#does this need any content warnings on it. i dunno

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; got some more "draft stud" for y'all. No real reason, haha, just because I actually wrote a pretty decent chunk more of this than I ended up having space to post for the mystery slots last week and like, it SEEMS like so far this WIP is up a few of your ( crime ) alleys. Like juuuuust maybe, hahaha. So I took a lil' writing break and got it all Tumblr-able for all of your tire-thieving, crime-lording needs! ❤️ content notes/warnings: omegaverse, family-planning via attempting to recruit a crime lord who is legally your dead-brother-by-adoption to knock up your best (boy)friend, and Tim Drake's total lack of respect for both personal boundaries and Jason's impending migraine. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Jesus Christ,” Jason groans, burying his face in one hand. He doesn’t even bother asking when or where the little creep got ahold of any of his DNA to test that. Fucking–probably off the damn memorial, for all he knows. Or, well–admittedly "at a crime scene" is an equally likely option. “You know if I were legally alive, we’d be legally siblings, right? Technically we are legally siblings.” 

“I actually think it’s pretty common to ask siblings for favors like this?” Tim says. “Or cousins, maybe.” 

“Yeah, the actually related ones!” Jason says in exasperation. “Or at least the ones who aren’t trying to drop-kick each other into either early retirement or a life sentence in goddamn Blackgate!” 

“I mean I really don’t think we have that kind of relationship anyway, considering, but also I’m not the one who you would ideally be knocking up,” Tim says with a shrug. “Also full disclosure, I don’t actually think Blackgate could handle you so there’s not much point in trying to send you there. Maybe if I just needed a free weekend or something, I guess.” 

“Why did Batgirl turn you down on this, Dream Warrior?” Jason asks, half-eyeing him.

“I’m going to blame either David Cain or Lady Shiva for that,” Tim says. “Probably Shiva, considering we were effectively asking her to sire a pup and then not actually be their parent. I didn’t think there was a high chance of her saying yes, honestly, but she was both our immediate first picks so it seemed kinda . . . I dunno, disingenuous not to ask her?” 

“Yeah, obviously she would've been,” Jason snorts as he unwraps his sandwich to tear a bite off. It's goddamn delicious, which MM's always is, but he's still vaguely annoyed because it's goddamn Tim Drake who brought it. “So what pick in the stud draft am I, eleven? Twelve? Lucky number thirteen?” 

He cannot actually imagine how many people must've turned Tim down for him to be here, so–

“No, you're second,” Tim replies, shaking his head. Jason stares blankly at him past his mouthful of wafflewich. “If you say no, I’ll be calling Super-Man, and if he says no then–” 

“Superman?!” Jason sputters. 

“No, Super-Man,” Tim “corrects” like he somehow thinks he’s actually saying a different name. “Kong Kenan. How was that not self-evident?” 

“Because it sounds exactly the fucking same, that’s how!” Jason says in exasperation, though that does make more sense. Definitely more sense than Clark, anyway, because that was definitely a what the actual fuck EVEN moment. 

“It really doesn’t, but this is getting off-topic,” Tim says, then gestures meaningfully with a hand and asks, “Which is: what are your thoughts on sperm donation? 

“Sounds boring,” Jason replies frankly before taking a swig of coffee. 

“Oh, that was a metaphor, Kon said he’s fine either way but I’d really prefer you actually fuck him,” Tim clarifies with a much more meaningful gesture. 

Jason stares blankly at him again. Tim continues to look unfazed. 

“. . . is this a kink thing, Beyond Thunderdome?” Jason asks finally, for lack of any other reasonable explanation.

“This is a ‘I don’t want my omega to feel like a lab experiment for his first breeding heat because he’s worried about making me feel emasculated’ thing,” Tim says. 

“. . . yeah, fair enough,” Jason allows, taking another sip of his coffee. Still goddamn delicious; still Tim Drake-related annoying. “Jesus, though, you could’ve led with that. You know I’m a fucking beta, though, my chances of successfully knocking up your boy in one cycle are not that impressive.” 

“Well, that’s the useful thing about cycles,” Tim says with another little shrug. “They, you know, cycle.” 

“You want me to fuck your omega through probably multiple heats?” Jason asks, still more than a little incredulous about the idea. Again, he was not even aware that those two were dating. He was not even aware that Tim was into invulnerable and insatiable touch-based telekinetic omegas built like sexy industrial farm equipment with a very public history of “let me prove I’m good enough” issues, though actually when he thinks through that full sentence in his head it’s admittedly difficult to make an argument for why he would not be. 

Maybe if he was very, very gay or very, very asexual, Jason guesses. 

“Well, if it goes well this time, we’d probably ask you to do it again in a couple years anyway, so why not?” Tim says. “Kon wants to have more than one.” 

“Oh, so twice as many multiple-heat fucks?” Jason says. Jesus, this little freak of human nature. 

“Maybe three times, depending?” Tim says, tilting his head to one side with a considering expression. “Kon was designed to be hyper-fertile but given I have heard of exactly one Kryptonian ever that had a littermate it seems like Kryptonians might have a lower chance of conceiving litters than humans do, so we don’t really know how that might go yet.” 

Jason pauses for a long moment, because all general incredulity and disbelief aside, that sentence contained a red flag the size of a damn bedsheet. Several bedsheets sewn together, in fact. 

Maybe just an entire Bed Bath & Beyond’s worth of bedsheets, actually. 

“‘Designed to be’,” he repeats, and Tim’s expression briefly sours. 

“We’re not going to get into what Paul Westfield’s backup ‘make myself a custom Superman’ plan entailed,” he says. “Especially because he didn’t immediately scrap the thing when Kon came out sixteen and unpresented.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jason says. Well, that definitely explains Tim wanting to make sure Superboy doesn’t feel like a lab experiment while he’s getting bred.

“Mmmhm,” Tim says. 

Jason eyes him for a long moment as he takes another swallow of very good coffee, debating on how stupid this idea is and also if he wants to deal with Bruce’s opinion on him getting involved in it. A counterargument, admittedly, is Superboy’s very pretty smirk and ass you could bounce a giant penny off. 

Though . . . 

“Do you actually factually know if Kryptonians have a lower chance of conceiving litters, or is the prevalence of them having singles potentially just a birthing matrix thing?” he asks. “Because another solid reason I can think of to use one of those besides not risking the dam’s health or life and doing whatever weird ‘genetic optimization’ thing they had going on with 'em is Kryptonians being a lot more likely to conceive litters. Like big litters.” 

“. . . that is a question that I should have thought to investigate sooner,” Tim admits with a slight wince. 

“Y’think, Season of the Witch?” Jason asks dubiously. Tim frowns, tilting his head again and clearly confused, and Jason rolls his eyes. “Third Halloween movie, genius.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. “I was wondering what the names were about.” 

“Terminator, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Mad Max,” Jason says with another roll of his eyes. He did not think calling the guy a bunch of threequel titles was that subtle a dig. “Jesus, kid, watch a movie that didn’t originate on either Netflix or PornHub."

“I don’t watch either of those?” Tim says, wrinkling his nose. 

“You watch porn somewhere, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me to knock up your bitch for you,” Jason snorts dubiously, tearing another bite off his sandwich. Who even has that thought process? 

“I’d really prefer you not call him that,” Tim says. 

“Who cares, he’s not even here,” Jason retorts dismissively, waving him off as he chews. 

“Well yeah, I wouldn’t be telling you not to call him a bitch if he was here, because that would actually be helpful,” Tim says reasonably. Jason . . . pauses, and stares at the corner of the wall past Tim’s head. It’s a wall. 

 It . . . sure is a wall, yeah. And also the corner of a wall, yup. 

Wall. 

Jason chews the rest of his bite very slowly and does not allow himself to process the implication that Superboy might like being called a bitch in bed. 

“I’ve never actually heat-partnered anyone before,” he says. “Like I’ve rut-partnered a few people, but I feel like that is likely a significantly different experience. And probably also easier, frankly, given getting most alphas off takes about a fifth of the time and effort as getting most omegas off.” 

“That’s not really a concern,” Tim tells him with another one of those little shrugs. Jason stares at the corner of the wall past his head some more. It is . . . still a wall, yeah. Yup. Definitely still a wall.

What the fuck does that even mean? There is literally no way Tim meant “you wouldn't need to bother getting my omega off while you were breeding him as non-lab-experiment-ly as possible”, because in what fucking world would he have meant that, so like–what? Just . . . what? 

Jason’s brain is unfortunately supplying some very goddamn creative and very goddamn dirty theoretical answers to that question.

[ditzyaxolotl]

as a creator it is not your responsibility to not make something because a certain group wouldn’t like it or it’s not appropriate for them, but it Is your responsibility to label it correctly so that people know what they’re getting into. it’s the relationship between creator and consumer to explicitly go “hey this has [X] in it i make [X]” so that they can go “i don’t like [X] therefore i will not look at this. thank you for the warning so that i am not consuming [X] that i don’t want to consume”

this applies to art and memes too. label your creations properly, it’s your responsibility, Don’t stop making what you want to make but Stop throwing it into the wild with no tagging or warnings where anyone. Anyone. can see it Thanks You

also stop putting straight up nsfw on main tags for fandoms of media that isn’t already rated 18+ please please Please let teenagers and kids be able to be safe in fandom spaces i’ve seen this a little too much as someone who is only recently 17 You need to be the responsible adult and , yes, we need to be the responsible teenagers. but it starts with you. Be kind and courteous to the young

this post is not about minors putting themselves in places they aren’t supposed to be this is about adults Properly Labeling those places. so that it IS the minor’s fault when they are there. and also not hijacking places that are for the minors

[fizzy-blood]

Okay but how would the creeps react to a like feral s/o (biting scratching growling barking meowing) the whole nine yards?

(sfw and nsfw plz)

Creeps with a Feral!S/O🦷🥩

Hi! I didn't really know which creeps you wanted me to write so I just wrote for all the characters I've written for before (not Ben though because I don't write smut for him and not Tim/Masky bc MH and Creepypasta are different) I also wrote for Jane bc I love her and I just want to start writing things for her ^_^ (also Fem!S/O for Jane but the rest are Gn!S/O)

WARNING:18+/NSFW content ahead!! If you are a minor and want to read the SFW content then go ahead but please do not read through the NSFW headcanons. I know I can't stop you but please-

[Biting, scratching, bondage, I think that's all?]

Ticci Toby🪓🌲

(SFW)

HE'S GONNA MATCH YOUR FREAK /hj

But seriously, he really won't mind how you act...

Actually least likely to get upset with you over it!

He can't feel pain so biting and scratching is fine with him (he thinks it's cute when you bite him and will probably bite you back)

And with any weird sounds like hissing or barking or meowing.. Whatever you do... He's fine with it.. (Unless he's overstimulated, he won't be able to handle it so... 😞)

He might end up with those sounds as some form of tic... (That's actually kinda cute wait-)

Overall I'd give it an 8/10.

(NSFW)

REMEMBER HOW I SAID HE LIKES BITING AND SCRATCHING YOU??

PLEASE DO THE SAME TO HIM. DO IT.

He likes it when you leave marks on his body..

Actually... Likes is an understatement...

HE NEEDS YOU DO BITE HIM.

It's actually kinda cute how pathetic it is

I also feel like he'd be more submissive with someone more feral... Have fun!!

Eyeless Jack🫘🩻

(SFW)

Finds it a bit odd at first but gets used to it after a while..

But please give him a heads up before you bite him, he doesn't like it when you do it out of nowhere..

But he does find it cute when you make weird sounds (just please don't be too loud)

Probably won't bite you back if you're human.. But if you're some sort of creature? Probably will...

Like... 7/10? It has its ups and downs but it's still nice 🥰

(NSFW)

NGH- I WANT HIM...

OMG WHO SAID THAT⁉️

But if you being feral makes you bratty with him? He'll get you to shut up soon...

He'll also probably cover your mouth (if you try to bite his hand he'll just ignore it)

But if he doesn't ignore it he'll probably just briefly mention it.

Just kinda... Makes you go mindless (BTW I'M GONNA RE-WRITE MY GENERAL NSFW HEADCANONS FOR HIM AT SOME POINT SO-)

Laughing Jack🍬🎪

(SFW)

I think he'd actually be good at dealing with any bullshit-

Like... He does get bothered sometimes but he does know how to entertain you so you stop what you're doing..

Also if you bark at him he'll just bark back.

It's just normal to him??

I dunno man, the way he acts is just odd in general so 🤷‍♂️

Anyways... 8/10. Actually knows how to deal with everything pretty effectively and is fine with you biting or scratching him up (it really doesn't do anything to him, not even leaving a mark)

(NSFW)

My LJ doesn't really feel sexual attraction and I doubt he feels any sexual desires (he doesn't even have a dick so...)

I dunno what to write about this.. Like.. He's fine with sex if you want it but it wouldn't be much different from my normal NSFW headcanons for him..

Jeff the Killer🔪🩸

(SFW)

You know how middle school boys bark at people? He does that to you.

Is it meant to be affectionate? Who knows... But he does it if you meow or bark at him.

He just thinks it's weird tbh.

He also pushes you off of him or away from him if you try to bite him.

You hiss every time and he just makes fun of you for it (that part is sorta meant to be lovingly but it can come across as just plain mean).

6/10 in my opinion!

(NSFW)

He actually likes it when you bite or scratch him during sex?

I think he might have that masochistic sadist mix in him (HE GOT THAT DAWG IN HIM‼️🗣️💥💥/j)

But go crazy! He's fine with it during this time so feel free to do whatever.

Nina the Killer🔪💖

(SFW)

She thinks it's really funny, also kinda cute!

She isn't a huge fan of the scratching though...

Biting is fine but please give her a heads up (like with EJ)

She does really like the meowing and barking, also finds the hissing to be funny most of the time!

But the hissing can also tell her if she's aggravating you (she sucks with boundaries, please be patient with her😣)

ALSO IF YOU LIKE BEING PET SHE'D PROBABLY DO THAT WHILE YOU SLEEP SO-

Mmmmm.... 8.5/10

(NSFW)

I actually don't have a lot of NSFW related headcanons for her in general so... Oops?

I'll probably come back and post some general headcanons when I'm done but... Idk🤷‍♂️

But.... I think she'd be really sweet and loving, like?

The thing with the petting, she'd do that to keep you calm during sex (AGAIN, WHY IS THAT ACTUALLY ADORABLE TO ME??)

I'll get back to you when I figure out more stuff.

Jane the Killer🔪🖤

(SFW)

She found it so annoying when you first met, but she's just used to it now... She actually kinda finds it endearing now!

Specific things like more soft meowing or just generally softer and quieter sounds-

(It makes her experience cuteness aggression)

She doesn't really like scratching or biting in any context so...

But she'd probably find something for you to chew on or maybe make you some sort of scratching post.

Sometimes she feels like you're just a big fucking cat... (She's a cat person so it doesn't bother her that much)

9/10 (I want to be held by her)

(NSFW)

She puts a gag in your mouth and will probably tie you up... This is probably so you won't scratch or bite her-

(But let's be real here... You both kinda got a bit too into it)

Like Nina, she's normally pretty sweet and is also normally very gentle...

But other days?... I'll just say that she gets kinda... Intense? I'll probably go more in depth in a separate post but you get the general idea (I think)

BUT MMM

She's good at making sure you don't slip out of your restraints... very good.

DONE! YAY! YIPPEE! I hope you enjoyed this and I hope this is what you asked for? If you want more of this feel free to send another ask with some different characters or even just ask for more stuff with a character I already wrote for. My ask box is open so feel free to send some requests if you want! Again, I hope you enjoyed it!

-Fizz

(Cryptidcore dividers are by @sister-lucifer)

[cybrasigilism]

Thanos (Player 230) Smut Drabble

━─━────༺༻────━─━

warning: smut and all things of the like | lowercase intended | degradation | spanking | protection not implied (wrap it before you tap it) | PiV | reader has female genitalia | not proofread

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: thanks for 50+ followers! i appreciate each and every one of you so much :) i just wanted to say that i was thoroughly surprised with how many people wanted me to do a thanos smut drabble because i personally felt my writing for him was less than satisfactory, i’m just happy i was able to do him justice! also, my request box is open! if theres anyone you want me to write for please drop a request there!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, readers discretion is advised

you and i both know damn well that thanos, player 230 himself, is an absolute freak.

it doesn’t come as a surprise to any of his partners when he goes absolutely buck wild in bed, dude is willing to try and experience just about any and everything just as long as it involves him inside you.

need him to go down on you? you may have to pry him off if you want his cock because he will get lost in the pleasure. he won’t even just eat you out, he’ll suck and lick on your clit while fingering you, working at absolute god speed just to make you cum. need to dry hump? he’s more than willing to let you grind on his thigh while he kisses and marks up your neck, leaving a cluster of hickeys and bite marks in his wake. trust he will be pulling your hair back to ensure you’re thoroughly marked up, not a spot on your neck left unscathed by his mouth.

when it comes time for you to please him, he will grab a fistful of your hair and guide your head up and down his dick, and rest assured that you will without a doubt be deepthroating him. he’s quite vocal when pleasing you, sure, but when the roles are reversed and you’re doing the work on him? such slutty sounds have never before been expelled from human lips, he’ll go on about how good your mouth feels on his cock, how impressed he is with your ability to take the full length of him between your lips. oh and god forbid you lightly graze your teeth over his dick, if you plan on making him cum through a blowjob god please use your teeth.

“oh fuck girl, yeah..that’s right suck my dick just like that fuck” and “god if you keep going like this.. i dunno if i can take it, shit.” are both phrases you can expect to hear, that’s if he’s too far gone to focus on degrading you. if his thoughts haven’t been totally clouded by how good you’re making him feel, he’ll make sure to mock you and be kind of a dick about the whole ordeal. “finally putting that bitch mouth of yours to good use.” “awe, is it too much? can’t take it? too fucking bad.”

when it comes to actually fucking you, it’s face down, ass up all the way. you’ll for sure be leaving the situation with a bruised ass from how much he’ll be spanking you. the hair pulling carries over here too, he’ll pull you back into it while he fucks you senseless, whispering filthy things all the while.

will 100% call you his “personal cum dumpster” and the degradation does. not. stop.

“how does it feel, huh? to be on all fours like the little bitch you are for me? bet no one else could make you feel this good, huh?”

“fuck, you’re such a good cocksleeve, holy shit”

“god, moaning like such a slut for me, didn’t think you were such a needy whore”

when he’s not spanking your ass or pulling your hair back, his hands are firmly affixed to your hips with such fervour that marks being left behind would not surprise you. the twinge of pain that comes when he digs his nails into the grip is something you find yourself waiting for. he knows you love it, to be honest i don’t think he would do any of this if it didn’t get you as wet as it did. trust he will also rub your clit as he fucks you like this, when you end up cumming, it might be too much to handle with how this man attacks your senses from every angle.

biting, scratches, hair pulling, the whole nine yards can be expected when you let thanos use you like this.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

thanks for reading again! you know the drill, any advice/constructive criticism is appreciated and requested! i’m always looking to improve my writing, and of course, more to come :)

[eevees-hobbies]

I'M ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH KAJI AND BITING

Content Warning: Mind the tags! MeanGirlReader x TiredOfYourShitRenKaji. Hate-fucking, toxic behavior, degradation, sex in a public place, but plot armor makes it ok, spitting and consumption of said spit, biting, cumming inside without consent. Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 1.3K

Banner by me.

Fun Facts:

If you’re sexually aroused by biting, you have a fetish called Odaxelagnia.

You probably like being bitten because you’re into pain, you sadomasochist.

It has been reported that half of all people are aroused from biting, so congrats, you’re not alone!

Kaji finds you so obnoxiously annoying that his lips curl upward into a scowl. He hates the way your eyes sparkle when you look at him–that irritating, mischievous glint shining brightly in your eyes right as he passes into your field of vision. He hates how you push his buttons with smart-mouthed remarks–every word passing through your lips laced with venom. And he especially hates how you can’t tell that he’s so in love with you that if you decided never to speak to him again, he’d choose to drop off the face of the planet.

But you were so goddamn rude, so fuck ever telling you that.

“I dunno, man. Maybe she’s one of those girls who likes their men a lil mean. It honestly sounds like you two need to bang it out.” 

Kaji gave Hiragi a deadpan stare after approaching his mentor for much-needed sage advice. Hearing him suggest that you wanted to be dicked down felt so off-base to Kaji, which was disappointing since Hiragi was usually right about everything.

But there must be an exception to that rule because the thought of you wanting to fuck him was simply:

Ridiculous.

Absurd. 

Unless? 

No! 

There’s no way you were into him. No sane person would act like you do if they liked someone.

So when Kaji finds himself at a dive bar where an underground death metal band is playing their heaviest set, his stomach churns with annoyance—and something else he’d rather not say aloud—as he sees you walk to the bathroom.

And maybe he was feeling a little brave—or stupid—that night. Because he followed in hopes that you both could squash whatever beef you had concocted in your head, and maybe he’d consider asking your dumbass out.

But as you exited the bathroom and he saw that shit-eating grin on your pretty face as your eyes met, he became painfully aware that, no, he was the actual dumbass.

“Kaji? You stalking me or…? Oh, wait,” you look behind you at the door to the restroom. “I get it. You wanted to watch me pee. I heard you might be into something like that.”

In a matter of seconds, anger consumed him, coursing through his veins like wildfire; all the negative interactions you two had, the snide comments, the poking, prodding, culminating into a very volatile climax.

“What’s your problem with me?!” Kaji doesn’t mean to grab your wrist so hard that you wince in pain—but he does. And he doesn’t mean to practically growl at you, his prominent canines on display as his lips curl upward—but he does. And he doesn’t mean to smash his lips against yours when he catches your eyes staring at his mouth—but he does. 

As the crowd in the next room thrash about in the mosh pit, Kaji is pulling your skirt up and spreading your legs by slotting his own between your thighs.

He tears his lips away from yours, chest heaving, and blue eyes blackened with rage.  “This what you wanted? To be fucked in some dive bar in some dirty ass hallway?”

If he didn’t find you absolutely reprehensible, he wouldn’t feel any shame in admitting how beautiful you look in the dimly lit hallway, lips swollen from his heated kiss, mouth slightly open, and dressed exactly like the type of girl who could run away with his heart.

You don’t immediately answer him, but your body is shaking, and for a moment, he feels as though he might have made a mistake. He’s about to withdraw and offer his apologies until he hears you cackling.

“Kaji, you think I’m scared of you? I eat little boys like you for breakfast.” Your tone is condescending, and any remorse Kaji feels for you dissolves along with his patience.

“What are ya gonna do, Kaji? Fuck the attitude out of me?”

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s gripping your cheeks between his fingers. You try to gather enough strength to shake your head out of his grasp, but his fingers only dig in more, earning a hiss from you. And as you look at him, lips puckered in a delicious pout, Kaji accumulates as much saliva into his mouth as he can, and with two fingers prying your jaw open, he spits into your mouth. Globules of his spit land on your lips and tongue, sitting thickly and tasting like vodka.

And despite the hold he has on you, your eyes roll back as your clit seizes uncontrollably and your cunt drools.

He removes his hand from your face, repositioning it near your head against the wall so that he’s leaning into your orbit. 

“Swallow it.”

And he’s not fucking asking.

You make a show of swallowing his spit, gulping loudly as it slides down your throat, and then showing him your tongue.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, and you don’t even know how to ask for it.”

“I know how to ask, Ren.” Your hand snakes down to the bulge in his pants, and to his absolute horror, a moan bubbles out of his throat at your touch–it feels hot with want, and his brain is telling him that danger is imminent, but he can’t help but lean into the palm of your hand.

“So then ask. Nicely.”

You lick your lips, eyes hungry, and cunt the wettest it's ever been.

“Fuck me, Ren. Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl.” He unzips his pants, the sound making your heart palpitate wildly against your ribcage. As you reach down and pull your panties down your legs, you extend them to Kaji on the tip of your finger.

He sneers but takes the garment, placing it in his back pocket for future use.

You yelp as he picks you up, pushing your back against the wall as he lowers you on his cock. And there’s nothing gentle with the way he treats you. Not allowing your pussy to even adjust to his girthy cock as it rams into your tight, weeping hole.

He’s ramming into you, drumming thuds and sloppy, wet sounds echoing in the empty hallway, with only the sound of the concert drowning out the sounds of your grunts and whimpers.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of him beating up your cunt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!!”

“S-shut the fuck up and stop acting like you weren’t begging for this.”

Your eyes blow out as he sinks his canines into your neck, and despite the searing pain, you clench around him, your cum already coating his dick.

Kaji laughs against your neck. "You wanted to be treated like a hole? All you had to do was ask.”

He’s smashing his lips on yours again, but this time, you lead the kiss, gliding your tongue into his mouth. Your tongue dances over one of his canines, careful at first out of caution but then with reckless abandon as the sharp points of them embolden you, and Kaji groans at your forwardness.

It’s not long before Kaji can feel his balls clenching, his cum loaded in the chamber and ready to fire into you. And if this were any other situation, he’d pull out, choosing to cum somewhere far more convenient, but the idea of filling you up after all the shit you’ve given him and making you march back into the crowd without panties, and semen dripping down your leg makes him groan in your mouth and release hot, thick streams into your pussy.

Your body recoils at the feeling of his seed pouring into you, his cock throbbing as the ropes become smaller spurts until finally subsiding.

You slide down the wall as Kaji pulls away from you and pushes himself back into his jeans. He’s still scowling down at you. “Got that out of your system?”

You’re dazed, a little confused, and entirely giddy from the experience. “And if I say no?”

Kaji rolls his eyes, but he understands you now—he understands what you like and what you need, and he’s sure he can supply it to you moving forward.

[bunnie-online]

needy! ani who can’t keep his hands off of you

(posting this to hold y’all over until i get around to finishing the incubus fic heheh)

warnings: NSFW 18+ NO MINORS. modern au, established relationship.

you’re laying in bed winding down from a long day, anakin’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth, you’re scrolling through the same three apps on your phone waiting for your cuddles.

as you get sucked into scrolling through short form content, anakin appears next to you, shocking you a little. that sneak, he got into bed so silently, it’s almost like his goal was to catch you off guard.

“hi baby” he says in a low and sultry tone, right up against your ear. he knows exactly what that does to you. “hello handsome” you laugh softly, your breath getting caught in your throat as his hands start exploring your body.

“ani?” you laugh again “what’re you doin’?” you lay your phone on the nightstand. his hands find their way under your sleep shirt and to your chest. his large hands groping you eagerly. “i’m just playing with you.” he slurs his words, already drunk on you. “just wanna play with you, baby.” he has his lower lip trapped between his teeth. his beautiful face is flushed pink.

“what’s gotten you so worked up, pretty boy?” you stroke his hair with one hand and moving the blanket to give him easier access with the other. “dunno, just need to touch you.” he practically drools once he pulls your shirt up to expose you fully.

he moves one of his hands downward as his lips latch on to the soft skin of your breast. he leaves a prominent bruise on the underside where no one can see but him. he slides his free hand under the waistband of your sweats, rubbing you through your panties.

“just let me. please just let me.”

~~~~~~~

OOOH feels good to be back, thirsting over ani like this again!!

~ bunnie!!

[lavenderchqn]

✧・| cecilia garden — venti

— you're on your way to try and help out venti who's down with his allergies. unfortunately by the time you're done, he won't be the only one with red eyes.

content warnings: ambiguous ending, reader referred to as [y/n], hurt/comfort, a fair share of angst, idiots-in-love, modern!au, sick!venti, scara as a roommate, also a singular mention of fucking

[note.] — am I done with my master thesis? hell no. do I crave writing something that isn't the thesis? for sure. enjoy the venti fic to celebrate us returning to mond in 5.6! specially dedicated to @belovedoftheanemoarchon my favourite venti reader here~

It feels too empty the moment you step outside. Sure, the lilacs are in full bloom already — making the neighbourhood smell simply divine, but it doesn’t fill the emptiness. In reality, it shouldn’t even feel this desolate. People are crowding, enjoying the sunshine and full of happiness. Oh, how you wish you could be a part of them. 

Now, what were you supposed to do? Taking a step back, you double-check your bag. Tissues, some medicine, all the necessities… Oh, and a bag of freshly picked apples. That jogs your memory quickly. You were supposed to be meeting with Venti today, to enjoy a picnic of sorts… meet for the first time in quite a while. Alas, everything fell to pieces the second you received a message from his roommate this morning. 

scara (8:39 A.M.):  ig your meeting with venti is off. allergies or smth, idk.  

[y/n] (8:40 A.M): 😭 😭 😭 does he need any help? I could drop by. 

scara: dunno, don’t care. maybe? given how you’re eager to help the dumbass. as if it wasn’t obvious you’d show up. 

[y/n]: fuck you kindly. 

scara: I’m sure you’d rather do Venti than me.

scara: the house will be empty after 10. I’d rather not witness your lovesick self on top of his sniffy nose. 

[y/n]: k. 

It was no secret, you’ve had a crush on Venti for ages. There was something so… Venti about him, for the lack of a better word. Everything he’s ever done made you fall increasingly in love with him. Even when getting hit with the friend zone a few months back. 

Unfortunately, your friend group never seemed to get the memo. They’d do their best to force the two of you together, regardless of how either of you felt about it. At first, it could be labelled as a coincidence… but as it went on, neither you nor Venti were pleased with what was happening. In all seriousness, one of the said setups is how you’ve come to realise you’re nothing but a friend to the guy. 

You remember the situation as clear as day. The rest of the group fizzled out so quickly the second you got to the venue, leaving you — a common airhead with the even bigger silly alone to figure the route to your seats. The words of a random passerby calling the two of you cute… and the almost instant reply from Venti still echo when you can’t sleep. “No- we’re, we’re only friends.” His voice was empathetic, if not a little annoyed at the statement. The awkward exchange was soon forgotten by your friend group, soon replaced with how the greatness of the concert. 

Not by you, though. Never by you. You swore you could hear him utter these words, and all the ice that wedged in them, the second you couldn’t sleep. Despite all the tries and encouragement your friends kept on giving you and kept on insisting you confess, you never did. Venti’s message was loud and clear, and as a good friend you upheld the boundary he created. 

Regardless, you’ve never cut off contact. Despite better judgement and allowing yourself to lose feelings for him, you kept being close. Being the one to pick him up whenever he got too drunk or tending whenever he got sick. If just being friends was how you were going to keep Venti in your life, you’d just act as his friend… and nothing more. 

“Cecilia Garden.” The robotic voice announces as it comes to a halt. The closest to the shared apartment of Venti and Scaramouche. You get up, checking for the last time if you have everything. Even if you’ve never taken anything, but your phone to purchase a ticket, it’s best to be absolutely sure. The second you step out, you’re hit with the floral scent of the trees in bloom. Heavens above, spring is absolutely the best.

You don’t even knock when you arrive. Most of the friend group have the key to Venti and Scara's apartment — much to the second one’s dismay. You’ve been given it ‘just in case’ something goes wrong… or when the need to bring back a drunkard home. 

“Venti?” You call out, taking your shoes off. Even without one of the roommate's presence, you’d adhere to their rule of keeping the shoes off. Common courtesy and it saves you a stern talk. “You in here?” You ask, hoping that Venti isn’t asleep.

A faint groan echoes from the living room. “The couch…” He’s bundled in all different sorts of blankets, even those stolen from their bedrooms. Covered from head to toe, you can barely make out the messy locks and a sweaty forehead. He’s lying in the sole space not overtaken by the sea of used tissues… akin to a sailor, more than a performer. 

“Hi,” The bag finds its place on the table. A pack of tissues quickly lands on top of his covered body, the second you hear the sniffles. Apples, bottles of water and multiple packs of medicine slowly find their place in the apartment, given your knowledge of how a certain someone likes the place to be organised. “Eaten anything today?” 

Venti only murmurs something about a piece of bread. Arguably, not the best meal to have when you’re dying from allergies. “Okay, I’ll see what I can make,” You whisper to yourself, bending to ultimately reveal the floor. “An angel has… blessed me.” You giggle, sparing the man a look. It’s not the first time he compared you to one —  usually reserved for whenever you saved him the moment he was overtaken by liquor. Gives your heart palpitations regardless. 

You try to make yourself busy, anything to not think about how deep Venti’s words etched into your body. How are you to see him just as a friend, when all he does is call you words left solely for one’s partner. “Do you want some broth?” You ask, gently peeling off the layers of blankets. His hair untangled makes him look like an angel in return. Just as you’re about to make the decision yourself, his hand weekly reaches out to yours, not quite ready to let go. 

“Don’t… leave,” He whimpers meekly, freezing you in place. Venti wasn’t sick, you reminded yourself. All he had was an allergic reaction. He… really shouldn’t be behaving in such a way. Your hand instantly moves itself on top of his forehead, checking for anything. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, besides it being a little damp. Well, that’s what laying under a mountain of warmth does to people. 

“I won’t leave, Ven,” You sigh, locking your eyes with his hand on your sleeve. “I’ll just make you something to eat.” You hover slightly, finally seeing his eyes for the first time when you turn to his face. “I’ll be back the second food’s ready, okay?” 

There are no words of protest. The grip on your hand? Yeah, that’s another story. “Ven…” He repeats. “Haven’t heard that since… the concert?” Venti ponders out loud, smiling slightly at the nickname. He’s right. You haven’t used a single nickname since that day… And the boundary he’s created. In your eyes, that was the first step to trying and manage your feelings. Even if it made it a little bit awkward. 

Ultimately, you free your head from his hold, now in the kitchen preparing a warm meal. You can hear Venti’s murmurs of agony, upset at you leaving him alone… but you should ignore them. Lest you get any unwanted thoughts. A pot full of broth is on the stove when you look around the cabinets for anything else for him to eat. He’d be happy to have an apple, but you’d rather not make him any hungrier than necessary. 

“…Why…” Venti’s voice is surprisingly loud, followed by placing himself — blankets and all, on you as he gives you a hug from behind. You barely manage to hold out from all the additional weight. You can see in the reflective metal that he’s pouting, hair even messier than you could’ve imagined. 

“Why what?” You ask, stirring the soup. “Why no ‘Ven’…?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, overlooking the cooking process. A silence enters the room. Regardless of what you say, you feel like Venti knows. You can feel your teeth starting to chatter slightly. You inhale, in hopes that he doesn’t notice how your eyes get glossier by the second. Unfortunately, your hopes remain as hopes. 

“Wait, wait,” Venti moves unexpectedly quickly for someone bedridden with allergies. He takes the spoon, as he turns you around. “What’s going on?” His hands move to cup your jaw the moment you turn away from him. “[Y/N]?” It’s weird. You don’t like it. It’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him… Every attempt you make at trying to turn around ends up unsuccessful. You repeatedly shake your head, not wanting to have him see you totally break down. 

It’s useless. No matter how hard you try, it’s useless. Breathing gets harder. Your legs feel lighter than air. “I’m s-sorry…” You utter, tilting your head forward so that Venti won’t be forced to look at your face. “[Y/N],” His voice is so quiet, so gentle, as he slowly lowers both of you to the ground. He pulls you towards him, locking you in a hug tucked against his chest. “…shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” 

There’s no energy in your body left to fight him. You allow yourself to be wrapped in his embrace. Like your body against his is where you’re supposed to be. For the first time, in what seems to be a while, you allow yourself to wail. Your fingers grab onto one of the blankets — anything to try and ground yourself. Still, Venti doesn’t know, doesn’t understand why his question caused the sudden shift in your mood. All he can do is rub your back, in hopes of making it better.

Still, there’s this odd feeling bubbling in his chest. How much he hates seeing the tears run down your cheeks. How much it makes his own body ache to see yours jumping as you try and breathe. How much he dislikes that he’s lost his nickname. How much he… 

“[Y/N], ” He whispers, finally getting a look at your face when you look up. Your cheeks are fully soaked with tears, your eyes slightly red from all the crying. And yet, he can’t stop himself. “I’m right here, okay?” His voice is steady like he’s stating the obvious. “You’ve… taken care of me so much already. Now I’ll— I’ll be the one to take care of you, okay?”

He moves his hands so that he can swipe your tears away. So that he can ultimately cradle your face in between his hands. You only nod, still too choked up to speak. You can, however, feel the pressure of his hands against your cheeks. His thumbs are brushing so gently under your eyes, that it’s almost enough to make you cry all over again. 

Almost. 

Instead, you breathe in shakily, feeling yourself finally starting to come down from the surge of emotions. In everything that just happened — neither of you realise how close your faces are. It’s only when Venti presses his forehead against yours that it comes into the picture. “I’ve missed you,” He whispers, so softly that you’re unsure if he meant for you to hear the words. “I’ve missed you for a long time now.” 

You know what he means by that. How you’re there, but not really there. How despite being friends for many years now, you suddenly began keeping your distance. And yet, you know. Your heart skips and stutters — a painful, hopeful thing. “I don’t want you to cry because of me…” He utters, brushing some of your hair back.

“— Fucking hell, just kiss already. And turn off the burner you morons.” 

date of posting — april 27th 2025

[butterfluffy]

I loved your ushijima hcs! Could I request one for bokuto pls 😊

·ू♡°.· {  - as your bf !  }

content ! ౨ৎ — (HQ!!) | what would it be like having bokuto koutarou as your boyfriend? | hcs

pairing/s ! ౨ৎ — bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

tags/warnings ! ౨ৎ — none. pure fluff! well, slight angst if u squint? grammatical errors and typos might be present. lowercase intended!

a/n ! ౨ৎ — oooowwhhhhh, bokutooooo.... 🤤🤤🤤 | requests are open!

BOKUTO KOUTAROU as your boyfriend!

ohmygod. bokuto...... he's such a lovable dork who is, undeniably, in love with you so, so much..

he himself, along with his teammates and practically almost everyone around him, had no idea how he managed to have you as his very own lover.

^ if i may add, i hc him as inexperienced with dating and stuff. sure, he does have a lotta fans, but... volleyball...... so. he's really got no clue how. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

HE KNOWS HOW TO ROMANCE, THOUGH!! well, kinda?? he learned from the shows he watched, so, he might be a liiiittleeee cheesyyy...

had once tried to impress you by doing the kabedon thing, but he flushed red all the way down to his neck once he realized the very small distance between you two and how you’re staring right at his eyes. he swooned more than you did.

^ swoons at every single thing you do, and even more so when you shower him with affection. pls.

as a boyfriend, i feel like bokuto is an openly clingy lover who absolutely cannot last a single day, minute, even, without you by his side. 😮‍💨😮‍💨

also very attentive of your needs. would give you the world if you asked. also has no problem with spending his time, money, and energy with you. in fact, he loves it.

and of course, bokuto is a very loud and lively yapper. he would not shut his mouth for once, yapping to you about volleyball and anything and everything. also yaps to others about you. very proud boyfie. his friends wish to rip their ears off to not hear any more of his yadayadayada. 🥲

please,,, he's just so happy that you're his. way happy that you're all his, and no one else's. 💗💗💗

“y/n? baby, where are you? don't leave me alone! w-we just watched a horror movie, c'mon! cuddle with me in bed, please?”

VERY possessive. like a jealous not-very-little puppy who is seen staring down anyone who dares try to steal you from him.

“back off. get yourself your own sweetheart. don't try to steal mine.”

makes sure that EVERYONE knows that by openly showing you off in matches by making you wear his jersey, going straight to your arms after a match and kissing you in front of the camera, etc.

in the middle of an interview. “that was a fantastic play, mr. bokuto. so, for who did you win this match?” “for who? of course, for my lovely darling! baby, c'mere, lemme show you off to the world!”

yep. he shows you off every single given chance. hell, all his socials are also filled with you. this annoys most sports journalist and some of his fans as he should be posting about his volleyball career and not you, lmao.

regarding PDA, bokuto is not shy. not even a little. oh, you want to hold hands? okay! don't be so embarrassed, he's already holding your hand! the stares? what about it? now they know you're his, that's what he's thinking!

“darling, i want a kiss. on my lips.” “kou, w-we're outside..” “what 'bout it? gimme a kiss, please... or i'll kiss you, right here, right now.” he kisses you before you could even protest. very smug about it too.

HOWEVER, BOKUTO IS VERY INCONSISTENT WITH ENDEARMENTS. why? not because of a bad reason or anything. it's just because he thinks that-

“oh my gosh, all of them suits my honey-baby-sweetheart-love! i dunno what to call them anymore! wait, how about all of them? yeah, i'll do that!”

in arguments, on the other hand... bokuto 10/10 would cry if he ever makes you upset or if you upset him. he's always the first one bursting into tears in every fight. such an emotional mess… 😭

sulks for some time, before acting like a kicked puppy following you around, silent as ever as he's begging for attention and apologizing every single second (if he's at fault. and if it's you... well, expect him to not talk until you apologize.)

says his “i love you”s all the time, especially after a fight and gets all clingy.

“i love you, baby. i love you so much i'm willing to give you the whoooleee world. i love you... 'm sorry. kiss?”

© butterfluffy 2025

⠀⠀꒰🌷꒱₊ likes, comments, and/or reblogs are highly appreciated! i love reading comments and reblog tags/notes, hehe. (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

[arabaka-archived]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: CANON? WHAT 'DAT? SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED. READER IS AN EXOTIC DANCER. READER WEARS MASCARA. UNPROTECTED SEX. ANAL (AND MINOR DEPICTION OF PAIN FROM IT). SPANKING. SPIT ROASTING. GETO'S A JERK. GOJO'S GOT MONEY.

PET NAMES USED: LITTLE THING (NOT REFLECTIVE OF BODY TYPE, USED AS DEGRADATION), BABY, SWEETS, BEAUTIFUL. ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WORD COUNT: 3.4K. ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanna emphasize first that not all exotic dancers have sex for pay and it's common for clubs to forbid it so PLEASE read this as just silly smut and not as a reference for the REAL heroes (jokes aside, exotic workers deserve respect and MONEY!!!) ゜・。.

“Hey, where is she?”

“With a client. Dunno when she’ll be done. The guy she walked with looked like he had money to spend. Might keep her dancing for ours.” At this the manager chuckles, thumb in his pocket smoothing over a fresh stack of bills from another dancer: his cut, of course. 

“Cool, thanks.” He says with a knowing sneer; he’ll make up for your dues. He always does.

Women clamor for the john’s attention the second he pivots on his heel to make a beeline for the hall of neverending private rooms but he doesn’t pay them any mind; his trademark glasses, black and circled are low enough for the dancers to see that he has no interest in paying for their attention.

Yours, however… Seems to just get more and more expensive. Your rate’s stayed the same, it’s him that empties his pocket for you every time. Call it an addiction and he’ll fess up to it. Unashamedly even. “She takes care of me.” Is an excuse he often doles out, to anyone privy to his lascivious, proliferating habit. 

But he should have watched his tongue more, guarded you more, because he’s run his mouth to the wrong people– well, the wrong person.

His best friend. Geto Suguru.

And Gojo Satoru just knows it’ll be his face he sees when the curtains are split. Prepares for it even, his fist already balled up with his knuckles drained of any color. 

They share everything. Everything but you, and that’s by design. Gojo, he’s… Fond of you. Too fond for the relationship you two share.

He treks down the hall, pace methodically slowing down the closer he gets. No, the rooms aren’t notated by dancer; that’d be stupid. No, because Gojo doesn’t need signage to know where you are. He can track you as well as any sniffer dog, infinitely better when he uses his genetic abilities for sin rather than any selfless endeavors. 

When he finally gets to the right room, velvet curtains glowing under the low light, he hesitates. The others may not hear your stifled moans, struggled breaths you’re so good at masking but you know as well as him: you can’t hide from Gojo Satoru.

So when the cloak of privacy is ripped away, it doesn’t surprise Gojo to see you in your preferred position- seated on a Geto’s fat cock, your knees pushed up to the ceiling with your feet bouncing haphazardly to the raven-haired sorcerer’s rhythm, which is anything but kind and intimate. He fucks you like he feels nothing for you and that’s because he does– you knew as well as Geto that this was nothing more than a paid relationship, and one built on a sickening revenge play.

Those pretty eyelashes of yours part, eyes shiny with diamond tears, when you hear the familiar slide of the curtains and you should be worried, should be on edge of someone catching you (after all, having sex with a paying customer is not in your job description) but when you see it’s Gojo, there isn’t much you can do.

Especially not when Geto seems to cut through the tension like it isn’t even there, pumping your cunt full of his cock until fluids spittle and splash from the velocity. He’s so much thicker than Gojo, foreskin so packed it really does feel like he’s making a new home for himself inches into your pussy, your walls spasming around him when the bulbous tip of his member seems to bump and grind against your most sensitive collection of nerves. 

You whimper and whine but Geto doesn’t miss a beat, swollen balls beating into your folds, squelches and the stench of sex undeniable even as Gojo stands by the entrance still.

His nostrils flare. His breath quickens. His chest tightens. His pants, so fitting before, now feel like a prison for the budding erection you are certainly nursing without even touching him.

“Gotta say, Satoru – hngh – you picked a good one. She’s an obedient little thing isn’t she?” Geto grunts out, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he keeps your pussy and ass on full display for his friend to see. Geto wants him to see you plugged up with no room for anything else– anyone else.

“Sa– Sa— Sator–uu—uu– ah, ah, right there, right there, sir.” You started off so innocent, bottom lip jutted out and puffy from kissing Geto all night, but your voice is immediately corrupted and on purpose as Geto mercilessly spears you on his cock, bottoming out every thrust and stretching your cunt to its limits.

“I got her all night.” Geto says with a growl in between, your hot and gummy walls squeezing the base of his shaft so tight his vision blurs for a moment. 

But Gojo seems to ignore Geto’s prodding, his attempts at getting a rise out of the man with irises that seem to never leave yours. Gojo drinks in your expression, lets the way your eyes seem to gravitate towards the back of your skull, your legs shaking not just from the degrading position Geto’s cramped you in but from the waves of pleasure to start with, drown the annoyance of finding you with his friend.

After all, you aren’t his… Even if he pays you like you are.

“Aw,” Gojo coos, zeroing in on his fucked dumb benefactor as he starts a path towards you, “Cryin’ just all over, aren’t you?” His tone is sickly sweet, with a twinge of something dark hanging just off his words. “Pretty baby probably can’t even see straight, huh?”

He looks for an answer. You can’t give him any. Your tongue won’t let anything roll off its drool ridden muscle but the sweet, sweet sounds of debauchery.

So he makes you, Gojo’s spine curving towards you as he grips your chin forcefully, makes you keep your eyes on him. Makes you fess up.

“Mmhmf– mmhmm—” He wants a response but with your cheeks hallowed by his finger and thumb’s pinching, all you can muster are muffled groans from Geto’s quickening pace, his brutal assault on your trembling pussy as he dares to carve his name deep inside you.

Gojo playfully pats your cheek just then, his hand falling from you entirely, just like the shadowed look over his normally jovial attitude. He starts on his belt, metal clanking away with the noise quickly forgotten to your moans and the club’s blistering beats. 

He doesn’t miss Geto’s furrowed brows in irritation as he does so. Nor does he care.

Because he saw you first. He found you first.

So he’s going to remind you why he’s the best. With or without Geto.

“You don’t think she needs something more?” Gojo croons, overconfident in his talents as he starts to go pap, pap, pap with his cock over your distended tummy, taking note of where Geto’s cock starts and ends by the look of his bulge outlining your skin.

You squirm, belly overstimulated with Gojo’s patting and Geto’s cock no doubt ravaging your guts. You try to keep your eyes on Gojo but you’re losing control, of yourself and of the situation. But you give in all the same, pussy quivering and spilling your juices until they’re dripping down Geto’s sac. “Y-Yes, yes.” You’re finally able to sing, lips still trembling when you beg, “P-Please, wan’ both of you.” 

You don’t know what you’re asking for. Hell, you don’t know the two men’s relationship with one another. It’s not like either have divulged to you the extent of their history; you’ve only been left to assume ever since Gojo stepped in, and that’s been minimal because well…

Your whole body is screaming for Geto to take you over the edge, bring to you a nirvana that’s all his own. But you won’t oppose Gojo’s own entrance to your pleasure, now his cock completely out and dragging the reddened tip over your lips until they’re glossed with his pre-cum. You instinctively lick it away, only for Gojo to praise you with–

“Good girl. That’s my girl.” Gojo seems to say louder than usual, “Gonna cum over his cock? Gonna let go? Let go for me, baby. Wanna see you cum.” 

“S-Satoru–”

Geto bites your ear just then, canines digging into the conch of your ear with little care for the yelp that shoots out your throat. “Who’s fucking you right now, huh? Who’s pounding this wet and sloppy pussy? Forget Satoru. Say my name or you’re not cumming.”

And you really can’t be sure who is the reason for the pleasure that overtakes you just then, from the top of your head to the curl your toes take as Geto fucks you through your orgasm. It could’ve been anything.

It could’ve been everything.

“That’s it, pet.” Geto hushes your babbling, a stark contrast to the rhythm at which his cock penetrates your weeping pussy. He’s fucking you like you’re a toy to him.

And he spills his cum into you, forsaking a condom because– “That’s not how Satoru fucks you.”

So when Geto pulls out, the opaque globs of his release start to trickle out, your hole absolutely stuffed full of the stuff that it overflows, running down in rivets from your thighs to your ass. 

Your legs start feeling like they’re running on pins and needles, your whole body suddenly realizing the tight, unbearable full nelson position Geto fucked you in for… You can’t even track the time.

But if you thought you were getting a reprieve, you were solely mistaken.

Geto still cradling you in the obscene position, Gojo leans forward, on the side his own face currently rests and murmurs, “How much to take that tight asshole of yours?” You watch his eyes dart to the cum still following the curve of your ass. “We have the lube for it.” He mutters so closely to your ear that Geto can hear it, can feel his friend’s hot breath crest his jawline.

You bite your lip, gasping at its sensitivity while you mull over the idea. But Gojo has something different in mind, kissing you hard to distract you from the logic possibly creeping in your head over the depravity.

And that’s how he gets you, kisses you until your mouth is equal parts your spit and his, hands smoothly easing your transition from the cage Geto’s wrangled you into. You follow him, intoxication bubbling in your brain and clouding your better judgment. 

“How much more, baby?” Gojo’s voice brings you back to reality, lifting the haze just enough for you to feel one of his fingers teasing your taut rim with circling strokes as you pose for him on your hands and knees, perky ass lifted high and your spine curved low. All the while, Gojo spreads the cum Geto’s left in his wake until your hole is sloppy wet. “Hm? C’mon, he couldn’t have fucked you that good.” 

“Satoru.” Geto’s voice stops you from responding, his tone low and dark but all Gojo can do is laugh and the bark sends shivers up your back. 

You can’t help but admit the tension is exhilarating. It’s dizzying, so much going on and so many things tickling your senses. There’s Gojo now with his index finger crooked inside your asshole, already working on a second, while Geto walks over to your front with his dick still out and half-hard. You can see the foreskin glisten with your juices and his and you know what he wants you to do the moment he positions his twitching cock in front of that appetizing gap between your lips.

“Clean it up.” Geto orders you, admitting defeat in that Gojo will do what he wants, when he wants and the most he can do is take what’s left.

He can’t be too bothered. He got what he wanted. You will no doubt crave more, plead for Geto’s cock. He can hear that voice of yours now, pleading with half a brain, “P-Please sir, more sir! Can’t get enough!”

And that’s how you end up tasting yourself and Geto, your tongue rolling around his shaft as you work towards taking him whole, your throat spasming at the intrusion to come. Your tight rim does the same when Gojo works his way up to another finger, honestly losing himself to the unfathomable pressure. 

“Shit– think you’re ready for me, baby? Tell me. Make him feel how much you want me.” 

You don’t belong to Gojo but you sure act like it, following his order so dutifully as you gargle on Geto’s cock, saliva leaking out the corners of your mouth down your chin as you struggle to moan with Geto’s fat cock stretching your lips more apart than they’ve ever been. 

It hurts. It aches.

“Good, good girl.” Goosebumps prickle your skin at Gojo’s words, your body buzzing with the pleasure of satisfying your longtime client because let’s face it… You have a soft spot for him too.

You gasp and inevitably choke on Geto’s member when Gojo’s fingers pull out swiftly and unexpectedly from your asshole. Geto’s hand shoots out just then, pressing himself so deep down your throat you’re weeping with your nose scrunched up against his pelvis. 

And he’s smirking at you, so proud to be in attendance for your ruination. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing, your entrance already missing the merciless, reckless way Geto pistoned his fat dick inside and out of you. He got what he wanted– you already needing his affection.

Gojo can see the way you look at Geto, the pools of color in your eyes locked on his twisted features, and it irks him. More than it should. So you’ll have to forgive him for the stinging swat that comes for your ass, both sides to even it out. “Gotta make sure you’re ready, sweets. Want you to feel me take this cute hole of yours for the first time.”

And fuck, no amount of preparation could ever hope to mimic the denseness of Gojo’s cock, how the tip of his cock smears pre-cum over the rim before making that hole open for him.  But it burns. It hurts in a way you have never felt before and you instinctively try to inch away, knees buckling forward with your hands desperately pawing at Geto’s abdomen for relief but you will find none there.

Because Geto’s all but ignored your pleading, choosing instead to start a brutal pace into your mouth, goading more slobber to coat his shaft while your tongue presses to the underside. 

And Gojo? He’s got both hands locked on your hips, so cruelly dragging you back to him. “Don’t run from me. It’s gonna feel good baby, I promise.” He talks to you so sweetly but his body language is mean. His nails dig moon-shaped lines into your skin, the other hand once again aiming for your hole with a fist firmly grasping his girth as he prods your asshole to open nice and wide for him. 

“Shit, Satoru. She’s gonna drown in cock and spit at this point.” Geto snorts, taking pride in the way your cheeks are streaked with mascara, how your lips bloom with a pretty color and shine with your own drool. His chest rumbles with a groan as he starts bringing your head to meet his thrusting halfway. 

You can only sit and take it, take it from both ends as the men, the friends, share in the pleasures of your body. 

Gojo’s at least taking it easy, letting your body acclimate to his cock as he starts with a light pumping. Just enough to squeeze his cockhead in a few inches, then back, but never completely out of you. He’s not that mean.

The drag of his cock inching deeper inside you with the passing seconds, you start to relish in the way he fills you up like never before. You can feel your stretched out hole convulse and clamp down on Gojo’s length, every time squeezing a sweet, sweet throaty groan from the man. You’re feeling sensations there you didn’t think were possible, nirvana settling in amongst the fog in your eyes as you feel pleasure running like lightning all the way to your fucked out little brain.

“Fuck, beautiful.” Gojo huffs with his hips slowly closing the distance between him and the curve of your ass, eyes mesmerized at your pretty hole being so spread out by the thickness of his shaft, the way it seems to swallow him whole until he’s nothing but a cage rattling with moans. 

You’ve never heard him sound like that. There’s a bestial growl in his words with a grip on your body akin to a predator having his first meal. He’s fucking you like he’s starved.

As if he wasn’t just there with you the other night.

You can feel your shoulders start to buckle, elbows worn from keeping your body up to satisfy both Gojo and Geto, the latter either unknowing or uncaring of your slight discomfort. From your short dialog with the man, you’re guessing it’s the second option.

“Hope you’re good at swallowing.” Geto grunts with the hand at your neck now groping your breasts, struggling to find a hold with Gojo starting up a pace that’s making you bob and weave, bob and weave.

Your nipples are so sensitive, just the brushing of Geto’s hand makes you whine all around him, your voice drowned out by the barrel of his cock. “Just – hmmph, fuck – like that.” He chokes out, opening his eyes when you start to mewl, an attempt at rushing the orgasm because now it’s becoming all too much.

Gojo’s cock running deep into your asshole, Geto’s member throbbing incessantly the more noisy you become… Your brain might as well be in the clouds, Cloud Nine because even if it’s overstimulating you from the inside out…

It feels so damn good. You don’t realize it then but it’s because their temperaments are so different. Gojo pounding into you, getting a little more rough with his touch and rhythm but still rounding his spine to whisper how good you’re being, how he knew you could take it in your ear until the skin is burning hot and all your nerves are tingling with euphoria. He’s so close, you feel the ridges of his hardened abs cresting your skin, both parties sticky with sweat. And Geto, so crude in the way he pinches your perky nipples, so mean in how he grabs you by the throat just to make your mouth around him shiver. 

“Mmmf– Mmm–” You start to cry, sobs held back when Gojo’s fingers finally play with your clit, rounding the swollen bud just the way you like. 

It’s that last round of whining that sends Geto over the edge, his cock spurting out more cum than you expect while the engorged head twitches against the roof of your mouth; it’s so much so fast that it makes you recoil and bump your ass right into Gojo, setting off a chain reaction that couldn’t have unfolded any better.

Your grinding all the way to the base of Gojo’s cock makes him pant openly and grunt straight from his chest. His fingers strum your clit so eagerly, you feel his desperation on the tips. He wants you to cum with him.

An easy feat, because his cock, so far inside you, perfectly stimulates the erotic center in your pussy and makes you see white. Your slick is already seeping out your neglected hole, dripping onto the couch, down your thighs that seem to endlessly shake from Gojo’s thrusting. 

Geto does you a favor, sliding his cock out your mouth and slapping it on both your cheeks, staining your skin with his cum and your spit. You’re thankful, because now you can…

“F-Fuckfuckfuck, feels s’good, Satoru.” Your words are slurred, your mind dumb with how Gojo is able to rip the orgasm right out of you, your pussy quivering around nothing while your ass clenches tight around his dick. His cock vibrates with every hot burst of cum inside you, making your ass wriggle and skin ripple as he unloads every last drop inside you.

He’s gasping for air, moaning throughout as he rocks his cock until he’s finished cumming. Your chest pressed to the cushion, you also try to get a hold on a stable breath, lips wet with drool and sweat. 

Geto has long left you two, choosing to start dressing now that he’s finally had his fill of you.

So he doesn’t notice, doesn’t even see when Gojo adds another stack of bills to your collection. Not for him, but for–

“See? What did I tell you? I knew you could take two.”

[lightfeltmemories]

soft feitan headcanons

note: hey y'all, in my previous post i stated that i was making some soft feitan headcanons, and it's been a while since i've actually made content on here because of writers block. what made me make this post in the first place is that i don't see a lot of posts of a normal feitan relationship, it's like 98% yandere, dark and hard smut, etc. don't get me wrong i get why and i find them pretty entertaining but i feel like a lot of y'all exaggerate his personality and it's lowkey cringe sometimes, so i wanna switch some things up and introduce something new.

tags & warnings: fem imagined reader but i kept it androgynous so anyone can enjoy, some mentions of torture, death, etc because thats stuff he does obviously but it won't be on reader, reader speaks his language.

feitan would definitely want a normal relationship with you, the staying at home watching movies, cooking dinner for each other, sleeping and waking up next to one another type, he may not be the most romantic such as taking you to fancy restaurants or proposing to you but something to come home to after weeks & months of torturing people for the troupe.

he's not the type to verbalize "i love you," but show you in a multitude of ways, stealing things you talk endless about, trying his best to be there for you in need, taking care of you while you're sick (even if he doesn't know wtf he's doing), and just doing everything he can to make you happy.

the only problem is, he can't allow the troupe to know of you and vice versa, not even a hint of you, not only because he'll be teased about being whipped but if you do know, theres a high chance you might be a threat in some way, most likely a snitch, so if something happens to where you find out about his business, something very bad is going to happen.

and that proves to be the hardest part of the relationship, he knows what chrollo would do to you if you were to ever find out about his work and he is very paranoid about it, especially if you two are out in public for whatever reason.

but, thankfully, he's pretty good at hiding his job even if he thinks he isn't, and the two of you live happily together.

he lets you do his hair, it's naturally curly and very soft, he also secretly uses your shampoo and conditioner, and has may or may not stalked you while you wash it to learn what you do with it.. how he straightened his hair? i dunno.

if you speak his language, it's like you were sent from heaven, he can finally have someone to talk to in his native tongue, he can't even do that with the troupe, but if you don't (which theres a 99% chance you wont) he can teach you, it's a long process but you'll get there.

he's very protective of you, has no problem eliminating anyone who is stupid enough to ever touch you, he might use that free alone time for whenever you're at work to torture this person if he's having a particularly good day, even though his time away from the troupe is his time away from any work, but he does enjoy the act none the less on a one off occasion.

feitan is actually not the jealous type, he's pretty content with you interacting with the opposite sex, as long as he doesn't see any underlying hints of potential romantic attraction everything is all clear.

he may not be the best at showing emotion, but you're the best thing that has ever happened to him, you'll make him feel things he's never truly felt before.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi!! I just found your blog and 😭😭 you're so talented, like, what?? I def need more!!! I dunno if this is how it works, or if you're still doing the dirty asks game, but I was thinking maybe E,K,U and S (or Z!) for Johnny?

Have a lovely day!! oh, and well, happy new year 🙂‍↕️

Prompts are from this ask game and part of my ongoing list of answers! You can also find A, B, C, D, and V already answered for this boi.

Warnings for...well...they are dirty asks so be prepared for sexy and sexual content 😉 including (but not limited to) discussion of oral, somnophilia, ummmm tickling? emotional unavailability? and idk other stuff. MINORS DNI.

Happy New Year! I love ya! I appreciate you taking the time, dearie 💜 Happy reading... 😈💋

K - Kissing

So this...implies some romance that's not typical for Johnny. His kissing is less emotional and more intense and deep--but seriously, it's not an indication of his longterm interest or level of affection. (There is an exception to this which is Johnny has no problem giving hickies. He will mark. you. up. ((He can't be marked in the same way due to healing.))

HOWEVER, those small, nonchalant pecks--if Johnny ends up smooching you and it doesn't lead to sex, it wasn't in the middle of sex, or especially if there's no one around to see it,--that's THE REAL DEAL. Something utterly devoted has sparked inside him if (and when) Johnny slows down to kiss you. Or slows for any reason, really.

In regards to where Johnny likes to kiss or be kissed? Again, he's not much of a kisser. He's big on touching and groping and tickling, since he's a goofball and true 'player,' i.e. Johnny is nearly always playful, but once there's a connection made with you, he...

okay, so, the thing is, he actually does like to be kissed, and the place that drives Johnny wild is above his dick, right at his adonis belt, that v-cut, the pubes. This is so ridiculously intimate/possessive/reverent; he can barely handle the conflicting drives to melt beneath or conquer you. Strange thing...he would have thought the proximity would just make him want a blowjob but instead he's a goner.

U - Underwear

Commando. Easy-Access Man. Next question.

LOL, just kidding. Mostly, Johnny wears nothing, certainly not with his Human Torch second skin. He used to wear boxers but lost too many of those to a smoldering heap. No point.

On women? Crotchless panties are his favorite, but there's this new trend of booty shorts--he's very, very into them. Generally, he would have thought anything less-is-more would be best in his eyes, but there's this kinda *pop* in the stretchy fabric when it jumps over the swell of your ass...mmhmmm IT'S GOOD.

S - Sleepy Sex

Sleepy morning? You are 100% welcome to wake him up with some head or ride his cock to your heart's content, but Johnny himself doesn't usually start stuff first thing. This goes hand in hand with him being unable to slow down much. He's all about releasing tension before bed though. A good romp to tire him out and calm the mind? Absofuckinglutely. No, he doesn't particularly care if you were already asleep. You'll thank him later. Don't worry. It's always worth your his while.

Z - Zones

Classic man. Go for his neck or his crotch. Johnny is a #basicbitch in this respect. It feeds his ego to be touched all over--duh, he's got this glorious bod, you should want to touch him,--but he has never been a fan of biting, on him or on others. Since he's just about always in the mood, it does not take a lot of foreplay to get him ready.

E - Extra Info

Unpopular opinion: I imagine that perhaps the ultimate show of love/devotion/possession to Johnny is not marriage and all that normal stuff but, instead, if you let him brand you.

He works hard and focuses to not burn people, so you allowing him permanently claim you as his--which he would not do in a casual way, not with random hookups and one-night-stands, not until he is sure that word won't get back to Sue who would kill him--shows a level of trust he didn't believe he would want much less earn.

Johnny is aware he's a ridiculous and kinda stunted man-child emotionally. He's smart enough to know that. Johnny will never stop being grateful to the woman who can stick around, see past it, and grow with him...playfully, of course. You should never stop roasting him about the man-child-ness.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[redstringraven]

Fika

characters: don, klunk, leo, mikey and raph rating: g content warnings: n/a word count: 4288 relevant tags: sick fic, sick leo, post-episode: good genes

(n.) a moment to slow down and appreciate the good things in life a leo sick-fic, requested by @sakuradiva for @tmnt4p !

[ read on ao3 ]

You may as well have called the first sneeze an alarm bell. The instant it echoed through the reservoir station, each and every one of them in range perked up, heads swiveling like a bunch of prairie dogs.

Raph seeks out Don first. He scans the open first-level of the reservoir station until he catches Don’s eye--a second after Mikey does. Don glances between them, his expression at first wide. Then his lips curl downward, and he huffs. “—that wasn’t me.”

There's no attempt to hide the irritation in his tone (and Raph couldn’t blame him); a week or two of one helicopter sibling is annoying enough. Don had three. Plus Master Splinter. Plus April and Casey. Plus Leatherhead. Seven people in a semi-constant state of worry, hovering, asking questions, growing tense with anything that could be a small sign of 'relapse'. It had to get smothering at some point. And even Don had a limit to his so-called infinite patience.

“—Oh!” Mikey says. He pauses, his eyes darting from Don, to Raph, and back again--clearly scrambling to deflect from what Don had drawn attention to. “—Well. It wasn’t ME. My sneezes are a lot more… uuuuh…”

“Needy?” Raph offers.

“Yeah!” A beat. Mikey's eyes widen, then he shoots a squint at Raph. “—Hey, wait.”

“Sorry.” Leo moves out of the kitchen, mug in hand, having lowered the heel of his palm from his beak. “I, uh. I think I might’ve stirred up some dust while I was looking for the chamomile.”

Mikey relaxes, likely happy to accept this answer and move on, but Raph’s brow arcs. “Thought you’n Mikey gave the cabinets a good wipe-down earlier this week.”

“We did,” Leo says. He shrugs. “Guess… some of it must still be in the air. I dunno.”

...lying, Raph thinks, though he’s careful to keep the suspicion from reaching his eyes. He shifts his attention to Mikey just in time to catch the tell-tale signs of worry: a sudden stillness, like a deer in headlights, and the slightest strain around the eyes. It’s gone as soon as it arrives, and Mikey replaces any sign of it with an impish grin.

“Looks like someone was slacking on cleaning duty,” he jabs, knuckles propped on his hips. He tilts his weight forward and tuts his tongue. “For shame, Bronardo.”

Leo sends Mikey a passive smirk. He huffs and starts up the steps toward his room. His free hand finds the stair-rail and stays there. Raph locks onto it. He can't help but notice Leo's not resting his palm on the metal; he's holding it.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with an idea of what we need to knock out today,” Leo says. There's a slight wilt in his posture—and now that Raph thinks about it, he realizes Leo's feet drag just enough to make his usual silent steps borderline audible. Raph shifts his weight and fixes his jaw, forcing himself to hold his tongue. Leo looks back over his shoulder after reaching the threshold of his room and continues, “Donnie, I’d appreciate it if you sat it out another day.”

Don sighs, but he waves a hand lazily over his head. “Heard loud and clear, boss.”

Leo’s door shuts, and silence settles back over the station. Raph remains by the weapons rack, and Don keeps his attention on the blueprints he has spread across the table he'd claimed as his temporary workbench. Only Mikey moves, plucking at one of his wrist bands, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the subtle rise in tension.

“...--you think I can squeeze in just enough Resident Evil 4 that I can get far away from a save point, and he’ll have to wait until I reach the next one to turn off the game?” Mikey asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he flashes Raph a wide grin and bolts for the couch with a cackle. The televisions flash and hum to life, and Raph lets out a blend of a sigh and a growl. His eyes shift to Don.

Don’s already looking at him. Even with the faint purple stains under his eyes, the mild sag of his skin, there’s a sharpness in his stare. Raph recognizes it. He knows they harbor the same concern.

“Donnie?”

“Yeah, Mikey?”

Mikey huffs as he enters Don’s room, scratching at his cheek.

“Have you seen Klunk? He was snoozing on me like usual this morning, but… I kinda didn’t want to get up and give him his breakfast just yet." A terrible betrayal, if he were being honest. But he'd really just wanted five more minutes (which turned to ten, to fifteen, to twenty), and Klunk grew bored of swatting his face. Totally lost track of time after that. Mikey frowns, sending another short glance over his shoulder to eye the station. "He must’ve gotten cranky and left, but he wasn’t in the kitchen.”

“No,” Don says. He rotates a bit more in his chair to face Mikey and sets his pen aside. His jaw tightens, shivers as he points toward the door (an attempt to redirect attention as he stifles a yawn). “But--uh. I know he’s really fond of that one spot by the water?”

Mikey shakes his head. “Checked. Nada.”

“Oh…” Don’s brow furrows. “Well… --have you asked Leo? He might’ve seen where Klunk ran off to; he's been up a while.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Donnie!”

Don grunts a sound in place of a “you’re welcome”, and Mikey jogs back into the heart of their new lair.

There is, of course, a risk he ran entering Leo’s room: he’d narrowly managed to wiggle his way out of work yesterday, and he doubted he’d get similar results today. Leo may not be… grumpy anymore, but he was still Leo. A bit of a stickler—a: wet blanket, one might venture. You could only keep up a single ruse with him for so long.

Leo's door is open when he reaches it (a welcome sight, considering how often it’d been closed in the months before), and Mikey allows himself to cross inside. The space is rather bare--with little left to salvage from the second lair and a mutant outbreak to clean up, they found themselves back at square one in terms of decor. But Leo still found a way to make the few things he had feel clean and in order. Mikey could feel almost a rhythm in the way he'd stacked books on the floor, where he placed candles, and where Leo chose to sit when he meditated. He’s also quick to spot the ball of orange fur settled into Leo’s lap.

“Hey, Leo!” Mikey chirps, careful to keep his voice just low enough so as not to startle either of them. He waits a second for one of Leo’s eyes to open before continuing, “mind if I steal Klunk off ya?”

Leo smiles. But it’s… a tired? smile? Mikey can’t remember the last time Leo looked tired in the morning (y��know; like a normal person).

“I’m surprised you didn’t come get him sooner,” Leo mutters. He closes his eye again. “Sure.”

“Thanks!”

Mikey takes a wide step into the room and crouches. He digs around in his belt, locating one of Klunk's favorite snack-tubes.

“Oh Kah-looooonkkkk,” he says, putting on his best sing-song-I-totally-got-treats-for-you-love-me-please voice, “you want some tube~?”

Klunk lifts and tilts his head. Rather than get to his feet and trot to Mikey’s side, he shifts his weight, tucking his legs securely under his body. Mikey blinks.

That's weird. Klunk never turns down an offer for tube.

Even Klunk seems to acknowledge this; his tail twitches irritably, and his ears flatten out. It's like he wants to get up but…

“...hey, Leo?” Mikey props his elbows on his knees, frowning. “Has Klunk been with ya like this all morning?”

Leo’s shoulders lift in a half-shrug. “Guess so.”

“Huh.” Mikey pouts. Klunk hated a late breakfast. There hadn’t been scraps in his bowl, so no one had fed him yet. Why isn't he screaming for food? ...he's definitely still sending me dirty looks.

Mikey drums his hands on his inner knees. He opens his mouth—another question forming on his tongue—but snaps it closed when Leo suddenly sniffs. It's a wet, strained sound, and his posture rolls forward a little. Almost like he’d just gotten dizzy, or the breath had taken more effort than it should've. Come to think of it, it... did look like Leo was breathing through his mouth more than his nose. His lips were parted slightly. Mikey squints—glances from Klunk to Leo—and straightens up. “...your, uh... nose still bugging ya, bro?”

“A little.”

“...iiiis that all that’s bugging ya?”

Leo frowns, but he keeps his eyes closed. His brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Mikey says, “iiiit’s just… y’look kind of tired? And… Klunk super doesn’t wanna leave your lap. Which is weird! Because he hasn't had breakfast! And I offered him a tube! He ALWAYS wants tube.”

Leo opens his eyes and frowns as he looks at Mikey. Mikey shifts his weight and wrings his wrists in his lap. Leo didn’t have that needling look in his eyes like he had a few months ago, but… guess he’d started expecting a half-hearted glare and a growl.

Leo must have realized this, too. He winces, and his features weaken.

“Mikey, I’m okay,” he says. Mikey's lips twitch into a weak smile, but it must not have looked convincing. Leo sighs, "really, I’m just… Maybe I've just got a cold.”

“—a cold?” Mikey echoes, all at once alert. His throat tightens. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows it's irrational, but he doesn't care. He searches Leo’s limbs—any visible section of skin. But nothing looks open, or irritated or… mutated. They'd gotten separated in Bishop's lab for a while after Don got loose. Leo hadn't said anything about encountering other feral mutants, but...

Mikey rolls his lips together, eyes snapping up to meet Leo’s. “You… didn’t get, y’know. Stung. Or anything and didn’t tell us, did you?”

Leo’s expression drops. “What? --no, Mikey. Why would you—”

“—I should get Donnie,” Mikey interrupts, springing to his feet. “Just in case!”

“Mikey, I didn’t—”

“—I’ll be right back!" He jabs a finger at Leo and shakes his head. "Don’t even think about going anywhere! Klunk's loafing on you for your own protection!! DON'T DISRESPECT HIM!”

And he bolts before Leo has the chance to respond.

Don hadn't been the only one tailing Mikey back to Leo's room. Raph followed close at their heels, but he took to leaning on the corner wall rather than hover at Leo's side. Something Leo, admittedly, found himself grateful for.

Quick to busy himself as always, Don took to checking Leo for scratches, bites, stings--any possibility Mikey listed off, thought about or began to fuss over. Klunk, his duty now fulfilled, had grown tired of Don's close proximity, and he swiftly sprang from Leo's lap, trotting to headbutt and rub against Mikey's heels instead. He still circles them now, a soft, steady purr vibrating in his chest. Leo wonders if all cats are like this: aware and attentive of who needs their comfort, and so eager to provide. Or if it's something unique to Klunk... like the little animal knew Mikey had given him a better life, here, and he was in their debt. 

He almost snorts at himself. Probably silly to think cats thought in transactional ways... and something he still needs to work on, himself.

“You’re SURE he's not sick?” Mikey asks suddenly. He fidgets with his mask-tails, unable to stop himself from glancing in Don’s direction. “Like..." he winces, but hints anyway, "sick-sick?”

Don huffs, keeps his eyes down.

Leo frowns, and he shakes his head. “I didn't get stung or bit by anything, Mikey. I promise."

Unless we’re counting that mutant the dragons had set loose. There's a brief second where the thought sends a wave of alarm through his chest, but it's quick to settle. That happened months before the mutagen outbreak in the city. Surely, if it was a similar kind of illness, it would have made itself known by now. He'd been bitten long before Don had been stung, and Don's symptoms began surfacing in the following weeks. His brothers must be thinking something similar; Mikey continues to send looks in Don's direction, and Raph remains oddly quiet. The silence starts to feel heavy, and Leo winces. “Sorry, Donnie.”

“—don’t,” Don hastens, frowning at him. “Really.”

"So," Mikey starts, "he's not sick-sick? He's just... siiiiick-sick?"

Don sends him a dull stare. "You can just say 'infected', Mikey."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. But, no. I don't think he is." Don glances at Leo and shrugs. "There aren't any 'entry points', like he said. And I doubt he ate anything at Bishop's."

Leo grunts and wrinkles his nose. Mikey shifts his weight, unsatisfied. "What... --what about that thing we stole from Karai? --he's the one who touched it first. Do you think it cursed him?"

"Mikey--"

"--don't act like it's not possible, Don!" Mikey interrupts, clenching his fists at his sides. "We've time traveled! Space traveled! There's a whole city under our feet right now! --And--what about that... that big, red alien-monster thing that almost got Angel's bro?! --That old guy--he was totally cursed and stuff!! What if--"

“--it ain’t that deep,” Raph grumbles, his voice low but sharp enough to cut Mikey off. He pushes off the wall, propping his hands on his hips. “I bet it’s ‘cuz this bozo got back from Japan and hit the ground runnin’. Ain't stopped since.”

Leo squints, and Raph holds up a hand, 'counting' off his fingers as he continues, “I doubt ya slept on the boat trip over. Y’came lookin’ for each of us—got us all back in one place. Fought Karai. Got us back on our feet, the station up 'n runnin'. The first few mutants start showin’ their ugly heads. We get sent back to the jurassic period—”

“—cretaceous,” Don mutters, and Raph scoffs.

“Whatever! --Look, my POINT is, y’ain’t stopped movin’ once. You probably went and wore yourself out! Even more than usual!”

“You were kinda training like crazy for a while,” Mikey adds, rubbing his neck. “Like. A lot a lot. All the time. I guess maybe you chilled while you were in Japan, but... also not really.”

“Raph… has a point, Leo,” Don says. He looks to Leo and shrugs. “April’s talked about this sort of thing before. Like, when she was in college? She said during the holiday breaks, she’d come home and not have anything to worry about, and it was like her whole body released a ton of tension all at once. She’d have a horrible stomach ache for that first day home. Maybe… this is your version of that.”

“This is the quietest it’s been since…” Raph pauses, growls, and shakes his head. “It’s the quietest it’s been in a good, long while.”

Leo frowns. He can't think of any kind of argument. Or, at least, all the arguments that were coming to mind wouldn’t help with anything. Either Raph would get irritable, or Mikey would get antsy and more nervous than he already was. And Don... while Leatherhead had been confident there wouldn't be a chance of relapse, they'd decided not to risk anything. Guess it'd be pretty hypocritical of him to go on insisting he was fine, when they'd all decided he wasn't.

What was it the Ancient One said about surrender? Leo almost couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle to himself. “Alright. I guess I could take a few days to do nothing. Join Don in being a couch potato.”

“Sounds ideal to me,” Mikey says.

Leo’s smirk widens. “I bet it does.”

“If anyone deserves a ‘nothin’ day ‘round here, it’s you two workaholics,” Raph says, pointing a finger interchangeably between Don and Leo.

“And Klunk will make sure you both stay sitting down!” Mikey scoops Klunk off the floor. The cat mews in protest, wiggling for a moment before tucking against Mikey's chest. “He’ll be making the best biscuits this side of Brooklyn. Aren't you lucky?”

 Raph snorts, and he thumps a fist against Mikey's shoulder. “Mikey and I will finish what needs t’be done around the lair for the day. Take a load off. Enjoy free biscuits from the stupid cat, and be ready for movies and a hot meal t'night.”

Leo could hear Mikey and Raph in the kitchen, but he couldn’t tell if they were bickering or just talking. Guess those were one and the same when it came to those two.

He and Don had taken to the couch, as promised. Don tinkers with his shell-cell while Klunk watches from his lap, and Leo, settled under a thick blanket, adjusts the book in his hand.

It'd been surprisingly difficult to pick which of his few books he'd wanted to start, and there was something bittersweet in the reminder that he'd have to rebuild his library a second time. He'd selected one of the fiction novels--an old fantasy, filled with mists, magic, and a winding world. He'd already read it a time or three, but the familiar pages were comforting and easy to get lost in. A small voice in the back of his mind still grumbled and tutted that there was work to do, things to check, responsibilities and tasks he'd been setting aside for higher priority items. But he ignores it (for now).

Klunk stands and arches his back. His mouth splits into a large yawn, and he gives his tail a lazy little flick before carefully padding out of Don's lap. Leo smiles and chuckles as the cat moves onto his legs instead, already purring loud enough to drown out whatever conversation fills the kitchen.

Don smirks. “Looks like it’s your turn to get cat-sat, Leo.”

“Yeah.” Leo opens a hand so Klunk can headbutt it, and he ruffles his head with the heel of his palm. “Guess it is.”

Don chuckles. He sits back against the couch again and sighs, letting his hands and the shell-cell drop into his lap. Leo slants his eyes toward him. His smile sinks a little as he watches Don tug one of the throw blankets higher over his chest. “...feeling alright, Donnie?”

“Yeah,” Don huffs, “my energy just gets totally sapped after a certain hour. It’s really annoying.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Mn. ...what about you?”

Leo’s brow furrows. “I… think so? I mostly just feel… heavy.”

“Yeah.”

“But not… --not the same kind of heavy I felt before, just…”

“I know,” Don murmurs. There’s something… different in his tone, now. Leo can’t quite put a word to it. Don continues, “I think Raph hit it right on the money. You get back from Japan and… we get you back… but you haven’t really let yourself have much time to breathe, have you?”

“I could say the same to you,” Leo says, “you’ve been working to get the reservoir station up, functional and livable since we got here. Even while you were getting 'sick'.”

“Maybe. But… I hadn’t just come back from a huge trip with a completely different timezone—a-and, I hadn’t been…" He pauses, cautious. "...I dunno. ...struggling...? At least not like you."

Leo frowns. “Donnie. Whether you’re drowning in an ocean or drowning in a puddle… it’s still drowning.”

Don blinks, glancing at him. There's a moment where Leo can't quite read his eyes, but he remains quiet. Then, Don smirks, and he lets out a weak chuckle.

“I guess you’d know about that better than anyone,” he says, “considering you’re the one who dove in after me when my toy car almost got me waxed.”

“It’d be a pretty embarrassing way to go out," Leo says. "Especially for a turtle.”

“You’d also know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you? Embarrassing ways to go out.” Don’s eyes glint, and his smirk sharpens. “Big Foot?”

Leo lets out a laugh, ducking and shaking his head in attempt to mask any show of sheepishness. “—Jeez! A guy steps on a landmine one time.”

“It wasn’t just a landmine. It was a landmine in clear water.”

“Please don’t remind me.”

Don laughs. There’s a small pause as his smile softens, and his shoulders sink into a more relaxed position. “...it’s good to have you back, Leo.”

“Hey.” Leo shifts his weight enough to gently jab his elbow into Don’s upper arm. “Right back at you, bro.”

“Alright, sickos.” Raph rounds the couch, his arms held out flat on either side of him. Two large plates balance on either inner-elbow, and in each hand he has a second plate and bowl of steaming soup. Its warm, soothing smell somehow seeps through all the congestion in Leo's nose and throat, and he sighs, letting it fill his ribs. He sits forward and extends his hands, offering to take one of the sets from Raph's person. Raph shoots him a knowing smirk, and he leans just enough to let Leo lift a plate from his arm. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup: comin’ in hot.”

“Oh, sweet,” Don says.

“Think you mean savory, dude!” Mikey chirps as he vaults the couch (and their heads). Leo passes Don the first bowl and plate, and he looks Mikey’s way as his brother drops to his knees to slide the remaining distance to the television set. He spots a DVD case in one of Mikey’s hands and realizes he recognizes it.

“—wait,” he starts, sitting up, “is that what I think it is?”

Mikey turns, flashing him a toothy grin. “Iiiiiiif you mean Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“Where’d you get that?!” Leo asks, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

“April,” Raph answers. He chuckles and hands Leo the other plate and bowl, “figured it was time t’start usin’ her access to things to our advantage.”

Don arches a brow. “Like we weren’t doing that already?”

“I mean, sure,” Raph says, “but Kiki’s a classic! Gotta look a bit harder t’get your hands on one’a those; ‘specially a copy that ain’t totally trashed.”

“And because she’s totally awesome, she SPLURGED!!” Mikey says, jamming a finger against the DVD player's eject button. “This one’s got behind the scenes—interviews--storyboards even!!!”

“He’s real excited about the storyboards,” Raph mutters, though he fails to mask the fondness coloring his tone. He ambles back toward the kitchen, likely to retrieve food for himself and Mikey.

Leo settles the plate and bowl into the blankets on his lap. Klunk rises from where he'd curled between Don and Leo, and he pads onto one of Leo's knees in attempt to sniff the tomato soup. Leo gently nudges him away. “No, Klunk.”

“Let’s put you on the ground until food’s eaten, little guy,” Don says. He scoops a hand under Klunk’s stomach and lifts him off the couch. Klunk protests with a soft, but long, meow. He allows himself to be placed on the floor, but the look he sends Don—paired with a flick of his tail—is more than enough warning that he’ll be back before food’s finished.

Raph returns with a second round of plates and bowls, and Mikey finishes setting up the DVD. He sprints to the light switch as Raph eases their meals onto the coffee table. The lights shut off, and they’re left in the cool wash of the screen’s glow.

What comes next is a feeling Leo can’t quite put into words. Mikey slides into the open seat on his right, and Raph settles into the nook at Don’s left. The room fills with a familiar score—A Town with an Ocean View, if he remembers the track name correctly--and Don thanks Raph for dinner as the two pass down napkins. Mikey shifts his weight, taking care to move and tuck the blanket so it's evenly distributed between himself and Leo. Then, he curls up, bowl in lap, and lets himself lean into Leo's side. He takes a napkin when Leo offers it to him, and Don and Raph begin banter over who gets the remote for the movie's run time.

Leo has trouble putting a name to this feeling... and even more trouble recalling the last time it fell over him, warm and soft, like an old blanket fresh from the drier.

A sense of peace. Familiarity. Safety and home. He wants to wrap himself in it and stay. Let everything else sink away.

"Remember the first time we watched this?" Don asks. He fixes the plate on his lap and settles a napkin over one of the grilled cheese pieces.

"Feels like years ago," Mikey says.

Raph lets out a soft snort. "'Cause it was years ago."

"Think we were eight," Leo mutters. "It was the first and only time Mikey ever wanted to be near a broom."

"You're just mad 'cuz I won the race," Mikey sniggers. He wiggles enough to poke his elbow into Leo's bridge. "Totally left you and Raphie in the dust. Which you had to sweep up."

"Oh, brother," Don sighs, and Raph rolls his eyes, letting out a low growl.

"Leo? Smack him. I don't wanna spill my soup."

Leo smirks. He shifts his weight, gently jabbing one elbow into Mikey's arm. Mikey whine-groans at him, but the end of it is colored with a chuckle.

Raph (apparently having won whatever game he and Don were engaged in) lifts the remote and hits the center button. The town's melody quiets, and the room goes dark as the title menu fades to black.

[euphoricsleeplucidity]

So I saw some Oilrose art, and got a writing idea, but I'm not sure if I should post something based on someone's art? If I should take this down, please let me know. Idk social media etiquette, yet. ;-; Anyway, it's not a script this time but it's still kind of lazy. Enjoy!

V was overheating. She's fully aware of that, she needs oil, and she needs it bad. So why is she stumbling back to the corpse spire? Why is she not hunting, even though that 'core temps too high' warning keeps popping up on her hud and her systems are slowly beginning to fail, her internal fans forced to whir to life in a futile effort to cool her systems?

She feels so dizzy. Honestly, that shouldn't even be possible for a drone, but it certainly feels that way. The world is spinning as she walks, steam literally emitting from her heated body, it's a wonder that the snow below doesn't melt.

Yet, she perseveres and makes it to the spire.

Ah. There's the reason she returned, anyway. She tries to stand up tall in front of her leader, but it's too much of a pain to bother and she just continues to slump. Averts her yellow eyes, even as J's questioning ones pierce through her.

"V? What are you doing," it's more a demand than a question. J steps forward, close enough to feel the heat emitting from the overheated disassembler. If V was any dumber, she'd think that her leader stepped this close on purpose.

"I dunno," slurs V, looking up at her leader and smiling lazily. "Since last time, someone got handsy, fig-figured you'd. Y'know."

A dim yellow blush lights up the bottom of J's visor. V can see the conflict, the need to step back vs the want to be closer.

Yeah. V returned on purpose.

If the only way to convince J to be so close was letting herself overheat?

Well, it's a small price to pay.

And V figures she knows why. The warmth, so unlike the usual coolness of their bodies, it reminds J of... Tessa, doesn't it? So it's not even like her leader actually cares about her in the way she wants, anyway, never will. But it's something. And damnit, V was willing to take what she can get.

J never steps back. No, she comes closer, and without further hesitation, wraps her arms around her subordinate. V startles despite expecting it, but quickly relaxes, her traitorous tail wagging behind herself. She returns the hug, placing her hands on J's back, and her leader sighs in contentment, as does V.

They don't exchange words.

V is content with this.

J will never like her back, but at least she has this.

Little does she know, J smiles, but not because she's remembering Tessa's warmth this time.

If the only way to convince V to be so close was letting her overheat?

Well, it's a small price to pay.

Though, lacking in efficiency.

She doesn't know why V is doing this.

But, well. They have extra oil lying around the spire, anyway.

J's hands cling tighter to V's back.

Stop hurting yourself for me, you idiot.

But those words never come.

[rock-n-roll-queen]

Guns N‘ Roses Düsseldorf 2025 Experience from the pit.

Here we go babes. I finally made the google drive folder. I hope y‘all can access it. If not please reach out to me and tell me.

So I wanted to say a few things about the experience yesterday in Düsseldorf.

It was truly an amazing experience and something I never thought i‘d ever get to do. Seeing fucking Guns N‘ Roses was not on my bingo card until they announced they were touring again.

I know there‘s a lot of bad reputation about them, how axl can‘t sing anymore and how they just suck and i gotta tell you, every single one of these people commenting with these awful, hateful things are just not worth any attention. Of course it‘s not the same as in the 80s or 90s yeah but you gotta be fucking real, they are not 20 anymore and honestly they performed for fucking 3 hours and they had more energy than anyone else in the fucking arena. The way axl still ran from left to right was insane. (Literally drove me crazy cause it was impossible to follow him woth your shitty phone cam on full zoom 😂).

And me and my company both found that he did not sing as bad as it is on the recordings here and then. Like not at all. It did not sound or feel bad at all.

I think he gets too little credit in my humble opinion because he really did good and he still has that power and also that voice. He just struggles to access it in some songs.

You gotta cut him some slack, bro gave his voice up for rock n roll in his youth, giving literally all he had, damaging his vocal cords and that for years. And all that to give the best performances that made him the living legend he fucking is. No one can take that away from him, no one!

I personally also loved to see axl bowing to the crowd after nearly every song. It was so cute and i thought he looked to humble, something i think he had needed back then—to be humbled— but i think also that is something that he did in all the years. He definitely grew from his past and i respect and admire that to no end. He really is a sweet guy i think, not necessarily easy but definitely not a bad guy.

Also axl changed outfit a couple times, first time for november rain i think. It looked very aesthetic and theatrical. He really put in effort to look good. That‘s also when I saw him almost tear up towards the end of the song. I didn‘t record the whole thing cause i wanted to enjoy it and not just stare at my phone while recording, that kinda takes away the emotions and feelings and so i often only recorded bits.

And then, next outfit change i could see his little belly and also his fucking v line?!!?? Like dude i had a hard time to not look at that tbh. And sometime later he also had the top buttons undone, bro i nearly saw his full chest ahhaha. Aaaaanyway….

Well coming to slash and duff, man when i tell you slash‘s gotta be the daddiest hulk of a man i have ever laid my eyes on. Man is just sexy and cool in one. We stood slightly on the right side of the stage cause my friend has always been the biggest slash fan (literally his childhood hero that got him into learning guitar) so i had a bit more struggle to see duff. But I still tried to give all my girls and boys here content of all of them.

Something that I as an izzy girly must say now is something about richard fortus. I think he‘s doing a wonderful job and he really does well in the position. But man when i tell ya that i miss my man izzy so much on there and that richard does resemble izzy from the 80s so much in hair- and clothing style it does make me a bit sadder even. I dunno if that was his style from the beginning or if he‘s trying to „cosplay“ izzy as much as possible (lol) but it made me miss izzy even more. This is no front or anything at all. I just found it curious how they „replaced“ izzy with an izzy look alike.

So now enough yapping, here‘s the link to my recordings and pics. The pictures are a bit crappy every now and then but i hope the vids make up for it.

Warning: the following contains sweaty, old men, hand/finger porn, cuteness overload, loud music and just pure fucking sex and rock n roll!

Guns N' Roses Düsseldorf, 18.06.2025

ps. I am going to gif a few of the moments i recorded, if you have any specific wishes of moments you‘d like, feel free to reach out to me.

[corneski]

I GET DRUNK ON JEALOUSY!

including satoru gojo & a batshit crazy reader.

content warnings of swearing, slut shaming, threats, hints of insecurity, reader has problems, no use of y/n

notes lmk how we’re feeling ab obsessive reader after u finish this… readers so cheeky. reqs are open. i didn’t proofread this btw so ignore mistakes thx bye

the first times you brought up your concerns to satoru about his obscene amount of female friends, he shrugged you off without a second thought. which led to you going through his phone while he showered and finding various messages of the girls he called “just friends” openly talking about you and your antics.

i dunno how ur not seeing it satoru. all she does is gaslight you :((

u deserve better toru ! there are so many girls out there who would treat u 10x better than wtv she’s doing <3

of course satoru shut down these ideas the moment they were sent, but that didn’t stop you from fighting the urge to gag as one of his friends called him by his nickname. your nickname. an eye twitched as you heard the shower turn off and you exited out of his phone before going back to apply your makeup, satoru coming out shortly after.

“so who do we know that’s going to be there?” it was a joke of a question, really. you knew it all. it was some fraternity horndog hosting the house party, so you weren’t too suspicious.

“probably just like… my whole friend group.” satoru shrugged as he buttoned up his loose shirt, approaching your vanity as you glanced at him in the mirror. you hummed in acknowledgment, nodding slowly.

“so… those girls? god, i just can’t put a name to any of their faces. you’ll have to remind me once we see them tonight.” cocking your head to the right ever so slightly, you made your passive aggressive comment to satoru.

he bent down to kiss your cheek before walking to put on his shoes. “s’not like they matter. you ready to go?”

coincidentally, you do run into one of those girls that happened to be talking about you in satoru’s DM’s. her outfit told you everything you needed to know about her. goddamn skank. the urge to strangle you is so strong— your thoughts are interrupted by satoru pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before murmuring in your hair.

“i’m gonna go catch up with suguru, ‘kay? don’t get lost on me now,” he teased and you grinned, nearly falling in love all over again. honestly, you can’t blame the girls.

satoru’s presence left your peripheral and the girl (still too unbothered to acknowledge their names) opens her mouth to introduce herself before you cut her off with a raised finger and a small smile. “stop messaging satoru,” your voice dropped an octave, and her face went pale. the music muffled your conversation to everyone else surrounding, only pushing you to threaten her further. “talk all the shit you want about me to whoever will listen, but don’t let me see it on satoru’s phone. or i’ll shove a butchers knife down your throat ten times bigger than the dicks you suck.”

you brushed away any lint from your tight fitted top before smiling once more at her, tucking a stray strand behind your ear innocently before turning to see satoru and suguru laughing in a corner. “this was a good talk. hopefully won’t see you around.”

satoru opens his arm for you to tuck yourself under with a smile as he sees you approaching, before placing another soft kiss to your hairline. “have fun, baby?”

“lots.” you grin, “lots of fun.”

[ivymarquis]

An Honest Woman

Pairing| Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader, Ghost x F!Reader, Price x F!Reader, All x Reader Rating| M Word Count| ~700 Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author wants to write a gangbang fic but suffers from “I have to explain why they’re fucking”-itis. Each guy will get his own chapter and then an epilogue with the gangbang. This is the prequel/set up to the premise. (Just the 141 guys Alejandro is not involved this is just the only gif I could find with all 4 of the 141 guys lmao) This is some toxic shenanigans on the reader’s part BUT no cheating on reader’s end ayo

“What would you do if you found out I cheated on you?” Her (unbeknownst to either of them) soon-to-be ex boyfriend asks.

She blinks, already deciding she doesn’t particularly like this question.

“I dunno. Probably fuck your chain of command.” If he is stupid enough to try and get his lick in, she’ll get hers back.

But he isn’t a stupid man, and she is content that this is just a random question in the same vein as her asking him if he’d love her if she was a worm.

It’s a smartass answer to what she foolishly assumes is a tongue-in-cheek question. Who the fuck asks something like that and is serious about it?

Much like she doesn’t like the question, he does not like the answer.

Rather than rolling with it like she did, his reaction is immediate. “Is that really fucking necessary? Glad to know I’m with a class act.” The question snaps harshly at her.

Hm. Well, things have been too peaceful for too long lately, haven’t they? She supposes they’re overdue for a blow up.

There’s a part of her that realizes it’s not good that she’s so ambivalent about this. She should care, in some direction, that her boyfriend is blowing up at her. She should either be pissed beyond all belief that he’s mad about a situation he fabricated, or be sad that he’s mad at her. Something.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” is all she says before standing up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I’m not dealing with your shit tonight is the part she doesn’t say out loud.

“Fuck you, I don’t have to deal with this.” He snaps at her, jerking to his feet and hurrying out the door.

Why the fuck does she put up with him, again?

He’s been doing this shit a lot lately. Picking a fight, and blowing up; whether she rises to the bait or not. It’s like he’s desperate for any reason to justify walking out on her in the middle of the night.

The most telling part about their dynamic is that she doesn’t really even care.

She’s got her suspicions about what all he is up to when he storms out; once or twice, she believes him when he says he went drinking with his buddies. But when it becomes a several-times-a-week occurrence?

She sees the writing on the wall.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care anymore!”

She doesn’t. Not really.

Her total ambivalence to anything he does is testimate enough to the fact that she’s done with the relationship.

She just needs to get her shit sorted so she can move out and state the obvious; tell him that she’s over it.

Maybe she’s being cold hearted, but she didn’t just wake up one day and decide she doesn’t love him anymore. It’s every little miscommunication and dissonance that neither of them took the time to mend. Eventually that shit piles up and one day she looks at him and doesn’t feel the affection that she used to. There’s no flutter in her stomach or heat in her groin. He’s just there.

Really she shouldn’t be surprised when a few days later she finds an open condom wrapper mixed in with the laundry. Which, considering she hasn’t slept with him in over a week, pretty much solidifies that he’s a cheating prick.

Okay. Fine. He can’t say she didn’t warn him.

It’s pride and ego and spite that makes her act out. She doesn’t have any attachment to him at this point but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn’t get to act like this and expect to be free of repercussions.

And- well; if she’s being perfectly honest he’s a lackluster lay at best.

When she was in love and being wooed and he was coming home to her and sweet talking in her ear it didn’t particularly matter that he treated her like a living fleshlight. Relationships can take compromise and he’d been checking enough boxes she has been willing to acquise on the good sex one.

Now? There’s no affection to keep her warm at night and she is simmering with pent up energy.

A very simple I’m fucking done. We’re over text, paired with a picture of the wrapper, is frankly more than he deserves at this point, but even she’s got a line she won’t cross and cheating is firmly on the other side of it.

And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with to knock the rust off.