#i don’t like the mouth washing fandom

[tohabo]

Can we start talking about how the mouth washing fandom treats curly, a disabled man, like a dog?

No?

Not yet?

Alright…

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Ameliorate

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

Rating: Explicit- Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Sanemi/Female Reader

Tags: Female Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Bad Dates, Brief Mentions of SA, Oral Sex, Protective Genya, Protective Sanemi, Fucking you better, Slight Self-Esteem Issues, Mating Press, Sexual Tension, Sanemi is a lovable asshole

Wordcount: 5k

Ameliorate: To make something unsatisfactory better

After a bad date you spill the beans that you think Genya's brother is hot and he decides to fuck the memory of your shitty date out of you.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8627 45th Street SOS pls pick me up ASAP

The hastily sent text was minimal, blunt, and out of character for you. Usually, your messages were sprinkled with extraneous words, emojis, and “please” and “thank you”. You had no time for flowery language today; you needed a quick extraction.

You were hidden in the bathroom, date passed out on the bed after possibly the worst sex you’d ever experienced- for how long, you weren’t sure. Hopefully just enough for you to get out of here.

You weren’t known for making the best decisions and tended to go along with things longer than you wanted to in the name of politeness. It had landed you in many shitty situations, but this was by far the worst one. You rinsed your mouth with water in an attempt to wash the taste of the man who’d been far too rough with you from your palate, holding back the need to gag. You’d done enough of that today, and it was barely noon; a striking contrast to how you felt.

Your phone vibrated, Genya’s number lighting up the screen. You answered it with shaky fingers, keeping your voice low as you spoke.

“Hey.”

You hated how raspy it sounded. That’s what happens when an asshole doesn’t listen when you tell him to be gentle.

“You okay?” Genya’s concerned voice came through the speaker. “We’re almost there; what’s up?”

You appreciated Genya’s swift response but stiffened at his words.

“We?”

“I’m out with Nemi,” Genya told you.

Sanemi.

Genya’s big brother, and the last person you wanted to see you in this state. You couldn’t afford to be picky, though, when you were stranded at a stranger’s house after a variety of bad decisions.

“Just text me when you’re outside. Don’t honk or anything.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah…”

Just having a shitty day.

“We’re just around the corner,” Genya informed you.

“Okay. Be out in a sec.”

You hung up the phone and wished between your legs didn’t ache so badly, wished you weren’t half-limping from everything. There were likely bruises on your wrists and thighs, probably on your ass too if you were being honest. Under different circumstances you would’ve been proud of them, but today you only felt disgust.

You’d been so stupid.

Shuffling out of the bathroom on your tiptoes, you crept past the bedroom door that was left ajar, catching a glance at the man who’d cajoled until you caved, then didn’t listen when you said you weren’t fucking ready yet.

So stupid.

You berated yourself as you softly closed the door behind you for your walk of shame to the vaguely familiar SUV parked on the street. Genya twisted to look at you from the passenger seat as you slid in, avoiding his eyes. You knew you looked like a mess: mascara had streaked, and eyeliner was smudged, hair mussed beyond its normal windswept tousle, and it was a miracle that the majority of the damage inflicted on you was covered by your turtleneck.

“No car?”

“In the shop for repairs,” you kept your eyes glued out of the window, knowing Genya was worried but ashamed to meet his gaze. “I appreciate the ride. Didn’t mean to encroach on bro-time.”

“Not a problem,” Sanemi’s voice cut through the air as he pulled away. You shivered at his words, wetting your lips nervously. “You weren’t too far out of the way.”

“You okay?” Genya asked.

You wrinkled your nose, fighting the shame that filled your throat.

“Bad date.”

The following silence was uncomfortable, leaving you shifting against the leather seats. You knew Genya was probably fighting the urge to ask you if you wanted him to kick someone’s ass, and Sanemi… well, you didn’t know what he thought but you sure could guess what someone might think when they saw what you looked like after exiting a man’s house.

“Hungry?”

The question broke you out of your thoughts, and you caught Sanemi’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’d eaten a couple hours ago, but after the day you’d had, you were starving. You didn’t realize how tense you were until just now, melting into the seat.

“Yeah, food sounds great.”

“Nemi and I were gonna grab something and then marathon Star Wars,” Genya told you. “You down?”

Your eyes flickered between the two brothers.

“Is that okay?”

“You’re over all the time already,” Sanemi replied nonchalantly.

It was true: you often dropped in or crashed at their place after work or on your days off to hang out with Genya. The two of you had been fast friends since you both worked the same shifts at work during high school. You’d moved on to other things, as had Genya, but your friendship had remained and grown as you did.

Sanemi worked quite a bit to provide for his younger brother and himself after an accident that left both of them orphans, and he was often gone when you and Genya hung at his place, but he’d found a better job recently that left him with more days off. With his schedule freed up a bit, he’d been around more while you crushed Genya at Mario Kart and experimented with new recipes in their spacious kitchen.

Sanemi had been little more than a passing thought before, but since seeing him more frequently, you’d developed a fascination with the scarred man with the shock of white hair. It wasn’t like the crushes you’d had on other guys- giddy, giggling things- but instead a hot coal in your stomach that left you uncomfortable and squirming when he was nearby. Sanemi was short-tempered and gruff, and had a permanent scowl on his face, but something about him made butterflies sprout in your chest.

It made you feel foolish, and you knew you’d die if Sanemi ever found out. You’d gone to great lengths to put physical and emotional distance between the two of you, a practiced civility that bordered on cold. It was the only way you could manage to keep yourself in check around him.

With the food acquired (taco bell was Genya’s favorite, much to Sanemi’s disdain), the three of you were back at the Shinaguzawa household in record time. Genya plopped on the couch, patting the seat next to him. You hesitated, the stickiness under your clothes itching uncomfortably now.

“Here,” Sanemi appeared out of thin air, thrusting a towel into your hands. “You know where the shower is.”

Your face heated as you slunk away, disappearing into the tiled bathroom. You must have looked pretty rough if Sanemi was telling you to shower.

Genya furrowed his brows disapprovingly at his brother as you vanished.

“I know you’re trying to help, but you should really work on how you talk to people.”

“Why?” Sanemi settled on the far end of the sofa.

Genya pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Because,” he groaned. “You don’t have tact.”

“I was giving her a towel; why does that need tact?” Sanemi turned the television on. “She obviously wanted a shower.”

“You’re useless,” Genya dug out his burrito. “It’s no wonder nobody will date you.”

Sanemi snatched the food from Genya with a glare, pushing him away with a socked foot when Genya complained and reached for the stolen bag.

“Biting the hand that feeds you means you’re gonna lose the food,” Sanemi told him.

“Genya!”

Your voice from down the hall had the younger brother craning his neck, Sanemi leaning back to peer down the dim hall curiously.

“I’m stealing some of your clothes,” you exited Genya’s room, holding up a handful of cloth. “And I’m borrowing your washer.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Genya nodded, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

The silence as Sanemi set up the movie was relaxed. Genya fished his food from the bag and set it far away from his brother, disposing of the trash as the sound of water reached their ears.

“So I guess you two aren’t fucking then?”

Genya choked on his burrito, slamming his fist into his chest. When he finally could breathe again, he turned his red face towards Sanemi with a glare.

“What the hell would give you that impression?”

“Look,” Sanemi plucked a cinnamon twist from its spot nestled in fast food paper. “I see you guys hanging out all the time. You’re close. I just figured-”

“We’re friends,” Genya cut him off. “She literally was on a date with someone today.”

“A shitty one,” Sanemi interjected.

Genya rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, a shitty one. I swear she’s got the worst luck when it comes to dating. It’s like she’s an asshole magnet.”

“This happened before?”

Sanemi’s interest was piqued. He’d grown curious about the girl who showed up at the house to keep Genya company and use the kitchen at odd hours. You were incredibly sweet but had a sassy streak around people you were comfortable with. He’d heard you swear like a sailor over losing a game, but even from the next room over he could hear the grin in your tone. It did confuse him how you’d go from acting like you were in your own house while Genya was there, to suddenly stiffening and growing formally polite around him.

“Yeah, like four or five times. Usually, I’ll hear about it the next day, but she’s never called for a ride before.”

“She should’ve just told the guy no date until her car is fixed,” Sanemi took a swig of his drink. “That’d fix that problem. Can’t help with the bad taste in men, though.”

“I don’t have bad taste.”

Your voice cut the air sharply, and the brothers twisted around to see you standing behind the couch, hair damp and body swallowed by Genya’s clothes. Your embarrassed face was juxtaposed by the glare plastered across it. A few pale bruises peeked above the loose collar of the borrowed shirt.

“Then how do you explain consistently shit dates?” Sanemi countered, raising a brow.

Your face burned and you ducked your head between your shoulders.

“…bad luck?”

The white-haired man snorted into his cup. You scowled, plopping down on the couch next to Genya.

“I can’t help it men are pigs who don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” you bit back, hackles raised at Sanemi’s reaction.

You didn’t think the air could get more uncomfortable, but here you were, starting to squirm as you did your best to avoid the piercing gazes of the Shinazugawa brothers. Genya’s whole body had leaned forward as his hands dug into the couch. Sanemi’s normal resting bitch face hardened farther and his eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

“I’ve got a crowbar in the garage-”

“Nemi!” Genya elbowed him before quickly turning back to you. “Unless… I mean unless you wanted-”

“No!” you shook your head, covering your face. This night was just getting worse the more you had to talk about everything. “I just want to forget about it. Can we watch the movie please?”

Familiar music filled the air as Star Wars began to play. You honestly didn’t care for the franchise all that much but it was a welcome distraction from your morning. You inhaled your food before snuggling down into the couch your lids grew heavy. You finally let them shut, unable to stay awake any longer as the hum of conversation and sound effects melted into the background.

Your dreams were staticky and punctuated by odd dialogue filtering in through your ears from the movies playing, but eventually you fell into a dead sleep, mind dark and empty as the exhaustion caught up to you.

When you jolted awake, the sun had gone down and the curtains were drawn, leaving the living room dark. The couch’s raised fabric pattern was imprinted on your cheek, accompanied by drool trickling from your open mouth.

Gross.

You wiped it away with the back of your hand, sitting upright. The living room was empty, food wrappers cleaned up and a fuzzy blanket laid over your body. Sanemi and Genya were nowhere to be seen. You pushed yourself up, reaching for your phone.

10:18PM.

Genya would normally still be up at this time. You picked yourself up off the couch and padded down the hall, knocking on his door.

No answer.

You opened it slowly, not wanting to get an eyeful if he was in the middle of choking his chicken or something else that would scar you for life. His room was entirely empty, bed uncharacteristically neat. Eyebrows knit together to create a crease.

“Do you always creep around like an intruder?”

Sanemi’s voice made you jump, spinning around to face him. You clutched your chest where your heart beat erratically from the scare, trying to hold back a scowl.

“Jesus Christ dude,” you spit out when you finally caught your breath. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Sanemi crossed his arms. “Walk through my own house?”

“Surprise me,” you took a step back, gathering your wits. “In the dark.”

Sanemi reached over with one hand, flipping the light switch. The sudden harsh illumination made you squint, which did nothing to make your face look less irritable.

“Genya got called into work about two hours ago,” Sanemi answered your unspoken question. “He said you could use his bed if you wanted to.”

You peered back into the room behind you. Sanemi probably wouldn’t want to drive you home, so you supposed you could crash in Genya’s bed for the night. Wouldn’t have been the first time, and probably not the last. Genya always insisted you take his bed if you stayed the night anyway. He claimed the couch was more comfortable (a lie if you’d ever heard one).

“If it’s no trouble,” you pulled the blanket tighter. “I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

Sanemi let out a long sigh, leaving you to side-eye him as he rolled his shoulders. When he finally quieted and brought his attention back to you, he looked both pissed and concerned.

“Is it something I did?”

You blinked owlishly, cocking your head.

“What?”

“You always do this,” he gestured to you. “You’re relaxed and chill when Genya’s here, but the moment I show up you get all… frosty. Did I say something to offend you?”

You shifted from one foot to the other, opening your mouth briefly before snapping it shut, trying to think before you said anything stupid. It didn’t work, as per usual.

“N-no, you just make me nervous-”

Sanemi’s face briefly reminded you of a kicked puppy, and you felt horrible. Of course he’d assume you were frightened of him because of his scars. You chided yourself mentally, attempting to fix your mistake.

“N-not like that!” you lifted your hands to wave them wildly, and the blanket slipped to the floor and puddled around your feet. “I just-you make me nervous because you’re hot!”

Both of you froze this time, and your face lit up bright red, ears burning as your mouth fell open and eyes bugged out at your slip of the tongue. You wished you could melt into the wooden floorboards of the hall.

Sanemi broke out of his stupor first, a slow grin spreading across his face. You would’ve run if you hadn’t been rooted to the floor in humiliation.

“Oh, is that it?” he leaned down, resting one palm flat against the doorframe near your head.

His face was close-too close to yours to be completely comfortable. You turned your head away, trying to calm your racing heart. There’s no way Sanemi was flirting with you. He was probably just being an asshole, right?

Right?

“Genya isn’t the only one who has a bed,” Sanemi’s smirk was crooked, eyes half lidded. His face swiftly softened when he noted your eyes flickering to your left and right like a frightened rabbit. He took a step back, allowing you your personal space again.

“Sorry,” he apologized, eyes gentle amidst the sharp planes of his face. “You just had a shitty date and here I am being a bad host. You’re probably tired.”

You hadn’t seen this side of Sanemi before much. You were used to his cocky glares and barking laughter. Not this gentle tone like someone coaxing a horse.

“You’re not bad,” you burst out, wanting to ease the tense atmosphere. “I just- I don’t… know how to act around you.”

Your face burned. How many embarrassing confessions would you make tonight? You were already at two and counting.

“I’m not a pig,” Sanemi echoed your words from earlier. “I know how to take a ‘no’.”

“I-it’s not a no!”

Sanemi’s gaze snapped back to you, shocked but curious. You bit your lip, clenching your fists.

“It’s… not a no. I’m just not sure-”

“If you’re not sure, then it’s the same thing,” Sanemi picked the blanket up from off the floor and looping it around your shoulders like a cape.

Your fingers snagged it without a second thought, anchoring it in place where he’d laid it. You weren’t sure where your eyes should settle, but risked peeking up at him. His eyes rested on your visage with a gentleness that rivaled the brush of his fingers as they withdrew from fabric around your body. Those lilac eyes were a little curious, a little resigned, and a little hungry.

You reached out with one hand, hooking your fingers in the hem of his shirt. He paused. You took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I want you,” you maintained eye contact as you spoke- quite the feat when your heart was trying to escape through your throat.

Sanemi stared at you as if trying to gauge your sincerity.

“Please?” you tacked on as an afterthought, suddenly afraid that he’d laugh in your face or- worse- reject you outright for some other reason. You could thin of a million, but the one you worried most about was him thinking you were some kind of loose woman who slept around-

Hands threaded through your hair, and you felt lips on your own. You melted into the unexpected touch, anxiously moving closer until you were fully pressed against Sanemi’s body. Heat rolled off him comfortingly, and your hands twisted in his white tank top. His teeth nipped against your lower lip, forcefully requesting entrance. You granted it, running your tongue along his teeth, tasting mint and the faintest lingering bitterness of tobacco.

Cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” you whispered as he broke away for a breath.

A brief embarrassed guilt flashed across his features before he shrugged.

“I’m working on quitting. Don’t want Genya to think it’s okay but… we all have our vices.”

You laughed, reaching up to touch his hair.

“Genya tried cigs and isn’t a fan, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The look on Sanemi’s face was comical, and you held in a giggle. He glared behind you in the direction of Genya’s bed.

“The little fucker-”

“Hey, he’s a good kid,” you insisted, feeling more at ease speaking with Sanemi now that his hands were around your waist. It was both soothing and thrilling.

Sanemi crowded you against the wall, dropping his head until your gazes were level. His eyes bored into yours and it felt as if you were suddenly being interrogated.

“You two really aren’t fucking?”

The question took you aback a little bit, but you shook your head.

“He’s like my little brother.”

Sanemi’s grin split across his face, crooked and sharp. Your stomach fluttered as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, fanning his breath across your lips.

“Good. Because I’m taking you.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, you were lifted off your feet and carried- with an undignified squeal- through the hall and into Sanemi’s room. When he dropped you on the bed, the air left your lungs in a gasp, and it took a second to get your bearings.

“If you say stop, or no, at any point,” Sanemi’s shirt was whipped off over his head as he approached the bed, “I’ll back off. If you can’t speak, tap me three times.”

Your eyes locked on his torso as you nodded dumbly, taking in the muscles and scars across his ribs and pecs, down his sides and crowning his hips. It took everything in you to tear your vision away to meet his face as he crawled over you, running his hand up your neck until he cradled your jaw.

“Now… how about I make you forget all about that shitty fucking guy from earlier?”

The kiss was soft and chaste, not what you expected after how heated things had gotten in the hallway. Sanemi’s hands reached for the edge of the t-shirt you wore- Genya’s t-shirt- and lifted it until it caught on your face, tugging a bit when your head was stuck until it popped off, leaving your hair mussed. He brushed the stray strands from your face, eyes dropping to your bare breasts.

Shit.

In the chaos of excitement, you’d forgotten about the marks left from your earlier date. Your hands immediately went to cover them in horror. Sanemi stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding them from blocking his view. His lips pressed to each mark, scraping his teeth and sucking them until they grew darker. Each bruise was remarked afresh by his mouth until not one was left untouched.

Your head had fallen back, a trembling hum dragged from your lips at the feeling of Sanemi’s touch. He sucked a few new marks as well, higher up on your neck, making sure to lavish the juncture of your shoulder and throat with attention. Your hands dug into his hair, tugging and holding back a keen of pleasure.

“There,” he pulled back, satisfied with his work.

Your breath hitched, watching him slide his fingers under the satin basketball shorts clinging to your hips. Being fully exposed to Sanemi was frightening, your entire body going rigid, remembering the offhand snide comments you’d endured only hours ago in the same situation. Sanemi noted the way you wouldn’t meet his eye, ducking your head and pulling your legs towards yourself as if you were going to curl in on yourself.

“I can’t see your pretty face,” he lifted your chin with a finger, thumbing your lip. “I want you to look at me while I go down on you.”

Your face blazed red, and it crept down your neck until your chest flushed as well, watching Sanemi drop his face between your legs, forcing them apart while maintaining eye contact. You slowly eased yourself down until you were only propped up on your elbows.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

It was humiliating how your cunt fluttered at the words, and you nodded, transfixed by his cocky smile as he stuck his tongue out, just barely flicking the little nub that hid under its fleshy hood. The anticipation made you squirm a bit, even though the touch wasn’t enough to affect you. Sanemi hooked his arms around your thighs, anchoring you in place before burying his face against your hot core. Your back arched, a muffled moan fluttering past your lips as your nails scratched his scalp.

You could feel him grin against your cunt as his tongue dipped in and out, tracing the sides and up towards your clit. He avoided directly touching it until you were practically grinding against his face in desperation, desperate short whimpers huffed through your nose. Your lower lip was tucked under your top teeth, bitten and swollen due to your barely restrained desire.

“Please, Sanemi,” you finally gasped.

He pulled back, chin slicked with your juices.

“Please what?”

“You know what!” you whined.

Leave it to Sanemi to be an asshole while eating you out. You couldn’t really complain though- he was impressively good.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you dropped your head to the sheets so you wouldn’t have to look at him as you spoke. “Let me cum.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

You shot up, glaring at Sanemi with a fury you didn’t know was in you. That pleased smirk was plastered on his gorgeously annoying face. You moved your legs so they locked behind his head, holding him in place.

“Don’t be a fucking tease!” you shook him a little by his cornsilk hair, just firm enough to show you weren’t a fan of his antics.  

Sanemi huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His mouth was already back on you, finally going high enough to reach that sensitive button that he’d been neglecting. You sighed in relief, thighs clenching around his face. It didn’t take long after that for that coil in your stomach to build, snapping and throwing you over the edge when Sanemi’s flat tongue caressed your clit.

He kept going despite your choked cry and the way you arched up off the bed, limbs shaking and legs shaking. When you finally couldn’t take it anymore your hands pushed against his head, forcing him away. He sat up, looking over your trembling body and heaving chest. Your eyes were closed, a ringing sound in your ears from the intensity of the orgasm that was currently acting like a muscle relaxer.

A muffled groan pulled you from your pleasure-induced haze, and your eyes slit open. Sanemi’s pants were gone, pupils blown out. You didn’t realize how hard he was already, the outline of his dick inside the confines of his gray boxers surprising you as he palmed himself through the fabric. His own breathing was labored, and he swallowed, noticing your eyes opening.

“You good, princess?”

You nodded, feeling a bit sleepy, but pushed yourself up until you were sitting.

“Up for another round?”

You reached out, a bit hesitant, but tugged on the waistband of his underwear. That was all the answer he needed, and Sanemi stripped out of them, fishing around in the drawer of his nearby nightstand until he was able to produce a condom. It was opened and rolled on in a flash. He nudged your legs apart, settling between them and lining himself up at your entrance. You were incredibly slick from your earlier orgasm, and he pushed in with little resistance. The intrusion was still unexpected, and your fingernails bit into his forearm. Sanemi let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to move.”

Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed up against him, grinding your cunt down onto his dick. The choked cry from his lips was like honey to your ears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Fuck me, Sanemi,” you breathed into his ear.

You barely finished the sentence before his hips began pounding into you, a cacophony of grunts and groans escaping his throat. He grabbed your legs and folded them back, angling deeper into your sopping cunt and hitting something inside you that made your toes curl. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, leaving you too breathless to even moan out your satisfaction. Sanemi’s grip on your legs was leaving bruises but you didn’t care. You were enveloped in the feeling of his cock drilling into you relentlessly, his eyes half closed as the veins in his neck and arms stood out from the force he applied with each movement.

“S-Sanemi!”

The strangled cry you managed to get out among the intense movement filled the hot air of the room. Sanemi’s grip tightened on your legs and his hips stuttered against yours. His mouth had fallen open, eyes lidded with pleasure. His groans rose in pitch until they were more whines than anything, and the staccato beat of skin on skin lost all rhythm.

Sanemi came with a long moan, his mouth dropping to your neck, suckling as he ground up against you, hands loosing their hold on your legs to scramble for your hips. The tension in your stomach snapped with the last few jerks of his hips, a pleasant buzz settling in your limbs and chest a second time as your walls fluttered around his pulsing member. Your arms draped across his shoulders in an embrace as he came down from his high.

It was too warm in the room, but neither of you made a move. You hummed into his soft hair in hazy satisfaction.

“That was nice,” your hoarse voice drew Sanemi’s eyes to your half-asleep face.

He chuckled.

“Just nice?”

You tousled his hair, feigning a pout.

“What, you need your ego stroked?”

Sanemi snaked his hand down your body, flicking your still-sensitive nub with a finger. Your body jerked involuntarily, a cry escaping from your lips. You whined at him, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“I made you come twice,” Sanemi said. “How many times did that piece of shit you call a date make you come?”

You mumbled your answer, and Sanemi narrowed his eyes, gently abusing your clit again. You squirmed in an attempt to get away, but he was still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“He didn’t-” you said, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanemi ground against you, and you wriggled against the intense feeling of overstimulation. “Pretty girls like you deserve to be treated well, don’t you think?”

If you hadn’t been blushing before, you definitely were now. All you could manage was a nod as Sanemi slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and cold as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash.

“What do pretty girls like you deserve?” Sanemi lifted your chin with his fingers.

“To be… treated well?”

Sanemi had a satisfied grin plastered on his face, and he kissed you deeply before pulling back and nodding.

“So how about you find yourself someone who’ll treat you like a princess?”

His words set your heart fluttering again, and you wet your lips, staring at him expectantly.

“Okay. Have any suggestions?”

His laughter huffed through his nose at your innocent and eager expression. Sanemi kissed the tip of your nose, cradling your jaw in his hand.

“You’re looking at him.”

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

[lasanya539]

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it. 

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches. 

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably. 

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.” 

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks. 

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder. 

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music. 

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes. 

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain. 

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it. 

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face. 

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.” 

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother. 

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell. 

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried. 

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?” 

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast. 

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found. 

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang. 

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight. 

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal. 

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved. 

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.” 

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm. 

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers. 

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff. 

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval. 

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit. 

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever. 

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework. 

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this. 

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included. 

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’ 

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel. 

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now. 

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table. 

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time. 

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own. 

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up. 

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room. 

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles. 

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning. 

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it. 

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice. 

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it. 

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest. 

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin. 

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone. 

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers. 

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep. 

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

death island leon headcannons with his s/o??

HI babies, I’ve been trying to like keep up with requests and such and i stg i have had so much writing inspiration that i start writing to many things at once.

Here are some DI!Leon s/o headcanons!!

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

DI!Leon x GN reader

not spell checked i’m sorry 💔

————————————————————————

- He is DEFINITELY sleepy all the time. Finally getting to see him after work always gets you so excited, rambling on about something you saw at the store today and when you turn the corner, you see him slouched on the couch, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open STILL in his work clothes.

- Before he crashed the bike, he actually really did love it. You’d open the garage to the door to see him inside, focused as all hell on god knows what

“You touch that bike more than you touch me”

you’d joke, hand on your hip as you leaned against the door frame. Leon would just look over at you, rolling his eyes playfully before finally coming back inside with you.

- Likes to act like he isn’t aging, though he is in absolutely perfect shape he often forgets he needs to take medication after his missions or his body will be sore. So when you walk into the room, your hand holding up the small pill bottle with his name on it

“Wasn’t given to you for no reason.”

“I’m fine.”

He would protest, going to sit up trying to hide the groan from the stretching in his lower back.

- He loves you more than anything. He makes that very clear when the two of you go basically anywhere. Anything you laid your eyes on in the store would be yours, anything you touched.

Your fingers rubbing at the petal of a flower, Leon’s eyebrows raising as he reaches over you and shoves the potted plant into the cart. And even when you argue he isn’t here for it at all.

- He’s not a very physically affectionate man, he hates PDA almost 50% of the time but sometimes when the two of you start your way into a crowd his fingers slyly wrap around your waist or grab at your hand.

- VERY overprotective, he’s so afraid of losing you but he would never admit it ever. When he found out about how you and your ex broke up he swore if he ever saw them, they were dead. He doesn’t mean it though, he knows that when he gets frustrated or anything around you, you get worried about him.

- Bed time is always the same every night, you always fall asleep first that’s just how you are. He sneaks in beside you, his nose resting against the back of your head as he pulls you into him, instant relief washing over him when you push yourself back into him.

NSFW WARNING

- Everytime he returns from a mission you know what it means. He comes home so frustrated that not everything works out his way, so he takes out all his frustrations on you.

Soft groans leaving his lips as his strong hands leave red finger print indents in your waist, your breath heavy as he fucks you into the soft mattress.

- He likes to pretend he’s “normal” but you can feel his steady rhythm suddenly stutter when you let out a whimper of his name.

- Aftercare with him is perfect, his fingers playing with your hair as the two of you just stare at the ceiling. It’s perfect till he says something corny like

“So the weather today”

And he thinks it’s so funny, but you just burst out laughing, his arms squeezing you as a smile spreads across his face.

———————————————————————

I hope you guys are doing great, for all of my readers starting a new college semester GOOD LUCK. You’re gonna do great! I love you all :))

For a limited time i’m doing paid requests and will write anything from ocs to different fandoms for any price, my job cut my hours and i’m SO behind on bills. :) click here if interested!!

[yourdearestaliengerbil]

Mornings With Them

Fandom: Obey Me! Shall We Date Pairings: Older brothers/GN! Reader TW: None! It's just domestic fluff here!

Lucifer

I feel like he wakes up really reallyyy early to get ready for the day because of all the work he usually has to do so you two don’t always wake up next to each other

At first it made you sad but now that you’re used to it you don’t mind and just end up looking for him

He’s usually sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee or taking a morning shower 

So you always start off with one of those spots first 

But

When you do wake up next to him you relish in the feeling

You bury your head into his bare chest and wrap your arms around his warm body

He wakes up easily when you move around but he’ll pretend he didn’t just to enjoy having you wrapped up in his arms

When it’s actually time to get up you’ll sometimes just lay in bed and watch him roam around the room trying to change into his outfit for the day (you know you should be getting ready too but you just can’t help but admire the way he looks with his slightly disheveled bed head and tired eyes)

I feel like the two of you aren’t really talkers when you first get up so you only exchange touches or short sentences 

After he’s dressed, he’ll come over and move your hair out of the way so he can kiss the crown of your head 

Then the two of you make your way to the bathroom before everyone else gets up to brush your teeth and wash your face

As well as any other parts of your morning routine 

Mammon

He’s not a morning person AT ALL

As soon as you try to leave the bed to start your day, he’s pulling you back down into bed by your waist 

And that’s only if you can escape the tight grip he already has on you from your initial position in bed

“Go back to sleep, it’s too earlyyy” he’ll whine to you with a small pout

Honestly, you might as well give up going anywhere anytime soon

When he’s finally up, albeit begrudgingly, the two of you will change out of your matching pajamas

And then you’ll help him with his tie (I feel like he’s too tired to tie it right)

Then, you guys end up going to the bathroom together to wash your face and brush your teeth

This is his favorite part of the day 

Other than waking up beside you because WITHOUT fail 

He gives you a gross toothpaste kiss every single morning

He’ll wait until your guard is down and you're stuck within the motions of brushing your teeth

Then with a toothey smile, he’ll kiss you either on the cheek, forehead, or neck after the toothpaste begins to foam a bit at his mouth (ew so gross ew)

And in response you’ll shriek out in disgust and surprise and start trying to swat him away

“Mammon, ew stop that!” you exclaim, pressing your back into the arm he has holding you in place by the waist, as he tries to plant more toothpaste kisses onto you

Kiss after kiss, elicits another airy laugh out of you

The type of laugh that he loves hearing, the type of laugh that just brightens his entire week 

When he’s done covering you in kisses he’ll just look down at you with those lovesick eyes of his and you’ll look back up at him the same way

Leviathan

When you two sleep, he’ll curl his entire body around you while in his demon form 

So when you wake up with him, you're stuck in place due to his entire body being entangled with yours 

His tail is around your legs and the rest of his body is practically on top of yours, as if it’s trying to merge and become one with you

He is usually awake before you just because he feels like he has so much stuff to do online but when he’s not, you won’t be able to escape his grip 

Even when he wakes up before you though, he typically stays in the bathtub/bed just so he can be near you but he’s definitely scrolling on his phone until you wake up 

The only exception being if he gets out to get dressed but even then, he’ll try to get back in with you until you wake up

Is willing to do his morning routine without you but typically waits just because you used to complain about him not doing it with you in the mornings since it’s just more domestic to do it together

A bit loud in the morning if you show him any physical touch because he gets flustered really easily 

So you wake up and go “Good morning” then give him a kiss and he’ll fall out of bed or get really nervous and become embarrassingly loud 

He’s definitely the type to talk to you about random things while you two do your morning routine together so in the middle of washing your face he’ll tell you about the new internet drama or a new anime he wants to watch with you

He just rambles a bit and he doesn’t expect you to answer too much since it is early and he knows you might still be sleepy 

[inoreuct]

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it—

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.

[illusioninfnty]

day 14 ; face sitting

↠ john price x reader

fandom: call of duty word count: 672 warnings: nsfw 18+, body insecurity, body worship, praise, cunnilingus

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“I can handle anything you give me, love.”

When John asks you to sit on his face, you don’t believe he’s being serious. But the glint in his eye as you jokingly ask him if he’ll be able to breathe with you on top of him tells you otherwise.

“Are you sure?” you confirm. You’ve never done anything outside of missionary with John, too embarrassed about your body and unsure how to bring anything else up to him.

He gives you a gentle yet admonishing look, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking right now.

“Love,” he starts, his hands sliding to your waist, caressing it. “If you don’t get on my face within the minute, I may just have to drag you on it myself.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Ignoring the heat that rushes to your cheeks, you slowly begin to strip as John lowers himself on the bed, eyes glued to your body. 

The last piece of clothing you remove is your underwear. You stand bare in front of John, who lays shirtless with his forearms holding him up. You move to straddle him and he grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you up so your pussy is right above his mouth.

“My pretty girl,” John croons. He presses kisses all along your inner thighs, trailing them all the way up to your pussy. His beard tickles you, and you can’t help but giggle. John grins at hearing you. “What, making fun of me?”

“It’s just,” You try to stifle your giggles, but fail. “Your beard. It tickles.”

John looks up at you, a small smirk adorning his face. “Hmm. You’ll like how it feels when it’s up against your cunt.”

You gasp. “John!” He ignores you and caresses your thighs, returning to kissing and sucking them all over.

“Need to taste you.” John looks up at you for a final say of consent, and you give him a curt nod.

John’s tongue feels so different to what you envisioned. It’s wet and warm, yet feels cool compared to the heat of your pussy. John switches from licking inside to pressing sloppy kisses against your clit, causing you to grip his hair.

And he was right, of course—the roughness of his beard feels insanely good against your pussy.

You let out a shameless moan as you rock yourself against his face. You run your hair through his hair and arch your back in pleasure. Your body trembles from the shocking sensation John gives you.

John burrows his face into your, his hands sure to leave marks on your thighs from the way he grips them furiously. He eats you out like a man starved, and you push yourself towards him to feel even more.

He doesn’t let up from your cunt for what feels like hours. John is a determined man, dedicated to whatever task he wishes to complete. And now, that task is making you reach your peak.

You can feel your orgasm coming on soon, and you’re sure John can tell too by the way he quickens his pace.

“There you go, love.” He praises. He presses more kisses on your cunt, and brings his thick fingers up to rub against your clit. “Let it all out.”

Your release washes over you with his reassurance, a long string of whines leaving your lips as it does. You can feel how your juices cover John’s face. When you open your eyes and look down at him, you can see the sheen it leaves behind in his beard.

You shimmy yourself down his body, delegating yourself to rest your bare cunt on his stomach. You lean down to kiss him, and John cups your face to keep you there, thrusting his tongue into your mouth for a longer session.

He finally pulls away, giving you one more quick peck. “We’ll have to do that again soon, won’t we?”

“If you insist,” you answer teasingly as you giggle and burrow yourself into the crook of his neck.

[asirensrage]

kinktober entry 9: Shower Sex

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Warnings: pretty much what it says on the tin. shower sex. comfort sex. unbeta'd.

notes: this one was for @ambiguouslady42 I hope you enjoy it!

kinktober masterlist

You know it’s been a hard day by the way he comes home. 

He’s quiet outside greeting you softly with a kiss on your cheek. He takes off his suit jacket and folds it carefully before he heads for the shower without much else. You watch him close the bathroom door and hear the shower run. 

You check on the dinner, turning off the heat and setting it to stay warm before you follow him. You open the door to the shower, seeing his silhouette through the glass door. You undress quickly, a pile of clothing compared to the neatly folded ones your husband left to the side. 

Nanami doesn’t turn to face you, keeping his head under the water. A really bad day then. He’s gotten them more since he’s gone back to Sorcerer work. You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back as the water slips down his muscles. He touches your hand.

“Sweetheart…”

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” You grab the soap and lather a washcloth before washing him. You go slowly, careful to get the blood and grime off of him, paying special attention to his hands. He works with his hands so you like to take care of them when he lets you. Kento turns to face you, watching you as you work diligently. 

“You don’t have–”

“Shush, Kento. Let me.” 

You take the time to wash his hair, pulling him down so you can reach him. You scratch your nails against his scalp, massaging it as you rub the conditioner in. By the time you’re finished, he’s clean and the tension you’ve felt in his muscles has washed away. 

You’re not done. “Missed a spot,” you tease. You keep your eyes on his face as you wrap your hand around his cock. The soap on your palm and the warm water helps keep it slick and easy to move. 

He groans, leaning back and holding himself up with one arm braced on the shower wall. “Sweetheart, you don’t–”

“I want to. Can’t I take care of the one I love?” 

He reaches for you, tilting your face up and shifting forward until he’s kissing you, the spray of water ricocheting off of his back. 

You hum into the kiss, smiling against his lips as he groans into your mouth when you tighten your grip. He cups your cheeks as he gazes at you, love clear in his eyes. You know it’s not because of how you’re touching him, at least not only because of that. It’s small moments like these that remind you of how lucky you are. You love a man who risks himself to protect people. You can take care of him. 

🚿

 It doesn’t take long before Kento has enough of your teasing, unwilling to let you have all the fun when you’re naked and wet in front of him. As much as you enjoy the sight of him coming undone, he enjoys every moment he has with you. Especially if he can take care of you as well as you do him. 

Under the spray of warm water, he holds you carefully with your back pressed against the wall as he thrusts into you. Slowly at first, taking the time to memorize the way you feel with languid kisses. It’s not just a moment for a quick release of tension, it’s slow and soft and careful. It reminds you both of the love you have for each other and when it’s done, when you’re laughing about how you slipped and nearly pulled Kento down with you, the two of you clean each other up. He takes longer to dry you off, but he murmurs a thanks against your lips when he kisses you again. 

“Like I said,” you whisper back. “I want to take care of you. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I always will.” 

🚿

taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87 @hayatoseyepatch

@scythegal

network tag: @pixelcafe-network

[mclmora]

⟢ vi’s habits.

note: all in the title. just some silly (sfw) habits i think vi would have. cts of the pictures used to their respective owners on pinterest! enjoy pretties. reblogs are also very much appreciated. xo ✧

every time she’s nervous, she plays with her piercings. mostly her helixes, rolling the rings between her index and her thumb.

she mainly sleeps on her stomach, hugging her pillow and smashing her cheek against it way too unnecessarily hard.

cracks her knuckles all the time. actually, cracks every bone she can crack, especially when she wakes up.

washes her face like a dude. literally, she splashes water on her face and then starts rubbing every inch of her skin like she’s trying to rip it off.

she tends to drink a lot. she’s not an alcoholic but she does fancy strong alcohol; if it doesn’t burn her throat after a sip, she doesn’t enjoy it.

she spits on the floor. she grew this habit since she was a kid, due to the toxic air she’d breath in the undercity. sometimes her mouth just feels dirty, she does it unconsciously.

she’s always removing and re-applying layers of gauzes all over her arms & hands, even when they aren’t bloody. it makes her feel protected to have those, like a sort of extra layer of skin.

and that was it! just a short post but i needed to write down something about this fandom because for the life of me i can’t be a quiet fan. also i’m realizing that in a couple hours the last 3 episodes are gonna come out and then it’ll be all over. i don’t think i’m mentally prepared.

→ arcane navigation.

[ange1sang]

kinktober d.1: gallavich + cockwarming

minors + under 18s pls do not interact ty

gallavich (ian x mickey); 572 words, smut, fluff, cockwarming, pouty mickey milkovich

eek excited to participate this year, some days will be for other fandoms so won't be shared on here <3

The neighbours’ music is bleeding through the walls of their condo, slow and curling around them like lingering summer heat on an early autumn night. The TV is on, has been all afternoon, and glows in blues and oranges along their furniture and wallpaper. Ian particularly likes the way the colours move along Mickey’s skin, dancing along his ribs and thighs. He smiles where his face is pressed into the crook of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the soft scent of their shared shower gel as he does.

“What’re you smiling about?” Mickey mumbles. His chest shifts when he speaks, sticky against Ian’s, and when he inhales his hard dick moves just the tiniest bit against Ian’s stomach, smearing more precum against it.

“It’s been almost thirty minutes,” Ian replies, fingertips moving up and down Mickey’s spine languidly. It’s a precious sort of touch, the kind Mickey usually only permits when he’s asleep or fucked out beyond complaining, but if tonight is teaching Ian anything it’s that there are still things he doesn’t know about his husband.

“Yeah, well that’s your fault for being gone so fuckin’ long,” Mickey mutters. Ian rolls his eyes. He’d only been gone a week to visit Fiona, but Mickey had quickly turned out to be a terrible military wife. Ian couldn’t blame him, not when they’d spent so much time apart before, but he wasn’t prepared for what was supposed to be a quick, ‘missed-you-so-fuckin-much’ fuck to turn into nearly half an hour of them sitting perfectly still with his cock buried in Mickey’s ass.

“I don’t get it, your dick doesn’t hurt?” Ian asks, smirking when he feels Mickey twitch against his stomach.

“Yeah, but that’s not the fuckin’ point,” his husband continues in that frowny, pissed off tone Ian knows is only a front.

“What is the point, then?” he asks, chancing a slow roll of his hips up into Mickey. The reaction is instant, a long, slow groan pouring from Mickey’s lips and his blunt nails digging into his biceps.

“You were gone too long,” Mickey mumbles, but his voice is strained now, teetering on the verge of a moan. Ian lets his hands wander, kneads his fingers into Mickey’s ass, drags his thumb over the gunshot scar that’s there because of him. When Mickey doesn’t protest he grinds up again, eyes rolling back at the relief of finally getting some real friction.

“How ‘bout you let me fuck you now”— Here he pauses so he can kiss his way up Mickey’s neck and along his jaw, finally meeting reluctant lips when Mickey lifts his head from his shoulder. —“and next time you come with me?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow as though he’s debating this, but already he’s moving to meet Ian’s small movements, grinding his dick down against his stomach not-so-subtly.

“Yeah?” he asks, serious and breathy and sulky. Ian grins and leans forward to kiss him, punctuating it with a rough thrust that has them both moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Yeah,” Ian grits out, not just because he wants to get off but because he missed Mickey just as badly. Relief washes over him when Mickey finally smiles and nods, a silent little come on then. Ian groans and flips them over so Mickey’s on his back, pressing deep into him and pulling out just to do it all over, the way he’s been wanting to since he got back. “Fucking finally.”

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Frankie isn't afraid of growing old [Frankie x gn!reader]

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (I think it’s gn!reader, correct me if I’m wrong).

Warnings: Implied sex at the end, but this is just short and sweet and sfw.

Summary: You like Frankie's hair and beard and body? Idek.

Words: 788

You stop on the threshold to the bathroom, and lean on the door frame, admiring the view before you.

Frankie’s just out of the shower, towel hanging low on his narrow hips, his pudgy belly protruding over the edge of the cotton. Long, strong legs, thick thighs (now hidden by the towel), broad shoulders, arms muscular by physical labor, not lifting weights. A bit of a double chin forming, round cheeks when he smiles – which he does often. Facial hair growing out of order, silver scattered among the dark bristles. His hair echoes that salt and pepper, and newly washed, towel-dried… Good lord, those curls.

Your man is a hot piece of ass, there’s no other way of putting it.

He glances over at you, a little smile playing in the corner of his mouth as he reaches for the shaving cream.

”What?”

”You know what,” you smile back.

”I don’t.”

”Yes you do, stud. You’re so fucking sexy.”

His ears turn pink, and he hurries to lather his face with shaving cream.

”Thanks.” His voice is demure, but warm, and his long lashes are cast down as he picks up his razor, before looking up in the mirror.

”Why the shaving?” you ask, now entering the bathroom. He raises a brow at you, razor at the ready.

”Honey, I look like Hugh Jackman in X-Men.”

”You say that like it’s a bad thing…”

”It’s beginning to look unkempt.”

You grab a towel from the rack, and dab a little at his face. ”Just a little touch-up? I like your facial hair.”

”It’s getting itchy.”

”That’s because you’re not using the products I got you,” you roll your eyes and give Frankie a ”told you so” look. He smiles back, sheepishly, and puts down the razor. You take that as an invitation to wet the towel, and start to wipe the cream off his face. A lock of hair falls down his forehead, and you brush it to the side, letting your fingers run through the damp curls. Frankie releases a small sigh, as do you.

God, how you love that he’s just who he is. He’s not ashamed of his body, doesn’t sweat it that he’s going grey (you almost spit out your drink the first time you saw Benjamin with his newly colored hair – there’s a guy who refuses to grow old), and doesn’t care if you shave your body hair or not.

Frankie just isn’t afraid of growing old. He welcomes it with open arms, now that he’s out of the military, alive and spending the rest of his life with you.

”Just a little trim?” you now suggest, and Frankie agrees. You take the electric razor from its dock, check the setting, then go over your man’s mustache and patchy beard. When you’re done, you change the setting again, and touch up the edges. Finally, you take out the beard oil, and carefully massage it onto his face. All the time, Frankie’s eyes are fixed on yours, half closed like those of a cat enjoying itself in a patch of sunlight.

”There,” you finally nod, patting his cheek. ”Pretty as a pony.”

Frankie chuckles, now tearing his gaze from you, and checking himself in the mirror. He runs his palms over his cheeks, turns his face this way and that to check all the angles.

”Thanks,” he finally says, looking happy. He may not be that interested in trying to look young, but he does want to look good with what he has. ”It’s much better.”

”You’re very welcome,” you smile, equally happy with the result. Frankie draws his fingers through his hair.

”I think I’ll see if the barber has an opening tomorrow.”

”Noooo,” you protest, taking his hands away from his hair, and running your own fingers through the curls that you love so much. ”No touchy!”

”Honestly, baby, I’m beginning to think that you won’t love me anymore if I were to turn bald!”

”I wouldn’t,” you tell him cruelly. ”You wouldn’t be the same without the hair.”

”You’re breaking my heart,” he mock sobs dramatically. ”You’re only with me because I look good.”

”Well, duh.”

You lean in, smelling the beard oil and body wash on him. Tentatively, your lips brush over his.

”I’ll tell you a secret,” you whisper, your hands sneaking around his waist, pulling him in close, his big warm belly pressing up against you.

”Yeah?” He nips at your lips, hands coming to just above your ass.

”I don’t like the idea of someone else touching your hair.”

”Jealousy is a good look on you…”

”Everything looks good on me.”

”True.”

You untie the towel around his hips, and Frankie presses his grinning lips to yours.

[xoxopuffsz]

*breaths in and claps hands together* who, of each fandom your writing for, would most likely be into period sex or sex after an argument. Don't spare the details, love your writing, hope your sleeves never pull down while you wash your hands *shows peace sign and slowly fades away*

A/N — Nanami (JJK) or Malleus (TWST) would do the fucking after the argument thing dude don’t play but I’ll just do a faves one, thanks for the peace sign I LOVE PEOPLE WHO R NICE LIKE U MWUAAAA 😽 WARNINGS - mdni, more like fluff smut, really nice okay I have a soft spot..

— ‪‪❤︎‬ —

He walks into the room as you lay on the bed, little tears at the tips of your eyes. You didn’t want to speak to your boyfriend, one comment on your worries for him and it turned into a big argument. He sighed,

“Sweetheart I didn’t mean to yell at you..” he mumbled. Throwing himself on you, kissing your back and neck, hugging you with gentleness. “I see how much you care for me, just.. I get really stressed sometimes, I’m sorry.”

He smiled at you, “C’mon.. you forgive me right?” Something about the smile he had and the fact he was speaking with certainty made you smile back. “Yeah I forgive you, you big idiot.” You mumble, kissing him, his arms wrapping around your body like a snake, his lips finding yours passionately. His tongue enters your mouth slightly, asking for permission to taste you, as you open the kiss slightly, tongues closing in on each other.

Slowly it turned lewd, his hands on the rim of your shorts, slowly taking them down and using his thumb to press onto your sensitive bud, a little shiver running on your spine as he took off your panties, fingers running down your soft pussy lips, fingers opening them to stick his ring fingers in, the coldness of one of the rings you had gotten him hitting your skin.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Nanami, Rook, Suguru, and your faves ‪‪❤︎‬ — A/N : LEAVE ME ALONE IT TOOK ME A MOMENT TO WRITE THAT I LOVE YOU ALL

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

I don’t know how to say this but I am in love with your polyproxies. Your writing is so well thought out and amazing I AM BEGGING FOR MORE. I’ll do anything! You’re amazing btw

Hi love!! I’m so glad you like it! I’ve honestly been having a really hard time getting motivation to write smut so I hope this will do! You’re absolutely amazing too!! 🖤🖤

POLY PROXIES PT.2

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: None just poly with the proxies 🫡

Warnings: SMUT, face fucking, cum swallowing, recording, unprotected sex, creampie, oral female receiving, nutting on the readers face 😎

Fucked brainless, that’s what you were. Taking them all so well whenever they wanted. You were theirs and they let you know it. They loved the way you took them without complaint. Letting Toby abuse your mouth and Tim twist you into whatever dirty position he wanted you.

You know… Tim doesn’t exactly take lightly to complaints. So when you tell him “yes sir” it’s like music to his ears.

Currently Brian’s sits in the chair on the opposite side of the room, slowly stroking his throbbing cock. His video camera in his other hand, which currently, is zoomed in on your drooling mouth as Toby goes to town. The boy was fucking your mouth like an animal in heat. Like he hadn’t gotten his rocks off in months. And you, being so damn good, were taking him so well.

Toby’s desperate moans and sinful whines filled the small bedroom as he absolutely abused your mouth. He could barely open his eyes to watch you he was so washed away by the bliss that was slowly building inside him.

“Yes! Yes- F-fuuuuck-“ Toby cried out desperately only taking two more harsh thrusts for him to come undone. His hot seed slid easily down your throat as he collapsed next to you on the bed. His chest was heaving and his mind so clouded he couldn’t do anything but hold your limp hand as Tim fucked you further into oblivion.

Brian focused the camera on your pretty pink pussy that he was so desperate to get a taste of. He watched Tim with envious eyes, watching as your hole happily invited his cock in. He watched as your slick ran down the insides of your thighs, seeing the shine against Tim’s lower abdomen. He could barely wait for his own turn.

Tim let out low grunts and growls with every thrust, praising you for being so so good for him.

“Damn sweetheart, your pussy wants me to come fast huh?” He groaned out as his head rolled back.

He loved the way you squeezed around him, like your tiny hole was desperate for more. More of his deliciously thick cock that filled you up just the right way to have your toes curling. 

“So pretty for me too~” He harshly grabbed your jaw, pulling you up to meet him so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. His strong arms made holding you in the complex position look easy. His large fingers found their way to your mouth, replacing his soft lips and prodding you to suck them like the dumb little bitch you were.

You felt his thrusts getting sloppy, or at least you thought so, honestly your mind wasn’t processing much more than the ecstasy you were feeling.

His grunts slowly turned into low moans as he finished inside of you. He pulled out slowly, replacing his cock with his thick fingers, stuffing your pretty hole and making sure not a drop could escape. He motioned with his head for Brian to come closer, finally letting him have his turn.

Brian couldn’t even keep the camera still as he jumped up and raced over to have you. He pushed Tim out of the way, handing him the camera which Tim grumpily focused on the scene that would unfold in front of him. Brian practically jumped at the chance to taste you, taste your slick and Tim’s seed combined. With one long stripe of his tongue he already had you whining, your pretty thighs about suffocating him.

But god did he love it. He loved how close you made him just by crushing him with your perfect thighs. And on top of how absolutely delectable you tasted?? He could die happy now.

He held your thighs apart just enough to give him breathing room as he attacked your clit with kisses and licks. He absolutely loved how he could get your thighs to shake when he pulled away just before you were about to come. Once, twice, three times, four times. By the time he had finally let you finish you were on the verge of passing out. Cute tears in your eyes, thighs shaking, and sobs wracking your body.

Oh how it was too much for you to get used by the three men around you. It made them all laugh how ruined you looked.

“Come on pretty, give me a lick.” Brian smirked as he got up, putting his cock inches from your swollen lips. “Come on, I know you got it in ya’.”

Being so good like always, you took his length in your mouth, tears falling as you did as he asked. Brian ripped the camera from Tim’s hands, putting it in your face to get a nice close up angle. Watching through the viewfinder it didn’t take long at all for him to finish. How absolutely filthy you were being was just the icing on the cake for him. He let his load go right on your pretty face, painting you just how he wanted before he turned the camera off and put it down on the side table.

Toby happily licked your face, ‘cleaning’ you up and giving you a sloppy kiss right after. Brian laid on your right, giving you a soft forehead kiss, silently letting you know how good you did.

“Toby you know your place.” Tim grumbled, pushing him off the bed and taking his place next to you on the left.

With an irritated glare to Tim, Toby helped put your shorts on and took his place in-between your thighs, resting his head.

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

You guys, what the fuck is up with the increase in stealing and plagiarising in this fandom lately? When did that become a thing that was okay to do?

The first time I was flat out plagiarized was almost four years ago in a different fandom. A well known author in that fandom took the first paragraph of a short one shot, one of the first things I’d ever posted and that I was incredibly proud of, switched a few words, and then used it as the summary for their slightly longer fic. They then went on to steal the premise of my ficlet and just…make it longer. This was brought up in a discord server a friend of mine was in that I wasn’t and the general consensus was “who would believe you? You’re nobody.” So I kept my mouth shut and I deleted my fic because seeing it made me feel like shit. Something similar then happened to a friend of mine with the titles of her fics being stolen, flat out and word for word, for the same characters. And again it was “no one will believe you.”

We shut up. We stuck it out. And then when it kept happening, to us and to others, we left that fandom.

I was so, so excited when HotD aired. I was back in my ASOIAF phase that had never actually ended. It was a new opportunity to make friends with common interests and my writing improved so much because of how passionate about the canon material I was. I have made some of the most incredible friends, like life-long, stay up all night talking, come to my house or let’s hang out when you’re in my state/country kind of friends. It’s pretty amazing. But this fandom is a whole different beast than any other I’ve been involved with. I have no idea if it’s the general age of the fandom, or the lack of prior fandom experience, or what us old people call the “tiktokifcation of fandom.” But it’s different. And while that’s usually a good thing, there are so many times when this has been awful. There is a huge lack of accountability here. People are stealing things. And the weirdest part is, they don’t care! It is plagiarism to have someone else's story opened while you write yours so that you can tone match the other writer. It is plagiarism to take people’s well thought out ideas and then use them beat for beat. I get it, it’s fic, nothing is wholly original, we are going to see idea recycling! That’s just fandom. But to model your entire story off of someone else’s is heinous. And it’s wrong. And this literally just happened to a very good friend of mine. When she mentioned she was uncomfortable with it and had blocked the person who did this, someone she considered a level headed mutual (who has recently admitted to plagiarising someone else themselves, mind you) told her that she was just drama baiting and didn’t have the right to be upset. The same thing happened to me with a now deleted creator who told me that she dragged me in her discord server and that her friends (all big name creators would essentially “black list me” for saying anything).

It’s not dramatic to not be okay with your work being stolen! This is a normal fucking reaction. In trad publishing or academia, this shit gets you banned, expelled, etc. It can ruin your life.

I received a slew of anons recently asking for help with graphic making and editing. And I was so excited about them. That shit is fun for me. We chatted for a while, with them on anon, and that was that. Until I got an anon letting me know that the person I was talking with was someone who had stolen ideas and storylines from me and other creators. So I looked, I asked friends to look, and the consensus was “yeah, this is fucking plagiarism, and it’s weird.” All of the edit stuff she’d asked about was used on an edit that was a direct rip off of my own. But I elected to not make a thing of it, to ignore it, to wash my hands of it because of the weird fucking trend of calling out theivery being labeled as drama baiting. And I didn’t want that, not after I had genuinely made the mistake of thinking that someone had stolen an idea from me when they hadn’t (calm down, we’re really close friends now). This person deleted their old blog and so I thought it was over. And then yesterday I got a dm from this new blog I didn’t even know existed accusing me of sending them harassing anons.

A blog, who had stolen from me and at least four other people, who had reached out to me on anon for help and ideas, that at this point I didn’t even know existed anymore, said they knew I was sending hateful anons accusing them of theft. I wasn’t, of course, because I had no idea they even existed, and it made no sense that I would even know they’d created another blog. I only found out about their new blog when they dm’d me from it. But they had obviously done this to enough people that they were now getting called out on it.

You guys, we have to fucking stop acting like this. This fandom needs to stop stealing from each other and eating our own. And if someone brings up that they’ve had an idea stolen, we need to take them seriously instead of insinuating they’re only attempting to cause drama. Stop sending people unhinged anons because you feel like you’re guilty of lifting from another creator and just work on creating something original. Writing is hard. Giffing and making edits is fucking hard. And no, nothing will ever be 100% original, that’s just impossible at this point, but stop fucking taking things that aren’t yours and claming them as your own. Do better. Grow up.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Azriel feeds bad people to his bloodthirsty dryad girlfriend. 

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Azriel/Elain

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Murder, Creepy Tree Shit

Chapters: One-Shot

AO3 Link

It’s that time again! Spooky fics for Spooky Season! 🌳🎃

••••❋••❋••❋•••••❋••❋••❋•••••❋••❋••❋••••

Blood at the Roots

Jim was tired. 

It had been an exhausting day at work and all he had wanted by the end of it was to take a walk by the playground and then order some takeout. But no. No. Instead that bitch Monica in HR had to go and harass him about his ‘behavior’ with the new girl. 

“Is any of this true?” Monica had asked with pursed lips. 

“Of course not!” Jim had lied. “I don’t even know why she would say something like that!”

As if he would ever be interested in a dumb little slut like Nikki. He had just been trying to be friendly! But he had barely spoken to her before she started telling everyone he ‘gave her the creeps’. Fucking bitch. 

Whatever. 

She was too old for him anyway. 

He checked his phone as he wandered toward his car (of fucking course he was the only one left in the lot) and swore as he saw the time. Shit. All the kids would be going in for dinner by now. He’d be lucky if any of them were still hanging around the playground this late. 

Quickly, he unlocked the door and ducked inside. If he was quick, he might- 

He didn’t even notice he wasn’t alone until he felt the wet rag clamp over his mouth and nose. He never even managed to scream before the drug knocked him out cold. 

••••❋••❋••❋•••••❋••❋••❋•••••❋••❋••❋••••

Jim hit the cold ground and awoke with a jolt. 

It took several long moments for him to wrangle his thoughts into any sort of coherency. 

“What the hell?” He said. Or, at least, that was what he tried to say. In reality all he managed to get out was a slurred “Whaaaaa?”

Blearily, Jim attempted to take stock of his strange new surroundings. Had he been…drugged? The last thing he remembered was…something about Monica from work? He couldn’t be sure though. His thoughts felt like they were fighting through a head full of cotton…only to then be tossed into a blender. 

An icy breeze washed over him and he shivered. Where was his jacket? He glanced around for it only to notice the dark trees surrounding him, their barren limbs stretching into the night sky. 

All except one. 

There, standing tall and proud before him, was a tree that towered over all the others. It looked old. Very old. The longer he looked at it though, the more Jim realized that there was something…off about it. 

And then it hit him. 

It still had leaves. 

He whipped his head back towards the other trees and, nope, they were all still barren. And yet, for some bizarre reason…this tree wasn’t. In fact, it looked for all the world as if it were enjoying a pleasant summer evening rather than a blisteringly cold October night. Jim stared up at its verdant green leaves with confusion. 

Until he very suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. 

There, at the base of the tree, stood two strangers. A man and a woman. 

The man was young and dressed all in black. A stark contrast to the woman besides him. 

She was naked. That was the first thing he noticed about her. How could he not? And she was beautiful…but in a strange way. An uncanny way. Her limbs were too spindly. Her eyes were too large and watchful. She seemed less a creature of flesh and bone than some confusing imitation of one. 

And yet for all her disorientating beauty and nudity…he couldn’t stop staring at her feet. Honestly, it took him a frankly embarrassing amount of time to realize why.  

Her feet were covered in a confused tangle of roots. As if she had been standing there for so very long that the tree had simply decided to grow up around her…except, her realized eventually, with a sickening lurch, those roots were her feet. 

She was a part of the tree. 

He looked back up and saw her staring back at him with those luminous, unblinking eyes of hers. They seemed almost to glow in the darkness. Boring down into him like tree roots. 

He suddenly felt…trapped. 

He realized then, with dawning horror, that this was a predator. She didn’t look nearly human because she was one…but because those were her preferred victims. 

She was a Venus Fly Trap. 

And he, the unwitting fly. 

As soon as that thought entered his mind he was begging. 

“Please!”

The tree-woman gazed down at him serenely. Her companion didn’t even acknowledge him, too busy staring at her bizarrely sweet face. 

“Please?” She tilted her head the way a bird did. They were the first words she had spoken aloud since he’d awoken. Her voice was…strange. As if having a tongue was still a new experience for her. 

“Please don’t kill me!”

The woman…giggled. 

She fucking giggled. 

“Oh I’m not going to kill you!” She laughed. 

He froze. 

“Really?!”

“No, silly!”

For a moment he felt such immeasurable relief that he almost didn’t hear the second part of her declaration.

“He’s going to kill you!” She gestured to her grim companion. “I’m just going to eat you.”

There was no time to run. Not even time to scream. In half a second the man was behind him and yanking his head back by the hair. 

Jim felt only the bite of something cold and sharp drag across his throat. It was so fast that all he could do was marvel over the fact that he didn’t feel any pain. He tried to say ‘No’ but his voice didn’t seem to work. Instead all that came out was a wet, bubbling gasp. And then, without warning, a boot pressed between his shoulder blades and shoved him to the ground. 

Helplessly, he watched as his own lifeblood pooled around him and soaked into the frozen ground. Into the tree roots. Her roots. 

The tree-woman gave a deep, hearty sigh. The way one would after taking a long pull of water on a hot summer’s day. 

“Ah,” she moaned happily. “You always bring me the most delicious morsels.” 

“Of course,” the man replied. It was the first time Jim had ever heard him speak. He had such a soft voice for someone so menacing. “I’m only sorry I made you wait so long. I had to be sure.” 

“Sure?” The tree-woman giggled. 

“That he deserved this.”

“Ah, yes. And what did this one do?”

The man’s voice turned cold. 

“He hurt children.” 

Jim knew then he would die here. That he already was dying. That this was his punishment for everything he had ever done. 

He moaned pitifully. 

“Well, whatever he did,” the tree-woman giggled. “He tastes delicious.”

Above them, the tree grew.