#//enjoy the gif bitch

[crowlixcx]

I'll always be there As frightened as you To help us survive Being alive Being alive Being alive!

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[mobius-m-mobius]

#hold on let him cook 👀😅

[hydrodragons]

neuvillette ❖ ordainer of inexorable judgment

[crowleyholmes]

The Fall

"I only ever asked questions..."

[knifefightandchill]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 (2023)

"His ability soon attracted the master's interest. And when he took him to the dungeon— No, I can't write anymore. I don't want to recall what happened down there. "

[the-kipsabian]

[super-license]

marc márquez. all in. | season one, episode two

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 ��𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[sensitivehandsomeactionman]

[actuallyitsstar]

does it count as a criminal record if his only crime is having way more fun than the navy allows? (insp).

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex would you be down to write a dom ethan and sub reader type dynamic smut? This isn’t a request just wondering if it’s something you’re into 😻

Anon of course this is something I am into. First time writing more dominant Ethan! I hope you like it Anon, I haven't posted a fic in over a fucking month! Everything has been so hetic and nuts, I've been working on this behind the scenes and I am hoping this gets me back into the swing of things! Let's go!

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Now Or Never.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Ethan Landry X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: DUB CON! Stalking. Creepy And Delusional Behaviour From Ethan. Obsessive Ethan. Man Handling. Degradation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Implied Cream Pie. Hold The Moan. Don’t Get Caught. 

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Ethan has never been the kind of guy to really go after what he wants. He is much more passive, go with the flow, he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart nor ruin the image that people have of him. He knows it isn’t the best practice, he wants to get out of that, he wants to start doing things for him, maybe he should have made the call to start standing up for himself before agreeing to help his family avenge his brothers' death via a complex murder plot. However, Ethan was committed now, and he wasn’t going to back out, more importantly he saw no way how to, and so he stays. 

Assuming an identity in a new place and pretending to be someone he isn’t to infiltrate a group of people, pretend to be their friend just to be close enough to kill them was stressful. It felt like it was consuming his whole life, losing who he actually was in some regard, he needed a distraction, something to help give him purpose, ease his worries and the harsher edges of it all, or he’d go nuts. 

You were his outlet. 

Stalking just went along with what he did in service of the grand plan, you were not part of it, not involved, but you caught his eye in one of his classes. The first time, he was just going the same direction as you, he swears to God, he wasn’t being a creep, at first. That did not last long. He started to watch you, learn your schedule, get into your routine, and whenever he wasn’t having to continue his charade he was consumed getting lost in you. 

He knows where you live, he knows your class times, the coffee shop you frequent, your order at said shop, he knows what soap you use, the part-time job you hold and that one of your biggest pet peeves is when the tag in an item of clothing itches against your skin. 

He’s been watching you for an amount of time that he is sure if you knew would make you very fucking uncomfortable. You seemingly hadn’t caught on to what he was up to, which was good, it meant he could keep it up without worry, watching you living your life while you were totally oblivious. To be fair, how observant you are or are not, is not what he liked best about you, honestly what he liked is that you were the opposite to him in a lot of ways. No real responsibilities other than the ones you wanted to have, just living the way you want to, he felt some modicum of jealousy over that, he imagines what life could be like if he could get out of his current situation and have a more normal existence with you, it’s a good escape, but it’s just that, a fantasy, an unattainable one. 

It is getting harder and harder to ignore the situation he is stuck in, the same way it is becoming impossible to ignore the clawing feeling of dread in his chest. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless, wanted a sense of control, to feel like he was living for himself, even in a tiny sense. 

Time is running out, and he needs to correct this, or he might fuck up everything without some serious stress relief. 

Ethan learned about the Halloween party you were going to attend, and he thought maybe that would be good, to go and cut loose a little while near you. That plan changed, morphed, got away from him once he was actually there and near you in the costume you chose. 

He tried to keep distance, to just watch but between observing you having fun, the mounting pressure and the frankly bordering on painful erection in his jeans that would not stop throbbing finally a piece inside of him broke.

You had to know what you did to him. You had to know the effect you had on him, it was like you were aware you were being watched, doing this on purpose, it’s maddening. He could crush the red solo cup in his hand as he observes you dance with a friend, the way your hand rests on his arm, your head tips forward to press against his shoulder as you laugh, the sway of your hips, it should be him, why not him? He stews in his thoughts and the anger, the unfairness and the budding arousal threatening to boil over inside himself. 

He’d brought his Ghostface costume along, had it in his bag for something he needed to do later, it was like he acted on autopilot. He sneaks off, he got into the costume, and then he waits for the right moment. 

You are on your way to the bathroom, but not the main one people use, no these were your friends, and you knew about the lesser used one, he knew about it because of course, creep that Ethan was, he followed you there. When you are close enough he strikes, his hand over your mouth, his other arm loops around your middle, and he drags you the rest of the way to the bathroom. The door is already ajar, it’s no trouble to get you inside, a backwards swing of his foot to the wood makes the door close. The light is dim, there is a nightlight plugged into the wall outlet near the counter top by the mirror, so someone stumbling from the basement guest bedroom can find their way to the bathroom he assumes. 

You are struggling against him, squirming, muffled sounds trying to get out from behind his hand, but he is struck by just this. He is touching you for the first time, holding you, he draws you closer, makes it so you are flush against him. He’s thought about this countless times, you are warm and softer than anticipated, he can fucking smell you and it is intoxicating. He is so caught up in this, taking in every detail and small movement, he presses his hips forward, grinds himself on you through the layers of jeans and black fabric as he smells your hair and then what you do next? Ethan never would have thought in a million years you’d respond like this, by your eyes closing and you grinding back, pressing your ass closer to him with a sound behind his hand that might sound like a moan if he let you express it fully. 

You aren’t fighting him, not any longer, no you are rocking with him, trying to stimulate yourself in any way possible against him-

Oh.

You are better than he thought, he knew you were a slut, he’d seen you in your place, knew your porn search history and the collection of toys you owned, but to be down to fuck a masked stranger you hadn’t exchanged a single word with? You were a world-class whore, he was going to take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest. 

He knows he doesn’t need to hold you so closely, his arm releases your mid-section, his hand slides down your body and between your legs and up the short skirt of the costume you wore, fingers press to your underwear. You are already wet enough he can feel it through the thin material and his gloves. Your hips buck, wanting to get closer, feel more of him, it feeds his ego and emboldens him, you want him, and he isn’t going to deny you. 

He gets his glove off, he needs to feel you, skin on skin. His hand slides into your panties, his fingers dip as low as they can and feel the source of your extreme wetness, he presses, tease the hole carefully before his digits slide up through your folds, and he knows he finds what he needs when you gasp, head thrown back against his shoulder. 

His hand works, fingers circle over your clit, and you inhale sharply through your nose, brows furrow, and he watches you in the mirror. The way the pleasure plays out on your face as he teases you, he enjoys how your body responds, the small tremors of your limbs, the twisting and squirming of your form, the way your clit throbs under his touch as he presses harder. 

He needs to feel you inside. Fingers move, you whine, he dives inside, and he curls them, it causes the biggest reaction out of you yet. Your body pitching forward, hands on the counter and your walls clenching around his fingers. You are so soaked, soft, hot and so thoroughly alive. He can barely move them inside of you, but he does, he slips them in and out, presses to that same spot that got such a big reaction out of you, and he moans quietly, he swears he can feel you getting wetter. 

In and out, flex and push, you writhe, and he wants to hear you, he pulls his hand away, but before he does, he has one finger over your lips, that classic symbol of “shhh” and you nod, eyes half lidded and lust filled. You let out quiet moans, his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers fuck in and out, he can’t take much more. The simple movement, the motion, how hard he is rocking against your ass, he wants to be buried in you, wants to fuck you. 

So he does. 

His hand moves, fingers pulled out, and your eyes had slipped closed again, at the loss of him they open, confused and when you see him pulling the robe up you get the hint. You make your own move, shaky hands lift off the counter and your fingers hook under your skirt, you tug down your underwear and you step one foot out, leaving them hooked around your other ankle. He has the robe up and his pants open finally, the relief of pressure on his straining erection has him letting out a small sigh. His hands are on you, he adjusts you, one knee on the counter and pushing you forward, your hands braced on the sink, and you adjust too, your hips tilt and soon with a hand on your back and the other on the base of his cock he is lining up. 

It’s rushed and faster than he wants, but he just wants so much, it’s been so fucking long he can't stop it, can't help himself. He feels you, the heat coming off of you, the wetness on his tip, he lingers for only a moment before his hips move involuntarily, and then he is helpless. The first half inch pops in with no resistance, and you are perfect, you feel incredible it makes him let go of himself, hands lock on your hips, and he pushes further, slides deeper, and he watches you in the mirror. The way your mouth falls open, the exhalation, the way you tense in some regards and relax in others, but mostly he can’t focus on much else other than how your cunt feels around him as he settles in, finally to the base. 

He soaks you in for a second, you are more impatient than he, you whine again, needier than before, and you move first, pull your hips forward before sliding them back, and it makes any semblance of control break. He takes over, the grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls out almost totally before driving back in, you have to bite your lip to hold the moan back enough to not be overheard. The party is on the main floor, you are in the basement, but you are sure that he could make you alert everyone up there. 

This was insanely hot for you, a masked stranger pulling you away and touching you, groping you, fucking you without you seeing his face or uttering a single word? Unbearably hot, his fingers were good, but even two minutes in his dick puts his hands to shame. He is greedy. He touches more, he didn’t touch you enough before, his other glove comes off, and he touches your legs, your thigh, a firm squeeze of your ass, he feels up your sides and your chest. You lean closer into his touch, moving still with him, loving the pace he took as he fucked you, rough and quick, he pulls the top of your costume down, exposes your tits, palms them, and you moan louder than you probably should. 

This is good, but it could be better still, your hand is between your legs, you stroke your clit as he fucks you, the stretch of him is delicious, you find yourself gasping, arching your back a bit more so he hits that spot inside just a bit harder, a touch better. You are so close to the mirror you are in danger of fogging it up, but you want to look at him, you’d been staring at his masked face this whole time, wondering who is under it. 

You move back, press yourself closer to him and away from the mirror, and you get this urge. This urge that you don’t question or think about. Your back is to his chest, he is still preoccupied with fucking you and rolling your nipples between his fingers, perfectly distracted, huffing and letting out small sounds of pleasures, groans, you reach back behind him and the move is fast. You push the hood back, fingers grip, and you pull and twist, the mask comes off. He’s shocked.

He was so consumed with the feeling of getting to have you, with the mounting pleasure, he even had his eyes closed like an idiot, you got the drop on him. He stopped, held deep, and your eyes met in the mirror. 

He’s hot. Hotter than you thought possible, dark sweat soaked curls and hard eyes, pretty pink lips are wet and parted, he’s strong and has had no issue throwing you around and holding you down. The low orange light playing off your body and his face is going to be burned in your mind forever.

You don’t want him to stop, you want to keep going. You maintain eye contact, you move again, pull him out slightly before bucking back, he inhales hard, and you do it again, and again, slip more out and take him harder on every movement, and he comes back to himself. 

You like this, like him, you liked him as a stranger doing this, but you were still into this now made it even better. He takes over again, he fucks you harder while still meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wasn’t going to stop now until you came around him, and he filled you up.

God, he needed this. 

[deathtastegirl]

[linusbenjamin]

James Sawyer Ford + son of a bitch

[witchysolfan]

Canon: So this is a thing

Me:

[pigswithwings]

Chadfield. (Dubious Canon Gorp Arg)

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