#without a shell ya feel me

[ricopop]

mini oscillo ref aahh what EVERRR dies @superbellsubways @cephalonheadquarters

[chaoticwholesome]

It will be such a beautiful world when i learn to drive <3 in a perfect world i wld prefer not to but like. having to rely on other people's schedules and listening to my regular driver's racist politics in the mornings is gonna make me chew glass 👍

[nanamiskentos]

★ ☄️🪽 ARMAGEDDON ! jujutsu kaisen. 呪術廻戦.

prologue ⋆ ★ what if gojo satoru was the king of curses? or nanami kento, the suave n' disdainful cult leader? ryomen sukuna, the strongest at jujutsu tech? welcome to alternate reality jujutsu kaisen.

pairings ⋆ ★ gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab/she+her!reader, fíngering (f), metaphysical séx, reader is called 'whóre', the most incorrect use of unlimited void ever, óral (m), consensual éxhibitiónism/voyéurísm (nanami), mentions of violence, wall séx, hate séx (choso), jealous séx, car séx (toji), ríding him to tears, córruption kink, overstím, angry séx, lore swaps in a way that would make shonen jump blacklist me forever

word count ⋆ ★ 5.1k a/n ⋆ ★ been teasing this since november last year and i lost motivation and forced myself to pick it back up and get it togetherrr 😭 my formal apologies extended to gege

GOJO SATORU ៹. the king of curses

"i h-hate you, i really, really do!" funny, isn't it? how the words that fall from your kiss-stung lips don't quite match at how you're writhing and squirming in the lap of a being that could easily snap you in two, should he so wished.

clearly, gojo satoru seems to find you, his vessel, just as amusing, for he thinks he's grown rather used to your antics. to the way that you claim to detest him, and that you'll never entertain his offers ever again. and yet here you are, always crawling back to the king of curses when the long hours of the night don't allow you to rest.

"that's possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," gojo coos, chiming sweetly while two fingers work their way through your insides, crooking and curling to find your sweet spot. sighing as though he wasn't affected by your bare form, draped across his throne, "you know what i really admire about you? your unshakeable principles. how you say that you just can't stand me, heh, and yet, always beggin' like a whore for me."

"fuck, gojo, r-right there, –" eyes rolling to the back of your head, revealing the whites, as translucent gloss practically drips down one of the demon's four hands.

"yes, yes," gojo mutters, "i'll get to that, jus' gotta' be patient." luckily, your back is pressed against his bare chest, the muscles and flesh littered with bold, ivory markings. the very edges of ice-kissed hair tickling at your cheek as sharp fangs sink into the shell of your ear, almost tender.

each push and pull of gojo's slender, sturdy fingers between your swollen folds leaves a resounding pop! that echoes through this...well, you're not quite sure where you are. all you know is that, as gojo satoru's vessel, you're prone to sharing his domain — particularly when you're trying to sleep. frankly, you should be a little more concerned about the frequency of these metaphysical meetings, but it's hard to think of little else but how his fingers are so thick, hitting all the right spots in you.

"hey, have i ever told ya' about unlimited void?" gojo suddenly murmurs, jostling right over the nasty bulge that the king of curses packs beneath those loose robes. you tiredly droop your head back, too busy rolling your hips, so close to that dear climax that you've been chasing ever since your soul popped up in gojo's throne room. your eyes meet four blue irises, each one cunning and sharp.

"is t-this really the time for a, hah, a lesson?" you scowl, feeling gojo stiffen and curse underneath you when your pretty cunt sets a steady rhythm over his clothed shaft, "you were no help earlier today, y'know that, right? when that c-curse was –"

gojo nips at your neck, those strands of snowy hair kissing your neck once more, "you were doing just fine without me, always got somethin' to complain about, don't you, eh?" lifting your hips to hiss at the arousal that's leaking out from underneath you, pooling in his wide lap. muttering something about how a human and a lowly vessel like you should be honoured to receive a teaching from the incarnated king of curses, "now pay attention, 'cause i'm not gonna' be repeating myself. 's about t-time you learnt more about this domain."

bleary eyes cracking open to try and capture the sight of a floorless throne room, as though the night sky had been captured to form the base, flickering often as a starless, yet stormy sky, "i k-know unlimited void," you whine, "always showin' off in my head 'bout it," seething as gojo stills his fingers inside you, tutting as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

two beefy arms still hold you aloft, while one has fingers buried within your cunt, and the fourth? deft, rough pads of his fingers begin rubbing soothing, tight circles over your clit, rendering most of your mind to mush, "not just a realm, sweetheart. heh, guess you could say it's a curse. at least for anyone foolish enough to find themselves trapped there –," patting your thighs gently, "present company excluded, of course."

resuming his gentle, punishing pace once more, still curling upwards where he's most eager to reach, that special spot that will see you falling apart so beautifully, "see, when most lesser beings enter, it's like – mhmm, how should i put this?" gojo's musing, voice curling melodiously behind you, slapping away your eager hand that reaches for his cock, "not yet, where was i? well, unlimited void stretches one's mind, traps ya' in an endless sea of information. trust me, yer' gonna' know every atom and particle out there."

"ah, gojo!" lashes fluttering with crystal tears that pull at the corners of your eyes, for he's hit the arrowhead right on the mark, right where your climax is poised to wash over you any second now.

but gojo's ignoring your needy cries, two fingers flexing so tense against your gummy, sticky walls, "so the mind can't really handle unlimited void, and most are just...shut down. but only when i activate it, does that make sense?" he's musing, not waiting for your answer, "yeah, it does, hah. but we are not most lesser beings, right?"

you're not even sure what on earth he's going on about, desperate to chase the orgasm that teases you, licks flames at your groin, "n-no, we're not, fuck, gojo, 'm so –"

"close?" gojo chuckles darkly, and you should have known. truly, you should have guessed that he would have never been so generous with your pleasure if he wasn't planning something. for just as you ripple with the dazed pleasure, you can feel gojo crook one finger in you, one behind the other, curling the digits just so he can mutter something you only catch when it's too late.

"unlimited void."

what follows next is earth-shattering, for you feel as though its the ultimate surrender to the king of curses, where time and space, and thought all blend together into something overwhelming perfect, rather than suffocating. your lips part, soundless as a silent cry is ripped from you, your thighs quivering atop gojo satoru's muscular lap, release absolutely spraying and gushing out from your swollen, eager folds.

you've never had a release that's quite so...clear and inviting, and you can hear gojo's amused, aroused laugh against your back, and if you didn't know better, you would assume that the king of curses is running pale claws through your hair, letting you ride out the crystalline wave of your orgasm.

"hahh, oh my – oh my god, satoru," you're probably babbling, clinging and creating a bigger mess over gojo, who just narrows all four eyes, tipped with white, long lashes. he's smiling, as though he knows something that you don't, and he looks almost pleased, "should we continue the next lesson tomorrow night?"

NANAMI KENTO ៹. the cult leader

you should have known better, you really should have been a bit smarter about all this, about flouncing into the hall where nanami had been holding court, or rather, cult. for the mats had been set up the previous day for the wealthiest benefactors to come and see the great, golden man in the flesh.

and you doubt your husband had been...pleased, when you had poked your head past the great sliding doors, clad in nothing but an open robe in swathes of rippling navy. so all those who turned their head would have caught sight of nanami kento's beautiful wife, nipples pebbled in the cool air, drawing their line of sight to the apex of your thighs. so, that's how you found yourself here, lips pursed around the fat head of the cult leader's shaft.

"she's doin' so well, isn't she?" nanami intones, gentle hand guiding the nape of your neck, loving even. well, he always was, despite the games that the two of you played. the show that he was always eager to put on, hazel eyes gazing over the gaping maws of the benefactors who could only watch, shifting on their mats as you lifted your head up with a pop!

he's chuckling to himself, running a limp hand through thick waves of amber hair, "heh, 's okay. no-one needs speak, i need to be hearing her properly." her being the slick sounds echoing from the hollows of your mouth, the lips that you used to press creamy kisses onto his cock.

"doing, mmph – doing good?" you mumble, that heavy slurp! of your tongue against the broad underside of his cock sending him to heaven and back. he's adjusting his glasses, guiding a shaky hand to the base of his cock, where golden curls coil thickly, slowly sliding his member from your pretty mouth. smearing your waiting lips with the translucent smears of pre that you've pulled from him.

"the best," nanami assures you, patting at his thick, muscular thighs for you to lay your head, "and t-they all think so too, i bet." he can see the gleam in your eyes, knows that you're enjoying this just as much as he is.

wondering at all the creative ways that he can take you right after this, perhaps splayed out on his lap for all to see, back against the teal robes snug on his chest, so the benefactors can see his cock slide between the fat folds of your cunt. tempting.

you're pursing your lips once more, wiping a stray, clingy strand of nanami's arousal from your chin, before diving back to the head task at hand. each wet, sloppy sound of your glistening lips against the fat, blushed tip of his cock has nanami's thighs shaking, quivering. determined not to whine and lose composure in front of the men who fork over billions of yen to his...temple each month.

but it's your hands that are the most dangerous, nanami concludes, for while you flatten your tongue against his tip, your fist tightens around the base of his cock, teasing gentle fingers against the folds of skin right underneath, and his mind goes absolutely blank.

shooting ropes after ropes of thick, buttery release against your lips. watching with glimmering, hazy eyes as your fingers catch the droplets of his release, reaching in between your thighs to slicken your cunt further with his climax, god, nanami truly thinks he's going to burst.

there's a faint, muffled groan from someone in the audience, and he can see the pitying, disapproving look in your eyes. for someone's broken the golden rule of silence, and well, the whole room is gonna' pay for that now. and miss out on a truly magnificent show, he'd wager. what a shame, but no big loss. he's truly extracted whatever funds they had, so these men are of no use to him now.

he gently runs slender fingers over your chin, dipping at the plush flesh of your lower lip, helping you up, "come, my love. i don't want you seeing this," pulling your open robes tighter across your heated flesh, he's guiding you to the door, past the rows of slack-jawed men. nanami kento certainly doesn't want the love of his life hearing the sounds of errant curses ripping flesh apart.

CHOSO KAMO ៹. the assassin

you not really sure what's stopping you from plunging the tip of a blade into the throbbing veins that bulge against choso kamo's neck. it would be so easy, and well, it would be fair too. you could claim self-defence too, for had the sorcerer killer not arrived to take your life?

but fate has a funny way of doing things, for there's a hazy smile playing across your lips, fingers twisting into loose strands of dark hair that fall to choso's shoulders, gasping as he rickets his hips into you, greedy as his cock drills you against the damp alley-wall.

"you're not t-that good at y'job, are ya'?" you're teasing, gasping as you can feel every inch of choso's thick shaft pressing disorderly pecks against your cervix, deeper than you really thought possible. and god, the assassin looks ruined. how ironic that you were the one who took him out instead, with nary a weapon but the one that he loved between your thighs.

the taller man's groaning, amber eyes misty, squeezing shut as dark lashes flutter across pale, blotchy skin like brush strokes on an oil canvas. "s'good, oh, f-fuck," choso's lips bloom a pretty shade of bruised pink, "yer' killing me, baby."

he's jerking his head back, partly from the sheer pleasure running through his veins, and partly due to your nails bestowing a harsher, tighter tug to the back of his head. it's got him sheepishly giggling, utterly pussydrunk on you, "sorry, bad choice of words, huh?"

whatever retort was blooming on your open lips falls apart when you feel the cherry head of choso's cock punch at you, pistoning slick smears of pre against your sweet spot, hot and heavy. he's filling you up in the most delicious way imaginable, and you take the moment to run your hands over his back. over the tight top that clings to his build like a second skin, melded into the ashen pallor of his bulging upper arms.

choso's effortlessly got you poised on one arm, jostling and cursing as his fingers loop around thick, coiled chains dangling from the spear strapped to his back. he's fumbling for a split second, throwing the weapon on the ground with little care, all so he can hold you better. cold fingers pressing against your mouth, a waiting command for you to wrap your tongue around the tip of his finger. tasting yourself, from when you had first guided his hand to the apex of your thighs.

"c-close?" choso murmurs, questioning and chasing after your lolling tongue, looking equally wrecked, as he slams the very last of his inches into you. bottoming out with a thick, sticky pop! the final push has him hitting the perfect spot to make you writhe and squirm. sealing him into a kiss this time to muffle the whine that threatens to erupt from you.

knowing that that choso's got you pinned to the wall of an alley in one of the most run-down districts of the city, where none travel save for ill intentions, and yet, anyone could still turn the corner and see exactly where the base of choso's cock meets your hips in clingy slaps of arousal and pre swirled up together.

"the f-first time i've never been able to finish the job, heh," choso muses, his tone almost gentle despite the mean way that he's delving into your walls, "don't think i can face m'boss after this, tch', o-ouh, fuck," choso's leaning into the crook of your neck, sinking pointed canines into soft skin. leaving marks that will surely bruise and bloom in shades of deep violet, when he separates his tacking, syrupy lips from the juncture of your swan-arch.

you groan, unabashed, when choso stills for a second and bestows you with a heady kiss, all before plunging right back in to you, "who would have thought i would be the o-one to bring the sorcerer killer to his k-knees?"

choso's giving you a half-lidded, lazy look, flushing a brilliant shade of blossom-pink, as though he's got all the time in the world, smoothly dragging his hand down further until its patting at your mound, "p-patience, i'll give ya', that too."

TOJI FUSHIGURO ៹. the office worker

"oh, it's you." that was your disappointed, flat intone when toji fushiguro pushed through the elevator doors after you, earlier that day. the man was the office's terminal underachiever, barely even showing up on the clock, but it was hard to complain when he proved such a delicious sight for the eyes in a rumpled black dress-shirt, rolled up to reveal glorious thick forearms dusted with faint, dark hair.

"oh, it's t-too big, toji!" and that's how you somehow ended up, practically pressed flat into the most brutal, nasty mating press in the backseat of your car. toji's large hands splayed across your thighs, legs achingly hooked over his bent form — but the ache between your legs was far more pleasurable. glossy strands of slick snapping and clinging to your skin where his thighs snapped against yours, steady at a pace that wouldn't rattle your isolated car too much in the basement lot.

"didn't think i was gon' show up today, doll?" toji groans, slowly bucking his sharp hips forward so every inch of his cock explores the walls of your pretty, pretty pussy. "that's why y'were flirtin' with that stupid –" the man's muffling back a heavy moan, "that stupid worker on the s-second floor?"

you're not quite sure how toji manages to do it. defying the laws of physics and matter to somehow reach in between the two of you, to slap around the treacly mess gathered at your pressed groins. toji's circling your throbbing clit in faux pity, all as you heave, "you're jealous? t-that's what this is, hah?"

toji's jade, sharp eyes narrow as though he's hesitant to put a name to the emotion, settling to roll and pinch at your swollen bud, hoping that you can feel every vein and fold of skin rummaging through your syrupy cunt, "n-no." but the quake in his voice gives him so brutally away, and it has you grinning. pulling toji fushiguro down for a clash of your lips against his, so that rough scar brushes against your skin, twitching almost as though toji's smiling into the kiss. what a bastard, you hate how he's ensnared you.

you hiss, pulling at soft, silky strands of raven hair, "keep it down, fushiguro –" heart racing with every ricketing motion of your poor car, swaying back and forth, tucked away in this dim little corner of the office basement lot, "s-someone could see, could fire us, hnghh', b-both."

it's clear that toji fushiguro doesn't quite share your concerns, that shark-like grin beaming in brilliant ivory, nipping at your neck, tugging the corners of your blouse with his teeth, "someone, as in – fuck, ya' got a killer grip, doll. someone, like that fucker on the second floor?"

you roll drenched hips further into toji's abdomen, feeling dark hairs tickled at the very lowest base of your own groin, "if ya' wanna be exclusive, t-toji, just say so." head thrown back for toji to bestow heated kisses all along the expanse of bared skin, tossing your employee lanyard aside.

toji punctuates his answer with a sharp tack of his hips against your clit, "yeah. exclusive, you n' me, doll." the burly man must be close for he's flushing, babbling at you as though you're undoing every stitch holding his slacks (and sanity) together, "i'd do a-anything. clean up my act for ya', show up every day jus' to see that pretty fuckin' face."

your own hazy, shaking climax washes over you, just as toji stills, pumping rope after rope of translucent, creamy cum right into you. creating an awful, sticky mess that leaves you writhing, panting toji's name into his open mouth, "do all that, f-fushiguro, and y'can have me in any way you want."

GETO SUGURU ៹. the death painting

"please," the half-curse is whining now, prattling as you run hands over the dark, cotton robes that envelop him, "dunno' what this is, but it feels so –"

you're cooing, pressing soft and slick kisses to the corner of geto's pink mouth, "feels good, suguru? i guess you could say, hmm," running nails through the dark, silky strands of the death painting's hair, "you could say it's pleasurable, right?"

geto's nodding, adam's apple bobbing as his peach-fine features flush the most beautiful shade of crimson. looking nothing like the hardened warrior with an arsenal of special-grade curses, those of his own blood, at his side. he looks positively ruined, and you can feel the curve of his bulge underneath your teasing hands, running softly over the clothed shaft in the most innocuous way possible.

"can you, ouh –" geto stutters when your lips press a searing kiss into the throbbing vein on his creamy neck, where his shaky pulse jumps in staccato, "touch it? feels s-so good, love."

you're batting your lashes, tilting your head as though you have no idea about the effect you hold over the half-curse, "what? touch, oh!" slipping your hand past the band of his loose pants, underneath the deep violet fabric cinched at his waist, "here?"

resting your hand against the very base of his abdomen, right above where he craves you most. geto's bucking his hips up desperately, hoping that you'll get the hint and move past where you've hovering, right over a thatch of raven-curls.

you thinly smile, feeling the heat of his skin sear into you, before you've even touched his muscular, broad thighs. to think that you've got quite the warrior begging underneath you, well, it's got your own thighs damply clenched together. but that's a lesson for another day, for today, you want to see geto suguru gasping in your hold.

"hmm, suguru, y'know you've gotta' be a bit more specific," your nails run dangerously against his shaft, and you won't admit this to him yet, but the sheer length is making you gulp. all before you've even laid eyes on the magnificent inches that he's packing away underneath his robes, "do y'trust me, sugu'?"

geto nods, quickly and sharply, already shivering from your touch, "of c-course, 'course, i trust you." and the admission makes your pussy flutter, the idea of having this girth packed in you, drilling into you until the two of you see stars.

you press another gentle kiss to the corner of his lips again, reaching up to free his hair from the clingy knot resting on the back of his head. marvelling as ink-dark hair pools in sleek swathes, falling to his waist, giggling as geto chases after your lips, "hah, 'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."

you gently tug his robes to the side, revealing an expanse of chiselled skin, and clear-cut muscle. giving geto a coy look as you pull out his weighty, hot shaft, searing in your hands. it's just as pretty and big as he is, crowned with an angry-red head that seems to throb and pulse in your grasp.

"fuck," geto gasps, already looking drunken from your touch, "keep doing t-that, don't stop that, please." he's addicted to the way that your fist starts gently pumping him, slowly applying more pressure as you move from base to tip. dipping your tongue to taste the first, clear drops of pre that have already escaped.

you clearly didn't account for the physiology of those with cursed blood in their veins, for geto's already making a mess. you're certain that barely no time has passed at all, but there's already slick, gooey strands painting your hand. creating loud squelches as you roll your fist, thumb pausing to flit at his weeping slit.

"hey, suguru," you're murmuring, experimentally parting your lips over his bulging tip, "what would happen if i –"

you get your answer when you're barely enveloped his shaft, thick wads of stringy cum exploding out in glossy torrents, painting your chin in slow, clingy drips of geto's seed. geto, who's twitching and flushed in your hold, ears beaming red as he gnaws at his lower lip, "baby, you shoulda', fuck, should have warned me." pausing to give you a shy look, "wanna' try again?"

RYOMEN SUKUNA ៹. the strongest

"what the fuck was that?" you've never quite seen sukuna like this, this furious. this loss of composure just didn't quite suit ryomen sukuna, the strongest sorcerer that walks the earth in this day and age (though, rumours say that he may even hold a candle against gojo satoru, the famed king of curses).

over a decade you've known the gruff man, graduated alongside him, worked and fought alongside him at jujutsu tech, and yet you've never, ever seen sukuna as he is now. not even when itadori yuuji broke his favourite mug before class.

he's blinking crimson eyes in some sorta' haze, dark lashes fluttering as his mouth hovers an inch away from yours. you're not sure what sort of lecture this is, but the throbbing in your groin is a dead giveaway that you don't mind.

a large hand is resting on the nape of your neck, as though sukuna's not sure whether to pull you away or towards him, numerous silver piercing clinking as he shakes his head, "what did i say to ya' earlier, hmm?"

"erm..." no, not your best work.

but it's truly hard to focus when sukuna looks this good, painted in the evening light that filters through the window of the abandoned classroom, long after the students have retired. toned, deceptively fierce arms pushing against the navy jujutsu uniform, rose-pink hair mussed — no thanks to that special grade that was giving the two of you a hard time not so long ago.

he's pushing closer against you, and you're catching that scent, intoxicating and heady, "wasn't a rhetorical question, woman. didn't i tell ya' one important thing?"

you realise how easy it would be to wrap a leg around his slender waist, to pull the tall man in against the two of you were pressed flat against the desk but you tamp the lecherous thoughts down, time and place, yeah? "you said...," you falter, wandering if it's worth tilting your head to brush your lips against the man, "y'said not to get in the way."

sukuna's long fingers are curling at the shell of your ear, running over a stray strand of hair that's come undone in the earlier scuffle, "mhm, good girl. and what did ya' do, then? when i was busy using dismantle n' cleave?"

you sigh, already feeling sukuna's temper roll off him in waves, "yes, i got in the way," intoning flatly, looking anywhere but the concentric rings in sukuna's eyes, "look, if you're gonna' chew me out, can you make it quick? i ended up you helpin' anyway, and i dunno' why you're so pressed about –"

sukuna presses his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in a kiss that leaves you whimpering, moaning at the desire (and something else that you know sukuna's gonna have a hard time naming) that erupts. bruising lips meeting yours with a fierce urgency, teeth scraping, and hands pulling your own uniform to the side, as though sukuna may lay down his life if he doesn't get to feel you this close to him.

sukuna's muffling something into the kiss, calling you senseless (well, hey! not true) and oblivious (maybe) and gorgeous (true enough, that's fair). you're not sure when his large, tattooed hand managed to pry its way up to your thighs, but you gasp at the feeling of your suddenly drenched panties being torn off with little bravado. sukuna's grinning, all sharp fangs, as he tucks them away into his uniform pocket.

"fuck me." you're groaning, gasping at his thumb hooks over your clit, rubbing hot, tight circles into your most sensitive spot. you're not sure if it's exasperation or a plea colouring your words, but sukuna seems pleased, quirking a brow, "yeah? that's what you want? think it'll get ya' off the hook?"

"please fuck me," you correct yourself, reaching for the metal buckle at sukuna's hips, fulfilling that vision of hooking sukuna in. rocking him closer to your bare, dripping core so he can align his fat, heavy tip against your glistening entrance.

your eyes flit down to the very base of his cocks, where coarse, pink hair teases your flesh, and — oh. sukuna's tracking your line of sight, flushing when he sees your eyes widen, taking in the dark, tattooed ring encircling the base of his shaft.

"don't ask," sukuna grunts, ears flaming red as you giggle, nipping at your ear, "hold on f'me now, can ya' follow that instruction, at least?" the man truly thinks he may lose it, right then and there, watching how your puffy folds bulge around the head of his cock. how it's you, the woman that he's been in love with for ten years, giving him a dazed, lopsided smile when he finally, finally slides it in.

"fuuuck," sukuna groans, pale-pink hair tickling at your forehead as he leans in, "yer' taking me well, heh. not too big for ya'?" he's grinning, even when you swat a droopy hand at him, clenching hard around his girth, "don't flatter yourself."

but it's only when he starts rocking his hips back and forth, imprinting his cock right against your walls, that sukuna begins to lose his mind, losing all sense of other duties and responsibilities. thoughts of the report that he has to submit to the fuckass higher ups, the quizzes he has to grade for the dumb, little first years, oh god, the bills he has to pay. poof! gone, vanquished by the sticky-sweet hold of your intoxicating cunt.

"wanted this for sooo long, woman," sukuna grunts, "you got no idea, wanted you," he punctuates his words with a sharp tack of his hips, "only you. always you, only one for me, heh. i'd take out anyone who says otherwise." and your sweet, pretty whimpers in his ear only make him all the more desperate, ready to slam bullseye on that sweet spot. thank god, classes are over for the day and the campus is empty, for he's got you allll to himself now.

[toxicanonymity]

I am humbly crawling to your page to confess my latest obsession: serial breeder!Joel.

no outbreak!universe Joel without Sarah, an old creep who lives in a lone house where every woman goes to get bred.

basement breeder

joel miller x f!reader, 1k words

Ty for this delicious thot. Almost sounds like you know who 🍃 in another life where he has them coming and going at all hours as gossip says. Standalone. WARNINGS: 18+ PWP imagine, break-in, manhandling, breeding piv, degradation, praise, mating press, carries you, pet names.

Imagine going there to get bred while you're consciously on birth control, and he gets obsessed with impregnating you specifically. You show him a positive fertility test, and he gets more aggressive. God damn, he's gonna make this work. Meanwhile, you don't seek him out the next time you (would) ovulate, and he notices, wonders if you're giving up or letting some other guy take a shot. That ain't gonna fly. . .

He quietly breaks into your dim basement while you're folding laundry on your dryer, wearing earbuds. From behind, a hand clamps over the lower half of your face. You scream into his massive palm while his other arm wraps around you, biceps bulging, stretching his white tee. He pins you against the dryer, and the warm, hard shape you feel through his pj pants sends a rush of need to your core.

With you pinned there by his clothed arousal, the arm around you falls away. His free hand brushes the shell of your ear then nudges your earbud out. He reaches to repeat this on the other side, then wraps his arm around you again and gives your breast a squeeze. He brings his mouth close to your ear, and his voice is deep and low. "Stayin' home like it ain't the most important day'a the month."

Oooh, is he mad? God, he's hot like this.

When you struggle, he adds, "Or *did ya* stay home? ... You some kinda cumslut now?"

You subtly shake your head 'no', with your nostrils brushing against the edge of his hand.

"Nah," his hips push forward, "you want this cum," he grinds.

You go quiet and relax your body. He thrusts against you at a slow rhythm, and you're getting wet. A little "Mm?" slips from your lips into his palm.

"Yeahh, that's right," he continues, "Want it bad, don't ya, pumpkin?"

"Mm," you just barely nod.

"Good girl," he says and takes his hand away from your mouth.

You clear your throat. "I was just tired."

"Tired," he laughs. "That's a good one."

He's normally good about foreplay--with you, at least - your body and your scent turns him on so bad. His hands are incredible, and he touches you just how you like it. He's even been known to bury his face between your legs. But this time, he's fully on a mission.

He hikes up your skirt and pulls your panties aside, then spits on his hand and pats the saliva between your legs.

"Ooh," he reacts to your warm, wet cunt against his lingering hand. "Didn't needa do all that, did i? Shit, you're always ready for me." He tugs down his pj pants, then his warm, smooth cockhead prods at your cunt, smearing precum into his saliva and your desire. You bend forward and rest your forearms on the clean laundry abandoned in front of you, then scoot your feet back to give him a better angle.

"Good girl," he whispers.

He buries his length in you with a groan, and your insides spread around his girth. "I'll knock ya'up, baby." He holds your waist, and with a punch of his cock he bottoms out, "Ahh." When he withdraws a few inches, you spread your feet, tilt your hips, and push back on him. "Hell yeah." He bottoms out again, then grabs your hips with both hands and pounds you.

He's on a mission - he's not trying to make it last. And he's been aching hard ever since he got it in his mind to do this. He was palming himself over his pants for relief as he walked up to your basement door.

He's giving it to you hard and stiff, weeping precum into your poor stretched hole with every powerful thrust. "Yeah, take it, baby," he breathes, and promises, "put a baby in ya," making you twitch and throb, close to bliss. When he picks up the pace, pummeling you near jackhammer speed, his words are broken by his rhythm, "ahhh, yeahhh--- cum on this cock." When you whine he says, "yeahhh, you want this cum," and you see stars.

You unravel and moan his name, feeling your face heat up after it slips out.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, pounding you through it.

He abruptly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss. You start to protest, but he takes your panties all the way down, leaving your twitching pussy bare. He forces you around to face him, then bends his knees and you put your arms around him as he lifts you. You wrap your legs around him, and he sinks you onto his stiff cock, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. After adjusting your weight, he walks you to your nearby bed. With each step, your clit rubs against him.

He lays you down and folds you into a mating press. His thrusts are hard and deep. "ungh," he grunts, "yeah," another thrust, "ohh fuck, " he bottoms out and throbs, warmth gushing into your depths. "God damn, baby." With another hot burst, he deepens the mating press, determined for his seed to take. Your thighs feel a deep stretch. He hovers over your face, and a drop of sweat hits your cheek.

Breathing heavily, he inches back then thrusts forward again, repeating this action a few times as his balls empty. The last thrust ends with a sigh. With his work done–for now–he stays inside and keeps you in the mating press. He wets his lips, admiring your face. “God damn, you look hot like this.”

"yeah?" You reply.

Nodding slowly, he dips his head and scans your body with hungry eyes. He can't help but pull his hips back an inch to admire the sight of your cunt spread around his fat cock. And God damn, what a sight. Not planning on pulling out any time soon, he fully sheathes himself with a low, soft grunt.

"shit, I oughta clear my schedule," he muses, glancing up from where your bodies are joined. He subtly nods and shifts his eyes around as though thinking it over, rocking his hips absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he concludes, "if this don't take ... take ya to my place 'til it does."

--

--

--

Basement Breeder Adjacent

Night walks Joel has breeder energy but only with reader.

For breaking into your basement, Sleeping Beauty - CNC home invasion / somnophilia with another night walks doppelganger.

For serial breeding, a post-outbreak one shot, the old fashioned way, a different Joel and he's a real professional, not a creep.

TYSM for reading, friends. And truly, thank you for your engagement and support. You're a light in my life when it's in shambles lol. Love y'all 🫶🏼

[rebelssvy]

bABES IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST YOUR SMUT 😭 im obsessedddddd with your writing YOU SLAYED THAT BTW 👏👏👏👏👏 *slam cup* ANOTHER 😘👌👌👌👌 oh my can you do a coach ukai ((w/ no weird age gap)) or nanami 👀 (whenever you feel like it, i feel like im being greedy asking for more when you just FED ME 🤭 so sorry) ps happy valentine’s day 🥰 i hope you get head, queen 💋

BOAFFFF i’ll make them separately because they are both like dif anime’s ykkk

so this is coach ukais

TWT LINKS INCLUDED

secret acc ✧.*

keishin ukai x reader ੈ✩��₊˚

summary: you and coach ukai have been dating and soon to be married and you have never seen his porn. female receiving oral sex, fingering.

it was late on a friday night while you were wrapped up with your fiance, that something dawned on you. yes you have had sex, a lot. but, you had never seen his porn.

doing the only thing you could, you rolled over and started loving on him. kissing his face he smiled at your actions.

“y/n…. play nice will ya?” he joked. he always read you like a book. he knew you word for word. it dawned on you that instead of sneaking around, you could be blunt. you were both adults of course.

“keishin…” you sat up and faced him. his face had a questioning look on it. “can i… see…” you couldn’t get the words out. this was embarrassing.

“wanna see what..? cmon pretty girl use your words…” the way he talked to you made you melt.

“i wanna see your porn.” you felt like crawling into a shell. and staying there forever.

“woowww y/n.. didn’t know you were so bold.” instead of making tooo much fun of you. he reached and grabbed his phone. clicking it on tracking down his twitter acc. to your surprise he had a completely different one, a secret one.

you watched as he made his way to his saved folder, there wasn’t much on there. about ten or so videos all ranging from years apart.

“picky guy huh…” you attempted at a joke. he offered a chuckle to you and then proceeded to lean back against the bed frame. you followed suit sitting right next to him. shoulder to shoulder.

without any words you stole his phone from him. he didn’t complain or pry it back. he let you, the first video you came across was a girl getting pounded a cock rammed into her so hard that her liquids squirted all over the screen.

“keishin..” you gasped at what you were watching, heat spreading all over your body. you scrolled to the next one.

a girl getting her pussy ate out.

fuck. you felt like you needed a release alone from these two videos. you couldn’t look away. only prying your eyes from the screen when you felt his hand press against your stomach. mindlessly you arched yourself into his touch.

“mhm sweetheart. you keep watching. let me…” slowly he pulled your pants off and worked out underwear off your lower half. your wetness pooled on your cunt.

your eyes found its way back to his phone, a girl bent over, her ass on full display while it got spanked until it was red.

“-sh! fuckkk..!” two fingers entered your sloppy cunt without warning. for the last two minutes he had just been staring at your pretty hole. now taking action into his own hands by pumping his slender fingers in and out of you.

it was hard to keep watching the phone when his paced picked up. your eyebrows contorted, faced pinched with pleasure.

right before you put the phone down you caught a glimpse of a girl getting fingered blind folded, legs shaking.

giving you an idea, you laid flat on your back like the girl in the video. pulling a pillow over your head. you couldn’t see anything. only feel.

you could only feel his fingers making work on your wet pussy. you could hear him grown at your actions, making you squirm. your pussy clenching tighter.

“fuck you like that?” you heard him speak before you felt him press open mouthed kisses on your naked hips.

the kisses got closer and closer to your clit. until you felt him suck harsh on your bundle of nerves.

“fuck!” the way his fingers pumped in and out of you, and his tounge lapping up your folds. maybe it was the way that you couldn’t see him but he could see all of you that pushed you over the edge.

“k-ah..!” you moaned into the pillow, back arched into his mouth, pulling his face into your cunt you creamed around his fingers.

he let you ggrind his face into your cunt until you came down from your high.

“fuck y/n…. didn’t know you were gonna like it that much. i’ll buy you a blindfold right now..”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··

this one took so long to make ik my bad my bad

[moonlight-prose]

origins logan, raw, passionate, in a truck, while it rains, a little wine drunk. Yeah. 😁

i have no clue if this is a request or just a thought, but i ran with what my mind thought up. but also cause i haven't written anything fully in two months so this is me practicing to get my voice back. enjoy the heinous mess.

warnings: 18+ only past this point.

You expected to freeze with the shitty little heater blowing air cold enough to raise bumps on your flesh. The overbearing echo of rain slamming against the rusted exterior of his worn in (near broken) truck. You expected to die of hypothermia. With the coroners report noting the time of death to be the second he opened that bottle of wine.

You expected a lot of things to go wrong.

That's how you managed to survive this long. In a world so hellbent on destruction, you took the cynics way out and managed to save time on the ride. Things were fucked, hope somehow managed to become a commodity the wealthy could profit off of. And mutants were enemy number one without actually being hunted for fun.

So you took note of the way your breath hung in the air—the flavor of bitter cheap red wine like a pungent toxin that only sunk you deeper onto the silver claws of fate that promised protection. Even as they offered exposure to the elements. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy, his gaze fixed on the way your top gaped and fingers gripped onto the soft leather of his jacket.

You expected this to go wrong too.

That your words would fall on deaf ears, that you would fumble as he slid a hand between your denim clad thighs. How long would it take for him to jolt back to reality? To understand that you were far too much for him to handle as the world fell on his shoulders.

How long could you get away with feeling wanted, yearned for?

When your fingers clawed at the leather seats in the back, your mouth open and chapped from the cold, is when you stopped. Thoughts slipped past the inner psyche of despondent reality. Hope washed over your spit covered shoulders as he bit down on the plush skin with a grunt. Life appeared bright and hot and burned with something new the second he plunged into your sopping cunt.

"That's it," he muttered, lips catching the shell of your ear as his cock carved a new path in your once aching body. "Open up for me baby."

Your words escaped as a mewl. Eyes rolling back and nails digging new shapes into seats he'd have to fix.

He laughed at your mindless state of bliss. "Gone and made you dumb huh? Cleared out that pretty head of yours."

"L-Logan," you managed to grunt, hips slapping back to his quick timed thrusts that struck gold.

"'S okay." Another bite to your spine had your thighs shaking, the slap of his balls lewdly hitting your clit made sparks embed themselves into your soul. "I like ya better this way. You think too fuckin' much anyways. Gotta shut out the bad shit don't I?"

"I'm gonna-"

"Yeah I know you are," he bit out, fingers digging shapes of intent into the flesh of your hips.

You were aware of the truck rocking back and forth. Of the mist gathering on frozen windows and your moans swallowing the sound of rain. You could feel the tingle of red wine in the base of your stomach. The haze of its beauty clouding everything but him and the small confines of this hot car. You were aware of nothing going wrong, of his cock grinding wet and raw into you, of the pool of slick forming on the seat of his car.

Nothing bad existed in this sphere of bliss. Nothing horrid could happen.

Claws punctured the seat beside your head, his hips slapping fast enough to hurt as the tight coil of tension snapped hard enough to halt your heart.

"Fuck!" he roared, sinking into you deep enough to scrape something aching and lovely. His cock twitching hard with each spurt of cum—spilling out onto your mess on shitty brown leather.

Sucking in a breath felt easy, uncomplicated. Your mind drifted into blank thoughts and images of him. Into a state of bliss with Logan's name scratched on the walls.

You expected to freeze. To lose a limb or two from the air cold enough to kill. But then his body settled over yours, his hands cradling your stomach, face pressed into your back. And warmth became the only language you spoke.

[captain-hawks]

hair down!karasu

“you’re so distracting,” you grouse as you feel your roommate’s chin come to rest on top of your head, your fingers stilling over your keyboard mid-sentence. 

“‘m bored,” karasu sighs. “and ya spelled specific wrong.”

tilting your head upward, you glare up at him while whacking the backspace key more aggressively than necessary with your middle finger, “because you distracted me!”

he stands back up, chuckling to himself and sauntering off into the kitchen to inevitably make more noise while you sacrifice what remains of your late-semester soul to the research paper gods. 

to be fair, the issue of him being a distraction is less about his shuffling and tittering about the apartment in boredom and moreso just about…him. 

well, a very specific part of him. 

you’ve been friends with karasu for years, you’re close. exceptionally close, you’d argue. and when the entire first floor of your dorm building flooded out last week, he offered you the spare room in his apartment—no questions asked.

it’s a temporary arrangement, so really, it should pose no risk to the neat and tidy little drawer that you keep your attraction to him shoved into the dark corners of. spending a few weeks underfoot with his warm accent, pretty eyes, dry humor, and gravely laugh shouldn’t kill you.

you’re been compartmentalizing it all like a champ for years, after all.

if subterfuge of unrequited pining was an olympic sport—

but you underestimated one tiny issue that you hadn’t quite thought out the consequences of when presented with the opportunity to cohabitate with karasu tabito. 

one little thing—

his hair.

his at home hair. 

his i’m not leaving the house or seeing anyone today hair. 

his clean, completely product-free, ridiculously attractive hair—which falls softly across his forehead, tickling the bridge of his nose. which flits along the shell of his ears and rests against the back of his neck.

(which makes you want to run for the hills and jump into his arms and flee the country and kiss him until you can’t breathe and—)

it’s funny, really, when you think about it. the fact that you’ve actually never seen karasu without styling wax in his hair somehow. it feels somewhat ridiculous thinking it out loud. 

but restricted exposure throughout the duration of your friendship thus far was clearly for the better, given the way you haven’t been able to stop glancing over at him every two minutes since he got out of the shower three hours ago. since he padded into the living room in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and plopped down on the other end of the couch, idly scrolling through his phone and entirely unaware of the crisis he’d unknowingly thrust upon your unsuspecting, fragile mind. 

because here’s the thing—on a normal day, you can squash them down, these inconvenient feelings of attraction. the way your heart flutters feebly against your ribcage at the sound of his voice, at the curve of his lips when you say something ridiculous that makes him smile. 

at the way he says your name, how you always seem to be the first person he calls after games. how he falls asleep with his head in your lap when you watch movies, the way he doesn’t even have to ask what you want when you’re ordering food or getting coffee because he just knows. 

but this. 

this. 

he’s sitting on the other end of the couch again, lazily running a hand through his hair and blowing it out of his eyes every so often while he taps away at a game on his phone. 

and yeah, you’ve never been quite so attracted to him as in this moment.

it’s not even just the fact that his hair is down, even though the back of your neck has yet to stop burning at the sight of it. 

it’s the undeniable domesticity of it all that has your heart racing in your chest. 

that has your fingers itching to toss your laptop aside, to crawl across the expanse of cushions and into his lap—

“please tell me you’re almost done,” karasu interrupts your treacherous train of thought. 

you find him on his hands and knees in front of where you’re seated sideways against the arm of the couch, positioned between your lazily spread legs with one hand hovering over the lid of your laptop, which he’s slowly pushing closed. 

“hey!” you choke out, both startled by the way your body reacts to his sudden proximity and the fact that you haven’t saved your document in fifteen minutes. 

hastily, you do just that, and the laptop snaps shut with a resounding click that seems to echo off of the walls of the apartment like a beacon while karasu stares back at you for a beat. 

a slow grin of victory spreads across his face when he uses one hand to transfer your laptop to the coffee table, but he makes no move to get off of you. 

“otoya and hiori wanna get dinner,” he tells you by way of explanation. 

it’s not fair how much more attractive his stupid, cute little mole looks with dark strands of hair falling against it—

“and?” you ask carefully. 

you just want to reach out and touch—

“and you gotta eat, too, so i’ve been waitin’ on you, princess.”

fucking pet names. one goddamn crisis at a time.

your ribcage is on the verge of becoming a triage center. 

“well, don’t you—shouldn’t you go and get ready, at least?” you do your best not to sound completely and entirely rattled as you gesture toward his hair. 

he looks up with just his eyes, as if he’s only just now noticing the origin of your afternoon’s torture. “what, does it look that bad?”

is he serious?

he smirks, and—oh. your breath hitches in your throat as you try to figure out when he got so close, when he shifted even higher to cage you in entirely between his tall, muscled frame and the plush, worn-in couch cushions. 

it makes you feel dizzy, being beneath him like this. 

karasu smells like the strawberries he was eating earlier, and your throat goes dry as you think about the way he’d outright fed one to you instead of handing it to you like a normal person when you asked. the way his fingertips had briefly touched your lips—

he smells like the fabric softener he’s used for years, and it’s seemingly the last remaining lifeline left to ground you in this moment. you grasp at it, almost desperately. 

you end up unconsciously fisting a hand in the fabric of his shirt instead. 

he leans in a little closer, close enough that his hair brushes against your forehead. 

it tickles. 

warmth blooms hot in your gut, petals of heat caressing your spine.  

“does it look bad?” he asks again. 

you can feel his breath skirt against your lips. 

“maybe,” you whisper, voice almost hoarse. because you need some sort of an upper hand here. 

he huffs, eyes locked on yours. “liar.”

“you’re distracting,” you tell him again for the—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said it today. 

one of his knees is slotted dangerously between your legs, and you try not to think about the way his thighs look in his kit. how often you have to tear your eyes away from the sight of them when you’re watching his games. 

fucking footballers. 

“am i?” 

you nod slowly, and you wonder what his lips taste like. how he kisses. if they’re as warm as the body heat that’s blanketing you while he keeps you bracketed beneath him. 

if he’d methodically break you down like he does to his opponents on the field—if he’d call you some other endearing thing in that pretty accent of his while your legs are wrapped around his waist, while you’re carding your fingers through his hair and parting your lips and gasping his name. 

you wonder if he’d take it slow and drag his nose down your cheek before sliding his lips along the curve of your jaw. 

if he’d kiss you long and deep, licking his way into your mouth with one hand splayed against your throat and another curled around your hip. 

if he’d—

“you’re distracting, too, ya know,” he whispers. 

“what?” your heart’s pounding so loudly in your chest, you’re not sure if you heard him right. 

karasu taps your chin lightly with his pointer finger. “ya read out loud, and ya sing to yourself while you’re cookin’ and cleanin’.”

embarrassment washes over you as you begin to realize what a bothersome house guest you’ve probably unintentionally become over the past few days. “i’m sorry, i’m just so used to living alone, and—“

he cuts you off abruptly, “i said you’re distracting, not that i didn’t like it.”

you blink up at him owlishly, and your chest tightens in confusion as you breathe out what seems to be one of the few last remaining words in the wasteland of your mental dictionary, “what?”

“you have a pretty voice,” he murmurs, thumb ghosting over the edge of your bottom lip. “i like hearin’ it.”

you feel breathless when you exhale the only other thing you can think to say, “karasu.”

his eyes fall shut for a moment, and he smiles. “i love the way you say my name.”

your tongue dances impatiently against the back of your teeth as you swallow, testing the weight of three different syllables—

“tabito,” you whisper. 

he opens his eyes suddenly, and he stares down at you with an expression that has your toes curling against the couch cushions. 

“you should only say that if ya want me to kiss ya,” he rasps. 

your fingers tremble slightly as you reach up and touch his hair, slowly brushing the tips across his mole. he catches your hand when you go to pull away, keeping it there. 

“tabito.”

karasu’s mouth crashes into yours. 

[calzone-d]

So just saw your post about steve being an absolute much and i wholeheartedly agree. On that note i also believe he talks you through it so good when he fucks you. He comes off so poised to everyone else but when he’s with you? He gets so nasty and cocky with it, it’s all “that’s right baby take it” “oooohh is that right, that feel good?” “just let go sweetheart come for me” and when you get close and start gasping he smirks and mocks your little oh oh oh’s, like he knows he’s big and he knows he fucks you good, he just can’t help it

Thoughts?

pairing: Steve Rogers x afab!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, reader has a vagina, steve has a filthy mouth

a/n: 100% Think about it- Steve loves to help. Loves to help others, loves helping you take his cock. and yeah he’s americas sweetheart but he deserves a little moment to be cocky too!!

not proofread!

absolutely nsfw below the cut im warning ya

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for coming out tonight, your donation makes a world of a difference.”

Steve’s voice is firm but sincere as he shakes the hand of another rich friend of Tony’s. They’re all making their way to the door as the night dies down. Not fast enough, though. Not fast enough to where you can whisk Steve away upstairs like you’ve been dying to do for the past few hours.

You toss back the rest of your drink when Steve moves to wrap his arm around your waist. He brings his lips to your neck, peppering the soft skin with little kisses. The feeling makes you laugh, the only people in the room left are a few of the other Avengers so he clearly has let go of his inhibitions. The asguardian mead kind of helped that along, too.

“Let’s go upstairs, need to feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, sweetheart.”

His words cause you to choke. Your face flushes as you turn in his arms to set your drink down on the bar. He gently pats your back with a blush that matches yours.

“Sorry, honey. You okay?”

You chuckle thinking of how his filthy mouth always catches you off guard. America’s Golden Boy definitely has a golden tongue to match, but you’re the only one who holds that knowledge.

On your tiptoes, you put a hand on the back of his neck to pull his face down to your height. Your soft lips brush the shell of his ear,

“You want my pussy, baby? That’s what you need?” you whisper with a kiss to his ear.

His blush ripens just as it began to fade. He nods, preoccupied with making an escape plan, always the Captain.

Steve drags you out a side door and makes a beeline to the elevator. The second the doors shut, his hands are on your hips. His fingertips squeeze you as he starts speaking again.

“Bet that cunt’s drippin’ for me, huh?”

His Brooklyn accent always comes out when he’s like this. Before you have a chance to respond his fingertips are slipping up your dress. They skate over the inside of your thighs before pulling at the waistband of your panties.

“Lemme feel, honey.”, a thick finger slips between your folds. A wicked smile spreads across his flushed cheeks.

“Sweetheart… already so wet for me..” the tip of his finger catches your clit and makes you whimper.

Steve pulls his fingers out right as the elevator dings and the doors open. You clear your throat and follow him to his room. Steve’s pink lips wrap around his finger as he unlocks the door, mumbling something about how you taste.

He’s pulling you in as soon as the door opens, hurriedly pulling down the zipper of your dress.

“Need this off, honey girl. Now. Panties too, need to taste that pussy again.”

Without a second thought you shimmy the dress off and kick your panties somewhere behind him. He drops to his knees before you and crawls the rest of the way, backing you up against the wall.

Steve unbuttons his shirt and yanks it off, “Got me crawlin’ on the god damn floor for that pussy. Like a pet.”

You bite your lip at that. Your hands reach out to make a home in his perfectly styled hair. Steve settles on his knees, pulling one of your legs up and over his broad shoulder.

“Am I your pet baby?” You chuckle softly and nod.

“Mhm.. a good pet too, Stevie.”

He groans and leans forward. One of his hands comes up and spreads your folds open, putting every inch of your soaked pussy on display for him. His tongue sets a path from your quivering hole up to your hardened clit.

Pulling away the slightest bit he groans “Fucking hell”. Steve’s dirty mouth isn’t new to you, but always takes you by surprise. Always makes you blush just a little harder.

Steve makes a rhythm of poking at your opening with the tip of his tongue and using it softly against your clit. He’s obscene with it, too. A mixture of your slick and spit coating his sharp cheekbones. He slurps and moans as you near your orgasm.

“Gettin’ wetter, honey. Gonna cum for me? You can cum, sweetheart. Been so good to me tonight.”

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, honey. Don’t worry, just let go. Lemme taste it, pretty girl.”

His words are muffled by your cunt but it makes you squirm all the same.

The tension snaps when he shoves his tongue as far as humanly possible inside of you. His pointed nose creating the perfect amount of friction against your throbbing bud.

“That’s- that’s it.” He pants into your sensitive folds. He slows down, pressing gentle kisses against your clit. “So sweet, honey.” another kiss. “Could taste this” another lick “this pussy all night.”.

You don’t miss the way he wobbles just the slightest bit when he stands to pull you into his arms. He pulls you in for a kiss that’s all tongue. The taste of you on his tongue makes you moan.

Steve kisses you all the way to his bedroom. Once he has you on the bed he shoves his pants and underwear off, not bothering to make a show of it. His cock is heavy and wet, the tip glistens as the weight of it makes it hang down in front of him.

You instinctively spread your legs, your arms reaching out for him.

“Stevie..”

He’s over you in an instant, nose nuzzling your cheek, then the flushed skin of your neck.

“M’here sweet girl. I’ve got you.” he murmurs. He wastes no time in bringing the tip of his cock to your soaked folds. He runs the tip up and down, making sure he’s wet enough to not hurt you.

“This pussy will be the death of me, honey. You hear me?”

You nod and grab at his back, holding him to you.

He slides in, and you both moan at the feeling.

“Just needed this- fuck- this sweet pussy on my cock. Needed you wrapped around me sweet girl.”

Once he’s balls deep he doesn’t even pull out to thrust into you again, just grinds the head of his cock against your cervix. The trimmed hair at his base adds to the sensation of his pelvis putting pressure on your clit. His heavy balls are pressed flush to the dip of your ass cheeks.

“Ohh fuck. Got me- got me so weak, honey.” he pants. One of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling your face into his neck. You discovered pretty early on that he was so sensitive there. The second your lips touch his neck he’s a goner.

“You like that though, don’t you? Knowing you’ve got- mmm- got your captain so weak for you?” He pulls out almost all the way before slipping right back in, all the way to the hilt.

Steve tilts your hips backward just an inch or so, and the next move of his cock puts sweet pressure on your g-spot. The feeling makes you yell out, frantic hooded eyes searching for his as you grab onto his biceps.

“There it is, I got you, sweets. Just-“ another thrust, “Just taking care of my best girl.”

You whimper at the pressure on your g-spot. “Oh, steve! I- fuck.. So good..”

“I know baby, found your spot, huh?” he smirks as he hits it again. You nod as your eyes flutter shut.

“You can- you can take it, hun. That’s it..” he murmurs against your hair.

“I’ve got you sweet girl, just take it.” your moans only spur him on. “I know, I know, shhh. Taking it so well, sweets. Taking your captain’s cock.. god damn.. Squeezin’ me so tight.. Just creamin’ on my cock baby.”

He leans back and his thumb finds your clit. He thrusts more shallow now, jackhammering against your g-spot and putting you right on the edge.

“So sensitive here baby, such a pretty pussy. Love this pussy, oh fuck.. Got me- got me so close sweet girl.”

You lock your ankles behind his back, making him fall back over you.

“Cum in me Steve, I- fuck!- need it baby. Steve, please.. need- ohh- need it so bad.”

He drops his weight on you, face buried in your neck as he fucks you, spurred on by his most primal desire.

“Steve, I need to- m’gonna cum.. I’m.. I’m oh fuck!”

The way your pussy clenches on his cock sends him right over the edge.

“Shit, oh shit. m’cumming, honey. Ohh my god.” he doesn’t stop thrusting even as his cock twitches and empties itself deep inside you.

“Take it,” he buries himself as deep as possible. “Take your captain’s cum. All for you, sweet girl. Fuckkk, take it. Ohhh that’s it…”

He swallows thickly, nudging his nose against the side of your neck.

“Love..” he pants. “Love you, y/n. My sweet girl. Love you so much.” his voice is raspy.

He doesn’t even try to move. Your hand comes up to scratch at the back of his scalp and he wiggles a little against you, getting comfy for a minute.

You press a few kisses to his sweaty temple “Love you too, Stevie.”

He lays there on top of you until he goes soft and you’re poking him in the ribs to get him to move.

“Wanna shower, stevie. Get up.”

When he pouts, you giggle and press a soft kiss to his lips. After he slips his cock out of you, he uses his thumbs to gently spread your lower lips. He ghosts his thumb through his cum that’s starting to leak out of you. When he’s done admiring his handiwork he pulls away and brings his thumb to his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”, he murmurs and pulls you to your feet.

In the bathroom, he gets the shower started while you pee and attempt to clean yourself up with some wipes.

“Jeez, Steve.. there’s just so much of it.”

Steve snickers and pulls the shower curtain back for you. “Been savin’ it for you, babe.” he says with a cheesy wink.

You laugh and fake gag, “Gross”. Steve leans in and presses a kiss to your scrunched nose.

—-

a/n: thanks for reading! likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated, and requests are always open!

[lokis-army-77]

Cozy

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Waking up the day after Eddie has fucked your brains out you have a little more fun.

Warning: 18 +. unprotected sex, p n v, breeding kink, kinda innocent reader, soft dom eddie, 1 whore, a bit of hair pulling.

Thank you to those of you who beta read! <3

Masterlist

You wake up in the late morning, sun shining through the blinds, warming your bare body. You can feel the heat radiating from your boyfriend as well. He's awake too. You can tell by how his hips keep pressing into you from behind, still not satisfied even after a night of rolling in the sheets 

Eddie's arm holds you close to him and you feel his lips barely caress the shell of your ear. "Morning baby." He hums. 

You smile sleepily. "Mornin'," you say as you snuggle further back into him.

He grunts. "Don't do that or you'll start something you can't finish."

"I don't know what you’re talkin' 'bout." Your giggles are soft, muffled by the comforter.

Eddie rolls his hips into the curve of your ass. "Oh, I bet you do." He bites at your ear lobe. 

"Eddie stop." You swat your hand behind you at an awkward angle. 

"Stop what?" He asked, rolling his hips again.

This time you can't help but moan. 

You can feel him grinning lazily, his unshaven scruff catching on your hair. 

He's getting harder, his cock is pressing into you and it's impossible to ignore with neither of you having clothes on. 

Eddie slowly moves his hand down your body, fingers contouring to every curve until he ends up between your legs. 

He pries your leg back and hooks it over his own. "You're so wet, baby. I've barely done anything." He says as he runs a thick finger through your folds. 

You shift, sighing when he touches your clit. "Eddie..."

You liked him like this. Liked living in the softness of a late Saturday morning. But you can't lie, you liked it when he was rough too. 

Memories of the night before had you buzzing. Skin on skin, mouth to mouth. You loved when he dominated you but you loved when he was soft and sweet. 

"What is it, sweetheart? What'd ya need?" He asks, finger now circling languidly around your entrance. 

"Mmm, you. Need you." 

"Me? What from me?" He teases.

You just whimper, brain foggy from sleep and his touch.

"Come on, Sweetheart, tell me." His thumb swipes over your clit.

"Please," you breathe. "Need your cock." Your face is flush. He knows how much that word embarrasses you. 

"Is that right? Want me to give you my cock?" His finger dips ever so slightly into you 

"Yes!" Your hands grip the covers when he finally pushes his finger into you fully. 

Eddie takes his fingers away from you and gives your ass a quick smack. He leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek before whispering, "Then get in that puppy pose I love so much."

Your legs squeezed shut and your heart fluttered. He could always make the most dirty things sound so innocent. 

Wasting no time you throw off the covers and get onto your knees. Eddie watches you with lust-filled eyes as you slowly put your chest to the mattress, leaving your ass bare and presented. 

With your head resting on the bed, you can only hear and feel Eddie moving behind you. You suck in a deep breath when his large hand grasps your ass cheek. 

"Such a good girl for me." He praises and you keen. You wiggle your hips and he laughs through his nose. "Gonna give you what you want." 

His hands roam over the roundness of your ass, spreading your cheeks even more apart. 

You clench around nothing, waiting as he admires you. 

"Eddie?" You ask.

He hums in response, still staring at how you are spread out for him.

"Need you really bad," you whine. You could only stand so long without him being inside you and patience was starting to wear thin. 

"Okay, okay." He pressed up into you. He's hot, you can feel the heat radiating from him as he pushes his cock through your wet folds. He passes through them a few times before he takes a breath and pushes into you completely.

The angle had him hitting deep within you. His head rubbed against your walls in a way that had you clenching your toes. 

“Fuck,” you moan into the sheets, fingers grasping for anything that could help ground you. 

“That’s it, baby.” Eddie groans. “Pussy’s just squeezin’ me.” He begins to pump in and out of you at a steady pace. “God you’re perfect.” 

You close your eyes and reach your hand behind you. Your fingers come in contact with Eddie’s hip and he slides his own hand from your ass down your back. His touch sends a shiver down your spine. 

A long whine is pulled from you when Eddie fists your hair in his hand, tugging only hard enough for you to feel a small amount of pressure on the back of your head. He moans when you start to rock back into him. “That’s right use my fuckin’ cock.”

He pulls your hair harder and you mewl. “Wanna be closer to you.”

“Okay Sweetheart.” Eddie lets go of your hair and reaches down with both hands to help you up. He pulls your back flush to his chest, it’s sticky with perspiration. He dosen’t stop his efforts, his hips still move, pucnhing into you. 

All you can do is grunt and groan as you feel him fucking into you. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your chest so that he can hold you steady but also grab at your breast. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan into his ear. “Want- fuck I want-”

“What’s that baby? What do you want?”

You can’t answer, too embarrassed to say but when Eddie gives you a firm smack on the ass, the words come fumbeling past your lips. “Cum inside me. Want you to cum inside me, gimmie- fuck- gimmie- ah!” 

His hips press harder into you. “oh? Want me to fuck you full?” He slaps your ass again. “Hum? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

Those words had you crying, begging for more. You love when he talks like that. When he fucks into you so despretly at the thought of you having his children.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. Such a whore aren't you, Sweetheart? Need everybody to know you’re mine.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie, I’m yours.” You heave. 

Eddie lets you go and you crumble back to the bed. His pace quickens and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. His breathing gets heavier, and you can feel the pleasure building inside you. Your moans get louder and more frequent. 

“Right there!” You cry when he goes deeper. 

“Yeah, baby? Right there? That’s the spot?” 

You nod and he continues to hit just the right place. Your mouth is hanging open, drool pooling on the bed. It feels so good to have him so close. 

In and out, in and out he goes, hips clapping against your ass. Your back arches and you feel yourself coming closer. 

You let your hand fall from behind you to the bed before you bring it between your legs. Your fingers find your clit and begin circling. Another shudder courses through your body and you clench around Eddie. 

“God, fuck baby, don’t do that.” He grunts, thrusts faltering as you squeeze him again. 

“AH! Eddie, please, I'm gonna cum.” You moan. Wetness is dripping down your thighs and hand and onto the sheets. 

“Then cum, sweetheart. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” He tells you, hips snapping into you faster. 

You feel yourself tensing in pleasure before you finally let go, cumming hard. You keen and arch your back, your orgasm crashing through you. Eddie thrusts a few more times before his own orgasm overtakes him and he groans. You both collapse in a heap, breathing heavily. 

When you open an eye to peek at Eddie, he’s already watching you. A smile envelopes you and you hide back in the sheets. 

Eddie tuts, “Let me see that pretty face.” He takes his hand and tries to pull you from your hiding place. “Come on, Sweetheart, show me how beautiful you look.”

You finally peer up at him again and he just beams, cheeks round and eyes scrunched. He leans forward and plants a kiss on your forehead before leaving pecks down the bridge of your nose and lastly on your lips. You hum into him. 

“I love you, y’know that?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” You say sweetly before you are interrupted by a yawn. 

Eddie gives you another tender kiss on the cheek, “Go back to sleep baby, I’ll clean this mess up.” 

“Okay-” you comply, yawning again. Before Eddie can leave and come back with a warm cloth, you are already fast asleep. 

[angrythingstarlight]

credit

Just a few thoughts I have about this man's hands.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x Reader

A/N: Don't know where this came from. Don't judge me. It's was an urge I couldn't control.

Bucky Barnes's hands are lethal. Not because he can effortlessly crush a guy's skull or punch through a wall.

No his hands are lethal because of how delicately and gently they hold your face when he kisses you. Like he cherishes you. Doesn’t want to break you. Soft warm skin and cold metal cupping your jaw, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his lips slot over yours. He kisses like he's fucks. Always starts off soft and slow and sweet until you're begging for more. Gets a little faster and deeper until he's controlling you, dominating you. Moving you where he wants you so he can take and take and take until you're gasping for air and willing to do anything he wants.

His hands are lethal. They're huge compared to yours. Everything about him is big. Thick. But what really makes you feel small, and delicate is when you're palm to palm with him, your fingertips don't come close to reaching his.

His hands are lethal and he can't keep them to himself. His fingers are always curved around your thigh, his thumb drawing circles on your soft flesh, chasing away the goosebumps his touch created. He can't go more than a few minutes without holding your hand, keeping yours tucked away in his so you can't get loose. Not that you want to. At night, when it's quiet, the world is nothing but a distant hum, just you and him sprawled across the sheets, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice and his fingers trailing up and down your back.

His hands are lethal. Especially when he's guiding your hips across his firm, warm body and dragging your pussy over him until you're sitting on his face or cock, grinding you down nice and slow until he can feel you pulsating and dripping on him.

As gently as he holds your face when he kisses you, his grip is bruising and firm when he fucks you. His hands folding your legs back so he can go as deep as he wants, relentlessly pounding you harder and harder, fucking you so good all you can do is take it.

His hands moving you to all fours so he can fuck you from the back, one hand putting yours on the headboard cause he knows you're going to need something to hold on to or you're collapse on the bed, the other hand, all metal, and firm, pushes your hip back so you can meet his thrusts, his cock moving in and out of you so fast, it feels like he's not even pulling out, only going deeper and deeper, hitting your spot so good and hard, tears spill down your face and you feel him making your belly bulge.

His hands are lethal when his warm, calloused fingers roll over your swollen, pulsing clit, metal fingers in your hair bringing your head back so his lips can graze the shell of your ear as he rasps out a soft, deep "cum for me gorgeous, cum all over my cock like a good fucking girl. There ya go, that's it, that's my girl. That's what I needed. Fuck–fuck you're so fucking good."

His hands are lethal when he has his metal fingers around your throat, leaving you lightheaded, teetering on the edge of euphoria with just enough air to moan his name as he bounces you on his cock, his large hand slapping your ass, demanding you ride him faster even as your thighs tremble around him and the room gets blurry. Show me how much you wanna cum, show me how bad you want this. Make a mess all over me.

His hands are lethal when he pushes his cum back inside your aching cunt, telling you he's going to make sure you keep every drop of him inside your pretty little pussy. That he's going to keep you full all the time, never let you feel empty again.

His hands are lethal because they provide the best aftercare. The dichotomy of warm and cold fingers on your back, massaging and kneading your sore muscles while he praises you for taking him so well, being so perfect for him, making him feel good, only stopping when you're relaxed and sleepy. Those hands pick you up like you're feather-light, placing you in a warm bath. Those hands feed you whatever you like, his touch lingering on your lips. Those hands carry you back to bed, placing you under fresh sheets.

His hands are lethal and only you know everything they're capable of.

Only you know how perfectly two of them fill your pussy, stretching you out just right so you're ready to take his cock.

Only you know how intoxicating it is to feel him grip you even tighter just before he comes apart, the way his right hand trembles slightly before pulling you closer.

Only you know how nice his hands feel around your waist when he's guiding you through a crowd of people, wordlessly letting you know you're safe with him.

Only you get to feel the full power of his touch, only you get to wear his marks like a badge of honor.

Bucky's hands are for you and only you. And that's the way he likes it.

And I—

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Johnny sings. Simon mourns.

cw: mcd, grief, suicidal ideation.

Price had put the bullet in Shepherd and Ghost had put the bullet in Makarov as they had agreed. That meant the business of the 141 had concluded. Without Johnny, Simon intended to disappear. Properly this time. There would be no crawling out of the grave he’d dig himself. There had been no tears shed, no outpouring of grief. Simon was completely and utterly numb. Like someone had encased him in ice the moment the light had faded out of Johnny’s eyes; any hope for Simon had died with him, leaving only the shell of Ghost to be puppeted by Price’s orders.

When Simon had pulled that trigger and Makarov’s body had hit the floor, he’d felt nothing. No triumph, no closure. Just an emptiness. A great, yawning void where emotions should be. Where Johnny should be. He’d learned long ago that revenge healed fuck all, so he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. But it had felt like just another kill. Just another fruitless step towards the inevitable darkness that awaited. Price had watched him in the back of Nikolai’s Black Hawk with a crease in the centre of his brow, but Simon had been lost in his own head.

Simon had little doubt Price had seen the writing on the wall and when he had summoned Simon to his office two nights before Simon was due to depart Hereford, Simon reckoned it would be a last ditch effort to get him to reconsider the plan he knew had been percolating on the inside of Simon’s skull since they had spread Johnny’s ashes over Moray Firth.

Simon knocked twice and waited for Price’s bark from the inside before he turned the handle. “You wan’ed to talk, sir,” Simon murmured through the mesh of his mask when Price continued to scribble on the paperwork in front of him.

”Yeah, Simon. Take a seat.”

Simon watched Price’s hand. Something weren’t right. There was a subtle shake to it, and Simon realised that it had been the thickness of Price’s voice that had drawn his attention there. Looking for reassurance in the strongest, most trusted pair of hands he knew. But, it was almost like he’d been—

Impossible.

The chair groaned under Simon’s weight and he scooted forward to the very edge of it, back straight, curled fingers on top of spread thighs.

“What ‘m abou’ t�� show ya, I need ya to know I had to make a decision to keep it to meself ‘til now,” Price said. “I needed ya focused. If ya never wanna see me again, I’d understand.” When Price looked up, Simon wanted to gag. Not from disgust, but because his body didn’t know how to process the quiver of horror that went through him at the remains of Price’s tears. His eyes were red, still glistening. His breath caught in his lungs and he had to force himself to let it out in a stuttering grunt.

“Whot is it?” Simon managed, finally.

“Ya need t’… we got ‘em, now ya need t’ start healin’. For him. Ya can’t jus’ throw away what he was denied, Simon. You…” Price pinched the bridge of his nose and trailed off, clearing his throat. Whatever this was, it was eating him alive. Price reached for his phone as he stood up to circle his desk, his thumb sweeping across the screen until he found what he was looking for. “Watch this. I’ll send it t’ya after. But I need ya to watch it here, olrigh’? I jus’—just in case, I can—fuck, jus’ watch it, Simon.”

There was that shake again and Simon took the phone quickly. The face he saw on the screen, frozen behind a large black play button, made a knot tighten in his throat. “Johnny…” His thumb hovered, his fingers creaking around the plastic case of the phone. Price reached down, his own thumb brushing over the top of Simon’s nail to help him those final few centimeters.

Johnny came to life before Simon’s eyes. ”D’ye really think he’ll wanna hear me croonin’ like a wee cat?” He asked the man behind the camera. Hearing his voice again lit a tiny pilot light deep in Simon’s chest and it was like feeling warmth again after being buried beneath ten feet of ice. A pressure began to build behind Simon’s eyes, but he swallowed it down so he could focus on the irreverent bastard that had given his life meaning over the last few years.

”Don’t you Caffliks sing ev’ry Sunday, la?” Price. That was Price. He only went a bit Scouse when he’d had a drink, and judging by the flush in Johnny’s cheeks, they both had. Simon glanced up and saw the pain on Price’s written in deep lines around his eyes.

”When…?”

”While you were away,” Price croaked. “Jus’ shut it. Watch.”

Simon looked back to the phone. Johnny was looking over his shoulder, the scruffy back of his mohawk facing the camera. Someone spoke—Garrick. “Weren’t you an altar boy? Bet those old priests helped you hit the high notes.”

”Get tae fuck ye filfy cunt.”

”Oi, oi, lads, now now, c’mon… fer Simon. E’ll love it.”

“Right, an’ ye sure ah can’t jus’ tell him over a tiext, maybe a… ye knoow, a water emoji…”

”Naw, naw, he’s a proper romantic, like. C’mon, look… I’ve got…” Price played a few chords and the camera shook. The picture turned upside down and then righted itself, and suddenly Simon was looking at the both of them as Price set his phone against something on a nearby table. Bloody wankered, the both of ‘em. Despite the pain balling in his chest, Simon’s lips twitched into a faint smile.

”Awrigh’, but if he rips th’ shite outta me, ‘m gonna pish in ye boots next op, sir,” Johnny said, squinting at Price. He lifted his phone from his lap and tapped at the screen. In the next moment, a grainy violin played a few notes and then… and then… and then…

…Johnny started to fuckin’ sing.

“Oh, my love seid tae me ‘will ye meet me by the sea? Ye c’n kiss me underneath the misty mo-o-on’. He is stunnin’, he is pretty, he's as warm as amber whiskey, and as bonny as the heather on the hill.” Price played along beneath Johnny’s voice, smoother than honey, warmer than an August evening. The smile that split over Johnny’s face as Price echoed ‘oh my love’ in his gravelly voice, still perfectly in tune, made something crack at Simon’s core.

Johnny drummed his fist against his thigh. ”When I was a young boy, my mother seid tae me, "find yerself a pretty lad, don't take his love fer free", from fields of Aberfeldy t’ the shores of Loch Maree, I knoow that he's the only one fer me.” His palm opened as he sang through the chorus again, his heel bouncing against the floor, his shoulders relaxing, his voice lifting as he stylised through another ‘oh, my love’ before breaking into the next verse. Larger than life, brighter than the sun. Simon’s next breath burned out of his lungs like it was made out of dragonfire. He—Johnny was singing to him—Johnny was—Johnny—

“He was dancin’ by th’ fire as a pi-per played a tu-u-une, he wrapped his arms around me an’ he asked, ’are ye my groom?’ A dram of amber whiskey an’ a twinkle in his eye, we danced beneath the Caledonia sky—oh my love seid tae me, will ye meet me by the sea, you c’n kiss me underneath th’ misty mo-o-on. He is stunnin’, he is pretty—”

The crack widened. Simon felt his chest quiver, his heart thundered, something weight-bearing gave way, a molten chill coursing through his veins, like glacial ice had melted away and now threatened to drag him under in the current as it searched for an exit. Johnny continued to croon through the chorus, his voice lifting and falling, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. Simon’s entire world narrowed in on him, his cheeky smile, the handsome cut of his jaw, the stupid fuckin’ ferret fuckin’ haircut the fuckin’—the fuck—the fu—

The song ended and Johnny stopped the backing track on his phone. Price’s hand stilled on the strings, his whiskers twitching. “Well, bloody ‘ell, that weren’t ‘alf bad.”

“Man of many fucking talents! The bastard’s toast, mate.” Garrick called from somewhere off screen.

”Aye,” Johnny said, and then looked directly at the fucking screen with those bright blue eyes full of promise, and life, and love… looked directly at the—he was looking at the—“Be seein’ ye, L.T.”

Simon didn’t remember leaving the chair.

He didn’t remember staggering for the door.

He didn’t remember yanking his mask from his head as the balaclava suddenly felt suffocating rather than protective, stifling him like Ghost was trying to keep a stranglehold.

He didn’t remember when his hands began to shake, his fist threatening to shatter the phone, breaking the white plastic of his mask, or when his knees gave way. Only that Price was there to catch him when he began to fall apart, strong arms wrapping around his chest. Simon’s fingers scrambled into Price’s back, clawing at the firm bulwark of it as the first broken noises wheezed from his chest. “Johnny… Joh—Johnny…”

”I know, son. I know—i’s ok, i’s ok, I gotcha, let it go… s’olrigh’…”

Price held him so fuckin’ tightly, buried his face in Simon’s neck as they ended up on their knees, Simon’s manic scrambling too much even for Price to handle. Every raw emotion, every broken part of himself that he had pushed down to get the job done, poured out in the animalistic, shattered sobs that wracked through his entire body. Ugly, gasping, broken noises, with tears, and snot, each breath rasping from his burning lungs as he fought against the tsunami of agony that pulled him under.

Simon clutched the phone to his chest, like he could absorb the image of Johnny into his heart and use it to glue the shattered pieces together, his face buried in Price’s shoulder, blunt nails biting into the cotton of his shirt, howling like a wounded animal as everything he had lost, everything that he could have had, finally swallowed him whole.

[taintedcigs]

thigh-riding with steve. bc i can’t stop thinking about him and he’s the cutest and i luv him okay bye <3

warnings: thigh riding. dom!steve kinda? kinda degrading, kinda praises, nicknames and allll that <3

MINORS DNI!!!!!!

you hated, scratch that, loathed, when steve had to work over hours. strapped to his desk, head not even getting up from whatever paper work he had that week.

especially, when you were this desperate and horny, just needing a sweet release, needing his cock inside of you, stretching you out fully. yet, he barely paid any attention to you, all you got from him was yes and no answers and a few grunts, making you huff.

so when you begged him to let you ride his thigh while he was doing his work, you never expected a yes, and a low groan of “c’mere.” as he pulls you omto his lap, and you’re quick to straddle his thigh.

“you’re being the biggest fuckin’ brat right now, sweetheart, and i’m not in the mood, so get yourself off and shut up, yea?” you nod swiftly, and your hands are quick to wrap around the nape of his hair, your head lulling to the croon of his neck while you quietly grind yourself on his thigh, whimpers muffled as he doesn’t pay any mind to you.

and of course you’re not wearing any panties under your thight skirt, just to get him riled up more, and he can feel your wetness soaking his sweatpants, making him let out quiet grunts. he tries to ignore it, but his cock stirs at how desperate and pathetic your mewls are, and how good you look straddling his thigh, your warmth covering him.

his cock aches in his boxers, and he knows he can’t focus any longer because you’re so fucking perfect like this and judging by the way you keep slowing down he knows you can’t even get yourself off without him.

“look at you,” he coos, his rough hands wrapping around you, “poor baby… can’t even get yourself off, can you?” he mocks with a slight huff, and you’re quick to nod, doe-eyed gaze begging for more from him.

“you need me to make you cum, isn’t that right?” he hums, pushing his leg up into you as you’re quick to clench around his thick thighs.

with a bruising hold on your hips, he guides you back and forth, his knee jerking up in rhythm to create the perfect amount of friction and pressure on your clit that has you pathetically whining for him.

the quiet “stevie!” that leaves your lips making him moan, bulge pressing tighter against his uncomfortable boxers. he knows you’re close, and he wants nothing more than to give his pretty girl what she wants, what she needs.

“you gonna cum for me honey, hmm?” he grunts, pressing his knee harder into you, making you cry out as you nod frantically. “jesus fuckin’ christ, look at you, cryin’ out, fuckin’ my thigh… such a desperate slut for me aren’t ya, baby?” his smirk grows wider, cockier.

“p—please stevie,” is all you can manage to let out, tear-streaked eyes begging for some release, making him pout.

“go ahead, honey. cum for me. make a mess on my thighs,” he growls into your ear, leaving wet kisses all over the shell of your neck, his flexed thigh rubbing more and more into your clit, and that sweet, sweet spot, making you let out a loud moan of his mame.

pleasure washes over you so quickly that your body feels limb, back arching, and your cunt pulsates around his leg, making a mess on his thigh, all filthy and making him proud.

“such a good girl f’me, now lay down on the desk and let me clean you up, honey.”

[letorip]

Which one of Jenna’s characters do you think would be the best kisser ?

best kisser

okay, so i have a lot of thoughts on this, it’s legitimately like a thesis question that basically turned into headcanons. i crown a winner at the bottom so if it’s tl;dr and you just want to know then scroll on down

wednesday addams:

she “hates romance” but the moment you two fall in love she would be head over heels.

you fell first, she fell harder

she does everything to make you feel her passion and love, within every breath she breathes you must know, it’s for you

therefore, her kisses are insanely passionate. she knows what she wants and it’s you

she does lip biting (for a little bit of sadism) and tongue, and she loves leaving hickeys all along your neck to mark you as hers

your lips and your neck are her favourite places to kiss, your shoulder is her favourite place to bite

she definitely did her research. she studied how to become a better kisser at first, because she was so new to love, and now its sweet when she wants it to be and wanting all the other times when she can pull you away to roughly shove you against the wall and kiss it better

it’s just so perfect, she has you melting in her hands like putty when your lips meet hers

shes not the most comfortable with PDA. she struggles to kiss you when others are around

she’s not embarrassed, she just wants to keep your love private and for the two of you without the peanut gallery

best believe, behind closed doors, she’s kissing you so hard you almost release during foreplay. it’s almost pitiful how easily she has her way with you

tara carpenter:

okay tara is a wild one

she loves to party and have fun, but she also absolutely despises you at first because you’re hot and lord knows how that turned out last time

you definitely hate-fuck several times at first, and it’s the most sloppy, impassioned thing on planet earth, because you’re both a bit drunk.

she has you sitting on the edge of a bed in an abandoned bedroom at a house party in which neither of you know who the fuck is hosting. she’s straddling you, neck craned down for her to reach, and she smashes her lips to yours.

she always wears a strawberry lip gloss that tastes nice when you kiss her, to the point where you associate her with the sweetness.

she’s definitely noisy when you kiss

she huffs and stuff, and moans and groans, and she lets out little sighs when she’s coming down from her release

tara’s favourite places to kiss you are your jaw, ear, and neck, though she’s not much of a biter, like wednesday was

instead she uses her nails, and drags them down your back and shoulders in red streaks from holding on while you fuck

even after you get together, tara kisses you like she wants to take you out back and make you hers, no matter the venue

funeral, baby shower, wedding, bar mitzvah, she’ll kiss you with that ferocity and fight with you tongue to tongue

lorraine day:

lorraine begins as someone super unsure in herself

she wants you so bad, but all she really knows how to do is small, gentle, chaste kisses whenever the crew (and especially Bobby Lynne and Maxine) have their backs turned away

but she wants to do more, even if you tell her you love her as she is

after she starts participating in the movies, she becomes far more skilled at kissing and opening to trying tongue, catching your lip between her teeth, etc. when you’re all on break and she has you with your back against the wall

doesn’t matter how many scenes she films or what’s going on in them, she imagines it’s you doing them with her, and looks back when she can to where you stand in the corner with the boom mic

her kisses become so needy, with her work, and she slowly grows out of her guilty, timid shell to realise she wants more

she tracks you down one night, while you’re all on a trip to shoot a movie and crawls into bed with you. you grab her in your arms and hold her against you until she whispers “i want you to take me as yours, ya hear?”

even though she’s experienced, her voice still trembles a bit as she says it

she kisses your cheek, when you slowly nod and your hand slips under her nightgown

her favourite places to kiss you are your lips, your cheek, and along your collarbone

she doesn’t drag her nails or bite but she’ll wrap her arms around your neck and thread her fingers into your hair while you play an overture on her body

cairo sweet:

she’s so smart it takes a while for you to realise her general disdain for you stems from how badly she wants to kiss you

she hides it behind jabs at your intelligence, but eventually you catch her hungry eyes watching you

your first kiss happens in the library, and as she teases you with pungent condescension, you shove the book right off the table at kiss her right there and then

she pulls away the moment she realises out of shock— only to immediately kiss you back, twice as ferocious

you get caught by the librarian, pressed against a bookshelf with cairo’s arms around your neck and thighs around your waist

she kisses you to “reaffirm her superiority,” but unless that needs to happen twenty times a day, in the janitors closet, at her house, at your house, you’d say it’s bullshit or she’s super insecure

it genuinely upsets her when she can’t stop thinking about you, to the point where it’s unintentionally interfering with her plot involving Miller

shes insatiable for you in general, and she realises with horror that she’s in love. she loves the way you make her laugh and the way you dress, and it washes over her to realise she wants you

she no longer wants to kiss anybody, she wants to kiss you. She tells you this in an afternoon study session at Lovell Hill and you almost immediately confess the same thing

cairo’s favourite places to kiss you are your lips, neck, and jaw, and she loves hickeys the most, placing them everywhere she can.

whenever you and cairo fuck, your neck has so many small bruises and bites

she feels she can drop her guard around you and doesn’t have to be the perfection she seeks, because you’ll love her and kiss her anyways

it’s definitely tara for me, i love the energy and how much passion i think she would have. she would definitely be super passionate and fun, and i think the fact that she’d be so wanting of your kiss and experienced (*cough cough* amber) she’d definitely know how to kiss you right and get you all worked up. this was fun, i had fun trying to think as each character and take a break from my longer form writing which i’ve been toiling away at all week with my hurt hand. definitely hit me up for more headcanons/ questiony ideas if you liked this. i might also do a part 2 with vada, mabel, astrid, phoebe

[narcoticv3nus]

Let Me Love You Like a Woman ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

minors do not interact! | mdni!

summary: when you come home late from work, you find your boyfriend sleeping in your bed after being away for a few months. and you're more than happy to give him the 'welcome home' he deserves. tags/trigger warning: 18+, f!reader, fluff, reunion sex, oral sex (m!receiving), groping, p in v, cowgirl position, rough sex, dom!simon, sub!reader, cursing, use of pet names ("love", "lovie", "babe", "baby"), author attempts at accents wc: 2k

a/n: wasn’t supposed to be this long. sorry, y'all (or your welcome).

Coming home after a long work day, you kick off your heels with a sigh, your makeup smudged, and your once neatly styled hair in disarray.

You push open the door to your bedroom, only to be met by your sleeping boyfriend curled up underneath your girly, fluffy sheets as soft snores drift through the room. He had been gone for a couple of months while on deployment, and now he was back, taking a nap in your bed. The sight was so bittersweet that you almost began to cry.

Quickly, without much thinking, you took off your work clothes, scrambling to find something cute to wear before retouching your makeup and fixing your hair. You knew Simon wouldn't care about what you looked like, only that he'd be happy to see you, which only seemed to drive you further into waking him up with something nice to look at.

You weren't exactly sure why you felt this way, but as you gazed down at him now, watching his chest evenly move up and down and how his brown lashes fluttered against his cheeks, you realized he made you feel things no one else ever has.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty, as you gently combed your fingernails through his short brown hair to rouse him peacefully; you knew he needed his sleep, but you needed him too!

He grunts deeply, his eyes fluttering open in a confused daze before scanning the room. Once his eyes finally land on you, you can't hold back the wide smile stretching across your face.

His expression almost seems bored as he gazes up at you, but you can tell by how his lips parted slightly and the natural furrow of his brows completely disappeared that he was more than happy to see you.

“I know I should let you sleep," you whispered, not wanting to break the spell of tranquility wafting throughout the room.

“Nah," he croaks, his voice husky and guttural with sleep. "dun't," his hands traveling up the expanse of your hips and thighs, gently urging you closer.

You chuckle softly, moving your body the way he wants as you perch yourself on top of him, resting your hands across his lower abdomen.

"I missed you," you murmured as you leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his lips, making sure to expose the tops of your breasts for his viewing pleasure. Yet he just closed his eyes, his hand reaching up to tuck away a stray hair falling over your face behind your ear.

"Missed ya’ too, luv," he said, his opposite hand reaching underneath your cami nightdress to grope at your ass, squeezing the soft doughy flesh with an appreciative hum.

You beam down at him, rocking your hips against his in a slow, back-and-forth motion and elevating in the deep groan you pull from his chest as his cock stirs to life.

You press sloppy kisses all across his face, giggling at his pretend groan of protest as if the quick jerking motion of his hips doesn't give him away.

"I thought of you every day, y'know..." You whisper against the shell of his ear before nibbling softly on the lobe and descending further down the side of his neck, nuzzling your nose against his pulse.

"Ah' figured y'd," I figured you would. Simon mumbles, almost intelligible, with a cocky, sleepy grin. You giggle, letting your hands roam down the expanse of his body, palming over his semi-erection.

You lean back up, straightening your spine as you tug the seam of his sweatpants down to his thighs, allowing his hard cock to slap against his pelvis. He lets out a long exhale, his hips shifting upwards as he fights back the heaviness pulling at his eyelids.

"Did you think of me?" you breathed, wrapping your soft hand around his leaky tip and twisting, pulling downwards to coat his length in his sticky arousal, allowing for a smoother and more pleasurable glide.

"Dun't act daft, luv," he tosses his head back with another sigh, his abs clenching and unclenching in response to your teasing. "y'know I did,"

You fight back the urge to keep him talking, knowing he's likely still exhausted from his lack of sleep. Yet the way his voice twists and curls around your entire being is still entirely revolutionary for you. You don't even think he'll ever realize the kind of effect he has on you.

“I know," you giggle, making yourself comfortable between his meaty thighs, pressing tender kisses along his cock. "I just like hearing you say it." you nuzzle your cheek against him, unbothered by the wetness sticking to your cheek.

He grunts in response, his large hair cradling through your hair as he holds you against him, rutting himself against your face with deep pants.

You whine softly, gripping the flesh of his thighs as you brace yourself against him as he uses you for his pleasure. “Simon," you protest, trying to shift your mouth closer toward him, but he doesn't budge, only holding your head tighter in his hand.

"Don't move," he growls, his thrusts growing faster against your face as his pants grow louder, his thighs twitching softly beneath your fingers.

"Fock, yer s'soft," he grunts, his fingers curling tighter against the sheets.

Without warning, he lifts your face upwards by your hair, shifting his legs wider as he jerks himself off in front of you.

"Simon," you try again, adding a high-pitched hilt to your voice. "lemme touch you, please?" you beg, the throbbing between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Yeh? Y'wanna touch me, luvie? Missed this fat fockin' cock, didn'cha?" he chuckles darkly, his groans growing louder as he taps the tip against your wet lips.

"Open wide, luv," he commands, sliding his length deeper inside your obedient mouth, his eyes trained on your cock-drunken expression.

"Ahh, yeah, that's it..." he moans, resting his head back against the pillows, letting go of himself as he grabs the back of your neck with the same hand. "little wider, f'me babe,"

Your cunt throbs at the sounds of his pleasure, mewling in desperation as you lick and suckle, twisting your lips to fit around the girth of his cock. you gag softly as his hips stutter, shoving the tip against the back of your throat, followed by a lewd whine escaping his chapped lips.

"God, yeah, I really did miss yer slutty fockin' mouth," he pants with a fucked out smile, guiding your head in an up-and-down motion, lifting his head back up to watch with a stuttering groan.

"And yer pretty little pussy too, shite! Bet she missed me too, didn' she?" you hum contently, gazing up at him as the sinful sounds of slurping and sucking escape your mouth. You rub your thighs together, your cunt clenching at the words pouring out of him. You always loved it when you got him riled up like this: his brain fogged over and his lips looser.

You nod your head in response to the best of your abilities. He laughs breathlessly at the sight of you before pulling you off of him, hissing the cool air, and making contact with his wet dick.

He smirks at your whimper of protest, "Yeah, yeah, princess." he tugs you back onto his lap by your armpits before smacking the fat of your ass perched over his thighs. "go ahead n' ride this cock, ya' love s'much, then." he snorts, resting his palms on top of your thighs as he waits for you to start.

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk, resting your hands over his large pectorals as leverage to lift yourself above him. You reach down, slowly jerking him before guiding him towards your leaking pussy.

"There ya' go..." he sighs, massaging your hips just as you begin to sink onto him. "All the way, luvie," he grunts, thrusting upward in his impatience.

You bite back a choked sob, the stretch of him almost unbearable after so long. He lets out a ragged breath of his own, his palms sliding to your ass to part your cheeks as he attempts to get deeper.

"Jesus," he practically shouts, his lips parting wide as his face scrunches together, almost like he’s angry. "s'like yer fockin' stranglin' me."

You mewl in agreement, your nails digging into the skin of his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the intense mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Simon," you plead, forcing to sink the rest of the way until your ass lands on the tops of his thighs with a loud 'plap'. You both let out your strangled cries as his tip poked against the deepest part of you.

"God, your little cunny is so perfect," he grunts half to himself, barely giving you a chance to adjust before he's jackhammering himself inside you, his large hands lifting you up and down by your ass cheeks.

He plants his feet higher up on the bed, giving himself more leverage as he fucks into you at an overwhelmingly rapid pace. Debauched wails fill the room along with the fast sounds of flesh-against-flesh and the slick and slippery noises of your combined fluids.

"Oh yeah, fock tha' cock, luv," he moans, slapping your ass once more, followed by a passionate squeeze as he lets you set the pace.

He smiles up at you, the tops of his white teeth gleaming happily as his calloused hands stroke along the supple skin of your body. He drags his palms upward, groping your tits as his hips begin lifting to match your own with sharp and unforgiving thrusts.

"Baby," you squeak, gripping his hands as you bounce faster, peering your eyes open to gaze at his face. Your eyes sweep over his long, crooked nose and his downturned, dark-brown eyes blanketed by long, soft lashes.

"Yeah?" he pants, his eyes peering into yours in a yearning, adoring trance. "Tha' feel good? Hm?" he purses his lips in concentration, angling himself to hit the spongy spot deep inside you.

"S’good!" you let out a sweet little cry, tears forming beneath your eyelids, your belly tightly clenching as you chase the indescribable feeling. "Oh my god!"

"Doin' such a good job, f'me, girly." he let out a low grunt as he gripped your small wrists together in his hand and pinned them against his chest as he resumed his dominant pace.

"Can tell y'gettin' close, luv." He acknowledges as his dick twitches uncontrollably inside of you, threatening to release at any moment. You're surprised he managed to last as long as he has.

"C'mon baby," he pressed with a pleased grunt. "Cum on my cock, I know ya' wan' ta.'" he grins arrogantly as his balls smack against your pussy until he's barely pulling back out to fuck into you.

And like clockwork, you do. It almost surprises you how quickly and seemingly unexpectedly you approach your high. But it shouldn't, especially when you know how obedient your body is to Simon. You cry out for him as you release, drenching his lower half and spraying his abs in a coat of transparent essence.

A deep groan of your name is the only warning you receive before he's flooding your velvety insides with his spunk, his thrusts growing faster as he rides out his high before halting completely.

He softly loosens his death grip on your wrists as he brings them to his lips to kiss soothingly. You open your eyes, whining softly at his rare act of affection. He meets your gaze with his own; his smile is crooked, and his breaths are sharp and uneven.

"Took it like a champ, luvie," he chuckles deeply before sighing and pulling you into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, dragging his fingers down the length of your spine before patting your ass.

“Y’d make a good wife...”

main masterlist, rules

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 9

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘babe’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, fluff, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When you awoke, you felt a heavy weight across your chest. You blinked your eyes open and looked around. 

The sight that greeted you made you grin. Mikey was sprawled like a starfish across your queen sized bed, snoring away with an arm thrown over your midsection. Poor Donnie was confined to huddle up on his side on the very edge of your bed, in his attempt to be closer to you. Leonardo, when you looked, was sitting on the floor fast asleep with his shell resting against the side of the bed.

All that was left was-

“You awake, shortie?” Raphael was standing in the doorway with a towel around his shoulders. A soft expression on his face that he reserved for just the two of you. 

You didn’t want to wake up the rest of his brothers so you nodded silently at him. He extended his arm out above you for you to grab onto, and he slowly pulled you up out from underneath Mikey without disturbing him, careful not to bonk anyone with your cast. You were left dangling above your bed while you clung onto Raph’s arm like you weighed nothing. Raph chuckled quietly and swung you over to a vacant spot on the floor where you stretched out and touched down gently onto the fluffy rug. 

Raphael nodded in the direction of the door, a silent invitation to join him for his morning workout. You quietly grabbed some clothes from your drawers and trudged out to change in the bathroom as he went ahead of you to the gym. When you joined him a few minutes later, he was doing stretches. 

“How’s the arm?” He asked you in a hushed tone. Not wanting to sound too loud in the quiet of the empty gym. 

“Better!” You said gratefully stretching out your shoulders with your arms above your head. “Donnie said I should be able to get the casts off by the end of the week.”

”Wow, that was fast. I guess you heal like us now, huh.” Raph said with a grin, hiding his relief. “Wanna work on your physical therapy first?” 

“Mh!” You nodded enthusiastically. 

These quiet mornings working out with Raph had become the norm in the past 2 weeks since you had woken up. At first it started as an escape from the insomnia, when you woke up early and couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams and flashbacks from the tank plaguing your mind. Raph would come in and scoop you up and take you with him while he worked out. Not allowing you to be alone with your thoughts. You would lay on his back while he did pushups, and sit in his lap while he did reps. ‘For motivation’ he would say.

After a long hour and a half, and a playful but careful wrestling match that turned into a tickle fight, you collapsed limp onto Raph’s chest out of breath. 

“You’re getting harder to pin down, shortie.” Raph’s chest rumbled with his chuckle.

”Is that so? I think you’re still going too easy on me.” You said with sly eyes and propped your head up on your arm cast to look down at his face.

”So what if I’m going easy on ya? You can try and kick my ass once you’re all healed up, Princess.” He met your sly grin, hands coming up to grab your sides.

You giggled and squirmed in his hold, still feeling sensitive as he moved to sit up with you sat in his lap. You reached up and looped your arms around his neck and hugged him, body flesh against his chest. The big turtle froze a moment then relaxed and wrapped his big arms around you gently. He took in a long deep breath and exhaled in a long huff against your shoulder.

After a long pause, you quipped, “At least I can still throw you on your back whenever I want~”

Raph grinned and started to lightly tickle your sides again, making you squeal and giggle as you tried to escape his hold. “Just because you’ve got mutant strength all the time now doesn’t mean you’ll always have the drop on me!” He whisper yelled as he continued to torture you.

Donnie cleared his throat from the doorway where he was casually leaning against the frame, sipping a fresh cup of coffee. 

“He’s ticklish under his arms.” Donnie said loud enough for you to hear, grinning into his mug.

Raph’s eyes went wide with horror. ”Traitor!” 

Your hands dove for his exposed skin, but before you could reach, Raph grabbed your sides and held you away at arm’s length like a cat. “No fair!” You laughed, calming down from the excitement.

Donnie set down his coffee cup and strolled into the room. He scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, rescuing Raph from your attack. The red turtle made an exaggerated sigh of relief, but he was betrayed by his playful grin.

“My turn.” 

Donnie strolled out of the room with you in tow as you waved a goodbye to Raph, and retrieved his cup of coffee as he left.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They had waited for weeks.

They were not able to prevent you from falling into a medically induced coma, but with the blood transfusion you received from Leonardo, your blood pressure had returned to safe levels. With the new medications Donnie was feeding you through your IV, it was expected you would wake up in only a few days. But there were…. complications.

It began as a small rash at the spot of the IV, rough dry skin turning into green scales. After 3 days, small hints of animalistic qualities started to morph your body in strange ways. Your fever only got worse with the changes. But along with the destabilized mutations, your body began to heal the overwhelming damage at amazing speeds. Your blackened bruises changed to green, then yellow, and slowly started to fade, your broken bones were set and mending, and your pallid complexion slowly started to improve. 

Donatello was closely monitoring your body as you healed, but he was also amazed at documenting the changes. Your mutation fluctuated and changed the structure of your muscles, improved bone strength, and appeared to enhance your senses. Changes that before were fleeting and temporary. Any fleeting changes to appearance came and went in waves as your body fought over whether you were more human or mutant.

Leonardo sat by your bedside just as he had during the blood transfusion. But you remained motionless in a deep sleep. By now your body was almost completely healed. So why hadn’t you woken up?

Leo held your hand and stroked your wrist with his thumb. Your hand was so small in his. 

Mikey was sitting at the foot of your bed playing on his Switch, picking weeds in your Animal Crossing save file so when you woke up it wouldn’t be a mess. 

April had been helping to make sure the boys and Master Splinter were all still eating well without you to cook meals for them. She had been by the lair earlier that day to deliver boxes of chinese stir fry and Mikey’s favorite orange chicken. 

Some rustling could be heard from the kitchen as empty paper take out boxes were thrown in the trash, and Raph soon entered the room. 

“How are they doin’?” Raph had worked the past week with Casey as a team to covertly uncover the Foot agent in the NYPD, and discovered some other officers selling their information to the gang under the table. Casey was given a promotion by the commissioner, and the rest of the uncorrupt police department came together to buy Raphael his own motorcycle as a thank-you present.

“Fever hasn’t gone down. No changes yet. Their vitals are still stable and the scales appear to be discoloring.” Donatello updated from his chair he had practically lived in since they returned with you.

Mikey had spent days with his eyes glued to the spot on your arm. As the green started to fade to match your skin tone and flake off he seemed to become more relaxed.

“Do you think they’re going to end up like us?” Mikey said solemnly.

Leo half smiled at his little brother. “It’s possible… and if they do, we’ll be here for them.”

Mikey hummed in response. 

“Shouldn’t we be like, talking to them to pull them out of the coma?”

“This isn’t one of those cheesy hospital soap operas you watch with Master Splinter, Mikey.” Raph gruffed. He took up his usual seat by the door, picking up his whittling knife and resumed his project of shaping the wood block into a dainty flower. 

“Well, technically research shows that speaking with a coma patient can stimulate brain activity and draw them into consciousness. So it’s worth a shot.” Donnie shrugged and returned his attention to his computer station. He had rigged up 3 open laptops that he used to monitor your vitals next to police radio chatter and the updates on Stockman and Bebop and Rocksteady’s whereabouts. 

After all, they still had a score to settle.

“Hey (y/n)…” Leo started. “We’d really like it if you’d wake up now… It’s too quiet around here without you.”

“Yeah! It’s not the same without you.” Mikey folded his arms on your bed and rested his chin. “You still haven’t taught me how to make your lasagna! And I need your help to beat my game!”

“You need to wake up so you can eat something! It’s not good for your body to be stagnant this long. Usually you’re the one bugging me about my health… And… I miss the way you make coffee. It just tastes better when you make it.”

Raph paused in his whittling and looked at you for a long moment, seemingly looking for any sign of movement. His brothers were all looking at him expectantly. He looked away and blushed.

“...You know you don’t gotta do nothin’… to have our attention, I mean. We just want you back safe and sound. Wake up soon shortstack, don’t keep us waitin’.”

An alert sounded on Donnie’s computer, drawing the boys’ attention. 

Donatello fumbled around to grab his keyboard and started typing into the console to pull up the news Casey was forwarding them.

“It’s Stockman. It looks like he’s made more mutants.”

“More mutants?! I thought he used up all of (y/n’s) mutagen on himself!” Leo exclaimed. He walked over to stand behind Donatello and peer over his shoulder.

“There’s a possibility that the puddle left behind in the lab was just enough to use on some small animals, but not enough for a human. The police report reads that 4 frog-like mutants have appeared trying to rob a bank. Luckily the police didn’t mistake them for us.” Donnie rubbed a hand down his face and straightened up.

“Yooooo, frog mutants? You think they might be friendly?” Mikey suddenly looked excited.

“What are we gonna do about (y/n)? We can’t just leave them behind. They’re still sick.” Raph folded his arms looking worried.

“Leave (y/n) in mine and April’s care. She is due to arrive soon, is she not?” Master Splinter entered the room. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We can care for them in your place until you boys return.” 

Donatello looked nervous as he fussed with his hands. He looked between Splinter and your resting form, and the location flashing on his computer. 

“Will you be able to monitor their temperature okay? I can stay behind if-“

Leo placed a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, dad’s got this. If anything happens he can give us a call.” Leo reasoned with him.

Donnie still looked unsure but he nodded anyway.

Mikey whooped in excitement and headed for the lair’s exit, followed by Leo.

Raph approached Donnie, his gaze trailing back to the med bay door. “....Any sign of Bebop and Rocksteady?” He asked in a low voice.

Donnie shared the dark look in Raph’s eyes and double checked the report on his wrist.

“Not yet. But with Stockman involved, they shouldn’t be far behind.”

“They better be.”

Donnie grabbed his staff and him and Raphel jogged to catch up to Leo and Mikey. Master Splinter watched the retreating form of his sons from the door, his eyes traveled over to the blinking red light on the screen as the police chatter continued over the radio. The words “armed” and “dangerous” followed the descriptions of the kung-fu wielding amphibians, making the old rat sigh.

He prayed for their safety, and that you would be well and waiting for them upon their return.

Attila the Frog, Genghis Frog, Napoleon Bonafrog, and Rasputin the Mad Frog turned out to be a group of mild-mannered mutants. They were well meaning and naively followed Stockman’s orders thinking that the turtles were the bad guys. With Mikey’s help, they quickly discovered that the amphibians had no intention of helping Stockman take over New York. With some persuasion, Casey agreed to help arrange for the frog mutants to leave New York, and move down to the Florida Everglades away from the city. 

But their fight was not yet over. 

The Punk Frogs, as they called themselves, had offered their assistance in taking down Bebop and Rocksteady. They knew of the location where Stockman and the two henchmen were hiding, and led them to an abandoned sewage plant at the edge of the city. 

There, with the help of the frog mutants, they were able to defeat the mutated Stockman. And no doubt, Bebop and Rocksteady appeared. With the help of the amphibious mutants, the 8 of them managed to subdue the tough duo. The four brothers tried to take it a step farther and beat the living shell out of Stockman and the two, but the peace-loving Punk frogs stepped in and convinced them to rethink their actions and let go of their pent up rage.

That didn’t mean they had to like it.

With Stockman, Bebop, and Rocksteady safely behind bars, they returned home feeling dejected. No matter what they did to Stockman, Bebop, and Rocksteady, it wasn’t going to make you wake up.

The four trudged in through the entrance of the lair, and were met by April running up to them from the med bay. 

“It’s (y/n)-!” There was no time to explain as the boys immediately rushed past her and burst through the doors. They were met with the sight of Splinter by your side, holding your hand with a relieved smile on his face as he chatted with you, sitting up in bed.

The turtles held their breath as your vibrant eyes turned to them, and your face lit up with a smile and welcomed them home. Mikey broke down blubbering in tears and the boys all rushed to you. Embracing you in a crowded desperate hug proclaiming how much they missed you. Even Raph shed a few tears of relief.

Since then, they boys only left you alone to bathe and use the toilet without their constant supervision. Strangely enough it became a routine around the lair, the brothers taking turns spending time with you. You could almost call it suffocating, if you didn’t love spending time with them as much as you did. You knew they needed your attention after the scare you gave them being unconscious for so long.

This was just their way of showing you how much they missed you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Donnie had abducted you to give you a detailed health check up, as usual, making sure everything was healing right and to test your now permanent mutant reflexes. 

“How would you say you’re adjusting to the change in strength and reaction time?”

”Good! I haven’t broken anything since Tuesday!” You said proudly.

”…That was only 2 days ago.”

“So…. I haven’t broken anything in two whole days!”

Donnie pinched the bridge of his snoot under his glasses and sighed. Ever the optimist.

Later you joined him at his computer station while he ran simulations on a new program. You parallel played on a free computer until you got bored with what you were doing, and wormed your way into his lap.

You nuzzled your nose under Donnie’s chin. He chuckled at the ticklish sensation before looking down at you and giving you a quick kiss on the head. 

“You are not helping my productivity.”

“No, but you could say this is a different kind of productive.”

“And what kind is that?”

“Taking a break.” You smiled at him.

He sighed. 

“Okay, you win.” He clicked away from his programming project and changed the window to a website you were streaming Cowboy Bebop from. Donnie hit play on your current episode and snaked his arms around your waist before relaxing back in his chair.

You were beaming, delighted you had won in convincing the overworked turtle to take a break, and relaxed against his chest.

He switched from drinking coffee to water (which he only did on your regulated ‘breaks’), and turned the brightness down on his screen to give his eyes a break.

After 2 episodes, Leo passed by. He paused behind Donnie’s chair for a moment before exiting to the kitchen. A few minutes later he passed by again and loitered around by the computers, pretending to look busy checking the local news reports running on one of the screens. 

Donnie groaned and you chuckled. 

“I think it’s Leo’s turn to borrow you.” Donnie bemused before releasing you to stand up from your spot on his lap. 

Leo perked up and smiled at you, looking a bit bashful at being caught and muttered a quick apology to Donnie for stealing you away. Then he scooped you up and carried you in the direction of the dojo.

“How is your physical therapy going?” He asked casually. 

“Good! My shoulder is all better, and I can do sit-ups without any pain now. Though once I get these casts off I can really test my new strength.” You said kicking your leg out emphasizing the cast. 

Leo chuckled. He set you down in the dojo where he had prepared a pot of tea for the two of you to share, steam still wafting off the lid.

You sat down on the pillow across the table from him, and began your afternoon chat. He talked about his recent training, what they saw on patrol the night before. And you talked about your life from before. Before you were kidnapped. Before you worked for Stockman. About your life in Japan, where you had been, where else you had traveled to. Leo hung on your every word as you described the different cultures and vibrant cities beyond the glow of New York City. He loved listening to you talk.

“You’ve been to Brazil before, right? What was it like?” You were beaming.

Leo blushed as he straightened up, realizing he was leaning across the table as he listened to you. He fake coughed into his fist to clear his head and center himself again.

“Well, we didn’t exactly get to go sightseeing or anything- but we did get to hike through the Amazon rainforest! There were… a lot of bugs.” He said sheepishly, trying to think of a better way to describe it. 

“How big were the bugs? Did you see any snakes?!” Even though Leonardo couldn’t describe things as colorfully as you did, you still ate up everything he said with equal enthusiasm.

Leo’s expression softened. This is why he enjoyed chatting with you so much. His brothers often called him ‘boring’ but you had a way of making him feel unique and interesting. Your change in perspective always kept him guessing and brought new life to things that to him were old and tired.

“Well, actually Mikey thought he had tripped over a tree root, but it was actually an anaconda! He screamed so loud it drew the attention of a nearby research team and we had to hide in the trees when they came to investigate. They thought it was the shriek of some new species of monkey-“ 

You laughed along with Leo as he continued his story. Your chat lasted well over 2 hours, and eventually Master Splinter came by to remind him that he needed to complete his meditation before nightfall. Leo was a little bashful when he realized how late it was getting. 

“Would you like to join me in meditation for a while?” 

“Of course!” Leo lended you a hand and pulled you to your feet, then led you over to the tatami mats covering the dojo floor. He took up his usual spot cross legged on the mats, and before he could protest you sat right in his lap. 

Leo rested his chin on the crown of your head and mumbled, “Do you think you can concentrate like this?”

You adjusted to sit comfortably with your back straight so you weren’t leaning your weight against Leo’s plastron. “Yup!” You answered comfortably. You closed your eyes and rested your hands in your lap.

Leo chuckled and straightened his posture, rested his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. Master Splinter passed by and smiled at the antics, shaking his head at the bold youth.

No more than 20 minutes had passed when the sound of Mikey’s rocket board starting up sounded across the lair. Everyone out in the common space ran for cover, and soon the hoots and hollers of the orange ninja echoed down the tunnels. 

Leo groaned as he tried to remain focused, while you cracked open a curious eye. 

“Woooo hoooo! Surf’s up dudes!” Mikey circled the living room a few times before Donnie got fed up ducking and bumped the bottom of his board with his bo staff as he passed. Mikey flailed his arms correcting his weight and ended up flying into the dojo.

“Incoming!” Mikey hollered as you and Leo easily ducked as his board passed by overhead, undisturbed. 

Mikey collided with the weapons rack and caused a loud clatter as the contents crashed to the floor. 

“Duuuude…” Mikey was left laying on his shell slightly teetering from side to side. He tilted his head back and looked over to you and Leo, and scrambled to his feet.

“(Y/n)! Did you see me? I totally landed that heel flip! Well- before I crashed. Do you wanna go play Street Fighter with me?” He rambled sliding onto the floor in front of you, posing dramatically on his side. 

“Mikey…” Leo started, his tone threatening as he continued to keep his eyes shut. You giggled.

“Okay! Okay! Buuut hear me out! I just unlocked this new character and-”

Leo sighed long and loud. That was your cue to take Mikey and get outta there. 

You got up and pecked Leo’s cheek, which immediately extinguished any frustration he was feeling and melted his face into a grin. 

“Thanks Leo! Come on Mikey, let's go play games.” You let the orange turtle excitedly tackle your midsection, carrying you over his shoulder and rushing you both out of the dojo leaving the mess behind.

“So Donnie unlocked this new character for me using some cheat codes and he has some sick combos I wanna show you!” He rambled as he flopped you down onto the big couch and started setting up his controllers.

He came back over around the coffee table and handed you your controller before sliding into the seat next to you. 

“No going easy on me, okay? I think I finally have the buttons down!” You warned as you prepared yourself to focus on the TV.

Mikey smiled brightly, and selected the new character. His inexperience with the character was his secret handicap. 

“You’re on!” He started the match and when the game announced ‘Fight!’, the sound of button mashing echoed throughout the high ceilings. 

You fought a few rounds. You hadn’t won any yet but you were starting to come close. Right before Mikey’s character could lock you in a hit combo you nudged him in his side, making him fumbled his buttons. He squawked in protest and leaned into you, trying to push away your controller as you giggled. Some more button mashing and a few well timed strikes later, you managed to defeat Mikey’s fighter.

“Noooooooo!” Mikey lamented as you cheered. He dramatically laid his weight on top of you, smushing you against the couch cushions as you squealed and tried to push him off of you with your good arm. Even with mutant strength it didn’t do you much good.

“Ey (y/n), what’s for dinner?” Raph called over from the kitchen. He was drinking his post workout shake by the fridge, fresh out of the shower. 

Mikey and you both quickly sat up on the couch and looked at each other in excitement.

“Pasta and meatballs or raviolis?” You asked Mikey.

“MEATBALLS!!!!” Mikey jumped up onto the couch and cheered.

You laughed at his antics until he suddenly swooped in and grabbed you from underneath your arms and lifted you up, making you squeak in surprise. 

“To the kitchen!” He announced to the lair, posing dramatically with you tucked under his arm. 

Mikey leapt from the back of the couch, and jogged to the kitchen. He then set you down next to the fridge and opened it.

“Let’s see. We got ground beef, carrots, tomato sauce, ….what else do we need?” Mikey said as he pulled out the ingredients from the fridge.

“Bread crumbs, parmesan, and I’ll add some zucchini for some extra vegetables.” You listed off, pulling out the seasonings you would need from the spice cabinet. When you tried to reach the mixing bowl on a high shelf, Mikey’s plastron pressed against your back as he reached up behind you to grab it. 

“Thanks Mikey!” You grinned as he handed it to you.

“No problem babe!”

Mikey gave you a mischievous grin over your shoulder and snuck his hands around your waist. You got a bad feeling and set down what you were holding before Mikey suddenly hoisted you up.

“MIKEY!!!” You hollered as you were spun around the kitchen. 

Donnie took notice from where he was relaxing in his computer chair and flipped open his phone to connect his music to the bluetooth speaker. The song “When It Feels Right” by Chase White started playing on the speaker as Mikey obnoxiously mouthed the words. You squealed and started to giggle at the antics. He twirled you around and led you to dance into the lounge. The rest of the boys started to emerge from their corners of the lair, drawn out by the music. 

Leo stepped up to politely tap Mikey on the shoulder, and the orange turtle let his older brother cut in. Leonardo let you stand on his feet as he led you confidently in a little waltz around the room. 

Next, Donnie swooped in and stole you away. Since he was so tall he held up your legs for you to sit on his forearm while you looked down at him. Donatello held your hand in his as he spun with you romantically in a dizzying dance. 

Raph came in last to snatch you away, grabbing your waist to pull you away from Donnie. He didn’t care so much for dancing, so he let you lead. You held his hands, and giggled as you rocked and stepped side to side. He smiled, and when he felt confident, Raphael lifted your hand and gave you a little spin.

When the song finally came to an end, the dream-like state didn’t cease. The music was turned down a little quieter, and all the boys came to sit around the kitchen table as you and Mikey worked together to prepare dinner. The lively conversation floating in the air drew out Master Splinter who joined his sons at the table. You held out the wooden spoon to give Mikey a taste of the sauce, who gave his approval. And dinner was served. 

Spaghetti and meatballs. 

And a new happy family.

The End :]  

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s @thehighlordishere @bowbeforeyourphrogness @raphies1wife @mythirdlife235 @truths33k3r4 @aweleyirene @horniergirl @glitterystarfishfestival @rozencorpse

Thank you everyone for joining me on this journey!! I deeply enjoyed reading everyone’s kind comments, and I look forward to sharing other stories with you in the future! 😄💖

[angelpuns]

Donnie practically pushed Mikey out of the way to get through the door, squeezing past him just in time to see the fading blue of one of Leo's portals. 

He’d barely had time to grab his bo, head still fuzzy from sleep and pajama pants uncomfortably askew from Being woken suddenly. 

Mikey was in a similar state of disarray, his shirt riding up his shell and his eyes wide and glancing around the room wildly. 

They'd both been woken by Leo's shouting, rushing out of bed to help their brother only to find Raph in a Leo-free train car. 

“Raph? What happened? Why was he yelling?” 

As his brain woke up, he was reminded of their mission for the day: reverse Leo's ‘family-forgetting’ curse or whatever it was. 

So it probably had something to do with that. 

“I dunno! I came ta wake him up like he asked me to yesterday and he just- he started shoutin' at me!” Raph turned, holding his hand to a small cut on his arm. It bled sluggishly, and Donnie quickly opened a drawer in Leo's desk that he knew had band-aids. 

“ He musta had a nightmare or somethin’, I tried to help but I think I only made it worse “ Raph worried, letting Donnie slap the band-aid over the cut, “ he didn't seem ta recognize me or know where he was or anythin' “ 

They were silent for a moment, before Mikey piped up. 

“ But he’s never made a portal during a panic attack before….are you sure it was that, I mean-”

“ oh my banana pancakes,” Donnie slapped a hand to his head. His mind had been running through every possible Leo could have ‘woken up and chosen violence’. 

It could have been a nightmare. But the answer was so obviously related to their current curse-relted predicament. 

“ The curse! It’s not- He didn’t just forget us the one time, “ He explained, starting to pace. An uncomfortably hot feeling pooled in his stomach, anxiety bubbling up from there. He shook his hands out in an attempt to dispel the feeling, the lingering worry about Leo now being somewhere totally random making him nauseous. 

“ It's- its like he resets! He must have forgotten again when he went to sleep- like- like he just got reset overnight!” He rambled, grimacing, “ This complicates everything, how’re we gonna get him to cooperate if he wakes up with a different reaction to three strangers every single day!? How are we gonna fix this is if he forgets the curse even exists!?”

Raph stopped him, hands on shoulders. 

“ Donnie, take a breath,” he sighed, and Donnie reluctantly stopped and shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. 

“We can get him back, no problem,” Raph smiled, “ ya still got that tracker in ‘im, right?” 

Donnie blinked. Right, how could he forget? 

“ of course! TO THE LAB!” he whipped around and hurried for the door, trusting they'd follow him. 

“ I'm sure ‘Nardo can fend for himself, he does have his swords,” He noted, if only to make himself feel a little less anxious, “ but I would rather him not be wandering the streets of NYC without half of his memories.” 

He continues to ramble, even as he stepped into his lab and  whipped out his keyboard, quickly pulling up the tracking device coordinates and corresponding map. 

“What if he doesn't come home before night? Will he just forget us again?” Mikey asked, swiping some stuff off of Donnie's desk and taking a seat on the surface.

Mikey suddenly gasped, grinning, " this is just like that one movie! With Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore!"

Donnie grimaced, but he had bigger concerns right now. Even if those were parts to a pretty important project. He opted to ignore that and just think harder about the actual matter at hand. And the plot of 50 First Dates. Just in case it could actually help them somehow.

“ I assume so, yes. And that amnesia-riddled plot is more medically related, so sort of but not really."

"What's more concerning is that he probably won't remember why he's out there, and that will probably introduce more anxiety to the mix,” Donnie murmured, watching as Leo's indicator moved slowly through the streets of New York. He was on then other side of the river, and seemed to be hopping rooftops for now, “ like I said, he can take care of himself, but we should at least try and convince him to come back to the lair before nightfall. I don't know if his amnesia is progressing or not yet, which is also concerning.” 

Silence again. There was also the obvious concern about Leo being gone. Which, unfortunately, seemed to be one of the more difficult things they'd been collectively working through. 

The first six months or so, Leo was never left alone. Not for lack of trusting him or thinking he wasn't capable of taking care of himself ( although he was fairly injured for most of that time ) but for the fact that none of them seemed to want to let him out of their sight. It was partially why Donnie had upgraded the trackers to track their vital signs down to their blood pressure. He didn't like not knowing. He didn't like remembering the feeling of Leo being gone after- 

Donnie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was gonna be okay. Leo wasn't gone, he just wasn't in the lair. And he couldn't possibly know how anxiety inducing that was due to the aforementioned amnesia-curse. 

But they knew where he was, and they knew he was okay for now. 

The computer suddenly let out a beep. then another. Donnie looked up, watching as Leo's dot stopped moving. His heart rate increased, and the beeping increased with it. 

There was one thing that they hadn't really accounted for, after all. 

The chance of Leo ending up in a fight.

-----

Part 3 to the unnamed fic/au/whatever this is

I don't like this part as much, but I really am just trying to get the idea out of my head and into writing, haha! So I hope the OOC-ness of everybody isn't too bad :)

I think this would def work better as a fic, but I am kinda wanting to explore it as a comic too. Comics just take a lot of time and I can't do all the fun thought-stuff I like to do on fics so :/

Ah well I will simply keep doing whatever I want, so enjoy.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4