#i know this is so short i’m sorry

[visionsofcarnality]

Jason teaching reader how to shoot a handgun?

Omg this is such a sweet idea my fingers are itching…. Just a short little blurb while i work on the longer stuff but i couldn’t resist

One on One. J. Todd.

Or: Jaybird teaches his partner how to use a handgun.

warnings: Guns, female pronouns/feminine nicknames and features. Jay is a grabber. He shouldn’t be a teacher he gets distracted easily. No use of y/n

“Okay now move your hand just a little bit down…” He adjusted your hand so the skin between your thumb and forefinger no longer covered the back end of the gun’s top. “Otherwise it’s going to slide back and cut your hand.”

“Got it.” You answered, furrowing your brows as you tried to visualize what he was saying, creating an invisible line on the back of the gun to serve as a ‘danger zone’.

“Now don’t pull the trigger like a grenade pin.” He spoke slowly into your ear, hot breath tickling the peach fuzz there. “Squeeze it nice and slow, don’t pull too fast.” His hand covered yours just gentle enough to guide but not heavy enough to influence your movements.

“Okay… Now?” You blinked a few times, somewhat nervous still about actually pulling the trigger.

“Now, princess.” He confirmed, resting both hands on your hips with a comforting squeeze. “Nobody around, you could have the worst aim in the world and still won’t hurt anybody.” He leaned in close to your ear again, nibbling lightly on the soft skin. “Nice and easy, no rush.” Your finger trembled a little on the trigger, the metal warm from your finger teasing it.

“Slow squeeze…” You repeated, your finger inching into a tighter curl around the metal until-

“That’s my girl!” Jay whooped as the bang rang out in the abandoned condo building he’d chosen for your impromptu target practice. “You did it, baby.” He cooed proudly into your neck, pressing a kiss before taking the gun from your stiff hands.

“I didn’t hit the bottle.” You pouted with a long sigh, running a hand through your hair frustratedly.

“I knew you weren’t gonna hit it, sweetheart.” He laughed, pulling you in for a scorching kiss. “I just wanted to get you to pull the trigger.”

[stark-lord]

Side B

[renonv]

Oh god the ancient rizz.

Textless vers

[embarrassinglastwords]

“you’re my best friend, now i’ve no one to tell how i lost my best friend”

“you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am.

i’m sorry i’m the one you love, no one will ever love me like you again

so when you leave i should die. i deserve it, don’t i?”

“your low warm voice curses as you find the strength to strike within me that rings out a note heard in heaven”

“you know i’d always been alone till you taught me to live for somebody.

that love is like a star. it’s gone, we just see it shining cause it travelled very far. keep a leftover light burning so you can keep looking up.”

(PT 1 of this for anyone interested)

(and if anyone’s interested here’s a playlist as well as just a normal stsg playlist)

[lady-phasma]

A willing pawn

Daemon Targaryen x fem! Dornish!reader

A huge thank you to @zaldritzosrose for this amazing board. You read my mind and I don't know how you did it! An equal thank you to @black-dread for providing the missing puzzle piece to make this fic work.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, hurt/comfort if you squint, little bit of size kink, use of an infantilizing pet name (because Uncle Daddy Daemon), flimsy plot, creampie (and I truly did not plan what was going to happen there, Daemon just does whatever he wants in my brain, cheeky bastard)

Summary: You had a mission in the Stepstones, but he wasn’t as fearsome, this prince, as you had been led to believe. I’m not sure about my soft!Daemon but here he is. 4k words

The encampment was dark, lit only by dying fires. This night had been chosen because it would be moonless. Your soft-soled shoes were silent on the rocky earth as you crept between tents. You had planned your path at sunset, marking in your memory where the prince’s tent stood. As the orange light had faded from the sky, your stomach had begun to knot and twist with anxiety.

Could you really follow through with this? You knew you were able but were you capable of such a thing. The circumstances didn’t offer you any choice in the matter. Prince Qoren Martell wanted to avoid the costs of war, in gold and lives. His war counsel thought of every possible measure they could take to win this war, including involving House Yronwood. You were a cog in a larger plan and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You ducked around another tent and tiptoed to the edge of the large royal tent. This is as far as you had gotten in your strategy. From this point forward you could only hope for luck, as stealth wouldn’t matter when faced with the prince’s guards. You were sent here with the barest of plans and what little plan there was, was foolish. You listened for movement inside the tent and heard none. As you neared the front you expected a half-dozen guards but saw only two. You held your breath.

You couldn’t walk right up to the tent and demand to be let in. Sneaking in seemed to be impossible, but if you could, what next. Your heart pounded in your ears. Godsdamn it, you thought. You let out a shaky breath and slunk back into the shadows. When you turned around you almost walked face-first into a giant wall of armor.

The guard almost threw you into the tent but did not relinquish his grip on your elbow. You grunted and jerked your arm away from him as you stumbled into the large room. You caught your balance and stood up straight. The ground was covered in rugs. A table laden with maps and documents stood in the center. Next to it sat the Prince.

“We found this creeping about outside, your highness,” the guard grumbled.

Prince Daemon lounged in his chair, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. He was peeling a pear, paused mid-knife-stroke, and looked up from under his brows. They raised slightly, seemingly amused, but he didn’t bother to lift his head. He resumed his peeling.

“Leave us,” he commanded without looking up. You heard the guard’s armor as he left but didn’t take your eyes from the prince.

“What terrible deed have you been sent to do child?” He didn’t look at you, only sliced a bit of pear and popped it in his mouth. When you didn’t respond he brushed aside papers to make space on the table and laid down the knife and pear. He wiped his hands on a napkin, dropped it next to them, and stood up. Finally, he looked at you. He finished chewing, swallowed, and wiped one corner of his mouth with his thumb.

He strode toward you, sucking the pear juice off his thumb and assessing you. Much of your face was covered by your hood, stay strands of dark hair were visible but your features were cast in shadow. He dipped his head slightly and looked closely, standing only a few paces in front of you. His silver hair swung loose from his shoulder. The violet of his eyes was unnerving. You squared your shoulders.

“I am no child,” you replied, leaving off the honorific. He was no prince of yours.

“Is that so?” Daemon reached for your hood and flicked it back from your head. The only hint of surprise he allowed to show was a brief widening of his eyes. You were well aware the effect your father’s blue eyes had when set against the sienna skin you got from your mother. You narrowed your icy eyes at him.

“I’m gown enough to make it this far into your camp, am I not?” Daemon chuckled and flipped his hair back over his shoulder. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at you.

“I suppose so… but you did get caught, little one.”

Your cheeks flamed and you wanted to strike him but the smile on his face caught you off guard. Had he just winked at you? You were too frustrated to think and that wink made your blood boil. This was not going at all how you had expected when the guard snatched you up. Daemon didn’t so much as blink when you moved your hands from inside your cloak to push your hood back further. He was amused with you. The handle of your dagger glinted in the candlelight and caught his eye.

“So you were sent here to assassinate me?” He smiled that infernal smile. “Would you say it is going well?”

“Time will tell,” you answered through gritted teeth. Then he laughed at you, actually laughed. You clenched your hands into fists at your sides.

He took a step toward you and you tensed. You hadn’t the faintest idea what this man would do. You had only heard the rumors and propaganda in Dorne. When he reached out, you tried to take a step back from him.

“Uh-uh,” he commanded quietly. Then his hand dipped into your cloak and before you could move to stop him, he snatched your dagger out of your belt. He spun it lazily around, watching it dance in the light.

“This might have done the trick,” he spoke to the blade, not to you. “But I imagine someone with more experience should have been entrusted with it.” His eyes flicked back to your face. “Though, perhaps there were none as fierce as you.”

With absolutely no thought in your mind, you lunged forward and tried to grab the weapon from him. He deftly moved it out of your reach and grabbed your wrist with his other hand.

“As I said: fierce,” he quipped. You tugged your arm against his grasp to no avail.

“But I must!” You almost snarled at him. His expression wasn’t surprise but interest. He let you go and turned to lay your weapon on the table. When he faced you again a small smile was set on his mouth.

“Must you?” He raised an eyebrow. “If a child assassin has been sent to slay me, Dorne must be desperate indeed.”

“I am not a child! I am a woman grown, of 20 years!” You had no idea why this infuriated you but the prince knew that it did. He grinned again.

“Pardon me, my Lady. I should have said a ‘small’ assassin,” he mocked you. It was somehow kind. You were taken aback by his jest, by his demeanor. You hadn’t taken the time to pause and evaluate Prince Daemon. You had only been concerned with the ramifications of your failure.

Now that you looked, you saw a man not much older than yourself. A man who moved with experience in battle, with an ease not unlike your own. Graceful, even. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He extended his hand, offering you to sit in the chair opposite his. You had come here to threaten his life and now he was treating you like a guest! You gawped.

Before you could decide what to make of the situation, Daemon slid down into his chair and stretched his legs out again, completely unwary of you. He glanced at you one more time as he reached for his unfinished pear. You were too shocked to do anything other than sit. You closed your mouth and sat down across from him. You slipped your cloak off of your shoulders as you sat. Your common clothes weren’t uncomfortable but you weren’t used to them. You tried to adjust them as you sat but instantly became more frustrated. Daemon’s eyes on you didn’t help to easy your new-found insecurity. You were meant to have been unseen.

“Who sent you?” The blunt nature of his question startled you.

“And why should I tell you?” you retorted. You were behaving as if you were at home entertaining men you had grown up with. This was madness.

“I believe I am owed an explanation as it was my life you were planning to take. Also, what else is there to do?” He popped a slice of pear in his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Let’s start with your name, shall we?”

You hesitated, but he was right: what else was there to do. You could sit in silence until he decided to have you executed. You could try to run from the tent only to be caught and executed sooner. So you told him your name and your house name.

“Very good,” he tossed the knife and pear back on the table. “What did Martell threaten? What predicament did he put you in?”

Your eyes widened. Was Prince Martell’s reputation so tainted, so sullied, outside Dorne?

“Not him,” you spoke quietly. “Though I suppose, ultimately, he knows. We are not a political house but we have wealth that is necessary for Dorne to succeed.” Your eyes flicked down from his at the last word. You weren’t sure why but you felt ashamed for being in this position, had all along if you thought about it.

“So if not the prince himself…” Daemon paused, waiting for your answer.

“His war counsel,” you replied. “They have many strategies in play, I’m sure, but one is to ‘motivate’ certain houses to bring the war to an early end. I have no knowledge of the other plans. I only know that my father was threatened. Whatever that threat was, it was powerful enough for him to send his youngest daughter to the Stepstones.”

There it was. You had spilled it out to the enemy in a gush and felt like vomiting or crying or fleeing. You looked up from your lap. Daemon was studying you. Once again he surprised you. Perhaps you expected him to mock you but the kindness on his face somehow made your situation more real. You bit your lip to stop the tears. You would not cry. You were angry and frightened and when the prince had called you a child it made those feelings more real.

“What choice did you have?” He sounded almost compassionate. This couldn’t be the petty tyrant you were warned against, who would rape, or torture, or kill you if you were caught. “You came all this way on an errand not of your choosing and meant to go through with it. That’s more than a little honorable, don’t you agree?”

You had no idea. You were confused and overwhelmed and angry. You had never been a zealot, but you had been more sure of your mission when the target was evil or cruel. Perhaps he was at times, but not now.

“I suppose so,” you muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Well what do I do with you now?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t set you free. Yet I don’t want another prisoner. And you don’t want to return home as a failure. I can see that. I could keep you as a hostage and demand gold for your safe return. Would that keep your honor intact?”

You blushed, not just from his nearness but from the fact that he could see your thoughts so clearly on your face. You and your family would be dishonored if you returned unsuccessful. It would also be unfavorable to the prince to appear compassionate to would-be assassins.

“It would,” you answered. “But I do not think the ransom would be paid.”

“No? Not for a young woman as fierce and cunning as yourself? Not for someone so precious?”

Your eyes flicked up to his at this curious word. You watched him, suspicious, as he slid out of his chair and knelt in front of you.

“I think you’re quite frightened of either choice: being sent home or being held here. I don’t want you to be frightened. Maybe the Crone had a purpose for bringing you here.”

You felt your breath catch. He looked so sincere. He was intoxicating but you believed him. You didn’t want to feel relief at the prospect of no longer sneaking, hiding, being a stowaway, but you did. Almost instantly, you imagined a hot bath, a dress and not these rags, and food that wasn’t brown. Then something else flashed in your mind and the heat returned to your face.

Daemon slowly reached out to you and stroked the side of your face. He skimmed a lock of your hair with his fingers, watching it catch the light. Its deep brown shown with hints of gold. You studied him closely. When he turned his gaze back to you, your heart pounded in your chest. His eyes searched yours as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“Gevie,” he whispered. You thought it was High Valyrian but you weren’t sure. Your lips parted almost involuntarily as you looked up at him. He leaned toward you, silver hair cascading off his shoulders. You felt his lips on yours and closed your eyes.

His hand holding your face felt safe. His lips were warm and tasted of pear. You dared not move. You were overwhelmed and confused. However, there twisted in your belly some need, some desire for him. Your chest ached with the delicious feeling of being safe. You didn’t question how this was possible so far away from home and with your “enemy” no less. So you kissed him back.

Daemon slid his other hand to frame your face. His kiss wasn’t rough, but it was deep. You had kissed men before, you were experienced in the most basic of ways. You realized now that all the men before had not kissed you, they didn’t see you. They saw a Yronwood daughter or practice for their marriage beds. You had made those choices willingly. You weren’t concerned with being married for political reasons and had enjoyed your freedom. Until now. In this moment, you felt… precious.

Tentatively, you raised a hand to him, your fingertips grazed his jaw and neck, and came to rest on his chest. He slid his hands from your cheeks as he broke the kiss. As if waiting for your permission, Daemon rested his hands on your upper arms. You kissed him in answer. His arms swept around you and scooped you up as he stood. Your head spun but you steadied yourself by putting your hands on the back of his neck.

Daemon sat you on his bed and smoothed your hair back from your face. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it on the floor as he leaned down to kiss you. You made room for him on the bed, drawing him toward you with your kisses. He knelt between your legs, kissed your neck, and slid a hand under your shirt. You arched your back, pressing into his palm.

He brushed the underside of your breasts with the tips of his fingers and his other hand glided up your ribs. He pushed your shirt up above your breasts, fixated on your hardened nipples. His hair slid over your chest as he took one nipple in his mouth. He propped himself up on one hand and cupped your breast with the other. You moaned and writhed under him. You instinctively ran your fingers through his hair and held him against you. Daemon groaned and the sound vibrated from your chest to your core. When he pulled away you realized you had been grinding against his leg and flushed. He smiled down at you.

Wordlessly, he guided you to raise your arms so he could remove your shirt. Then he began to unlace your breeches. You watched his muscles move as he slid your pants off. You lifted your hips and giggled a little when you plopped back down on the bed as he tugged them off your legs. You weren’t shy but the action was awkward and you were quite exposed now. He tossed the breeches on the floor and smoothed a hand up your thigh. He stared, rapt, at the dark hair between your legs, so different from the silver of his own.

You bit your lip as you looked from his face, down his chest, and to the evidence of his arousal. His breeches looked uncomfortably tight now. His hands absently stroked your legs and your lower belly but paused as you sat up. You held him between your legs. When you kissed his stomach he hissed in air through his teeth. Your hands grazed over his hips and to the laces in the front of his pants. You let your fingertips glide over the shape of his erection before undoing the knot. You kissed seemingly every inch of his stomach then looked up at him as your hand dipped inside. His face was curtained by his hair as he looked down at you. You smiled as you stroked him.

Daemon moved his hands from your legs, smoothed over your hair, and then gently pressed your shoulders back. You laid down, already missing the feeling of him in your hands, but the sight of him between your legs was almost as pleasant. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead gently, then your lips, and pressed his forehead against yours.

You gasped as his fingers slid between the lips of your cunt. He licked his lips and continued to explore your wetness. Stroking, searching, learning. He circled your opening, your clit, and back again. One finger slid in easily and he grinned. You lifted your mouth to his as you lifted your hips to his hand. He slid in a second finger.

“You are so tight, little one,” he grinned down at you. You rocked your hips against his hand and moaned in reply. You placed one hand on his arm, pulling him deeper into you. With the other you smoothed his hair behind his ear and trailed your fingers down his jaw. You drug your fingertips over his lips. His eyes were dark as he watched you pleasure yourself on his hand.

“More, Daemon, please,” you moaned, saying his name for the first time. Hearing his name come from your lips pleased him immensely.

“Say it again,” he breathed as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Daemon, please.”

Slowly and with a tinge of disappointment on his face, he pulled his fingers from you. He was enjoying the sight of you but couldn’t wait any longer. He freed his cock from his breeches. Then he slid his hands up your thighs to your lower back. As he sat back he guided you onto his lap. The transition was clumsy at first, legs bumping and twisting. You both smiled as you held onto his shoulders. When you knelt over him you rubbed your clit against his cock. You rested your lips against his forehead as you rocked your lips. You moved your mouth nearer to his ear and murmured his name.

Daemon lifted your ass and placed you above his cock. With one hand between you, he guided himself into you. You sank down onto him slowly, watching his face. He clenched his jaw tight. You felt his hand move back to your ass. He let you set the pace, let you move against him. You pulled up and then sank down again, taking all of him. The moan that came from your lips was lewd and deep. You clutched at his neck, the back of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. He groaned but did not move to meet your hips. You rocked back, then forward, finding your rhythm.

He kissed your chest and breasts. His hands stroked your ass and lower back, constantly moving. You leaned forward slightly and pressed yourself against him. At this angle he wasn’t as deep in you, but you found friction against his stomach. You ground your hips into him, almost, but not quite able to get what you needed.

“Seven hells,” he panted against you. His hips had begun to move in time with yours. Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair and you tried to find that much-needed angle again. When he realized what you needed he slid a hand between you. You threw your head back as his fingers circled your clit. You sped up, fucking him hard. He kept pace with you, circling and pressing his fingers against you. You couldn’t keep a steady rhythm. You felt him brace your lower back with his hand and pull you closer to him, steadying you, supporting you. You felt your climax tug at your core and sank further onto his cock with each stroke.

“Come for me,” Daemon whispered into your neck. You did. You cried his name, clinched your fists in his hair, and buried your face against his head. You sank all the way down onto him, thighs resting on his as you shook. Your cunt spasmed around his cock but he didn’t stop moving his fingers. He pressed into you with his hips, rocking under you, and bringing forth tiny gasps from you. You lips found his and you panted into his mouth. Tiny sounds mingled with his name flew out of your mouth with every movement of his fingers.

When you thought the overstimulation might be too much he moved his hand from between you. He slid his hand under your arm and pulled you down onto him by your shoulder. A new wave of pleasure crashed into you as he spilled into you. His hips stilled, holding his cock deep inside you. He came panting and moaning your name.

You wanted to sink all of your weight onto him. It took too much effort to support yourself on your aching knees. Neither of you wanted to move yet, though both of you needed to. You released your hands from his hair. You kissed him and smoothed his hair back from his face.

You smiled at him as you rose shakily from his lap. He helped you as much as he could, but your legs were numb and your head was empty. You all but fell back onto the pillows. He watched you grind your hips against the air as the last of your climax left you. His eyes were locked on his seed sliding out of you. He leaned forward, his legs shaking as well. You watched him through half-closed eyes and settled yourself on the bed. His fingers slid through his cum and you twitched as he grazed your throbbing clit. He looked into your blue eyes as he gathered more of it on his fingers. You smiled seductively as he leaned over you and raised his fingers to your lips.

You opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his, and he painted your tongue with his seed. You closed your lips around his fingers and let him feel you swallow. He slid his fingers out and surprised you by kissing you deeply, tasting himself in your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. You playfully pulled his weight on top of you. He let you but also guided you both to lay on your sides. Your legs intertwined and you were a tangle of limbs for a moment. Then you buried your face into his chest and breathed in deeply. You sighed as he smoothed your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. You were quite small in his arms. Daemon breathed deeply as he stroked down your back, your buttocks, and up again. You curled against him, one hand between you, the other resting on his hip.

“I have you now, little one,” he murmured against the top of your head.

Masterlist

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hey! just hopping on the period train here…can we get tender, soft, tooth-rottingly sweet ghost with a reader on their period? reader has cramps and will 100% try to overexert themselves if not directly managed lol. Anyway love your work🤍🤍🤍

The unintentional period train 😆 I’ll try, haven’t written about Ghost in a hot minute.

It’s not as grand as I’d like it to be, but I think it’s pretty good for a quick half hour ✨let’s say this is at home too for convenience sake

—

Simon wouldn’t be aware you were on your cycle at first, which makes the most obvious sense.

You; his sweet, bombshell of a woman, had a tendency to hide what irritated you. Physical or not.

Moving into a new house was a bit of a process, one that had a lot of challenges to overpass before enjoying the rewards. You believed their wouldn’t be as many boxes, or as many things to haul off the moving truck and through the front door.

Simon would then assume something was wrong by the amount of breaks he’d find you taking. Moments you’d catch your breath, stand completely still with a hand along your side, or sitting down in the passenger seat of the truck.

Try as well as you like, it’s his job to be concerned about your well-being. Exertion was a high price to pay in the military; sore muscles, lack of proper sleep, etc.

You weren’t in the military anymore. Pushing yourself wasn’t necessary inside your new home.

You figured this pain would go away. Exercise was always a factor to lessen cramps. An annoying tale, but sometimes effective.

Sometimes.

The more boxes you hauled, the quicker you’d walk, the more you’d pace yourself was met with more pain on your end.

“Go rest.” Came his voice from behind you, startling you after you settled some kitchen appliance boxes on your new marble counter.

“I’m fine,” you quickly state, turning your head to meet your husband’s gaze. “I’m okay—“

“That’s an order.” Simon states, leaving little to no room for doubt or denial. You’d frown, but he didn’t care, maintaining his ground with a firm brow and stern expression.

“Simon—“

“Now.”

You scoff, glaring up at him as if he asked something vile from you. Again, he didn’t care.

“Fine,” you bite back a bitter tone before leaving towards your bedroom. “You can finish unpacking all by yourself.”

Simon expected this, seemingly unfazed as he watched you go. He didn’t mind the attitude, he would’ve found it funny. He kind of did, but you didn’t see his smile.

He’d find you later curled up on a bare mattress, yanking blankets out from their boxes to wrap yourself up in. Your head settled on a pillow, his pillow, he recognized after a second glance.

He approached, proceeding to pull off your socks and shoes for you.

He pulls the blankets back after crawling into bed, per your irritation, only to apply a warm bottle compress along your tummy.

“M’sorry,” he murmurs into your ear, proceeding to lay the blankets back over you. Your raised hand stops him, your fingers grasping along his wrist.

Your quiet plea encourages him to join you in bed, clutching your body like a gentle wall of support. Occasionally, his hand would remain over the compress, moving it around along spots you desired it the most while his other massages the back of your neck.

“I’ll start unpackin’ in the morning,” Simon murmurs, his head settled ontop of your head, breathing in your sweet scented shampoo.

Your mouth opens to persist, but he beats you to it.

“No no, don’t wanna hear it. I’ll unpack the rest of the frame, an’ the sheets, give you a proper bed to rest on.”

Your silence meant you were listening, which makes him assume you’re growing irritated by his unique form of ‘persistence’.

“Sickness an’ in health, love,” He kisses underneath your earlobe, hearing your small sigh.

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re cranky.” A faint rumble of a chuckle erupts from his chest. “Often times I’d hear ya say you would get lobotomized back in the day for this type of behavior.”

“That’s what I used to tell Soap just to mess with him,” you faintly muse, nearly falling asleep from his rough hand providing the most gentlest of massages along your nape.

“Get some shut eye, sweetheart. Talk about your self diagnosis in the morning.”

-

I don’t know how to end this 🧍🏽‍♀️this is not proofread. Back on the grind.

[cable-salamdr]

“I want a kids cartoon with more diverse main character body types than just skinny teen” you guys couldn’t even handle Steven Universe

(Or Dead End Paranormal Park, or She-Ra)

[justgoji]

Drew @delatoid’s miku design again, it’s such a cool design bfghijijh

[sunsetsandsunshine]

AHHH I'm so happy youre back to writing! I felt like the Rottmnt tickle community was dying there.

Been dying for a lee! Mikey Ler! Big bros fic.

~ 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗… ~

❤️💜🐢💙🧡 ���𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ❤️💜🐢💙🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷, 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 🥲💔⁉️ 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂??? 𝙰𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝙸’𝙼 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝🩷💝💕˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟼𝟹𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛’s: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 (𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚘’𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚊). 𝙱𝚞𝚝…𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕. 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!) 

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @pocky-dragon

@danineedshelp @jamiesgotchu @saturnzskyzz @savemeafruitjuice

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @mythica0 @titters-and-tingles

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲!!! 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶!!! 

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐/‘𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐’ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊 (😵)!!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚢…𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 😅…

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙾 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂 𝙸’𝙼 𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚁

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙿 𝚃𝙾 𝟶:𝟷𝟿– 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙽𝙽𝚈 🕺🏾✨ 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“MOVE YOU’RE HIPS, MIKEY!!!” Donnie yelled at his orange cladded younger brother. 

“I’M TRYING!!!” The box turtle yelled back, “DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M SHAKIRA?!”

“WELL, YOU’RE HIPS DEFINITELY DO LIE BECAUSE I SEE NO FUCKING MOVEMENT!” The elder yelled in return which earned a loud snort of amusement from Leo in the peanut gallery; the slider enjoying the chaos and banter between Mikey and Donnie. 

It was a nice Saturday evening and the four brother’s spent the day just…casually hanging out, for no exact reason in particular. The brother’s just truly wanted to chill (for today…).

They did karaoke, binged movies, and y’know…just chilled. That’s what Summer was about: relaxation. 

Well…they were relaxed.

Until their nerdy scientist brother found a TikTok video that he quote on quote ‘Had to learn to get with the trendy trends for his likey likes.’

His words, not mine.

And so, he dragged Mikey into it because the dance required about two people (and Donnie wasn’t trying to make it seem like he was lonely). But sadly and not surprisingly, the young scientist has been trying to teach the youngest the choreography for about…3 hours.

3 hours. 

Let that sit with you for a second. Let that marinate. 

And let’s just say…Donnie’s patience wasn’t exactly the best. Especially when it came to dance. Plus, this dance wasn’t even hard! All that was required to do was move your hips and do dramatic hand movements like some stereotypical blonde ordering an overcomplicated Starbucks order!

In conclusion: not hard at all! 

And Donnie knew he wasn’t raised with a piece of cardboard! Mikey knew how to dance…!

…To an extent, anyway…

“It’s not my fault I’m stiff!” The youngest whined which only caused the second oldest to simply scoff, rolling his eyes with sass, “Well it’s gotta be someone’s fault.”

“It’s probably Draxum’s.” The slider suggested. 

“I concur. It is probably Draxum’s fault.” Donnie agreed, “Anyway, stiff or not stiff, I need you to learn how to do this dance.” The box turtle groaned again at the comment, “Why me though? Why can’t you just do it with Leo or something???”

“Me and Leo already learned the dance!” The softshell huffed proudly, “We learned, practiced and recorded it all yesterday.” 

“Twin type shit.” The second youngest added on, sending Donnie finger-guns. 

“Twin type shit.” The purple loving turtle amusedly agreed, not doing the same hand movement but just doing an awkward thumbs up which Leo couldn’t help but giggle to. 

Raph, who was sitting next to Leo on the couch scratched the top of his head a bit, pondering slightly. “Why don’t you try doing a different dance?” The eldest suggested, “Y'know…maybe one that doesn’trequire so much hip movement…?”

“Like The TikTok Rizz Party dance!” Leonardo happily suggested, standing up excitedly which only earned hard glares from all of his brothers. The second youngest rolled his eyes at the looks, putting a hand on his hip, “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You gotta admit: it’s simple to learn.”

“It’s not a dance— it’s a freaking demon ritual.” The snapping turtle deadpanned. 

“Same difference...” Leonardo huffed, sitting back down next to his older brother. Raph sighed impatiently, rubbing his temples like a single Mom that worked two jobs (sorry not sorry for that reference), “I’m too young for all of this bullshit…”

“Raph!” The youngest suddenly wailed, “Aren’t I moving my hips???” Mikey whined impatiently, demonstrating the dance which got a small stifled giggle from Leo. The leader in blue got up, covering his mouth to try and stop himself from laughing as he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

The eldest turtle grimaced, trying to hold back his laughter as well, “You’re…You’re moving something…” 

“He’s moving his fucking chest and shoulders…” Donnie explained, “Which are nowhere near your hips.” 

“Again: The Tik Tok Rizz Party is still an option.” Leonardo happily said as he went back to the lounge area and started to do the quote on quote ‘Tik Tok Rizz Party’ dance. The purple loving teen inwardly cringed as he watched his slightly younger brother’s antics, sighing sadly as he covered his face. 

Of all the individuals he had to be twins with…

“Sit your hyperactive ADHD ass down.” Raph demanded as he grabbed Leo’s shell with his hand, forcing him to sit back down.

“Anyways. Angel, I want you to move with your hips!” The softshell emphasized again, going behind Mikey and squeezing his hips to demonstrate how and when the youngest was supposed to move them (since the box turtle was apparently having an issue separating his chest from his hips).

Y'know, stiff people problems. Something Donnie couldn’t possibly relate to nor understand. 

“EEP-!!!”The youngest suddenly squealed, his face morphing to one of giddy panic, “D-Deehee! Noho stahahap!”

“I am helping you with your atrocious dancing, you buffon! Now stay still!” The second oldest huffed, squeezing the shortest turtle’s hips again. 

“You’re 'helping' tihihickles!” Mikey complained, holding onto his scientist brother’s wrists in a small attempt to stop him. Which didn’t…obviously. But it was worth a shot. An A for effort some might call it. 

Donnie tried to stifle his giggles, raising a confused brow, “Oho, my helping tickles, now does it? How is that even possible, my dear younger brother?” 

“Wahait w-wahahait dohohon’t— *squeal* nahahaha!” Mikey laughed, throwing his head back on Donnie’s shoulder as his knees gave out, trying to retreat unto the floor but his older brother only followed him as he did so.

“Don’t? Don’t what~?” The second oldest turtle asked incocently, scribbling his fingers against the other’s sides. The box turtle curled in on himself on the carpeted floor, kicking his legs back and forth. 

Donnie snickered, “Dude, I’m genuinely asking! What do you mean 'don’t'~?” 

Michelangelo just hugged his middles as he squirmed and screeched, giggling his small little heart out as his older brother tickled him. The young scientist sighed dramatically, sitting on the youngest’s legs as he stopped tickling him for a moment. 

“Hey, guys?” Donatello said as he turned to the red and blue duo sitting on the couch, “I miiiiight need some help over here. I’m feeling ignored by this one— he’s not answering me.” He deadpanned as he jabbed the turtle below him in the side, causing the youngest to sound like a overpowered drill screwdriver fusion. 

“Say less.” Raph grinned, going over to the PB&J duo as Leo quickly followed right behind. 

Okay…well, this hang-out-with-your-brothers-just-because-you-can hangout was turning left veryquickly. Perhaps that’s what Mikey gets due to the fact that he was spinning left and Donnie was spinning right…

Even though the purple banded turtle told him numerous times to turn the other direction, the youngest didn’t feel like listening. I guess he now knows how the second oldest feels when Mikey doesn’t pay attention to his 4 hour yap sessions.

As one smart, tooootally not demented 21 year old said: Karma’s a bitch. 

The box turtle squealed loudly as his other brother’s approached next to him and sat down. The youngest immediately retracted into his shell as panicky giggles from him echoed around the lair. 

The three older brother’s collectively groaned, knowing they’ve alllll danced this dance before. “Ugh…I hate when he does that…” Leo complained dramatically as he crossed his arms across his plastron. Raphael cracked his knuckles, his grin widening, “Don’t worry, boys. I got this.” The red banded turtle put the Mikey in his lap, blowing a raspberry directly on the youngest’s stomach. 

The reaction was almost like the speed of light as the orange banded turtle immediately erupted into loud mouse cackles, trying to wriggle his way out of his older brother’s iron grip although now that he was caught in the lion’s den…his attempts of escaping were now futile.  

“WHAHA— *squeak*?! NAHAHA?!?! *Squeak* RAPH RAPH RAHAHAPH!!!” Michelangelo giggly sputtered out, his laugh raising a pitch as Raphael refused to take any breath’s on the raspberry and just continued and continued. 

And Mikey knew Raph. For heaven’s sakes, that was his brother. The paint loving turtle knew (definitely NOT from experience) that Raph would not take a break unless the orange banded got out of his shell. 

“WHYHYHYHY???” The orange banded turtle cackled, his limbs and head coming out of his shell as he tried to glare at his brothers, which they all couldn’t help but awe to. “Awe, there you are~! Now this is definitely a fair fight!” The gentle giant happily exclaimed, removing his head from Mikey’s stomach. 

“ThIHIs ihis ahan ahamBUHUSH!!!” 

“Same difference.” Leo shrugged, squeezing the box turtle’s ankles repeatedly. “NAHAT THEHE FEEHEEHEET!!!” The orange banded turtle cried, kicking his legs around to try and make Leo dislodge his grip on his ankle. “Jeeheez…I didn’t eheven doohoo anything yehet!” The slider commented smugly.

“Guess it tickles that bad, huh, Mikester~?” The blue banded turtle teased. 

“BEEHEE QUIHIHIET YOHOU AHAHASS!!!”

Leo dramatically gasped at the rebuttal, gently pulling his little brother’s toes back and scribbling his fingers all over his arch. “That is no way to talk to your beloved older brother!” The slider lightly scolded. Donnie, who was next to Mikey nodded in agreement, his fingers pinching all over his littlest brother’s ribs, “I think someone needs to be taught a lesson…” 

“NOHOHAHAH! IHI DAHA— *squeak* DOHOHON’T!!!” The box turtle protested, swatting his hands on Raph’s arm like a drunk jellyfish. “And hitting too?!” The blue banded teen announced, “Your reeeeallyasking for it…” 

Raphael raised a hand, wiggling his fingers near Mikey’s neck. The turtle in question paled, “NAHAT THEHE NEHEHECK!!! YOHOU GUHUYS IHI ACTUALLY CAHAN’T DOOHOO THIHIHIS PLEHEHEASE—“

“Your neck? Oh, what a great idea!” Donnie smiled sweetly, one of his hands dancing around the right side of the fake dancer’s neck as Raph dipped his head in the other side. “IIIII…gitchie gitchie gotchu~!” The gentle-giant teased, rubbing his face back and forth in the crook of the youngest’s neck. 

Mikey let out the most inhuman screech to ever exist in between his cackles, shaking his head and scrunching his shoulders desperately, “LEHEHET MEEHEE GOHOHAHAHA!!!” He squeaked. 

“WHYHYHY MEEHEEHEE?!?!” The box turtle whined despreatley through his laughs, unable to do anything but just lay in Raph’s lap and just take the tickles at this point in time. 

Speaking of, WHY was he getting tickled by his big brothers in the first place again??? What the hell did he even DO to deserve this torment? They all just basicslly jumped him as if he had money on him or something!!!

And for the record: Mikey in fact did not. This time at least. 

He borrowed some cash from April last week but immediately put it inside of his piggy bank the second he got home. Since he knew either one of his greedy grubby hand brother’s would snatch that cash cash money cash cash right away…

But…wait.

What was Mikey pondering about again???

“Because you’re the youngest.”The blue loving teen simply said, “Aaaaand we just gotta tickle the heck out of you ‘cuz you’re just so cute~!” Leo cooed playfully, his hands squeezing and prodding at Mikey’s knees. 

“Not too much now, Leo. You’re a baby brother too.” Donnie commented smugly. “By two seconds!!!” The blue banded turtle pouted, glaring at the soft-shell. The soft-shell in question chuckled at the angry face expression, kneading Mikey’s hips mercilessly. “Two seconds that makes you the second youngest. And a baby brother.” He taunted, grinning at the annoyed look that his younger twin was giving him. 

“What are you guys going on about? You’re all baby brothers.” Raph exclaimed.

“So are you!” Leo huffed, “April exists, y’know!”

“GUHUHUHUYS!!!” The youngest screamed, trying to get his siblings attention as they bickered. “Hm? What’s wrong, little bro? Did the Tickle Monster find a bad spot~?” Raph asked, now blowing raspberries at the orange banded turtle’s neck. 

“YOHOU— *squeal* FAHACK!!! GOHOH AWAHAHAY!!!” The box turtle screamed. Leo rolled his eyes fondly, scoffing lightly, “You love this so don’t even, Miguel.” 

“Why should we go away~?” The eldest fake pouted, tickling Mikey under his chin lightly, “Is this a bad spot~? Is that why? Yeah~? Awe, what a shame…” 

“PLEHEHEASE BEEHEE QUIHIHI— *squeak*!!!” The youngest bellowed, “STAHAHA— STAHA—!!! PLEHEHEASE AHANHTHING BUHUHUT THAHAHAT!!!”Mikey purely went into silent cackles, happy tears falling down his face as tiny mouse squeaks followed. “IHIHI *squeal* SURRENDER!! GUHUYS PLEHEHEASE *squeal* I’M *squeal* GOHOHONNA DIHIHIE!!!”

The three brother’s removed their tickling hands, ceasing their attack as the youngest wheezed out remaining laughs breathlessly, “Ihi cahan’t breeheeathe…”

“Considering the fact that you are talking right now (which requires you to breathe), I think you’ll be fine.” Donnie commented, handing Mikey a glass of water which the youngest basically snatched and chugged in 2 seconds flat.

Freaking heathen…

“Did we go too far?” Leo dramatically gasped, going over and taking the orange banded teen from the eldest’s lap, squeezing Mikey in a hug and looking him over like he was a random exotic species specimen. “You're not dead...right? Oh man, Dad will literally kill me if I accidentally killed you…wait. That would make me the youngest. Oh well, I never wanted a younger brother anyway...”

“Hey hehey hehehey! Slow your freaking role! Ihi aham nohot dead!” The box turtle giggled, raising a brow at his immediate older brother’s antics. The slider sighed mockingly, “Had all my hopes up for nothing…” 

The smallest turtle rolled his eyes at the comment before having a moment of realization, “Whahat were weehee eheven doing agahain…?” Mikey giggly asked, resting his head against Leo’s shoulder as the slider rubbed his carapace. “Teaching you to dance.” Donnie sighed sadly, “But, alas, some things were just not meant to be.” 

Mikey glared playfully before landing his eyes on his scientist brother’s phone that was leaning up on one of the tables. “Dee! You were recording???” The box turtle screeched, hiding his face in his shell as the others laughed. “Don records everything, little bro. With or without his phone. So either way you were gonna end up being recorded.” Raph explained teasingly. 

“You never know, Mikejandro, maybe you’ll blow up on Tik Tok!” Leo suggested, “I’d call it: The Disgruntled Demise of a Box Turtle.” 

“Talk about word vomit…” The scientist mumbled under his breath, going to where his phone stood as his siblings bickered in the background. The soft-shell replayed some of the footage as he muted the video, smiling softly (get it? Soft-shell, smiling softly? I’m so funny you guys…) at the shenanigans that unfolded not too long ago. 

The second oldest chuckled softly (still get it?) to himself, putting his phone in his sweatshirt pocket as he went back to where his brother’s were sitting. 

“…Do you guys think I can fit 5 s’mores in my mouth?” Mikey suddenly asked. 

“Michael…please don’t do that. You could choke.” Donnie shuddered.

“Plus, you’re being a coward.” Leo added, “Try 10.” 

“I think 15 is better.” Raph grinned, “But it’s okay if you can’t do it. No one could ever beat Raph’s 25 s’mores record...” The red banded teen huffed out proudly. 

“…it’s ‘cuz you’re fucking rotund, man. No one would or could beat you even if we hired a whole football team to go up against you.” The art loving teen said. 

Raphael blinked confused, “Ro-tuh-wha—?” 

“He’s calling you fat.” Donnie giggly explained. 

Raph’s jaw comically opened wide in awe, hitting his littlest brother’s shoulder, “RAPH IS NOT FAT!!!” He shouted defensively. 

“Whatever you say, Jupiter…” Mikey retorted almost immediately as the twins completely lost it, the three smaller turtles soon descending into loud contagious cackles. The red banded turtle crossed his arms, glaring at them profusely, “You all are my 13th reason…” The eldest grumbled miserably, despite the soft small smile clearly evident on his face. 

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

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

[coochellati]

I HATE THIS KEY VISUAL OF BRUNO!!

IT MAKES HIM LOOK SO UGLY!!

So I went into Photoshop and I fixed it.

lol I hope you like it more now.

[oobbbear]

Whenever I set a very high expectation for a project I will guarantee intimidate myself out of it

But if I set the bar in hell I can finish it very quickly and turns out great 90% of the time

[goreinfested]

Take your time dear, love that you’re getting into writing again.

Can you do protective rko hcs pls?

PROTECTIVE RANDY ORTON HCS:

(c’mon you know I HAD to use my favorite picture for his first request, how could I not ? Imagine reader is the person in the picture thoooo)

I feel as though Randy is kind of possessive so that goes hand in hand with being very protective of his significant other

Will get into a lot of fights for you.

Like one time some random guy was catcalling you after Monday night raw just finished airing, you were clearly trying to tell him nicely that you weren’t interested but this idiot would NOT take no for an answer

Randy of course is walking over to you since you had plans to meet up after he was done changing and so when the scene was unfolding before him he wasted no time walking over to your side

“ hey babe.” He would say nonchalantly as he towered behind you BUT the veins popping out the side of his forehead tells you that he is VERY pissed off

Of course you see the fucking legend killer you’re not sticking around long enough to find out what consequences of your actions were so it didn’t tell long for the guy to fuck off. Scary dog privileges <3

He’s very hesitant when it comes to introducing you to all the guys he works with since not everyone in the business is actually nice backstage. Which probably makes you feel sometimes that he’s hiding you but really he just doesn’t want you to end up in any situation where you’re in danger ( not that he’d EVER let that happen to you )

People rarely get the privilege of even LOOKING at you let alone trying to mean mug you any sort of way

This man will give them the nastiest glare

Constantly stands beside you with his arm hung over your shoulder. any sort of contact to make sure he can jump in the moment anything happens

Though he doesn’t ever verbally express how concerned he can get over you his actions definitely show it

Will deny deny deny if you ask him

“ hey why are you always so close? I don’t need to be protected” you say and he always replies with “ oh don’t flatter yourself, I just need arm candy at all times” but we all know that is a lie

He stole your phone one time to make sure he was listed as an emergency contact

gets HEATED if his fans try to harass you on social media because why the hell are they harassing his significant other? I’m talking about full on rants with some of the people in the comment section ( he’s definitely chilled out the longer you’ve been together) now he makes it a point to post stories of you two on Instagram with him hugging you from behind or just holding you- just to show that if anyone wants you they have to go through him

Does not like letting you go anywhere alone which is actually ironic considering his job.

He definitely tries to talk you into or bring you with him while on the road whenever possible

You’re going to a cafe? He’s going with. You’re going to the bar? Not without him.

He tries to dress undercover when you’re out in public but it never really works so really at this point is he helping protect you or is he just bringing more attention to you?

Is your nurse 100%

If you get sick he will cook for you ( probably just warms up a can of chicken noodle soup TBH) “ can you stop being an inconvenience and get better already?” Kind of mean about it which makes you feel bad but again his actions are always more truthful to you than his words

Refuses to sleep unless you are in the bed with him

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[rougepancake]

May i've NSFW request for mitsuri kanroji , kanae,Shinobu , and lady tamayo . sugarcube ~~.

With strong husband male leader who really love to suck breasts while Mitsuri Kanroji , Shinobu kochou,kochou kanae,and lady tamayo is breastfeeding their baby.

you don't need to write this request if you don't like it , i really like your blog .and also can you make it like a story .i hope it's not too much

You Are my only hope 😭🥹❤️

👀👀👀

The Good Stuff

Ft. Mitsuri Kanroji, Shinobu Kocho, Kanae Kocho, and Lady Tamayo

Warnings: Lactation, breast sucking???, I deadass have no idea how to tag this. I really hope you guys get the point lmaooo- MDNI!!! Not proofread like at all.

MITSURI KANROJI

She’s often complaining about how heavy her breasts are since she had your child, saying that she gets mad back pains now and that it’s your fault

You don’t mind though (not when she’s got bazingas like that-)

She’ll just be finished breastfeeding the baby when she crawls into bed, her nipples still leaking milk

She doesn’t say anything though and just puts on a bra, hoping that it won’t stain her shirt or something

But you stop her, pulling her back to the bed and taking her shirt off. You look into her eyes as you attach yourself to her breast, suckling away

She can’t help the gasp of surprise that escapes her as you go to town, drinking that shit up like it’s water

To your surprise, it’s sweet. Much like the dango she was eating earlier.

It’s so… good. You just can’t stop. She might beg you, but there’s no turning back now. She’s flustered and you’re having the time of your life.

When it’s all said and done though, she’ll come back and shyly ask you to help her out. It’s embarrassing for her, but you don’t mind.

SHINOBU KOCHO

Shinobu is an incredibly confident woman, so when she comes to bed and asks you to help her out, don’t be surprised

She’s bold with her requests too, like “Be careful” “Softer” “Don’t use your teeth”

She definitely has no problem telling you how she likes it, and you don’t mind

However, the first time you tried her milk was something else. Shinobu was squirming underneath you as you lapped up the milk, relishing in its sweetness.

You’ve never had anything quite like it, and you just can’t get enough of it either. Occasionally, you’d look back up at her to check and see if you’re doing a good job

Oh yes you are

She definitely says “good boy” when you’re done helping her I’m sure of it.

KANAE KOCHO

Out of all of these lovely ladies, she’s the most embarrassed about it

She’ll walk into the bedroom with a sigh, allowing her tits to hang out as she frowns at the sigh. She doesn’t like that they’re bigger than usual, and she doesn’t like the pain they cause her

You offered politely as a joke, but when you saw her eyes light up at the idea, you knew you couldn’t deny her

She’ll be pretty quiet the whole time, letting out squeaks here and there as your teeth graze across her nipple

However, when she asks you to stop, fearing that she might pass away from embarrassment, you don’t stop. You can’t. She’s just so… sweet. You’d be one hell of a fool to stop now.

She’s still embarrassed to ask you, but is a little more confident the more you assist her like this

(She’ll tell you otherwise but she FUCKING LOVES IT when you look up at her, suckling on her breast like a child. It makes her feel things frrrr)

LADY TAMAYO

The boldest of them all. Girlie didn’t even ask before just shoving your lips onto her sensitive nipples

It was growing to be unbearable, and she wasn’t about to put up with it longer than she had to

So here you are, her hand on the back of your head as you lap away at the sweet sweet milk she’s made. Quiet moans fill the room as your other hand massages her other breast, making sure she’s fully content before pulling away

She is discreet about it, and makes hints here and there when she needs you to help. However, she doesn’t like to make a big fuss about it. Tamayo would just rather get it over with to spare herself the embarrassment

Girl has just stopped wearing a top around the house entirely just in case her breasts begin to leak. But we all know you don’t mind

Honestly, I think she’s a very private and intimate person, so I could really see her cherishing these moments

They definitely replay in her mind daily

She once made you beg for it like you were a child, relishing in the sound of your pleas. She totally gets off to the idea of you begging for her milk

Yeah she’ll never tell you that

[allthethoughtsandstuff]

they’re in a magazine or something idk

[tainebot01]

My favorite Bird Gals.

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Luz Noceda from The Owl House and Kay Faraday from Ace Attorney, wearing each other’s respective outfits. Luz is jumping in the air, holding the portal key on its string with her left hand and doing a peace sign with her right hand. Kay is crouched and leaning on her left leg, throwing papers with glyph marks using her right hand and doing a peace sign with her left hand. Both are facing each other and smiling brightly. End Description]