealing with so much loss, she keeps a stiff upper lip as well as cold and calculating mind that always puts the colony's wellbeing first and foremost.

Donatello Hamato (deceased): The story begins shortly after Donnie’s passing during an infiltration mission against the Krang. He was dead set on planting a probe behind enemy lines that would allow them to spy on the Krang’s movements. However it seems that he had a secret agenda in planting something that would work as a final doomsday weapon against the Krang. What that is exactly, we do not yet know. The man self-destructed in a last ditch effort to avoid being interrogated by the Krang as well as a final attack to injure Krang Prime.

Raphael Hamato (deceased): The eldest brother who sadly passed away many years ago in the fight against the Krang. A boisterous but considerate man whose death sapped a great deal of the fighting spirit out of his brothers. His absence is greatly felt, but he might not be as far gone as he seems.

Krang Prime (One): Our big bad of the story. He is the leader of the Krang that has latched onto this planet like a cancer, using up its resources and assimilating its population. However, unlike the hundreds of planets that have come before this one is particularly personal. He doesn't want to merely assimilate but utterly destroy the descendants that caused his imprisonment thousands of years ago. His current state is unknown after being last seen with Donatello at the time of the man's self-destruction.

NEED TO KNOW DETAILS

All Resistance fighters have tiny self destruct bombs in their brains so that the Krang can not probe their minds to find out the Liberty Colony's location. They go off automatically after Krang infestation reaches a certain percentage, but can also be set off via voice command.

Donnie's brain bomb was far more potent because of the amount of information he knew. He did not want to risk the Krang getting any part of his mind.

The Krang have been searching for the resistance in a frustrating game of cat and mouse which has only become more difficult now that the Resistance easily knows their every move by using Donnie's probe.

Central Park Colony: now destroyed, but was once the last massive human colony in North America, housing both the EPF (Earth Protection Force) and US Government. Racism was a huge problem as most yokai and mutants were either quarantined, tested on, or used as living weapons in the fight against the Krang. It has since been destroyed.

Liberty Colony (aka the Resistance): grew from the ashes of the Central Park Colony. It is comprised of the survivors and lead by Leonardo, April, and several others. It is much smaller and more militaristic, but treats yokai, humans, and mutants equally.

Artificial Intelligence (like Omega and Shelldon) are able to fend off the Krang assimilation that people and tech would normally succumb to. It is for this reason Omega is used as both a protector of the Liberty Colony and operator for a majority of the vehicles so that the tech can no longer be easily taken over by the Krang during attacks.

Leonardo and Michelangelo (as well as Donatello's) Ninpo have all been stripped from them by this point in the story. While Leo can not tap into his family connection at all, Mikey at least has regained the ability to use some of his mystic powers.

Mikey's mystic abilities however come at a price. Since he can not tap into his Ninpo and the fountain of energy from his ancestors, he is instead using his own life force to cast his spells. It is slowly draining him.

TIMELINE Can be viewed HERE

SOURCE MATERIAL The video that inspired this all can be viewed HERE

Hope this helps! Sorry it's a bit long, tried to break it up with images. At least there might be a few interesting bits of information other readers may not have noticed. I snuck in a few things that haven't been mentioned yet, hehe.

#rottmnt replica #replica #rottmnt #kathaynesart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #q&a #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt

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hanayumi · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝

— bonten!sano manjirou x fem!reader x sanzu haruchiyo 🔞

part 2 of brittle to the bone || prev.

if mikey is harsh, imposing, unyielding, then haruchiyo is just that with playful charisma superimposed over cruelty.

wc. ~9k

tags/warnings noncon, predator/prey dynamics, yandere undertones, knifeplay, mild bloodplay, forced infidelity, self-harm, degradation, overstim, mind break, mentions of gunplay, minor character death(s)

notes he’s very mean

snapshot;

Soft. Soft.

Haruchiyo parrots the word in his mind. Almost as if within it holds the secrets to the universe — and that if he keeps saying it, keeps feeling the weight of this single featherlight syllable on his tongue, that it’ll give him a revelation of sorts.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

∗

Be good.

‘Be good’ — by which Mikey meant, you suppose, no speaking to others in the compound, no leaving the house, no stepping inside anywhere but the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen… all the places that you’ve been wandering in-between for years without ever going outside. Is there anything else?

Well, you can’t bother yourself to remember. It’s not like you can do anything in here that’ll piss him off anyway. The time you’ve had to spend alone has started to blur into an impalpable being — an amalgamation, of sorts — warping and slowing your perception of reality to a tenth of a millisecond whenever Mikey isn’t around to monopolise your attention.

…I’ll reward you like a good little bitch when I get back. Can you do that for me?

Don’t leave the penthouse. Don’t enter rooms you don’t know. Don’t speak to anyone other than Haruchiyo. It should be pretty simple. Yeah, you can definitely do that for him. You can be good. You can. You’ll show him.

(As long as Haruchiyo doesn’t kill you before you get a chance to.)

You close your eyes, an image of the man with roseate hair floating into your memory. His lilting voice, the rattling of his pills, the way he kissed your hand after introducing himself and the way he smirked when Mikey made his announcement. A prickling chill runs down your spine like cold water.

You clench a bundle of the sheets into your face, burrowing into the lingering scent of Mikey, and decide that you hate the way Haruchiyo speaks. In a slow, condescending drawl, smirk bared, revealing the carious fangs of a seasoned predator, the narrowed slits of his eyes scrutinising (for what, you have no idea) as if he thinks of your life as even more insignificant and disposable as the dirt between his shoes.

There’s another thing, too. Something that fills your little heart with enormous anxiety and forces you on simmering coals within his presence, even now when you’re all safe and sound in this room with its four white walls and thick, locked door.

You can read that grin like an open book.

He thinks that your relationship with his boss has an expiry date. That it’s only a matter of time before you’re disposed of, too. That, without question, you were only there as a form of stress relief, your sole purpose being to tend to his boss’ every need. An emotional outlet, of sorts.

(You hate it because you know he’s right.)

But you don’t tell him that, don’t want to offer him the satisfaction — instead you scamper from his gaze, always slipping out of a room just as he enters it, going as far as to strategically plan out your daily activities to ensure that you wouldn’t be catching any glint nor shadow of that vibrant pink.

And for the most part, it’s working. And even if it didn’t, he has a funny way of looking at everything and anything as if it were leagues beneath him, so much so that you find it easy to simply duck your head and deem yourself unworthy of staying in his presence any longer than you already have. It’s weird, how simple it is to evade him — how predictable, easy, like child’s play. When he has just about given you as much attention as one would to a stray twig obstructing a sidewalk.

So, just like every other nagging worry, you stuff Bonten’s-Number-Two-Sanzu-Haruchiyo away in a cabinet for safe-keeping.

Time without Mikey also means that you’ll at least get a bit more time to yourself (albeit a large portion of it would be spent calculating how to avoid the man he left in his place).

You’re using it wisely, you think — alternating between counting the grooves in the ceiling to toying with the strands of velvet rug in the middle of the too-spacious bedroom, to daydreaming until sprawling scenery of the outside-world blooms behind your eyelids… okay. So you haven’t been able to get anything truly productive done. So what? The word ‘productive’ feels alien in your mind — almost as if there’s something fundamentally cursed about its three syllables, as if it belonged in a realm unattainable to someone like you. You haven’t had to worry about being pro-duc-tive in years. It was always Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.

At some point, you think dismally, I’ll have to get up. But now is not the time. So you count, and count, until you feel your consciousness slipping away, and your eyelids droop, and you sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sleep that blunts the ache of isolation and the burning of your bruises, tip-toeing featherlight over your skin like a reminder of the person who left them.

(Mikey doesn’t leave sticky notes on the fridge telling you to remember to brush your teeth and comb your hair. Everything he gives you comes from himself: his flesh and bone, his pain, his heart, his bruises.)

When time meanders forward, and inevitably touches upon evening, and you stir from sleep feeling an unbearable feeling of emptiness in your stomach (almost as if a large cavity was drilled into your abdomen), you shake the drowsiness away starting to feel an oncoming panic that Haruchiyo somewhere somehow found a way to sneak something into your breakfa— oh. That’s right.

You didn’t even have breakfast.

Your gut howls in agony. Reluctantly, you unwrap the self-made cocoon of blankets, preparing the mental artillery required to slip out the bedroom.

Haruchiyo seems to be missing from the kitchen, which is a good thing, a pleasant thing — though you aren’t stupid to assume that he is shirking his duties as your ‘guardian’. Living in a sprawling penthouse with just two people, minus the seclusion, leaves you enjoying an overwhelming sense of privacy most of the time. But now? Now it feels like there’s bear traps under every tile in the floor, shuriken blades concealing themselves behind every groove in the ceiling (there were about 200 that you counted before dozing off).

It takes a few furtive glances down the corridor and you (fruitlessly) keep a knife within arm’s reach (‘I don’t know why I’m doing this it’s not like I’m even capable of wielding a knife’), but you get to work quickly, preparing a decent meal the only way you know how. The purple blemishes lining the expanse of your neck and thighs still throb in protest when you move, although now it’s become a dull, persistent, guileless ache. You’re all alone, since it appears that your housekeeper is nowhere to be found — got scared away, maybe?

Come to think of it, staff don’t stay for very long around the Bonten building (either that or the numbers are endless; every day you see a new face), and you were always too busy to pay attention to anything but the hulking man demanding your attention.

Even so, something about that particular woman made the word ‘bold’ pop up in your mind in thick, underlined letters.

She’s been around for a few weeks now, looking to be about the same age as you (maybe a little older?), and always wore her black hair pinned back neatly, revealing youthful and bright eyes. She isn’t permitted to stay long — no longer than when she finishes up cleaning and cooking food that’ll last the next few days — and neither of you know each other’s names. Though she did offer you the most sympathetic of smiles when the smell of good food left you poking your head into the kitchen. You think of it sometimes, when you’re lying in bed sleepless.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this on my own, you frown, wiping sweat from your brow. Not that you haven’t cooked before, you have — you just can’t remember when. Your fingers curl feebly around the vegetable peeler, strips of potato skin falling onto the cutting board like ribbons. How long has it been, since you’ve put so much care into something other than Mikey? Again, you’re reminded of how much of your time that he eats up on the regular, like a blackhole both in his presence and absence; like a mechanical heart that your empty cavity of a ribcage can’t pump blood without. The thought alone should petrify you.

Don’t think about that.

There you go again, fretting over things that can’t be fretted about. You stubbornly follow the woman’s phantom movements from what little you gleaned from watching her from afar, guiding your hands over a boiling stove. The sizzles generating at the bottom of the metal pot reminds you of firecrackers. If your memory serves you well, there should be extra seasoning in the top cabinet. And you have to remember to work fast, too, just in case Haruchiyo decides to stick his head out in curiosity.

One by one, along with those forbidden thoughts, the various base ingredients are banished into the pot. Minutes later, you taste the thick broth with a spoon and damn, you realise, this actually tastes kind of good. This actually feels kind of good.

Yeah… yeah no, maybe you’re starting to get the hang of it. Maybe it’ll actually turn out okay after all — the next two days, your isolation, this makeshift stew. Not as good as the woman’s, but you reckon she’d give you a pass for trying. It’s only been a few days tops, but you cave and sigh; you kinda miss her presence. It gave you something to mull over amidst constant chao—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your blood freezes.

At the doorway, Haruchiyo looks dishevelled, pissed, a single olive eye twitching. Your legs caramelise into a thick hardness, rooting you to the ground. The pot continues to sizzle above the flame. Since when did he…

“C-cooking?” you begin warily, glancing for the nearest exit, trying to keep an impervious look on your face even though every second that slips by a silent fear creeps up on you like a chokehold. You flinch as he stalks closer with the air of a forensic inspector, looking over the mess that is the kitchen, the wildly strewn pots and pans and utensils — all because you panicked and couldn’t find the ones you were looking for.

(Around the counter? No—that will take too much time. What if you shoved your way past him? No, god no—are you stupid? He’d catch you immediately—)

“You’re dumber than I thought,” he snarls, his mouth donning that prized scowl, leaning forward before you can react and jabbing a finger at the cutting board. “You don’t even know how to handle a fucking knife?”

“Wha—huh?”

You blink; the pellets of onion, potato and carrot lie limply on the scuffed wood. Misshapen little pieces, some thick and some way too thin. Your hands lie frozen in time, one grasping at a chunk of orange and the other gradually growing slick around the knife.

He clicks his tongue in disdain.

“At this rate, you’re going to kill yourself before I do.” Haruchiyo and the long tendons of his fingers pry the weighted blade out of the comfort of your hands. Insistently, in a way that tells you he’s mad—oh god he’s mad— but strikingly, without a touch of malice. Is he mad? Is he sober? He won’t turn it—the knife—on you—right? Your breath hitches.

“Mikey would maim me to a pulp if you succeeded in that little stunt,” he arches a brow, as if using Mikey’s name in such a manner left a bitter taste in his mouth. For some reason, blood rushes to your ears as you watch the man in an unbuttoned suit hunch over the cutting board. You give him space to examine the ingredients, biting your tongue in shame. “If you wanted food you could’ve just said so.”

You could’ve just said so.

Something doesn’t feel quite right about his words, but you’re too relieved to dwell on it. You are graced with a sliver of respite, a moment’s peace; at least you know Haruchiyo has no intentions of killing you. He can’t. Probably.

The silky-smooth incisions he makes on the vegetables and meat send a tremor down your spine, each chop bouncing around in your eardrums. He’s helping you and yet, you almost feel bad for wanting to run. You don’t want to know where he learnt to wield a blade like a razorlike extension of his fingers.

“You know a lot,” you whisper, biting your lip afterwards, minutes in when the aimless hovering becomes too much to bear. What the hell are you doing, trying to make small talk?

“I know enough,” he shoots back, long lashes fluttering like large silver fans as he turns around to squint at you. He likes to look at you as if you were some ancient vase excavated from the earth, you realise. Or like a fossil. As if you originated from a completely different time from him.

Nothing much of a conversation passes between the two of you after that; you awkwardly go through the motions, trying your best to stay away. He mutters some weird cantation under his breath as he sections off the potatoes from the carrots, moves them over to a plate as he readies the meat.

It’s almost faelike, how systematic of a man he is. How quick he is to catch on, requiring minimal instructions from you, despite seeming like a person of inferior culinary calibre.

When he’s done, Haruchiyo pats his hands on his thighs, breathing a sigh. His gaze mulls over the piping stew still bubbling with the newly-added ingredients, before plucking itself away and landing on the door to the study just a distance from the kitchen (his hiding place; his deep cavernous den). Just before he saunters to the room, twisting a hand on the door knob, he says, “I don’t cook, so don’t expect me to.”

(You didn’t.)

It was a brief encounter.

In the early dusk, long after your meal, you hear him crawl out of the study like an emerging creature of the night, and when you’re halfway through turning over a page in a novel (a dusty old one that you found hiding inside the drawers of the bedside table) you hear the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic, echoing from where the kitchen must be.

It’s strange, the gladness that washes over you — you hadn’t really expected him to react, let alone try your cooking. Come to think of it, you weren’t even sure that he ate in the first place. (He said he doesn’t cook, but he knows the ‘correct’ way to use a knife? Odd.) You frown, none of the words on the page construing a decipherable meaning to you.

Maybe, just maybe, sharing the same space with Haruchiyo won’t be so bad after all (now that you know he eats and sleeps like a human being, is normal-functioning in most aspects of his physical body).

With this thought in mind, you carry on business as usual in your small corner of the house, lightly pondering which part of Japan Mikey has found himself embroiled in.

At nightfall, your ears unwillingly pick up loud thuds down the hallway, and you triple-check that the door is locked before climbing into the soft covers, stifling a shiver. Regardless of whether he’s been oddly tame or not, it’ll take a while to get used to this — the strange, unexplainable things that go bump in the night.

The bed… feels emptier. Desolate. Something feels odd, like the calm before the storm. It’s just your imagination. You close your eyes, falling asleep imagining Mikey’s arm around your hip. Ironically, you can’t seem to sleep well without him.

∗

What is this?

He’s felt like this before, of that he’s certain. A longass time ago. Judging from the huge blip in his memory when Haruchiyo tries to recall, it must’ve been eons since then. Eons and eons and then some, back when inactive volcanoes still spat real, smouldering lava — he’s sure it’s been that long.

It’s curious, and it amazes him more than it disgusts him. He should be disgusted, the logical part of his brain adds; he should have just minded his business and carried on as usual. He should have let you cut yourself in that dangerous manner (what’s a tiny cut going to do, add another notch to the scar-ridden pole?) — let you experience what it’s like to live life with an impish brain.

He wasn’t intending to interrupt. Ten, fifteen minutes must’ve ticked by, with him standing there in silence (you are quite the careless one). He couldn’t push down the onslaught of annoyance at the way you bent over backwards to reach the top shelf — are you trying to make his job difficult on purpose? Haruchiyo is a lawless beast, sure, but even beasts have their master’s orders to abide by, along with a special place in hell for those who don’t obey orders. Maybe that was your goal — maybe you wanted him gone. Maybe deep down you’re a spy sent to eliminate Bonten from the inside.

That is how he almost relished in pure excitement, at the promise of bloodshed regardless of how minor.

And yet, and yet, when he saw the flat silver falling just millimeters short of slicing into your soft digits, something compelled him to step in. (To help? Or to finish the job? No, he knows why. It was to chase this surreal, abstract feeling.)

Soft. Soft.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

He wonders how you had the time to teach yourself how to cook. Or if you’d already known before you were brought here (in any case you didn’t look very experienced). If the flavourful explosion in his mouth attests to his boss’ favourite dish. Comfort food, his brain supplies. What is that? He never understood the little nuances that people sprinkled in their vocabulary, though the terms lingered in his head like pesky flies. (If it’s shit, it’s just shit, right?)

He’d been so used to the staleness served at dilapidated bars that he’d forgotten almost completely what it means to have a proper meal. If it wasn’t stale or nasty it was too fancy for him to stuff down his throat — he has always been a picky eater, wanted things to be just right, but somehow the smell alone was enough to entice him out of the study.

And when he took the first bite, something strange happened. A feeling akin to warmth flooded his veins. (It’s amazing, isn’t it? It was like poison. His head started spinning and his mind morphed into a jumbled maze of thoughts; so deeply entrenched in its twists and turns he was, left palm slowly running across hedged walls, groping for an exit. Or trying to find whatever treasure, salvation, lied in the middle.) It never ever struck Haruchiyo that you might’ve snuck something extra into the food to incite this wild reaction in him. No— you’re too innocent for that. Kind. Warm. Trusting. Soft…

Not once did you knock on the door. Not that he expected you to. Not that he wanted you to. (You’re stupid but not that stupid.)

He must’ve been in there for hours, oscillating between the fabric of time and space, consciousness and unconsciousness blurring into one.

Flashes — funny things, like trusting someone, like cutting his fingers by accident as a kid, sitting outside the doctor’s office (“What are they going to do to me?” a young boy with flaxen hair whispered. “They will put you in stitches. It will not hurt. Just a few pricks, nothing more,” someone whispered back… who?) — materialise before his consciousness often. Uninvited. Unwarranted.

When he is awake they come to him like blessings, like offerings to a long-forgotten deity. When he is asleep they take on the sparkle and sheen of a fairytale — so blurry and blinding that he could never hope to brush his fingertips across such an ethereal feeling in his mortal life.

Because a common thread was that these recollections (or fairytales, or glimpses into the ether, or as he personally likes to call them, fever dreams) never lasted long.

The feeling always, always chose to leave last — that silent poking and prodding going on without his consent, shady dealings happening at the edges of his conscience that scream at him to mourn for a past innocence, something that he has no chance of ever recovering. Memory, in this way, comes like slippery eels in the palm of his hand: if he’s lucky, he’ll catch one. If he isn’t, oh well.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, plastering his spine to the back of chair in hopes of relieving the pain throbbing behind his eyelids. Defeat tastes acrid, bitter, on Haruchiyo’s tongue; it’s no use fighting the waves of agony strobing like a heat wave.

His arm adeptly loses feeling and the metal spoon crashes down onto the plate. It’s empty now, and his stomach is somewhat filled. Yet this shitty-ass migraine chooses to latch onto his brain like a leech. God. Can’t you just—I don’t know—let me off? This one, goddamn time, Haruchiyo curses. He’s pissed. He’s sure he left an extra stockpile of that good stuff somewhere…

Old habits die hard, but it’s difficult to dwell on it when all he can feel is gratefulness for his own foresight. Mikey finds ways to avoid him a lot when he doesn’t feel like entertaining his highs, kinda like throwing a bone to stave off a dog’s abundant energy. But for the most part, he lets Haruchiyo do his own thing — lets him chew on the proverbial bone to his heart’s desire. Thus, once again, Haruchiyo finds himself with a fistful of pills. (It’s the only way he knows to curb the pain.)

He’d really meant to pounce on you by now, he thinks, as he swallows another. Gulp. He meant to already sink his claws into your neck, the same way Mikey does. Gulp.

But he can’t. Right now he can’t even stand straight his head hurts so bad. As if something from within him wanted to turn his body inside out, displaying his innards.

And, fuck, when the itch resurfaces again like an old friend, there’s little he can do to stop it. (When has he ever been the type to argue with instinct, after all? If anything… he is a slave to it. It’s understandable. Mikey’ll forgive him. He’s too used to running free, veins pulsing at the first whiff of prey. It doesn’t do anyone good to cage a wild animal.)

Haruchiyo and his dimmed gemstone eyes, clouded over with a drug-filled haze — a comfortable, fitted collar around his neck and the leash held firmly within his grasp. A slave. A weapon to his own instinct. Nature proclaims that it’s law for predators to hunt prey. How many girls has he killed? How many that look like you and how many just to satisfy this instinct of purging prey.

Haruchiyo has lost count at this point. Everything blurs and twists into one: pill-shaped candy, the boy with pale hair, the warmth of the food that felt like a paperweight on his tongue… you clutching the tip of your finger, thick blood gushing out. (The ‘what-if’ that would’ve happened if he hadn’t interfered.)

Deeper and deeper, he starts to feel dizzy, as if he were plummeting down a rabbit hole. He stumbles from the kitchen and into the living room, heads towards the noise that made his ears prick up like a predator groping for blood. Thirst. He’s unbearably thirsty.

It’s not you— is that you? He goes rigid; blinks away hysteria. It’s you.

All he can think of is you— all he can think is, Mikey will forgive him.

∗

At an abandoned dock two cities away a figure sits patiently, embroiled in a decrepit darkness. Moonlight creeps across his hunched back like vines over a wall. Dark bangs fall messily across his face with some strands still matted in a sticky substance. Sweat, or blood. Mikey scrunches up his nose. If you were here, he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning himself up.

But you aren’t. And the thought is enough to wind a bunch of thorns around his chest.

The cylindrical shape feels strange as heck against the insides of his mouth. He’s poked his tongue through the barrel a few times before, out of pure curiosity, like a cat toying with a ball of yarn trapped in its mitts. But the taste? Well, it’s just as he expected it to be — bland. Flavourless. Unappealing. Just as unappealing as life without you.

(The fuck? Takeomi called me all the way here just to deal with this?)

Then again, he did take a longer time than usual to exterminate the local pest populace. Mikey doesn’t know if this particular thorn in his side is exceptionally formidable, or if he is exceptionally off his game today. (Huh — no, that can’t be it. It’s not as if he saw hostile figures blurring into two then three then four like a cheap ninja trick, even as he struck them down unfazed; not as if, after the tenth one the blood got too heavy for him to focus, and everywhere he turned, intrusive images of your skin plagued his psyche like a disease… no, that can’t be it.)

(…Right? Right. No way.)

He’s miserable. He wants to go home. He wants to hold you and he wants to make you taste the barrel of the gun as he is now — make you run your tongue along its concave shape and ask if you can taste the gunmetal on your teeth and call you pathetic when you start trembling like you always do. Would you let him? (Of course you would. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.) You are obedient, Mikey likes that about you, and you’re always willing to go along with his whims — though, he frowns, it’s mostly because you’re scared. Probably.

Somewhere in the dark a rat squeaks, scuttles into a crack, leaving the timid cry resonating within jagged walls. It reminds him of yo— he throws his head back and gives a long, hard groan, one that spirals in the stillness.

Okay that’s it. He clutches his head. I’m getting out of here.

“Oi. Come, Senju,” he calls monotonously, not waiting up before hopping down, setting his course deeper towards the direction of darkness. A barely audible pair of footsteps follow close behind. But Mikey’s thoughts are occupied; he thinks about the flat surface of the gun and what colour it’d make your skin turn, and he thinks about Haruchiyo sitting faithfully in the penthouse, doing his job. (He’s a little worried, and that’s an understatement.)

Mikey sighs, nose breathing in the musty, oppressive smell of the sea.

One more day and he’ll be back where he was with you; one more day and he’ll be home. But at the very least, he thinks, this little business venture has turned out to be the tiniest bit amusing. His first time exploring Japan in months and he’s already got himself a souvenir to take home.

∗

It’s… raining.

A fine, feathery, bountiful rain that’s only noticeable from ripples of water cascading soundlessly on the full-length window, and floating umbrellas shielding commuters from the downpour hundreds and hundreds of floors below.

From your bird’s-eye view, they all but resemble dewdrops of microscopic colour, so far away that you can barely tell they’re alive. You press your palm flat against the glass, feeling the heat of your own skin absorb the cool surface, feeling the tiny vibration brought forth by the morning raindrops on the other side.

How long has it been? Since you’ve been on that other side?

A backdrop of grey paints the city. A familiar view, but one that you’ve never quite gotten used to. It’s quiet. Way too quiet, at that.

Where is Haruchiyo?

The chill spreads to the tip of your toes when they meet the marbled flooring. You slip off the couch, contemplating the merit in searching for a man you would otherwise do triple somersaults to avoid. Is this a good idea? You chew on your lip. It’s not. But where is he?

You’ve been feeling uneasy for the whole morning. Earlier there’d been a crash (multiple) coming from the hallway, and besides making you drop your book it also brought with it a nauseating wave of anxiety. Not that you expected Haruchiyo to be quiet at all times, goodness no (last night was a test of your patience), but there was a certain instinct imbued into you that made the hairs on your forearms stand on end whenever things were a hint out of the ordinary.

A certain intuition that came part and parcel with living with dangerous, scheming people.

Why is he grunting like that?

(That was a grunt, right? No… no, it definitely was.)

There was the sound of something sharp, like metal, grating against the floor — what was that? You scurry over to press your ear to the door, listening hard for anomalies, trying to conjure up hypotheses in your brain that don’t equal to Haruchiyo throwing a messy fit or getting ready to jump you or — well, kill you.

A clunk. Several thumps. A knife, maybe? Or he could be moving furniture, or, or—he could be practicing with his rumoured katana (you’ve never seen it but heard people talk about it in hushed whispers) — there’s no way to know for sure. All these unidentified sounds send seismic fear rippling through you.

With Mikey there was no need to question anything, because it was only a matter of time until you found out. But now that you’re alone — alone and defenceless and the most vulnerable you’ve ever been since you were fresh out the womb — it strikes a waning courage in your steps as you venture into the unknown, sweaty palms encircling the cool metal door knob, trying your hardest to stifle the click it makes when it unlocks.

Slowly, you tiptoe over to the source of the sound. Because it couldn’t hurt to just take a peek. Right? Just to check in. Just to be safe. Just to make sure he isn’t putting funny stuff inside your cupboards.

And. Well. If you were being honest, being Mikey’s little pet must’ve changed you a lot.

Complacency that thickened your skin, artificial layers of cosmetics over baby-smooth doll fabric. The false sense of protection under Mikey’s invisible iron fist comes with its own, hefty price. It must have gotten to you somehow. It must have done something to build up that liquid courage in your veins, in its own twisted way, surely, because—because no sooner than when you poke your head through the doorway into the living room do you see it.

See them.

You stare at the pile of grisly red organs splattering the cold hard floor; stare at death itself.

And, on top of it, as if crowned the victor, no one but Haruchiyo hunches leisurely over the grisly mound of flesh. Cleaning the mess behind his fingertips with his tongue. Eyeing his handiwork. The glinting edge of the tiny scalpel in his hand still dripping with scarlet, sharp edge pointed towards god knows what’s left of that person ohgod—

Your gut drops to the floor in horror. That uniform. That’s her. That’s the woman. Shit—fuck. What was once a sweet young woman is now a mangled corpse by the hands of Haruchiyo. Something… something is terribly wrong. She doesn’t look like she’s been dead for minutes. No, her eyes are far too cold. Like gaping holes. There is blood from her mouth, no, there is blood everywhere —

Haruchiyo hums, his rosier-than-cotton-candy hair dip-dyed in scarlet. Drip, drip. “Looks like… ah, I’ve roused the attention of our reclusive little rabbit.”

It’s the same man who’d grasped your hand in a courteous gesture just the day before, who’d saved you from slicing your fingers, the same goddamn murderer who’s just got his hands on the only person in years to address you like a regular human being. Idiot. You’ve done it this time. You’re a fucking dumbass. He’s a murderer, murderer — he’s going to kill you.

You’re next.

“What’s wrong, little bunny?” His grin only widens at your stupor, your slow, petrified jaw hanging agape. “You look scared. Do I make you feel scared?”

Your legs won’t budge; you whimper.

Run. Runrunrun — your body is screaming at you, imploring you to hurry the fuck up and run for your goddamn life, but you don’t. Pleas fall on deaf ears. Your body is caught in a bear trap, forcing you to take in the gruesome scene before you. There is so, so much blood. More than you’ve ever seen in your life. And all of it, all of it, is hers.

Just the other day she greeted you with her usual warm smile. Just the other day she was a living, breathing human, who ate and slept and radiated heat.

“Your face tells me you want to run,” he trills, eyes narrowing into slits. “Gonna run away?”

His tone is shrill as a sharpened blade, deranged, with every word mounting into maniacal glee. “Run with your little tail tucked between your cute thighs, back to your big, strong Mikey?”

Bloodshot and unfocused eyes zero in on your face and his body convulses like a zombie erecting from the dead, joints creaking like bars of scaffold. Slowly, assuredly, he rises to one knee, he points the scalpel at his own collarbone, and wait, wait, why is he—

“Look here, little bunny,” he coos, a big wide smile twisting the scars on his mouth; his wrist twitches, yanks, the blade following suit, dipping obediently into his own flesh. His own skin. His own blood that leaks pure sparkling scarlet from a thin crevice.

A scream tears through the room, one you can only feel is yours from the vibrations ringing in your hollow throat — he doesn’t wince. Sheer horror sends your body flying back, hands clasped tight in front of your face to shield you from the deep dark red. This is a nightmare. This can’t be real. Red is matted to pink strands of hair, red is glittering across his mouth like the snout of a beast, red is slowly advancing across the carpet. Wake up. You tremble, whimper. This is bad this is bad this is bad.

A cackle rips into the air, one with a chilling, blood-curdling echo bouncing off the walls, and no sooner than when he takes a step forward does the impenetrable cement in your veins crack.

Fight or flight.

You turn and bolt, feeling the weight of your numb appendages carrying you as far as possible, away from that—that sickening blood, that red crawling ever so closely towards you like hot, molten lava—

You race, stumble, dive into Mikey’s room (Idiot! Mikey isn’t even here! The exit — you have to get to the exit!), managing to grab a spare key off the counter before fleeing like a bat out of hell towards the front door, salvation, the only way out.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

But then your back’s hitting the wall as you scramble to flee, jolts of the impact swelling up your spine as you hurtle into a dodge when Haruchiyo lunges, bloodied fingertips snatching your wrist and pulling pulling yanking, until the keys crash to the ground with a deafening clatter, until you’ve been sucked into the floor with a scream clawing at your throat, until you’re submerged limb by limb into that deep deep red that you hate.

“NO no no no no, letmego, letmeg—”

“Shh, shh!”

The cool tip of the blade drags along your cheek, thinly scraping against the surface, slicing into half the wet tracks that tears have left on your face so that slivered carmine wells up through the broken skin. His body has no right being this warm, pressed up against you, your knees and arms already going slick with blood. It’s over. He’s caught you.

Your eyes stay screwed shut amidst the barrage of hot tears bursting behind your eyelids. He has you pinned down for good, you realise, a strained whimper fighting its way in the back of your throat. There is no escape. The pain is real. You can feel the slim thread of blood rolling down your cheek, mixing with the tears — only for him to lean closer, lapping up the traces of it with a satisfied chuckle.

His saliva leaves a slimy, wet sensation on your skin. It’s the worst feeling you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Please… I won’t tell anyone… I won’t tell Mikey— please, just let me go…”

“Ah ah ah.” The man — Sanzu Haruchiyo — hushes you again, a finger on your lip, his shuddering breath fanning erratically on your face, his voice fading into yet another hysterical chuckle. But it’s deep, breathy, and taunting, thrumming loudly in his chest, and sending a tremor through your very soul. “I think you’re forgetting a teensy, tiny fact, little bunny— Mikey’s not here.”

Your nose fills with iron when he is this close. Haruchiyo’s eyes — those bulging, green masses of insanity — shift and convulse as if you were faced with the mouth of an abyss. His grip on your wrists tightens to an agonising degree the more you plead and squirm, leaving you with no choice but to hold your breath, hoping desperately that someone will come to your rescue.

Where is Mikey?

You’re going to die here. You’re going to die here… and there’s nothing you can do about it. Pushed up against this psycho killer, who’s just murdered a person innocent of all crime, an outsider who shouldn’t even have been here. Is this how you find closure? From someone other than Mikey?

Manjiro… the thought is enough to shoot a terrible pain in your heart, something unwarranted like denial, like indescribable terror, like—like regret.

I never told him I love him.

Twin dilated pupils absorb the sight of your writhing, suffering form, shuddering in their sockets from unmatched euphoria.

“Why don’t we play a little?”

∗

Truth be told, Haruchiyo doesn’t know what time of day it is, what day it is, and all he remembers is feeling fatigued with an indescribable, insatiable hunger. He thinks he’s never felt so dissatisfied in his entire life.

But this… this is nothing short of a feast, isn’t it?

“You…” he begins, seething through his ultra-wide grin. “You’re a huge slut!”

His hands, not knowing where to touch, land greedily on every inch of your traitorous skin. Groping, taking, as if the gates to heaven inexplicably opened; a creature of hell, he is — a pitch-black entity descending upon a fine-feathered angel. He can’t stop himself, not when you’re so helpless to fend him off.

“If I had known… that you would be going around getting wet at every man touching your little pussy like this…” He bites back a laugh, the scarred edges of his mouth contorting.

You look confused — terrified, but mainly confused. And scared as to why he hasn’t ripped apart your insides yet and god you’re fucking delicious. Your nightdress has long been torn to shreds. Blood — not yours — is splattered everywhere on the marble flooring. Haruchiyo’s obscene groans come like second nature at this point. It’s good, it’s too good — your cries, your shivering, your scent, the way that he can taste how salty your tears are and hear the wetness gathering at his fingers.

“You’re a damned whore, aren’t you?”

You look stunned, stupefied, as if your little brain can’t comprehend what Haruchiyo wants to do to you, as if the squelching noises coming from between your thighs are a mechanism separate to your conscious body — as if they don’t tell him all he needs to know.

“S-stop,” you snivel, wrists straining in his grip, though he thinks it couldn’t possibly hurt from the way you can’t help your half-moans, so delicate and frantic, flitting about in his ears like a pair of small butterfly wings. “Stop, please, a-ah, don’t touch me there—”

“Here? Oh, but what if I want to?”

Frankly, this is the most fun that he’s had in ages — your kitten-like mewls and crystalline tears, soft hips twisting fruitlessly and the friction only serving to make his blood rush south, adrenaline sizzling in his veins even more so than when he was in the midst of mutilating that dumb placeholder, that fake…

“You feel so nice and soft inside, little bunny.”

Haruchiyo shoves his fingers past the lips of your cute slit, prodding and poking like it’s his first time touching a virgin. Warm, tender, and suckling on him like a fawn to its mother’s breast… the gentle clasp of your pussy against his fingers feels like nothing short of heaven. God almighty, no wonder Mikey couldn’t keep his hands off of you. His cock becomes erect, the tip becoming sensitive as it strains against precum-soaked fabric.

He watches you squirm, watches as your tits heave with every breath you take. For the first time Haruchiyo is close to you, closer than ever before, to the point where if he brandished the scalpel now there’s no telling whether he’ll lose control and gouge your pretty eyeballs out in a fit of blind lust. Just like he did to so many others before you — just like those other porcelain, fragile, counterfeit dolls. (Except there’s really nothing that comes so close to perfection as the real thing.)

“What do you think is stopping me from killing you, hm?”

He poses this question in the midst of circling your shining pearl, bringing you closer and closer to climax, coaxing panicked moans out of you as if the realisation just hit you that maybe he will rip apart your insides after all.

Then, when you whine out instead of replying, Haruchiyo pauses, pressing his weight against your soft body for good measure, keening at your smell. He sighs—

“It’s because torturing you fucking turns me on.”

You used to smell like roses — like Mikey. But the you in this moment smells like sex, sweat, and potent iron, blood from his fresh killing and blood from his own flesh and bone; he has never felt such uncontrollable desire in his life. This is it, he thinks, this is the treasure waiting for him at the end of the maze.

His lips latch on and suckle on your exposed nipple, tongue circling and biting and lapping hard until it draws cries of pain. His face returns to your neck, a slimy tongue sticking out and coating you with saliva, feeling himself quiver with desire when your entire body convulses. His hard length grinds against your inner thigh like a mad dog, eager to insert itself into your warm and inviting hole.

But not yet. Just a little more.

He releases your wrists. Sharp nails latch themselves onto your scalp, straining against the roots of your hair to tug you eye-to-eye with his gaze. People like to say that Haruchiyo gets a spine-chilling, deranged gleam in his eyes when he’s in the middle of torturing someone — what do you see this time?

A monster? The devil himself? Or something more divine? Otherworldly? Something like a god?

His teeth sink into his bottom lip; not bad, he credits his brain, eyeing the tremble of your lip and the way tears cascade down your cheeks and jaw and drip onto your breasts, he might just crave to make you worship him. More than anyone else. More than his King; make you become his own private devotee.

“Does Mikey also do this?” Haruchiyo’s gravelly voice whispers filthy vice in your ear. “Does he? Tell me.”

Your back hits the floor. He sticks another finger, two, then three, inside your cunt, wriggling and feeling for the one spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch. Your non-stop whining, your incoherency, your lack of capacity for full sentences, all of it is starting to unravel his control — spilling out like a spool of thread underwater, dispersing never to be reeled in again.

“Tell. Me.”

“N-no!” you rasp, hips quaking.

“Liar,” he smiles. You’re a liar. You’re a filthy liar. He saw you. “What does he do to your little clit, huh? Rub, rub. Oh, you feel so soft and slippery here.”

“Stop, please, a-ah! It’s too much, it’s too much…”

“It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay,” he is quick to comfort, fingers speeding up, abusing your tiny nub, as if his ears were blotting out your frantic cries and tearful struggle. So, so sensitive. He almost feels like you’ll break. “Cum all you want. Again and again. We’ve got all day.”

He attaches his lips like a parasite to your cheek, licking at the small cut, sucking every drop of blood that leaks out, all while his fingertips never cease their momentum. You resist and jerk away from his face, only for him to wrench your jaw tightly in place.

“No, I don’t want to cum, I don’t—” You struggle like a rabbit with its hind legs bound, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in a feeble effort to mute your cries of pleasure. “I-I’m gonna—”

You cum without warning; a spray of liquid pools at your entrance, your thighs spasming under him as if charged with electricity. He coos as if to cheer you on. Fuuuck. He’s not done. There’s no way. Droplets of your juices taste like dews on his tongue; so much he wants to do, but he only has two hands.

As you reel, incapacitated with the afterglow of your orgasm, his palm lets go of your face to wrap around the flushed tip of his cock, giving a few sharp pumps, imagining what it feels like to be buried in your warmth. Well, he won’t have to imagine much longer.

“So pretty, you’d put every other girl to shame,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and another to your lips, silencing your whimpers. “I hated you, god, but turns out you’re good for at least one thing.”

“Let me… let me go…”

“Nah. But did it feel good?” He wants to break you. He wants to see you drowning in so much pleasure that you collapse and black out and crave nothing but his cock.

Your face scrunches up. You’re looking at him, he thinks. Though your expression looks weird, and you’ve stopped struggling.

“Mikey… Mikey’s gonna… he’s gonna be so mad,” you start to hiccup, tears dripping silently onto the marble, bottom lip trembling. Haruchiyo goes still, watching you cry at a loss for words.

He’s confused.

Mikey? Really? At a time like this? And he sees it again. That blatant softness that filters over your eyes — that ickiness. You’re so in love with his King that it’s pathetic.

It hadn’t been obvious before, but it is now. It’s thickening the skin between your heart and the outside world: it’s still there, the veins permeating the layer of visibility just barely, but the pulsing is faint.

And he sneers. Who do you think you are?

“You came because you’re a disloyal whore and you know it. Looks like you didn’t really love him after all, huh?”

At his words, you let out a hurt-filled gasp, as if they made their way into your heart and deposited lashes of agony there. Your mouth hangs open with tears still streaking down your face. The sight makes him want to coo at you.

“Look — you’re all messy and slick down here.”

Before you can tell him to stop, his fingernail scratches your abused clit, hard and fast as if trying to coax another orgasm out of you. Just one more. You can endure it, right? He’s watched Mikey do worse to you. He’s watched Mikey splay your legs open at his mercy and threaten to let every man in the room have their way with you.

Your body thrashes in retaliation but it’s no match for Haruchiyo’s strength, helpless to fight back as he pushes you further and further until you splutter and give a keening cry.

“What would Mikey think if he saw you like this?” he laughs, tuning out your pleas to slow down. “He’d fucking kill you.”

Another spray of your juices — another sharp scream of pleasure. By the third, fourth, your body starts trembling in overstimulation.

“I’m going to make you cum, again and again. Until you regret ever coming here. Make you regret trying to tempt my King.”

Haruchiyo mindlessly nibbles at your ear, before brutish hands reach down to force your legs wider. It’s about time, isn’t it? His cock throbs painfully at the wait.

“No, no, no… you can’t—”

He ignores you, rearranging his hips so they align with yours, gripping your abdomen like a vice as if trying to bruise. More, more, more. All his filthy fantasies start to spill out of the crevices in his brain. All he can do is watch the lavish black rush out in an endless downpour, and he, wrought with an incurable thirst, helps himself to your body, spellbound by the adrenaline you incite in him and the softness and warmth that you—

Ouch. He feels a prick.

From his shoulder, a tiny cut. A warm drop of blood beads at the broken skin. Ah. you’ve got your puny, trembling fingers on the handle of the scalpel.

How clever. A laugh bubbles from his throat.

“Oh, little bunny. Are you sure you want to do that?”

His hand removes itself from your body, snatching the blade out of your grip. You panic and try to retrieve it, but in your moment of desperation he chuckles and slides his cock in, stuffing you with inches of his length at one go, stretching you out like a cushy sleeve.

You yelp, foal legs kicking at air. Haruchiyo takes the time to tuck the blade away.

“Stupid, stupid,” he clicks his tongue as you wail in defeat, tiny paws padding at his chest like you want him to pin you down harder — like you crave for him to abuse your little hole until you can’t walk for the rest of the year. “You’re just a little stupid, aren’t you? Gone all mush-brained from me teasing you?”

He wastes no time in bottoming out, leaving the tip brushing against your womb, beating on the squishy walls again and again. His pace is manic, uncaring, straight from the get-go. Nothing can compare to you. Your tight, slick walls accommodate him so lasciviously, so perfectly, that he swears you know what you’re doing.

“You know what? I’m not even mad. Not when you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.” His King has an eye for quality, he thinks, adjusting his grip so he can thrust deeper in you.

A mess of blood, cum, tears — a mess that he has made you, forced onto you like ink on a canvas, and he bled a bottomless black. You’re coming around slowly, letting the ink sink into your putty flesh and submitting yourself to the sensation, hips unknowingly rising to meet the timing of his thrusts. That’s more like it, he licks his lips. You’re cute. Obedient. He wouldn’t mind taking you home.

“Hey, hey. Here's—uh—an idea. Why don’t you become my own cocksleeve? I’ll tell Mikey that you—hah—fought real hard, but you just couldn’t resist putting a thick, hard cock inside you. I’ll tell him you couldn’t help it.”

Haruchiyo chuckles mid-pant, having grown rather fond of you and your insides. He’s heaving like a beast, sweat gathering at his forehead, eyes squeezing shut to ride out this pure bliss. It’s a first for him. Has he been doing sex wrong his whole life?

“After my King disowns you… after he throws you out on the streets… I'll pick you up and give you a home. this little pussy… I’m going to make it my own.”

“Ah, ah— sto— ah…”

You’ve gone stupid for good, now. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, mindless babbling spilling from your lips (he can barely make out Mikey’s name in poor, broken syllables), your breasts bouncing and pussy twitching as it overflows with juices. All words are lost to you in this state.

And yet you’re still hugging his thickness diligently, just like a custom-made cocksleeve. He really ought to reward you. Haruchiyo reaches down to stimulate your clit and shudders at the feeling of you clenching tighter.

That far-off look in your eyes, your thighs periodically convulsing with spurts of cum spraying out pathetically between your folds — it’s almost too good to be true. You’re spent, brainless, mouth agape and tongue lolling out with drool overflowing from the sides when Haruchiyo finishes in you. He can make out broken parts of your speech: feeble efforts of voicing his name.

Not Mikey’s. His.

“You’re mine to play with now,” he says, throwing his head back in laughter at your pitiful mewls. “What do you think? You don’t have any objections, do you?”

Without thinking, with a heightened lust that betrays all logical thought, he sheathes himself again, all the way to the brim with a heady groan. The cum still potent and thick inside your hole spills out and paints his cock in a hot mess of liquid.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes glazed over with so much pleasure that you look as if you were far, far above the clouds.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

#tw yandere #tw noncon #tw overstimulation #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers smut #yandere mikey #yandere tokyo revengers #sano manjiro x reader #haruchiyo x reader #yandere haruchiyo sanzu #🐝; sweet syrup #tw bloodplay #tw degradation #tw infidelity #tw mindbreak #chiyu; dark #tokyo rev x reader

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vixensbrainrotts · 4 months

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Hi anonymous here! Can congrats on your milestone🍾🎊🎉 i was wondering if you could do a smiley or if you don’t do smiley baji with a sukeban (female delinquent) reader with the her beating them in a fight

Rock your world - Nahoya Katawa

Content: ask- based

Warnings: a fight scene (obviously)

Summary: Oh how wrong Nahoya was when he thought that you were a weak opponent...

Vixen's two cents: Omg yes theres way too little Katawa content out there it pains me! Also sorry for responding to this so late I just really couldn't decide on how to frame this one ughhh. fight scenes are hard to write comprehensively... Anyway thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Smiley thought that this would have been a quick little situation.

He'd thought that he could play and tease you a little too much and then get away with it: as he always does. Why wouldn't he? You caught his eye and he was in a good mood. What would stop him? But when you challenged him to a fight, his smile faltered a little. You kept up with him and his sarcastic jabs, even dishing out your own without batting an eyelash.

He denied the fight at first, thinking of the moral that Mikey had set up and was fiercely loyal to. If he were to go against his leader's words, it was sure to warrant repercussions. You noticed his reluctance and pointed it out, calling out to both his division and your friends who were standing beside, watching.

Elicited by your silver-tongued taunts and encouraging hollers from the by-standing audience, he rid himself of his jacket and took off his rings. Then it began. He wasn't all too serious at first, giving you some leeway as he weaved your advances, staying defensive. He had to hand it to you: despite being a girl, you were among the best opponents he's had so far, judging by your sharp, controlled movements, and your almost perfect form.

"Come on, you're not scared of me, are ya?" You started teasing him when you noticed how passive he had been throughout the fight. Bouncing on your heels a little you spurred him on, taking an upper had in the dynamic present.

"Listen, I don't hit girls." Smiley's voice was, whilst still teasing, a bit sharper, a bit deeper, loyal to the codex that Mikey had set up which he had devoted himself to (for the most part).

"Neither do I." you answered, without missing a beat.

That's when the codex flew out the window and Smiley decided he had to lock in. The signature smile widened and he rolled his shoulders back and stretched his fingers out before clutching them into tight fists again.

"Alright. Your choice." he said under his breath, just about loud enough for you to hear.

He moved towards you quick, fists aiming straight for your head, forcing you to take a more defensive stance. Miraculously you dodged and weaved all of his punches, and the only time he managed to snag you was a weak roundhouse punch that you blocked with your forearm.

Smiley was growing frustrated with you and your snake-like agility, the way you seemed to be falling into his patterns all too easily. He had to break out of his usual style to throw you off, somehow. He feinted a left jab and pulled through with the right fist, shifting his body to throw his weight into the punch, a sure strike, but nothing hit.

In a split second, you stood next to him on his open side, having dodged his hit. Nahoya's smile dropped as there was a brief moment of eye contact between you two, his hair being tousled by all the action, no longer shrouding his sight.

For the first time, he got a proper look at you up close and realized that next to being one of the strongest opponents he's ever had, you've got to be the prettiest of them all. The way your eyelashes curled, the small specks of color in your iris, the blush that spears across your cheeks from the activity... Nahoya felt his head spin just a little, and he lost focus.

You saw the opportunity and took it. The proximity and the height difference between you two allowed you to reel up for an uppercut, fist coming flying up towards his chin, aiming to deck him upside the jaw for a potential knockout, but Smiley snapped out of his daze faster than you anticipated, flipping his guarding arm down to block your punch.

You falter for a moment, stunned at his reaction time, but manage to regain your fever as you grab his blocking arm and hook your other hand underneath his armpit. Your hand comes to circle his back, digging into his shoulder blade as you step forth, pushing your body to his and shifting your feet to face parallel to your shoulders.

You exhale hard and yank his hand you're holding down, pushing his back, bending him over almost entirely, and with a quick hoist upwards, and support through your legs, you spun him inside down mid-air, pushing onto his chest and smashing him into the floor.

Nahoya can't move, or breathe, or do much of anything right now. He's splayed across the floor like a limp doll, eyes squeezed shut in pain, heaving gasps trying to regain the oxygen he was robbed.

what the fuck was that

He remembers looking at you, and then the next moment the world spinning, which was followed by pain. Never, ever had he engaged in a dual this short, and never, ever had he lost. Nahoya tries hard to move any muscle, but he lies there as if his body isn't his his own.

The small crowd around you two erupts into precarious cheers and whoops, and you indulge the attention. Victoriously, almost provocatively you swing one leg over his body and look down at him, your teeth glinting pretty as you speak. "What happened Devil-boy? I thought you were one of the best? Guess Toman ain't all that, huh?" There was a playful lilt in your voice that made his head spin even harder than it already was.

Nahoya cracks an eye open to look up at you and feels his breath get stuck in his throat again. His friends wolf-whistle as you begin to lower yourself, bending forward to come closer to his face.

"And here I thought we were gonna have some real fun... what a shame..." you sounded almost disappointed as you straightened up and stepped away from him, turning to face your friends again and walking in their direction as they cheered for your victory.

Nahoya's eyes fall shut again and he curses himself for not being able to do anything as he hears one of his squad-members rush next to him.

You spare a last glance over your shoulder, looking at his form once more before turning to leave again. "Come fight me again when you think you can take me properly... I think you were a little out of it today, no?"

Your words echoed in his head, as you left him defeated, pissed, and determined to take you on again. You might have K.O.'ed him today with that batshit move he's never seen before, but he'll get you back. Right then and there he decided that next time, he'll give you his all and fight, and then maybe take you out on a date afterward too?

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tr content #tokyo manji revengers #tr headcanons #tokyo rev #smiley #kawata nahoya #kawata twins #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata #tokyo revengers nahoya #tokrev nahoya #nahoya x you

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allyheart707 · 1 month

Note

*walks into Room /w the turtles* me: I come baring gifts!!

*walks up to Donnie* “I got you noise canceling headphones and a weighted blanket! I.. I tried my best to get you a book, but they wouldn’t let me.” I kneel down and whisper “you’re doing great. I know it’s a scary situation and there a lot happening right now, but I believe in you. I’m so proud of how well you’ve been handling this change. Please remember it’s ok to be different and feel big emotions or no emotions at all. Don’t let anyone down you for who you are.”

*walks up to Leo* “I got you a wooden-play sword (for some reason that was ok for me to give you-) and a unicorn plush!” I whisper “you’re going to be just fine. Just know that you’re enough. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I’m so so SO proud of you. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen, you’re amazing! I adore your fighting skills. You’re not worthless. You shouldn’t have to earn people’s love. You’re deserving of all the love in the world.”

*walks up to mikey* “I got you finger paints and glitter!” I whisper “thank you for helping people. Your heart is so so big and beautiful!” *hug*

*walks up to Raph* “and last but never least, I got you a heart-shaped pillow and a friendship bracelet!” I whisper “you can do it. I love your kindness. I appreciate your want to help. You’re doing a great job bringing people and yourself together. Thank you for looking out for your brothers. Don’t worry too much big man.” *hug*

I would have drawn this all, but I’m in a motivation burn out rn :,) At least I was able to draw the gifts :D!

You are totally fine not being able to draw everything- I super get it! I also didn't end up drawing a lot for your response- but hopefully you still like it! It's more my retelling of events rather than continuing the story? Also- sorry in advance for how long it got, I was just very excited about all the adorable words you told each of them and how they would respond to it ;v;

Your ask was such a joy to read- tysm for sending it! :DD

Donnie stares at the large assortment of items in the person's hands, wondering which were for him, and for some of them.... what they even were. The human comes to him first and he tenses, confused as the stranger kneels down to his level. Odd, but Carol does it enough that he isn't completely lost.

“I got you noise canceling headphones and a weighted blanket! I.. I tried my best to get you a book, but they wouldn’t let me.” He stares at the items offered for a moment, then takes them with a small nod. He doesn't really know how to feel about them yet.

He holds the blanket that was covered in small glittering stars in his hands, the weight oddly comforting- Like when his brother hugs him, or the times he would hide under their bean bag. It was familiar. And, after inspecting the other grey object in his hand and connecting it to the words she spoke about "noise canceling", he assumes the soft cushions were meant for his ears. He slowly tested them out- pressing one against his right ear. Determining the effect wasn't painful or uncomfortable, he slid them all the way on.

The sound of Raph and Heishis whispered conversation, of Mikey's excited squealing, and of the humming of the vents was suddenly dulled.

It was.... nice.

He knew he should thank the person, he should be as excited as Mikey who was still squealing by her side.. but he didn't know the human. With the new room, his new "brothers", and everything else that had been happening.... he couldn't bring himself to force a smile or even muster a thank you, though he knew he should.

“you’re doing great. I know it’s a scary situation and there a lot happening right now, but I believe in you. I’m so proud of how well you’ve been handling this change. Please remember it’s ok to be different and feel big emotions or no emotions at all. Don’t let anyone down you for who you are.” She whispers to him.

He still didn't want to talk to the new lady, or smile at her, or thank her. But now he felt a swell of relief flood through him, because that was okay. So, he took the gifts with another nod and found his way to the corner of the room, watching with silent awe as she began to pass out the rest of the gifts.

Heishi watches tensely as the enemy first approaches Donnie, claiming that they had gifts for them. Right, like he would fall for that. This was clearly some scheme to lower their guard- but he was a warrior, not some child who could be so easily swayed.

He noted as Donnie made his way to the corner, blanket and headphones in hand. That left the strange viles, the sword (it was wooden, but with enough force maybe he could.... hmmm no, not yet. Not while still stuck in a locked room...), and a few other softer objects that he couldn't quite make out.

Then, it was with dread he realized that the enemy was approaching him next. His shoulders raised and he showed his teeth, hoping to scare her off. Thankfully, it seemed to work as she stopped a few feet away, bending down and offering the sword to him

“I got you a wooden-play sword (for some reason that was ok for me to give you-) and a unicorn plush!”

... Why would she give him a sword of any kind? UGH! Was he really that unthreatening? Was he really so bad at his one purpose that they would mock him by giving him weapons knowing they could beat him?!

... well he would show HER! He will take that silly play sword and-

“you’re going to be just fine. Just know that you’re enough. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I’m so so SO proud of you. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen, you’re amazing! I adore your fighting skills. You’re not worthless. You shouldn’t have to earn people’s love. You’re deserving of all the love in the world.”

... well, now it didn't really feel like she was mocking him- maybe she was just crazy.

"Yeah... well, I am the bestest warrior... I don't gotta earn anyone's love, cuz I'm... I'm just that cool. Heh." He stammers, rushing to grab the sword and the other item he hadn't really noticed before.

When he got a safe distance from the enemy, he wasn't exactly sure why he turned his back to the enemy but he just.... couldn't face her. His whole chest felt warm and oozy in a way he wasn't sure was normal.

He shook his head and focused back on the items in his hand.

The sword...

and...

Mikey was bouncing on his feet as he followed the new scientist around the new room. She was so nice- he hoped she would stay forever and ever! Maybe she could convince the scientist to let Carol come back and they could all play together? He squeaked again a the thought.

“I got you finger paints and glitter!” It took a moment for Mikey to realize she was talking to him, to absorbed in his daydreams of introducing her to Carol and George.

He claps his hands together and looks up at the sparkly tubes and jars of color that she held out for him. It felt like Christmas all over again!!

“thank you for helping people. Your heart is so so big and beautiful!”

He was hugging her before she could even finish the sentence, and he couldn't help but chirp with glee as she hugged back!

"Thank you! Ohmigosh!" He pulled away after a moment, taking the jars from her hands and spreading them out around him on the boring brown floor.

After a few moments of struggling against the lids, the vibrant colored jars were now open. He let out a mischievous giggle that turned into a cackle as he made up his mind:

These floors were not going to be boring brown any longer-

Raph stood awkwardly at the table, watching as one by one his brothers were distracted by the humans gifts. Finally, she turned to him.

“and last but never least, I got you a heart-shaped pillow and a friendship bracelet!”

His tail lightly twitched behind him, unsure if he should be excited or nervous. Pops told him that humans were dangerous to mutants like him but... this one seemed okay... maybe if he asked her nice enough she would take him home?

...no, no... he couldn't tell her where his home was. Dad said he could never, ever, EVER tell anyone where they lived.

But... then how would he get home? He frowned.

“you can do it. I love your kindness. I appreciate your want to help. You’re doing a great job bringing people and yourself together. Thank you for looking out for your brothers. Don’t worry too much big man.” She ended her small speech with a hug, which he melted into.

Yeah. I'm Raph, their big brother.

He had gotten this far, had found his brothers, had brought them together- even when pops said he that it wasn't possible!

And, now he just had to bust them all out of here!!

He smiled at his new friend, and gave her a toothy grin.

Raph was going to be the best big brother they ever had!

#ally asks #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #little subjects au #turtle tots #rottmnt seperated au #little subjects 1000 #ally writes #ally art

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mimastuff · 10 months

Note

Hey Hey! Just wondering, how would the Rise Turtles (or just Donnie if you're not feeling up to doing all of them) react to catching a S/O singing alone in the kitchen for the first time? Like they're actually really good but maybe they're a bit shy at first about singing in front of someone? I love to sing and have vocal training but I need encouraging.

Heyy i love this one !! Thank you so so much !! ❤️❤️

Siren song

Tw : nothing other than fluff :)

Parings: raph x reader, Leo x reader, Donnie x reader and mikey x reader

💜❤️💙🧡

——————————————————————————

Donnie

- you woke up jump

- A large turtle hugging your side.

- Donnie’s face in your neck slightly snoring away in a deep sleep

- The weight of him dragged you down back into the bed

- You were just about to close your eyes when your stomach started to rumble

- You groaned as Donnie stirred in his sleep.

- You got up , went to the bathroom and made a be line to the kitchen

- Your hunger got the best of you in mornings like this

- Your eyes fell upon your favourite cereal

- As you grabbed your food a song that kept replaying in your head ringed in your eyes

- The urge to sing opened your mouth

- As you sung , it was almost like the room lit up

- The words that fell so gracefully out of your lips

- The way someone could ever put so much emotion into one song

- As you grabbed the milk a familiar presence stood in the arch way of your door , listening.

- You didn’t notice him. The way he swayed to your siren song

- The way his heart felt whole hearing your voice this early on in the morning

- Your heart soured as the words felt stronger coming from you

- This wasn’t just any voice

- This was one of love

- You sung from your heart , which many people fail to do

- Donnie made his way to you as the song from your sweet lips faded away

- You saw don standing there with a sleepy love look in his eye

- You gulped as don stood with his signature smirk

- You so wanted to just wipe the look on his face away as you felt your cheeks heat up

- “Didn’t know you could sing so sweet, angel…”

Raph

- raph texted you a while ago

- He thought you had read it, oh how he was wrong

- As he made his way to your apartment up high in New York he felt as though something was pulling him towards you

- That was when he heard it.

- Your sweet , sweet, voice

- Not talking. No.

- You were…. Singing?

- He made sure to look through the window again and saw you sitting on your counter

- You were singing , so effortlessly

- Almost like , a siren

- Your song felt pulling , bringing his hand to knock on the window

- Raph hesitated.

- No. He shouldn’t sneak and listen to you without you knowing

- But, you sounded so beautiful

- Another second wouldn’t hurt , would it?

- Your song ringed in his ears , he felt as though you were singing to him.

- And only him.

- As you finished your singing you opened your eyes

- You could feel as though someone was staring at you.

- Someone peaking.

- You made your way to what you call ‘raph’s window

- You could see a dark shadow of your boyfriend out side

- You opened the glass to spot a guilty looking raph

- “Uhh hi … you sounded beautiful by the way”

- A sorry smile plastered his face. You chuckled at his cute antics and let him in.

Leo

- you were drawing away at desk , noise cancelling headphones on

- As you slightly tapped your foot , your mouth moved faster than you could think

- And you started singing

- What you didn’t know is that Leo had texted you that he was going to you place

- A blue light shone through your room as Leo stepped through the portal

- The noise and light seemed to go over your shoulder as your singing grew more passionate by the second

- Leo stood there stunned by the sight.

- You drawing , what he could only see was him.

- Whilst you were singing, almost pulling him in

- Like a siren song.

- His grin grew as your singing became more beautiful

- Your voice more graceful than ever

- He clearly saw that you didn’t spot him

- Perfect.

- He pulled out his phone to record your little ditty.

- He hesitated.

- He could hear mind raph booming in his head telling not to

- For once he listened , as he felt it was best this memory was just between the two of you

- Well just him for now

- Your turned on your chair to get up when you saw your familiar smug turtle boyfriend standing , watching you

- You jumped slightly , not controlling the redness that rolled onto your cheeks

- “Ey hermosa, didn’t know you could sing such beautiful words other than my name”

- That smirk had Leo written all over it.

Mikey

- he was just coming over to cook for you two for your date

- You guys had planned a quick date last week

- It consisted of him cooking for you

- No distractions like his brothers

- Nor could splinter walk in

- It was perfect.

- Just what you two needed after a heavy week

- You hadn’t forgotten about your guy’s evening plans

- You just…didn’t realise that he would be so early

- Mikey was about to knock on your living room window

- Indicating to let him in.

- But a song was ringing around your apartment.

- Your voice could be heard for miles as he sat and watched you

- All dolled up for the date

- You were singing so happy and beautifully

- He had to sit and watch

- The way your voice sounded so alluring

- So … attractive

- His heart skipped a beat as you ended the song and looked to exactly where his was standing

- Uh oh.

- Your siren song ended too soon as the window was being lifted up

- “Heyyy Y/N , your voice is soo beautiful!! You never told me you could sing!”

- The memory of your voice would be replaying in his mind for the rest of the evening.

——————————————————————————

Hiya ! Hope you liked this one , I literally have had this same idea for months so yeah !! I think this turned out very good. Also sorry it took so long to come out , I was working his whole week and came home exhausted I had literally no time to do this :))

#rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt raph #rise donnie x reader confession #rottmnt x reader #rise leo x reader #rise raph x reader #donnie x reader fluff #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt mikey

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em1e · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀ ༝ i will soon forget the color of your eyes ⠀ ⠀ and you’ll forget mine

⠀ ⠀ タカシ // FOR THE BEST ⠀ ༝ ༝ manila!mitsuya ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.3k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ angst !⠀ ⠀ — the feeling of your hands is scorching, burning the deepest parts of him and settling as a fresh gaping wound in his chest.

⠀

it had to be for the best, right? separating you from himself?

it was the right thing to do. it meant you wouldn’t get hurt. you wouldn’t become a target. you couldn’t, as long as there weren’t any ties to you. as long as no one knew who you were, what you were to him. . .

one simple step, that’s all it’d take.

the break is clean. easy. leaves him sobbing silently in his room on the worst nights, curled in a ball only to stifle it the minute he hears shifting in the halls. luna, he decides based on the soft pad of steps, must’ve woken up to use the bathroom.

he takes the moment to ground himself, staring at the popcorn ceiling above his head, tears beginning to dry as the shadows of the pattern blur together in its own way of showing his lack of focus. it was for the best. the steps move past the bathroom, pausing at his door and he sees the shadow hidden behind the door shift as if whoever’s there is debating on knocking.

another door opens down the hall, followed by a small yawn.

“luna? what’re ya doin’?” mana’s voice fills the air, stifling another yawn, “s’way past bedtime.”

“oh, i. . . just wanted to check on him. think he’s asleep, though.”

the shadow pauses a second longer, but decidedly disappears, and takashi lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he was holding. a stray tear falls down his cheek, and he can’t find it in himself to wipe it away.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

for the best.

takashi wonders if it really was. if the warmth of your touch was really worth losing. if he was really so weak that he couldn’t protect you. that he already had his sisters as a flight risk, what’s one more person?

your touches linger against his skin, at his biceps, then moving up to his shoulders, before finally settling on his face. tears form in your eyes, but you’re smiling. shaking your head as if you can’t believe what he’s saying.

“you don’t mean that, ‘kashi, you don’t.”

he holds back a wince at the nickname, fighting the urge to wipe the tears, to pull you close to him and assure you that it’s gonna be okay and that he was joking and the two of you can work it out.

the feeling of your hands is scorching, burning the deepest parts of him and settling as a fresh gaping wound in his chest.

“‘m serious,” he manages out, looking at you but not really seeing you. he can’t. if he acknowledges you fully, he knows it will fully set, and if it fully sets he won’t be able to go through with it. he’ll back out and apologize until he’s on his knees begging for forgiveness and that isn’t something he can risk right now. he can’t allow it.

he won’t be the reason you die.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

it’s for the best.

the reminder thuds dully in his skull, clawing at the hands at his throat with his teeth bared. despite the damage he inflicts, they don’t relent. mikey’s grip is unwavering, eyes set with nothing behind them. darkness clouds the edges of takashi’s vision, blurred with tears while choked insults slip past his lips.

he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, one hand still trying to pry mikey’s off his throat while the other changes in favor of clawing at his face. mikey shows no acknowledgment of the change, weight dropping further onto takashi’s neck, face unchanging and despite it all, takashi finds an apology falling from his lips.

to who? mikey? his sisters? you?

everyone he’s failed. everyone he’s abandoned. everyone he’s leaving without a goodbye.

takashi feels like he’s been fighting forever, but he knows he’s at his limit. the clawing at his friends hands is growing weaker by the second and mikey’s grip becomes impossibly tighter at this fact.

his vision blurs further, mikey’s hair falling into face only turning him into a bigger dark splotch.

and then memories of you scatter behind his eyelids.

he’s sinking.

your touch, your gentleness, your affection. his last remnants of life filled by nothing but you. your eyes stay closed, pulling him impossibly close and kissing every inch of skin he allows you to, and he relishes in the warmth of your body against his. ready to devote the remaining bits of his soul to you and only you.

he’s cold.

you cup his cheeks, giving him that smile he adores, and then your hands are sliding down, sitting at his collar but . . . your eyes snap open, and he’s met with the same dark gaze from before, pinning him beneath you with nothing but the icy glare, and your small hands wrap around his throat. flashes of mikey moments before pale in comparison, and he thinks for a moment, knows this isn’t real.

you don’t have mikey’s eyes. you don’t have mikey’s strength. the sight of you is taken over by his friend, by his murderer. he can’t piece together what you look like anymore, vision distorted and all he can really make out is the apathy that pools behind mikey’s dark eyes. this can’t be the last thing he sees. this can’t be his final memory.

takashi’s last breath leaves his lips.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

a sob is the only thing that leaves your lips.

takashi, your takashi, in the coffin. flowers surround him, and he looks so fucking peaceful, so soft and asleep, like he would be when he’d sneak into your room in the dead of night just to see you. when you’d wake up before him and take in his beauty. when his chest would rise and fall with soft snores leaving his lips that’d have you smiling to yourself at just how perfect he is.

he isn’t moving now.

“you can’t leave me.” you whisper, fingers clutching the side of the coffin as if your presence could bring him back. like this is some sick fairytale and maybe a kiss would wake him up. “you promised.” another sob, knuckles turning white with just how tight you grip the polished wood.

someone is pulling you away before you can protest, nimble fingers squeezing your shoulder softly and it takes all of you to not completely break down then and there. luna sends you a wary smile, guiding you to a seat beside her and mana.

mana’s head finds itself against your shoulder, and you want to curse takashi. for leaving you, for leaving his family. for thinking someway, somehow this was the best option for himself. for not keeping his stupid fucking promise to you.

takashi’s head sits in your lap, your fingers running mindlessly through his hair while he attempts to sew a new button on a stuffed animal (one he got you on your very first date, torn after years of love) without actually sitting up.

“‘kashi?” you hum out, eyes fixated on the magazine page in your unoccupied hand. he ties off the thread and cuts the loose ends with his teeth, leaning his head further into your lap to look up at you.

“hmm?”

you show him the page, and he has to tilt his head slightly to read it from the awkward angle.

APARTMENT DECOR INSPIRATION 20XX

his eyes widen at the title, finding your own again and he could melt at the grin you give him.

“we’re still a bit far off from that, huh?” his tone is teasing, but your expression is unwavering as you turn the book back towards you.

“maybe, but there’s no harm in being prepared.”

“when we are ready, we can come back to that. promise”

when, not if.

it makes you smile.

“you should be lucky i’m not showing you wedding rings.”

he chuckles at that, fingers pressing absentmindedly into the stuffed animal he’s just finished patching up. the softness of the plush is disrupted by the leather box he’d shoved in it before you sat down with him. completely oblivious to the idea that he’s already well-prepared for that upcoming day.

you twirl the ring around your finger with a sniff, head laying on top of mana’s. if only time was on your side.

#salmon rowe #mitsuya takashi x reader #takashi mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x reader #takashi x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

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goosewriting · 2 years

Note

hello! i was wondering if i could request how the ROTTMNT boys would take care of or comfort their S/O after they've had a bad day emotionally (just feeling sad, tired, unmotivated, etc)? i thought you wrote them very accurately and i am curious to see what you think (if you choose to take on this idea)!

Bad day, like, the worst (rottmnt x reader)

summary: the turtles take care of their S/O after they had a really bad day.

relationship: Rise Leo, Raph, Mikey, Donnie x GN reader (separate)

warnings: distressed reader, comfort

word count: 2.2k

A/N: excuse the sudden shift in style; i’m still trying to find my sweet spot between “technically still prose but in bullet points” and “rambling about my headcanons in the group chat”. i wish i had a turtle to cuddle me on a bad day :’) hope you all have a fantastic weekend!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You were having one of those days where the little luck you had seemed to have abandoned you completely.

It had started that morning, when you slept through your alarm and got up late. You spilled your breakfast on the clothes you had picked out the day before, and almost everything else was in the laundry. So you had to settle for an old shirt that you didn’t consider too flattering.

Then you arrived late to class, only to realise you forgot your assignment at home. Which you had stayed up late to finish, and you were actually happy with the result. Your teacher didn’t seem too convinced about your story, and said you’d have to hand it in by that night per e-mail, or your grade would be lowered.

Once you were finally done with the classes for the day, which you hadn’t been able to focus on at all, you were just walking out the doors of the building when it started pouring. And of course you had forgotten your umbrella.

You decided to ask your boyfriend turtle to come pick you up, but your phone had run out of battery. With an exasperated sigh you placed your backpack over your head as you made a run for it.

After what seemed like an eternity, you arrived at the lair. As you entered the main room, you tripped over your own feet, and all your things from the backpack went flying. So by then you were soaked, incredibly frustrated, and had lost the last bit of dignity you had left. You were convinced that the universe was against you that day and out to get you.

Kneeling on the floor you broke down in tears.

🔵 Leo

Leo would be by your side immediately.

Even though he can seem to be all over the place, he has a very good sense for how the people around him are feeling.

Still, he appreciates it when you’re able to voice your needs.

If you have a hard time doing that, he’ll offer you some options so you can decide and not be overwhelmed.

“Do you want me to listen or give advice?”

“You wanna play a game to get your mind off things or cuddle and talk about it?”

Overall super attentive and affectionate.

Leo takes your feelings seriously of course, but if it gets too dark, he’ll try to make you laugh to lighten the mood. After all he copes with humour.

“Oh hey Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming ov-“ Leo greeted you when he heard you come into the lair, but seeing your legs give in under your weight he rushed to your side. “W-what happened? Are you okay?!”

I’ve had the WORST day ever is what you tried to say, but what came out was a series of choked back sobs and gasps.

Leo quickly picked up your things, and hooked your backpack over his shoulder, then took your hands in his to get you up to your feet, and guided you to his room. He dismissed the worried looks his brother gave him, solely focused on you. It pained him so much seeing you like this.

Sitting you down on his bed he closed the curtains at the entrance of his room. The first thing he did was give you a clean change of clothes and wrap you into a blanket burrito. Then he sat down beside you and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. Using a corner of the blanket to wipe once across your whole face, you thought about it for a moment and silently shook your head.

“Is there anything I can do?” he tried again, seeing that your tears just kept coming. Sniffling, you just hugged his torso, bringing him down onto the bed with you as you lied down.

“Can we just stay like this for a moment” you said in the tiniest voice, Leo almost didn’t hear it.

“Of course” he said and kissed the top of your head, letting you cuddle up to his chest between his arms.

To distract you, he told you about some missions he had been on with his brothers, retelling some of them truthfully, and some of them with an obviously exaggerated flair, just to make you laugh or snort at how ridiculous the story was.

Hearing his voice lulled you to sleep, and it didn’t take long for you to doze off, not before thanking him with a tired voice.

Giving you a relieved, loving look, he lied next to you, hearing your even breathing, soaking up your warmth, and wiping away the tears from time to time. After he was convinced you were fully asleep, he carefully got up to get you some water and a snack, leaving it on the nightstand for when you woke up, and got into bed again with you.

🔴 Raph

Mama bear alert.

Raph could get a little overbearing when you’re feeling really down in the dumps.

He’d bring you your favourite plushies, food, comics, games, a giant pillow, everything at once.

Eventually he calms down when he realises that what you need is just him being there.

Will listen to your venting intently, offering several times to beat up who or whatever made you feel like this.

When you arrived at the lair looking like you did, the brothers called for Raph. After making sure that you weren’t physically hurt or wounded, he effortlessly picked you up and brought you to the bathroom to take a warm shower. You didn’t really protest because a shower did sound good. Maybe it’d wash away the cold, wet and miserable. Meanwhile he went to pick up your things and make you some hot chocolate.

You couldn’t help a couple sobs here and there while you were changing, and as Raph passed the bathroom door he clenched his jaw at the sounds; it broke his heart in half to hear you like that.

When you were done and came out of the bathroom, Raph once again picked you up and brought you to his room. He sat down on his bed with you on his lap, and handed you the steaming mug. There even were mini marshmallows floating in the drink.

“So what exactly happened? Did someone do something to you?” Raph asked, doing his best to hold back his growing anger at the thought. Shaking your head, you looked down at the drink in his hands.

“It wasn’t someone. Today just… isn’t my day. At all” you said, noticing how hoarse your voice was from the crying, and took a sip from the mug. Just the taste of how good it was, the perfect amount of sweet and chocolate-y, had tears streaming down your cheeks again.

“Is it too hot? Did you burn yourself??” Raph asked, slightly panicking. You just gave him a soft smile and shook your head again. Ah, a smile, finally, he thought to himself and relaxed again.

“It’s perfect Raph, thank you” you said, and placed your head on his plastron. He carefully hugged your body with his big arms. “And thank you for… just being here”.

“Always”, he whispered back.

After emptying the mug, you lied down next to him and retold the series of unfortunate events of that day, while he listened and drew soothing circles on your arm and back with his hand. Looking back at your day now, it didn’t seem all that bad.

🟠 Mikey

His first reaction would probably be to freak out a bit.

Materialises the first aid kit out of thin air.

Once he realises your pain isn’t external however, his demeanor changes completely and he’s much more grounded.

As… unorthodox as Mr. Delicate Touch can be, when it comes to you, he’s very gentle.

If you’re rambling about someone because you feel you were treated in an unfair way, out of the four brothers Mikey is the one to “side” with you the strongest, no matter how biased your view may be.

Hearing you arrive at the lair, Mikey made his way to you, only to find you on the floor, sobbing.

“Oh mi gosh! Y/n!” he cried out and rushed to you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You let out a sound that was something between a whine and a high-pitched grunt.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Mikey asked, checking your head, arms and legs. You only shook your head and leaned onto him, crying into his neck. You stayed like that for a while, both on your knees on the floor, just your sniffles filling the air, while he stroked your back up and down.

“You wanna go somewhere more comfy?” Mikey asked after you had calmed down a bit. You nodded, didn’t move however.

“Are you hungry? I made brownies” he tried luring you, and it worked. You leaned back to look at him, and with puffy eyes, a red face and part of his plastron imprint still on your cheek, you whispered a firm “Yes”.

“Brownies will make everything better, don’t worry!” he said and helped you up to your feet, taking your hands. “But first: you need to shower. You’re cold and soaked. We don’t want you getting sick!” he exclaimed in a sing-song voice and guided you to the bathroom. Leaving you with a towel and a change of clothes, he made his way to the kitchen to prepare the snacks.

When he had the brownies, a can of whipped cream and (favourite drink) ready, he placed everything on a serving tray and brought it to his room. Not long after, joined him, rolling up in his blanket.

He sat down next to you on the bed, taking out his phone.

“Do you wanna watch Youtube? I think there’s a new video of the series you like” he offered. Snuggling up to him and being careful not to get crumbs on his bedsheets, you thanked him and gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his beak, then took a bite out of the brownie. It was so good you could have started crying again.

You two spent the evening watching mostly vine compilations. When he heard your first real laugh at one of the sketches, he finally relaxed.

🟣 Donnie

Out of the four, he probably has the hardest time.

Not because he doesn’t want to “deal” with you or anything; he just doesn’t know what to do.

You’ll have to be very clear on what you want from him, and he’ll happily follow suit to the best of his abilities.

Probably has to actively hold back on commenting unsolicited advice, and he won’t succeed every time.

Donnie just wants to help you make a plan to get out of whatever situation you’re in, because he hates seeing you like this. It makes him feel so helpless.

If it was someone however that made you feel like this, he’s bringing out all of his sharpest and pointiest inventions, no matter if they’re still in beta.

When he found you on your knees, soaked, sobbing and on the floor, for a moment Donnie just stood a couple steps away, looking at you. He was trying to process what he was feeling, how to handle it without lashing out, and calculating every possible reason for why you looked the way you did.

Obviously it had rained, hard, as the forecast had said that morning, and obviously you had no umbrella on you. Biting his tongue as not to reprimand you on your carelessness, he decided to focus on getting you dry and warm first.

Hearing him, you looked up at the turtle standing in front of you. “Donnie” you called him, and a new stream of tears came running down your face. The purple turtle felt a sting in his chest.

Approaching you, he helped you get up. You went in for a hug but he stopped you by the shoulders. “Shower first” he simply said, and you followed suit.

After giving you a clean change of clothes, a glass of water and a fruit of your choice, he checked for a fever. Seeing as your temperature was normal, he let you sit on his bed next to him.

“So what happened?” he finally asked and you trembled slightly. You knew he’d probably scold you for not having an umbrella with you, and for forgetting your assignment, and you really didn’t feel like getting a scolding right now. But you also didn’t want him to think you had to walk on eggshells around him; it had never been like that. You liked how blunt and direct he was, and knew he’d never lie to you, no matter how ugly the truth was. You sighed deeply.

“I just had the worst day ever” you began. “It’s not even worth going into detail. It was literally just Murphy’s Law over and over.” Sniffling, you looked up at him. “Can we just… hang, for a bit? I really need a distraction.”

“Sure, we can hang” he said, but then a mischievous smirk took place on his face, as he took you by your hands, guiding you off the bed. “Oooor, I can show you my super-cool new invention I’ve been working on. It will not only distract you, it’ll blow your socks off!”

At that you laughed slightly, and seeing he achieved his goal, Donnie brought up your hands to his face to kiss your knuckles. A slight blush adorned your cheeks. It never gets old, he thought to himself in satisfaction.

#goose feathers #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #tmnt 2018 #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader

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