#something i found out from this vid is

[silverstrying]

Watching a video when minecraft chest loot generation came up as a main topic and there was NO dream mention or joke everybody cheered 🎉🎉🎉

Uh okay odd but I watched another 15 minutes before posting this and he /did/ end up mentioning dream (topic had moved on from chest gen). Apparently the last time Notch has ever made a public appearance was in a dream vid?? Fascinating. Completely neutral dream mention who cheered!!!🎉🎉🎉🎉

[shawtuzi]

here’s a random best friend!eren drabble bc im bored

cw include: black coded reader, some drug usage (weed), unprotected sex, backshots, sex standing up, sex onna floorrr, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, some choking [ inspo vids: 1 2 3 ]

“you sure about this y/n? i don’t want things to get weird . . .” eren mumbled, his hands fidgeting with the loops on his jeans—something he always did when he was nervous. you just giggled, your mind too cloudy and in a horny daze to care that your about to fuck your childhood best friend.

you were sitting at the edge of your bed with eren standing right in front of you, his large frame towering over yours. his breath hitched when you grabbed onto the hem on his jeans, your chin now resting on his lower stomach. you looked at him through your freshly done lashes, your eyes low n’ red from the blunt you previously smoked together.

“i jus’ wanna see what’s got those girls all crazy about you ren,” you practically purred, smirking when you saw his teeth clamp onto his bottom lip. you could feel the firm bulge in his jeans, your manicured nails trailing up and down the length of it.

“oooo s-shit, f-fuck okay yeah get on all fours.”

sometime later….

“o-oh my goddd, f-fuck erennnn!” your arms flailed behind you to push as eren’s stomach, but him being the dickhead he is, just grabbed your wrists and held you still. he had you bent over the bed, your feet pushing up to your tippy toes to keep up with his brutal thrusts.

“no no don’t run mama—fuck, jus’ take it. cmon fuck me back, fuck renny back,” you pitifully shook your head, salty tears seeping into your comforter.

in all the years you’ve known eren you weren’t aware of the fact that he had such a dirty mouth. filthy praises and promises were flying past his kiss swollen lips left and right, so much so it was making you even more dizzy than you already were.

“who knew my best friend had such a pretty lil’ pussy,” eren breathlessly chuckled, his tongue swiping against his bottom lip as he admired the milky white ring of your essence coating the base of his cock. “n-no eren, too fuckin’ deep s-shit!” you cried, legs trembling as eren pushed all of his weight into your backside. he swiveled his hips, determined to reach that special spot deep inside you.

“heh, now y’see why those girls w-won’t leave me alone, dick is too fuckin’ good ain’t it mama,” eren groaned, smacking your ass harshly. eren wasn’t the best at a lot of things, not that he even really tried to be, but one thing he knew he was good at was beating up some lucky girls guts. sure he wasn’t slanging nine inches, but don’t get it twisted he knew how to use his six and a half inches very, very well. after all it’s not about the size of the wave, but the motion of the ocean or whatever the fuck.

he pulled you up by the neck, keeping you still against his chest. your legs trembled, your hands pushing back softly against eren’s thighs to steady yourself. “this is my favorite way to fuck, it’s so fun watching girls try to run just for me to fuck them to the floor,” he finished off his sentence by licking the shell of your ear, grinning when he felt your body shiver.

“you’re—hah! you’re s-sick ren.”

“shittt say that again baby,” eren groaned, sliding halfway out before slamming back inside. his free hand found purchase on your breast, the other hand squeezing lightly at your neck. “you’re *thrust* so fucking *thrust* s-sick eren!” you gasped out, your hands flinging behind you to tug at eren’s disheveled bun.

all a sudden black dots clouded your vision and your ears began to ring—well this was definitely new. “fuck, you squirtin’ mama?” eren was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, his other hand still securely wrapped around your throat. he fucked you through your orgasm, hearts forming at how soaked his thighs were now. he’s never had a squirter before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave this life after you two were done!

“i *hiccup* didn’t even k-know i could do that,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back when eren started up a steady rhythm. your pussy felt so sensitive, yet each time he pulled out you wanted him back inside that instant. your legs felt like jello and you knew any moment they were bound to give up.

you took a shaky step towards your bed but eren just followed, his lips upturning into a smirk. now comes his favorite part.

“r-ren okay! okay i get ittt,” you sobbed out, gasping as your knees met the plushness of your carpet. eren remained inside you the entire time, wasting no time as he pushed your face into the carpet until your back with positioned into the perfect arch. as crazy as it sounded each slap of his balls against your clit felt like electricity shooting through your veins, causing nothing but moans and babbles to slip past your drooling lips.

“fuck m’gonna cum mama, get ready,” with four final thrusts eren emptied himself inside you, coating your walls in his sticky warmth. your body slumped more into the carpet, your eyes fluttering shut. eren pulled out slowly, laughing when your lower half fell with a dull thud.

“i *sniffle* see your point,” you whimpered, your back arching when your clit rubbed against the carpet. eren grinned, sitting back on his knees before gently turning your body over. he tapped your thigh softly, “push it out . . . please.”

you rolled your eyes, not looking forward the even bigger mess it would make, but you did as you were told. eren let out a long breath through his nose as he watch he cum drip out of you in thick globs. he peered at you through his lashes—

“we should, um, do this again sometime.”

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ���whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[girlygguk]

wait wait wait!!!

how about a crazy!jk doing the tiktok trend “telling my fiancé i can’t pay the rent”

what did u think 🧐

pairing: crazy au / ceo!jk x employee gf!reader

timeline: post moving in together

content: a lil pussy play 🤏 18+ mdni, 1.4k words, lowk just soft domestic shit, jimin wants a tiktok prank vid but he gets a sex tape instead

you pulled on your boyfriend’s shirt, fresh and warm from the shower you’d just shared as you listened to him rustling around in the kitchen.

the oversized fabric brushed against your thighs as you adjust your phone on the bedside table, making sure it was perfectly angled to capture the bed. diving under the covers, you tucked your bare legs under the blanket while internally going over your lines.

the door creaked open, and jungkook walked in, shirtless with his sweats hanging low on his hips. he shut the door and flicked off the overhead light, leaving only the dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room.

with your water bottle in hand, he crossed the space until he was at your side. your heart skipped a beat as he leaned down, thinking he’d notice the phone. but he didn’t. instead, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

he pulled back, catching the little frown on your lips when the kiss ended too soon, and leaned down again to press another quick one before holding out the water bottle.

you took it with a smile, giving him a happy, “thank you,” while you waited for him to walk around to the other side of the bed. pulling back the blanket, he slid in next to you as you took a long sip from the bottle before holding it out to him.

he shook his head, getting comfy as his hand slid over your thigh under the blanket, waiting for you to lay down. “had some out there, baby.”

you nodded at his words, screwing the cap back on and leaning over to set the bottle on the bedside table. your fingers brushed the edge of your phone, discreetly ensuring the camera was still recording. it was.

biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned back to jungkook, forcing a neutral expression as you steadied yourself. this was a result of your best friend’s tiktok addiction, him showing you the challenge during your break yesterday and insisting that his boss’ reaction would be so fucking hilarious if you tried it.

time to find out.

you shuffled down slightly, making sure jungkook’s profile was in frame before pulling the blanket up over your body a bit more. turning to look at him, you found your boyfriend already settling down, his arm outstretched and waiting for you to climb onto his chest like you did every night. but when you didn’t move, his brows furrowed.

his hand slid back down to your thigh, starting to tug you toward him. “baby,” he grunted, the hint of a pout in his tone. you giggled, prying his hand off gently. “wait, baby.”

jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly, his grip loosening but his hand staying close to your leg. he gave you a look before leaning back into the pillows, his lips twitching up in a smirk. “still needy, hm? the shower wasn’t enough?” his voice dropped, low and teasing, sending a long shiver down your spine.

your laugh was loud when he shifted, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to kiss over the fresh mark he’d left there not even half an hour ago. his hands were warm as they slid over the backs of your thighs, easily lifting you and swinging you onto his lap. the blanket shifted as his big hands slipped under his shirt that you were wearing, grabbing a handful of your bare ass. he hummed in delight at the discovery of no panties, his palms pressing into your soft skin.

“baby, hold on,” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your composure as his lips moved against your neck. your best friend was not going to be happy if this tiktok turned into something x-rated. you cupped his jaw, tilting his head back slightly to meet your gaze. “needa talk to you, my love.”

jungkook’s lips lingered on your skin for a moment before he pulled back fully. his dark eyes locked onto yours, the shift in your tone immediately putting him on edge, his jaw tightening slightly. “what happened? what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer, his brows knitting as he studied your face.

his hands stayed firm on your waist, but the tension in his body was palpable. you could see the flicker of confusion in his dark eyes as you kept your faux-serious expression intact, fighting the giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“baby, i can’t…” you started, pausing for effect as his fingers flexed against your hips, his brows knitting tighter. “i can’t pay the mortgage this month.”

jungkook blinked up at you, his tongue working his inner cheek as he tried to make sense of your words. your hand slid up to the side of his face, feigning embarrassment as you continued, “i’m sorry, baby. i swear i’ll make it up next mo—”

“what are you talking about?” he cut in, his head tilting slightly as he stared at you. “what mortgage?”

“our mortgage, baby,” you huffed dramatically, pouting at him while his eyes narrowed, darting between yours as if searching for answers. “i can’t pay our mor—”

“first of all,” he interrupted, his fingers stilling on your hips, “what fucking mortgage?” his tone turned mocking, leaning in closer. “we paid in cash, y/n. so unless you’ve got another house with another motherfucker on the side, i don’t know what fucking mortgage you’re talking about—”

you ignored the way we made your chest flutter, knowing damn well you hadn’t paid a single dime and swallowed, your brain scrambling to salvage the prank. “huh?” you blinked at him innocently, your frown deepening as you looked off to the side. “so… who’s account have i been depositing money into every month for house payments?”

jungkook’s eyes narrowed further, his lips parting slightly in disbelief as he stared you down. “you what?” he asked lowly, his grip tightening on your hips.

“i thought you told me to deposit money every month into—”

“shut up, baby,” he rolled his eyes with a scoff as realization dawned. he knew. “i would never make you pay for shit. don’t even try that sh—where is it?” his hands left your hips, scanning the room as his eyes darted suspiciously. “hm? where is it?”

“where’s what?” you asked innocently, though your giggles betrayed you.

his hands found your belly, flipping and pinning you down as he loomed over you, scanning the room. you reached up to cup his face, trying to redirect his focus, but it was already too late.

“no, baby—” you tried, but his gaze locked onto your phone propped up on the bedside table. his long, tattooed arm reached out, plucking it from its hiding spot with ease.

“you and your fucking pranks,” he gave you a pointed look, flipping the camera so it was on you. his eyes scanned you through the screen, letting out an approving hum as he panned the phone up and down your body. “and who are you filming this for, baby?”

“no one—”

“hm, okay,” he hummed, “then you won’t mind if i keep it going.”

his big hand slid under the hem of his shirt—the only thing shielding your bare body from the camera—and dragged it up slowly, exposing your skin inch by inch. you coughed under your breath, trying to squirm out of reach, but he was faster.

“baby, no—” you squeaked, but your convictionless words were cut off when his thumb dragged over your bare core. the slick sound made your breath hitch, your hips bucking up into his touch instinctively.

his devilish tongue swiped over his lip ring as he pressed his thumb against you, spreading your slick folds. his gaze flicked between you and the phone screen, lowering it closer to your pussy to get a better view.

the wet sounds of his thumb sliding against you were obscene, echoing in the quiet room. a little whine snuck up your throat as all thoughts of sending this video to anyone flew out the window, your hand lifting to slide up his thick arm in encouragement. jungkook’s lips twitched as he continued, his gaze dark and focused.

this was by far not the first time you’d made a sex tape together—and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

sorry, jiminie. maybe next time.

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @lllucere @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @granataepfelchen @yoonstaar

[neos127]

enhypen hyung line x gn!reader | #youtube!!

different types of videos you make with the boys genre. hcs, non idol au, established relationship for some & fluff!! wc. 1.2k cw. just some cursing

heeseung

“he has no idea what he’s doing.” you giggled with every word, watching as you boyfriend’s eyebrows furrowed with each makeup product he pulled out of your bag. being a popular makeup youtube channel, you wanted to try something new.

you had seen many girls have their boyfriend do their makeup and with a grin more sly than a cheshire cat, you quickly called up your man with a video idea.

heeseung was more than happy to film a video with you (mostly to show your one million subscribers how much he loved you). heeseung had seen the way male fans talked about you on twitter, he was excited to finally show everyone that you were his.

“why do you have so many lip products?” he asked, his expression showing that he was clearly baffled. heeseung made you giggle quite often, but you really couldn’t contain the laughter constantly spilling from your mouth.

“you can add some highlighter now, hee.” you spoke up once you had finally calmed down. heeseung nodded, grateful for a hint on what to do next. he rummaged through the makeup bag, happy once he found a small round container that said ‘highlighter’. he picked it up eagerly, the quickness of his fingers trying to wrap around the item caused him to accidentally drop it.

you gasped as the highlighter cracked and spilled onto the ground, looking up at heeseung who looked extremely guilty. his round doe eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he observed the small mess on the floor.

“i’m so sorry…” he mumbled, dramatically covering his mouth in shock. you began to laugh once more, finding your boyfriend’s reaction to be adorable.

comments:

y/nloveees — they are so cute omg!!

angelbabie — heeseung loves y/n so much you can just tell

strawberryshortcake — pls bring heeseung back for more vids!!

jay

“you sure this recipe doesn’t call for cutting anything?” jay asked, observing your blindfolded face with an amused expression. the two of you decided to film a video on jay’s account shortly after publicly announcing your relationship. he often did cooking videos and you had suggested doing a blindfolded cooking challenge with him.

“ok hand me the apples.” you said after getting through the first part of making the pie. jay tried to keep his giggles to a minimum, observing the mess that was supposed to be apple pie.

he placed a bowl of previously cut slices in front of you, watching as you fumbled around the bowl and pick up a piece.

“ugh, i should’ve cut them more…it’s too big.” you sighed, reaching out for jay to ask if he could cut them again for you. but while reaching out for him, you accidentally smacked the man in the face, causing you both to go into a fit of laughter. you apologized multiple times, lifting your blindfold up so you could finally see your boyfriend.

you grabbed jay’s face, placing a light kiss below his eyes where you accidentally scratched him. jay blushed at the affection, already knowing that he was going to keep the small moment in the video.

comments:

jayjayparks — aw y/n is so cute!!

0x1lovesongs — jay being so worried for her the whole time…my heart

givenxtakennn — CUTE!! y/n kissing jay’s ‘injury’ and him blushing oh im giggling

jake

“remember, don’t curse.” you warned the man sitting next to you, already giggling at the idea of joining voice chat in roblox. jake nodded, pretending to zip his mouth shut as the game loaded. you and jake were popular for playing games, mostly streaming on twitch but you often posted on youtube because you liked vlogging. you decided that playing roblox with jake would be a fun video idea, especially since your subscribers liked you two together after he appeared in a ‘day in my life’ video.

“why is this dude following me.” jake whined as soon as the game had fully loaded. he moved your character around, trying to run away from the random player who decided to terrorize him.

“your voice is weird.” the player replied, sounding as if he couldn’t be any older than thirteen. jake’s jaw dropped while you began laughing hysterically, smacking the boy on his hoodie clad arm.

“go do your homework.” jake shot back, trying to move away from the player once more.

“go do my mom.” the kid replied, a very obvious young boy remark but you ended up giggling anyways. especially since jake seemed so offended.

“what the fuck.” jake laughed, making you gasp and slap a hand over his mouth.

“i said no cursing!” you scolded him, waiting for a few seconds to see if you two would be banned from the game. when nothing popped up, you both breathed a sigh of relief.

“sorry that was my bad—” jake spoke up, stoping his sentence short when a pop up appeared on the screen. your profile had been banned for using voice chat for a few minutes.

“jake!” you groaned dramatically, slumping onto his shoulder. jake began to laugh, leaning his head on yours.

“i’m sorryyyyy y/nnnnnn.”

comments:

ikeuismz — the chemistry…can i be y/n??

angelluv — this video was chaotic until the end I NEED MORE

10monthsluv — ouuuu the flirting…

sunghoon

being very popular on youtube for your traveling vlogs and ‘a day in my life’ videos, you wanted to introduce your boyfriend in one of them. you had mentioned to your followers that you were starting university in korea but never mentioned that you also had a boyfriend of one year that you were excited to see again.

sunghoon was a very private person and at first didn’t want to show his face in your videos. you respected his privacy, blurring his face out when the two of you hung out together with friends whenever you happened to be in seoul. but upon your recent visit, sunghoon agreed to be in your video, wanting to show off his relationship with you to the world.

“so…you guys don’t know this but…i actually have a boyfriend here that i’m meeting up with today. he’s a private person so he didn’t want to be shown on camera before but today he finally decided to say ‘hi’ to you guys.” you explained to your camera as you approached sunghoon’s apartment.

when you knocked on the door sunghoon’s roommate, jake, answered. he gave you a hug and welcomed you back before telling you that sunghoon was in his room.

after reuniting with your boyfriend and hugging him tightly for about ten minutes, you turned your camera back on.

“this is sunghoon, everyone! we met about three years ago when i first visited korea and we’ve been together for over a year now.” you introduced the boy, watching as he shyly smiled and waved at the screen.

the idea of over a million of your subscribers seeing his face was a bit scary, but sunghoon was ready for show the world that he was your boyfriend. seeing men hit on you in your comments irked him a bit— he just had to show them who your heart belonged to.

“he’s a little shy so please show him lots of love.” you giggled, cupping his chin.

“we’re going to eat now…guys. so come with us as we…do that.” sunghoon said awkwardly, sending the camera a thumbs up and tight lipped smile. you began to laugh at the cute boy which caused him to laugh as well, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“you heard hoon, let’s go eat.”

comments:

sweetxvenom — SO CUTE!! i need more of y/n and sunghoon!

sweety/n — aw he’s so shy how cute :(

lovelysky — you look so happy with him i’m so happy for you!!

taglist; @boyfhee @junityy @aenify @iilwji @catzisb1og (ask to be added!)

[auragasmics]

onlyfans creator!toji meeting fan!reader but getting so drunk off of them that he keeps bringing them back & eventually only makes vids with them… *heh*

CAMERA ROLL LOOKIN’ LIKE ONLY FANS!

synopsis! he knows better than to get involved with fans. But upon meeting you, Toji’s found himself in a world where he can only have you—and you alone.

pairings! fan!fem!reader x onlyfans creator!toji fushiguro

cw!3.5k words, pwp, dubcon(?), consensual filming, pussydrunk!toji, doggy style, mean!toji, cunninlingus

mwuahaha, i loved this thirst sm! i couldn’t stop thinking about it!

have a thirsty thought? read my guidelines and start sending them in!

In truth, Toji knew better. While unspoken and better left assumed, it’s still the number one rule amongst fans and creators alike.

The golden rule of never, ever hooking up with a fan. Toji’s all too aware of this, but he’s no saint to abide by the rules. It didn’t help that it was all his friends were recently raving about, claiming that it would boost views—and sales for those with even the slightest glimmer of naive hope in their eyes. 

And when a thought replays like a broken record, it’s only a matter of time before one succumbs to incessant influence—and Toji’s no better. He had it figured out; announce his little plan to all his cock-hungry fans, run their users through an online random generator, and whoever’s name pops up on his screen is his lucky vixen for the night.

But the generator just had to pick you. 

He was blind—or better yet, naive, to the possibilities that could arise from his little adventure with danger. It never crosses his mind that maybe he’d regret the choice of taking down a fan—or maybe he’d fall in love with the idea and add it to his usual lineup. 

But that didn’t stop him from sending you that message and bringing you into his humble abode of a high-rise apartment. That didn’t stop him from fawning over your pretty face and kind attitude, as if you both had forgotten what was to follow through the night.

He was simply so blind to it all that Toji had written off the slim chance of him getting addicted to you.

Until he was. 

Why the memory of Toji slipping just the tip of his cock inside you still lays fresh on his mind and vigorous to his nerves. He remembers how cocky he was, thinking that he’d be the best you ever had, how no one could ever come close to how he imagined fucking you.

But the gummy halo of your cunt enveloped his blushing pink head with a sopping wet kiss, condemning the poor forsaken man down the path of egotistical demise. 

Toji, the Toji Fushiguro was victim to a state that he’d never ventured into before; suddenly his mind was shot blank, his eyes threatening to rest into the dark abyss of his skull and the brawny chest he worked so hard for was rigged with shuddering breaths. 

Within a matter of minutes, Toji was out of his body, out of control, and without a single means of putting up a fight. 

If your pussy claimed his resolve, your body claimed his soul. Every arch, squirm, and jolt gave way to Toji’s heart. He’d even found a serenade within your outpouring moans, every hymn motivating him to his newly found goal. For in that moment, the unmoved Toji was concerned with something he never allowed to faze him—his ability to please.

Toji knew one thing; he utterly had to please you, to bring your mind, body, and spirit to the sheer face of ecstasy. He was always so sure of himself thanks to his past of collaborations, but not a single woman of his past could compare to you. Because, unlike those past collaborations for work purposes, everything that night was genuine. 

The way you whimpered whenever he leaned over for a kiss was real, how your hands clung to every inch of his misted skin was bonded behind the truth, down to the orgasm he had no choice but to sit through because of the suffocating clench your walls bestowed around him. 

The last thing he remembers from that night is the words he drunkenly allowed to fall from his lips, almost begging you to come back. When waking the next morning and found you gone, Toji realised he had to work to earn both you and your trust. 

From that day on, something in Toji has him running ragged on your behalf. All of a sudden, he’s caught up with buying you lingerie he can’t wait to rip off of you, he’s sitting through hours of research to buy the best camera to catch every single moment of filth amidst you two. Why, he’s even gotten into the habit of calling you every morning and every night just to give you a glimpse of the real him. 

A month’s swept by since that momentous night, and within those four weeks—Toji’s reserved at least fifteen of those nights just for you and him. Just this week alone, he “needed” you twice, and tonight would make it thrice.

The third time of making you cum off his tongue alone before he had the privilege of fucking you raw beneath the starry sky. And each time he does indulge in you, he can’t silence the raging urge to leave your pussy plump and dribbling with his thick white cum. 

But he holds back, it’s already an honor to have you raw and he’d hate for something as minuscule as natural instinct to ruin a good thing.

Though it’s that same natural instinct that had him calling you just under two hours ago—and waiting by the door like a new puppy waiting for its owner to return. His friends call him pussywhipped, so immersed in you these days that it’s all he talks about, his newest tease with a pussy that gets so sloppy for him.

Toji could fight back, but he isn’t one to play delusional. Pussy-whipped, that’s exactly who he is and who he’s become. And somewhere deep, deep down in his subconscious, he’s found satisfaction in that. Just a puppy with a—

“Toji! It’s me!”

The pretty croon of your muffled voice has Toji springing off the black leather couch and onto his feet. He looks down at himself—nothing could be more apparent than opening the door and revealing him to wear nothing but black sweatpants.

It’s too late to apply any effort, Toji thought as he twisted the door handle open, yanking the door to greet you.

“Hey Gorgeous, come in,” he hums, his arm racing to lace around the waist of your black leggings. “Hope you didn’t wait too long~maybe I should give you a key soon…”

Returning his regards, You give in to Toji with a swift embrace, linking around his bare waist. “No, I didn’t wait at all. It was like you were waiting—”

“I see you didn’t bring a bag. Why don’t you stay the night…you never do,” Toji interjects as he leans back to close the door. His eyes fall matched to your own, wide and glimmering but afraid to step any further than what’s been established.

Your shoulders give into a heartless shrug, your chin whipping away from his sight as you utter plainly to Toji.

“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted me to, and I honestly don’t care to sleep over either. But I guess if there’s a next time, I will.” 

That’s something you really shouldn’t have said. Toji can’t pinpoint where it hurts, but he knows it does. If there’s a next time? Didn’t his constant calls, random splurge days, and his mere insisting presence give way to his budding sentiments—there’s always going to be a next time. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I know it takes a lot of effort to leave afterwards. And you don’t even kiss me goodbye…so cold…but I like it.”

You know the strategy by know as his hands work to court your body to his touch. He’s dangerously close to the thick globes of your ass, the tips of his fingers delicately tracing the outline of your thong. 

Toji’s smooth, that’s exactly why you followed him in the first place, and it’s what got you laid beneath him that first night all the same. Like the best charades, his suave whims soon grew weary and transparent, but it’s his confidence that keeps you around. 

And just how easy it is to tease him. 

Taking a finger to Toji’s chest, you decide to spur him on, to paint an image of what lies just beneath your attire. “I’m wearing the set we got last week…in case you’re wondering.”

His once heavy eyelids shoot wide apart, forcing Toji to dumb gawk at you. “The…red one with the…cutouts?”

“Mhm,” you nod coyly, “But the thong is just so thin and so easy to rip too. Guess the quality wasn’t all that good.”

Toji darts his eyes over your face, his sly azure hues taking in your faux act of innocence. He knows it’s all just to tease him, but with the slightest chance that some kind of truth stands behind your words, he can’t forfeit his chances of making an advance. 

“Okay, then let’s make a deal. Stay over tonight and tomorrow, we‘ll go out and buy the best lingerie that money can buy. How’s that?”

A sheepish scoff rings from your barred lips as you stroll away from Toji, leaving him to stare at your wading presence. “Let me think about it.”

“Oh, but you won’t have time to think…not after I’m done with you,” he adds with haste behind you. 

Your hand settles upon the cold silver door knob of Toji’s bedroom, revealing the sacred altar within a mere glance. Not much has changed since the first night he brought you over—a king size bed that stands in the room’s centre, tall windows with black curtains, a desk in the corner with a computer, and of course, a shelf against the wall that holds Toji’s vast array of sex toys, photos and even a few awards he’s won from the platform.

But as the days passed, the raunchy nature of his bedroom died out when small potted plants replaced the sex toys and trophies. The thick black curtains were traded for white gossamer, and the typical red blanket set was nowhere to be seen in the face of red silk sheets and pillowcases to match. 

It’s a heavy claim to say that you’ve played a hand in his transformation, however, considering that you told Toji how nursing plants are a hobby of yours, you prefer more natural light to enter rooms, and that sleeping on silk simply has its benefits—one could safely make that assumption.

All your observations fall short the moment you sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress graciously dipping beneath your curves. 

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you have planned for tonight?” 

Toji takes his time to reply, setting his heavy hands to brace the waistband of his black sweatpants as he stands before you. “Oh I was thinking maybe some POV shots, I haven’t done those in a long time. Think I should bring them back more often now.”

Musing him, you tilt your head at Toji, a faded smile playing on your lips. “Is that right?

“You know the deal. I’m not gonna start recording until you say so. Why, maybe tonight we don’t even have to get it on film. Can’t we just…fuck around and see where that gets us?”

“That’s a new attitude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honest!” Toji flusteredly fumbles out. He didn’t think he’d have to explain it, but some words are better said than just acted upon. And what’s on his chest is heavier than what gravity supplies Mother Earth.

He’s been given the slim window to confess what he wants from you, a question you’ve plagued him with since the second night he called you over. 

He sends a hand to the nape of his neck, mindlessly pinching at the sparse hairs as his frazzled brian searches for the best words to explain his story. “ I just…really like having you to myself. A lot, actually. And it has me thinking…would you be open to being my…partner? C-Content wise, of course.”

“Oh…sure, we can do that! I thought you were gonna–oh!”

The brash clash of Toji’s lips steals the very words from your mouth and pins you underneath him. He more than happily donning the lead of setting the rhythm, painting his kiss against your lips as tenderly as he can. 

Just like that, Toji’s gotten his burning wish within a matter of seconds—and what’s a better way to celebrate than by making his favorite girl cum all throughout the night?

The excitement has Toji running on salacious fumes, his eager hands surging across your body. First he’s tugging off your brown hoodie, pulling the soft knitted cotton over your head on and off onto the floor.

Your leggings follow swiftly behind that, and before Toji can even breathe, he’s got you pinned under him with the lingerie you’ve hinted at earlier with his sweats and briefs joining the array of discarded clothes.

The very set he plucked out just days before with the lacy red bra that barely leaves anything to imagination. He’s already inclined on tending to your pebbling nipples plowing against the fabric. He’s drawn right back to your lips, using his wandering hands to trek across your physique. 

Upon his travels, Toji brushes against the panties you mentioned before, so frail that he could tug on them right now and free you from their rein. Rather, he relies on a mere pinch to inch the seam of your panties to sit within the plushy crease of your thigh. 

“Mm, Toji?” you huff out between a kiss, “Let’s start, okay?”

Frantically shaking his head, Toji aimlessly reaches out to prowl along the top of his bedside dresser until he’s met with the familiar structure of his camera. 

Slotting himself between your thighs, Toji points the keen lens to capture the timeless scene of him between your legs with a single hand. Clicking the camera on, Toji’s granted a clear sight of your bare pussy caught within the camera’s eye. 

“ ‘Kay, camera’s on. Don’t you dare change a thing!

He isn't hesitant to begin, leaving you with a final request to hold your legs back before he’s pressing lazy kisses to the supple mounds of your cunt. 

It’s that first breathless gasp of yours that throws Toji down a spiral of his own arousal. He’s already a throbbing mess, dripping all that precum into the silk sheets, but he doesn’t care. Not when his tongue is tasked with the honor of tracing along the pulsing canal of your glossy folds, just for his greedy ambitions pitting him to suck at the swollen pulse.

“Such a pretty pussy, Gorgeous,” he’s mumbling to himself as blown eyes scale up and down the sinful display.

He wants the camera to catch everything—from the way your fat lips split around his worked tongue to the very twitch that rattles your clit. He carefully shadows the camera over your cunt, his thick digits spreading you apart.

“Fuck, look at that, so soft ‘nd smooth…so wet for me too.”

His thumb rests against the cute pink bulb of your clit, the sullied pad sketching slow, tight circles over the bundle of nerves. 

“Mmm-oh shit!…Toj—fuck, that’s so good!”

“That’s it, say my name Baby, c’mon!” He cheers along your twitching bulb. His name’s just sitting on the tip of your weak tongue, so desperate to break through the air. As its bearer, Toji’s waiting to hear it, the magic word set to pull him underneath your spell.

His hand’s encroach along your supple sides, softly squeezing at whatever fits within his grip. “I know that look, gonna cum on my tongue just how I like it, right?”

 “Mhm,” you frantically affirm with nods, “…it’s right…it’s right there, Toji!”

You don’t have to pay him a teary-eyed  glance to know that Toji’s hiding that sinister grin amongst the fat plush of your folds. That same smile that blossoms into a pout as he guides your poor clit to dance with his tongue. 

Every which way, he’s swiveling your spry mound, All those lazy flicks, pedaling that soft curve of his slicked muscle around your stiffening bud. He’s even placed his hand right beneath your navel, using a soft grip to pull the stubborn hood of your clit back, leaving you open and raw for his selfish amusement.

Your hands race to tug at the noir crown of Toji’s head, keeping his head still while your trembling hips rock against his lush pout. “Fuh– yesyesyes! Toji please! Please make me cum, ‘m so close!”

Toji’s too far gone to keep up with you, his trained hand trembling to find a steady frame of the homemade film. Your nectar’s seeping into his senses, blinding Toji from the surrounding world.

All he can think about is you, all he can taste is that sweet essence spilling from his lips and down his chin. It’s all just a mess he's made out of both you and himself, but when he finally catches wind of your crashing orgasm, Toji’s beaming with the glow of achievement.

Your thighs snap around his head as the weight of your high wrecks through your body in perilous tremors. Your hips drive up against Toji’s gape, stuffing his mouth full with your cunt once more. His greedy forte settles over you again, suckling the chubby swell of your clit against his hollowed cheeks. 

Breaking away from your cunt, Toji pans the camera down to your folds, his fingers gently tapping along your pillowy lips. “That’s my girl! Look so pretty like that, c’mon, we gotta keep you going now. Turn around and give me a nice arch, okay?”

You’re more than willing to comply with Toji’s request, slamming your weak legs shut as he rests on his knees. It takes all the energy ebbing from your body to secure a strong arch, one that has your hips tilted and your ass parading about in the air.

“How’s that, Toji?”

“Just beautiful. Stay still and let me do all that hard work, yeah?” he hums softly.

Toji watches as the lens focuses on the sight between your bodies. His hand braces around his shaft, giving his aching cock one firm squeeze before tapping the head of his cock along your slit. 

“I know you can take it, but what do you think?” Toji hints as he gently nudges himself against you.

You look back at Toji with a proud smile, “I can take it!”

“That’s my girl! Just relax and let me…oh..fuck, that’s the good shit!”

By the rushed dip of his hips, Toji’s subdued by the velvety warmth of your walls, the slickened heat coddling his cock with wet kisses. It’s just like he remembers, tight, warm, and carved out to home all the ridges, the veins and the throbbing underside of his length.

“Look at the mess we’re making,” Toji gloats as he shifts the camera around your sputtering pussy, “And I’ve barely even give you those deep strokes you love so much!”

Those very deep strokes that he’s so fond of too. It grants him the very bliss he can’t get with anyone but you. He’s learning all about how sensitive you are, the pace you, how many times you can cum before you’re fucked dumb, all these things Toji’s taken account for.

As for tonight, he just wants you feel good, his precious girl. That’s why he’s so kind to feed your walls short drives of his cock as you adjust to his size. You’re taking him better these days, your pussy greedily nursing all nine inches of Toji’s length.

He’s got such a fat girth too, so thick that you’re left to squirm beneath the burning stretch. It’s pain that gives way to pleasure all too quickly as Toji reels his hips barely a few inches away from you. 

“Aww, tell me, baby…You like this dick, don’t you? Like how it stretches this cunt to my size, how I’m always hitting that spot, go on, tell me.”

“Mmm…it’s alright,” you attempt to tease, but the stillness in the air carries about a warning with no way of guaranteeing caution.

Toji fists the fragile trims of your thong in his hand, yanking the fabric taunt in his grasp. “Oh…that’s how we’re gonna play?”

In one harsh tug, he’s dragging you against his burly thighs with nowhere else to run from the brutal onslaught of his crashing hips. All the kindness he had for you runs out, leaving Toji on a hellbent venture of proving his words true. His unruly drive has you thrashing straight into the pillow headfirst, pitting your limp body to rock along to all his ministrations without prevail. 

 It’s a rolling barrage, one hard drive after the other. The lewd orchestra Toji’s conducting has the clash of skin breaking about the room, using the meld of your voices charred by vengeful bliss as vocals.

But he isn’t lying; even through his rage, Toji’s still tending to you. By sending the thick bulb of his cock to smother your sweet spot in kisses, each one messier than the last, the coil deep within your core bubbles with another budding orgasm. How could something so mean, so harsh, feel so good? So much that your eyes drift back into your head, your and the veil of pleasure dresses your body like the finest silk. 

All just because you jokingly bruised Toji’s ego. Either way, the fact remains that he’s thoroughly aggravated, and his angered spiel falls on deaf ears.

“Stop lying to me!” He grunts out with a smirk, “ W-We both know you do! Why else would your pussy get so messy fr’ me? M-Making such a mess on the bed. ‘M splitting her open and you say you–”

“T-Toji wait! O-Okay, okay, I do! “ Your whimpering admittance of defeat breaks into the air, earning nothing more than the chime of Toji kissing his teeth.

“C’mere,” he huffs out, pulling your limp body up against his own. His chest carves out your arch like a sculpture, leaving no crevice nor crease hidden from his frame. The grip he has upon you shifts above to the slacked curve of your jaw, leaving Toji’s thumb to strum along your bottom lip. 

His hazy stare catches wind of your misty doe eyes, coaxing a lump to build within Toji’s throat. 

As an act of sympathy, litters of kisses melt against your skin, his unruly trail leading him straight to your dribbling lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Toji whispers against your lips, “Y’know I like you, baby. Don’t go being too mean to me or else someone isn’t cumming tonight.”

“O…okay! I’m sorry Toji, ‘m really sorry!” you sob, your hand racing to brace the thick of his forearm.

Your apology chants in his ear like a mantra, coaxing a crooked grin to shine inside the dark room. 

“Now…” Toji giggles, his hazy eyes flickering towards the fixed lens of the camera. “‘m taking a picture for the thumbnail…smile for the camera!”

[strawberryhoney11]

ONLY ANGEL ౨ৎ

Drew Starkey x Reader

You are just making your way into the industry, interviewing on red carpets and your podcast. When your interview with Drew Starkey goes viral, suddenly everything changes.

part two!!

You stepped out of the hotel shower, drying your hair with one of the soft fancy towels and adorned in a robe. It was the morning after the big event and you were still buzzing from everything that happened. Madelyn Cline told you she had been obsessed with your videos for a while now and found you to be so cool. When you first heard this you couldn’t believe it, you were still shocked even now.

Suddenly, your phone chimes from the other room and you pull it off of the white sheets.

Have you been on TikTok?

You received a message from your best friend from college, as you still keep in touch today. It was like she was experiencing this all with you, becoming the version of yourself you had always envisioned.

No. Just woke up, why?

GIRL, your vid with Drew Starkey is blowing up…

What? Really?

Immediately, you open up the app. Sure enough, there are thousands of notifications in your inbox all for the same video. Thinking back on your interaction with Drew made you have the same nervous pit in your stomach. You found yourself questioning if it actually happened. But this video was proof and the recognition you were receiving was hard to ignore.

You opened the comments on the paused video, unable to bring yourself to listen to your voice or watch yourself flail around in front of Drew.

Drew is crazy for the “I’ll be waiting”

This girl is living my dream…

THIS FEELS ILLEGAL TO WATCH LIKE HELLO

The comments only speed up your heartbeat. Everyone seems to think that you and Drew have chemistry. As much as it rattles you, it also confirms that it wasn’t all in your head. You felt it, just as much as all of these people. Could this mean that he felt something too?

SORRY did he just grab her microphone???

She's better than me because if that man was in front of me…

The wave at the end would have had me on my knees

OH I love this for her!

WHO IS THIS GIRL AND WHY IS DREW FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR HER?

You can’t help but laugh as you read the responses. The fact that everyone thinks you actually have a shot with him is amusing to you. You eventually have to set your phone down instead of scrolling continuously.

But when you hear another chime, this time from Instagram, you have to see what it is. Your breath catches as you read who it is from, Madelyn Cline. She DM’d you! Your eyes grew wide as you stared at the message.

Hi! I would love to invite you out with the cast and me tonight! Would you be interested?

You didn’t know if you were stuck in a dream or hallucinating. This was insane. You thought that the biggest opportunity you had ever gotten was to interview the cast on the red carpet but now you weren’t so sure. With this invitation, you had to bring your hand over your mouth to stop an excited scream from escaping.

Oh my gosh, hi! I would be so glad to take you up on your offer! Thank you!

You hit send on the message, exhaling a breath of excitement. She answered right away.

Awesome! We’re having dinner at this really nice place and maybe going to a bar afterwards. I’ll send the details!

Thank you, again! I feel so honored.

Of course! All of us girls are excited to hang out with you and don’t worry, you won’t be the only person invited who isn’t a part of the show. So, no pressure!

Oh okay, good! Can’t wait!

You shut your phone off, falling back onto the bed sheets, your wet hair draped across the duvet. All of this excitement and nerves had your stomach twisted in knots, but you couldn’t complain. This was something straight out of a movie. You thought this couldn’t possibly be your life, but it is. These things just didn’t happen to girls like you.

You draped your arm over your eyes, breathing out a laugh.

Another notification popped up on your phone, you held it in front of you in the morning light.

*Drew Starkey Started Following You

You dropped your phone by your side, audibly exclaiming now. This was a lot to take in, in the few hours after you woke up. This was crazy. Drew knows who you are and he now follows you on Instagram.

What more could a girl ask for?

[crimsonbubble]

me again..

SOOO basically miguel is a porn star and his user is like SPIDR99 or something and the readers friend sends her some of his vids but he’s a faceless account so no no knows it’s him, butttt she recognizes his voice and it turns out to be her college professorrrr

AHHHAHAHSNMMFM

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, professor!miguel, use of sex toys, male masterbation, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[I WROTE A PROFESSOR!MIGUEL THING A WHOEL ABCK AND UHM 🫣🫣]

MINORS DNI!!

edit; im not writing a part 2

scrolling through hundreds of porn accounts on twitter can lead you down some weird paths. so when you finally caved and looked up the name of a specific account that your friends told you about, you decided to see what the hype was about.

and now, you finally understood.

the heavy strokes of his hand moving the clear fleshlight over his cock, the melodic groans that slip past his lips, the visible tensing of his abdomen, and the twitching of his cock made your stomach flutter.

"just like that, baby, just like that." his voice made you pause, a familiar tingle hitting your senses as you turn the volume up. "feels so fuckin' good."

as you racked your brain, it finally clicked as you focus on his voice and hands. the same voice and hands that taught you biochemistry. you were certain it was him, it had to be. his visible physique looks all too similar to your professor.

you immediately went to scroll through the account, trying to find any sort of picture or video that would be further proof. you scrolled through his media, bookmarking videos as you went, until you found a mirror selfie.

bingo. just what you needed.

the casual button-up and slacks he was wearing in the photo were the same ones he wore to class a few days ago. the gold chain around his neck and the rings on his fingers as further proof that this faceless account was in fact, your professor.

his bio also should've given it away, considering he had the words professor in there. there's no way you could tell anyone about this, especially not your friends who are all currently obsessing over him.

going into class the following day was awkward. on your end, at least. anytime you looked at him, all you saw was the video from last night. Miguel spared a few lingering glances at you, a smirk twitching on his lips.

he just loves seeing your account in his notifications. it's almost as if you knew that he was thinking about you in the videos he posts online.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

could u do some head cannons of how katsuki texts pls!!! esp if he’s separated with reader and Has to text as the only communication other than calling

OUUU this ask is soo cute i especially love that hes textin cus hes missin us :((

i feel like he is SO the type to text you any second he can SPARE. since he cant call you as much as he wants to and i fully believe he'd much rather call (so he can hear your voice he's sappy on the low) and he's extra grumpy about it, so he works w what he has.

he texts you pretty much every second he can and it ranges from a "make sure you eat something, dummy <3" to "i'm going to kill every single fucking person in this room" LOLOLOL and these mostly come when he's in meetings bored out of his mind.

he constantly asks for pictures too, like you could be like "oh i just saw the cutest little kitty :33 !!" n he's like

"send me a pic" and when you send it he's like "i meant one of you but i'll take it"

you're eating ? send him a pic your outfit of the day ? send him a vid and give him a twirl while you're at it. he wants to see you as much as possible to make up for the fact he's not there.

very much not a people person so most of the time you'll def catch him glaring at his phone (usually when he's waiting for a reply from you) and occasionally smiling at it for a few seconds (when you send him a picture, something funny or cute) before he covers it up w his hand.

he makes it a habit of calling whenever he gets more free time, and usually when you're about to go to sleep just to wish you goodnight, and by that i mean threaten you to go to bed and adding a lil love you it cus he's such a dreamboat

"you better be knocked out as soon as i hang up, okay ? if i found out you spent the night scrolling through your feed yer done for. good night, love you."

yeahyeah very mushy missy guy

much luv !!

taglist ;

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[drefear]

‘Nasty’ By Russ

Summary: Miguel finds something out about you through your recent music choices.

TW: praise, jealousy, smut, praise p in v fantasy, masturbation

You and Miguel started dating fairly recently, and he was so happy about it. He told Jess by accident while discussing you beating up an anomaly, and he just laughed and said ‘I knew it.’

His heart explodes when you’re around and can’t help but see stars.

You’re sitting with Jess and Gwen when he is about to ask you about a report you filed when he hears a conversation he was not prepared for.

“I never even knew he existed.” Gwen said to you, making you laugh.

“Oh, she loves him. It’s almost obsessive.” Jess emphasizes and you blush, rolling your eyes.

“I just- I like- it’s like-“ you stutter and Gwen nods.

“I get it, he’s kinda hot and he’s obviously got some skills, so imagining what he could actually do in bed is totally fair.” That was it, Jess’s words made Miguel’s blood boil. Who else were you trying to sleep with?

His eyes perked up as he walked away and passed you to his office area. You two weren’t in a committed relationship, he had no claim over who you thought about or saw when you weren’t with him, yet it made his blood boil and tension appear between his shoulder blades. He’d long forgotten about the question he was going to ask you about as he summoned you to where he was.

You two were mature adults, you could discuss your feelings without being childish and assuming the worst. Plus, Miguel technically already knew the answer to the question, or so he thought.

You walked up with a bounce before seeing the stress between his eyebrows and frowning gently, something he disliked on that beautiful face of yours. “What’s wrong?” You spoke softly and placed a hand on his arm.

“I need to ask you something and I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable, but I just need to know the truth.” He prefaced and you felt a knot of anxiety form in your gut. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He searched his eyes over your features and found nothing to give away your thoughts until a bright smile formed on your lips and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “This isn’t funny.” He huffed like a petulant child, which made you giggle more.

“Miguel O’Hara, are you jealous?” You teased and poked his bicep, making his nose twitch in self awareness which turned into embarrassment. “No, I’m not seeing anyone else. Who could compare to you?” You smiled wider and slid your hand up his arm to his shoulder, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand fell to your hip and he sighed happily at your touch, but confusion was still evident in his expression. He hummed and you smirked, “Are you? Because if so, I’ll fight her for ya.” You teased and he let out an exasperated chuckle.

“No, not at all. I’m all yours, now dame un besita.” He demanded and you obliged, giving him a soft and sensual kiss.

Letting go of him, you walked towards the door, “How about we hang out tonight? Stay in and order tacos?” You mused and he nodded, sitting back and sighing. You still felt like something was wrong, but you’d discuss that later when you two were alone and could focus without the hovering threat of work surrounding you.

Once you were gone, Miguel instructed Lyla to dig into you and find any other man you could be seeing. Once your glow faded from his presence, the idea hit him hard like a punch to the chest. You’d just lied to him, to his face, and with a smile.

Never once while dating you had he gotten the impression that you were a liar. Actually, he’d found that sometimes you were too honest, so this was more than shocking to him.

He was so focused on some of the videos Lyla had been finding that he didn’t even hear Jess approach from behind him and start asking questions.

“Earth to O’Hara!” Her hand waved in front of his hand and he snapped his eyes to her, relaxing once he realized who it was. “What’s got you so zoned out?” She peaked over his shoulders to see the videos of you being flirted with in a coffee shop, then sighing in disappointment. “Stalking? Really?”

“She lied to me.” He deadpanned and swiped to another video, frustration setting on his lips.

“About what?” Jess inquired in surprise and he glared at the pregnant woman to his side.

“You already know, don’t play dumb.” He hissed, then gained a cold glare from Jessica, “I heard you talking with her and Gwen about another guy in the cafeteria earlier.”

“Another guy?” Jess gapped and then doubled over, laughing so hard she felt tears forming. “You are so stupid sometimes!” She choked out.

“Que?” He flashed an angry expression, bewildered at her name calling.

“That wasn’t about a guy she met, it was about some singer she was listening to. He released a song in her universe and she’s all hot from the lyrics.” She explained, smiling still. “You were worried about her fucking around with some other dude? No, she was talking about how she was imagining you.” She waved her hand and turned to leave, “It’s called Nasty by Ross, by the way. Give it a listen, if you want to know what she likes.” She let out a few more laughs before shutting the door behind her, leaving Miguel speechless.

His hands flew to his keyboard without a second to spare and he lowered the speakers. What did she mean by hot?

As the chorus rang out quietly, he realized what she meant.

Oh.

His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as the words made his imagination come to life.

“Show me where you wanna take it

Grab the headboard, hold on tight

I think we 'bout to break it”

His eyes widened as he felt himself twitch against his suit, the technologically woven fabric straining against his half hard erection.

You liked this…?

He had touched himself to the thought of you before, but he never imagined if you’d been into anything specific. You came off as a girl who liked things simple, and for lack of a better word, vanilla. He thought you’d prefer missionary and soft “oh god” moans, nothing too drastic. Something he’d feared was scaring you away with his fantasies of biting you and drilling into you hard on his kitchen counter, or fucking you over his balcony.

So this was a very welcomed change.

His head ran wild with the ideas of what you’d want him to do. Listening to how this singer directed the song, it seemed like you wanted someone dominant with a gentle touch, you wanted to hear how good you could make him feel, you wanted him to give you a display of his strength while still keeping a calm head and fucking you until you fell apart on him. Soft, but firm.

He couldn’t help but inwardly break a bit to the visualization that formed behind his eyes, your delicate fingers toying with your clit as he watched, face creased as your nose scrunched from the tension you’d started in yourself, grinding into your cute little hands as his slowly guided his hand up and down the shaft of his dick.

He’d bend down just to flick his tongue against you. Just once. Just a tease, a taste, a smell.

God, how he wanted to smell that pussy. To inhale your scent until he was completely overwhelmed and covered by it, then moving to shove his tongue into your aching core and retracting it.

He wanted to watch you clench and grip around nothing, your body practically calling out to him without making a sound.

Miguel wanted to shove his tongue so deep inside you that you’d think it had a mind of its own.

His hand reached out to his desk as he sat down in a chair he almost never even used, letting the blue around his groin dissipate and freeing his cock as it slapped against his abdomen. His fingers pressed a few buttons to close his doors and have his watch on ‘do not disturb mode.’

“She said, "Spank me, that's the only way I learn"

I said, "Okay, good girl, good girl"

His tongue licked his lips as he thought of you from behind, face in his pillows as he caressed his hands up your ass, then planted a smack against your smooth skin. He’d watch the muscle jiggle and redden from the impact of his slap, admiring the soft mewls you’d make for him. Words fell from his mouth like dripping honey.

“That’s it, good girl, buena niña,” He mumbled and let out a relaxed sigh.

“I know everyone wants a pretty girl like you

You look so good when you put me inside you

Listen

There ain't nothin' like that moan when the tip's in

Good God

Look at you, you're doin' such a good job”

The song painted a vivid picture for him about how you wanted him to treat you, to love you. He inhaled sharply as he saw the image of your ass in the air, pussy fully exposed for him as he nestled the head of his cock against your folds and rubbed against you a few times, gathering your sticky mess to soak him before pushing in just the tip. The hiss he let out when he saw this in his head was almost pornographic, groaning as he rutted into the fist he didn’t know that he wrapped around his cock. More aware now, he spit into his palm and continued rubbing himself as he completely indulged. His mind continued its dreams of you, gripping his headboard as he pushed into you and bent down so your back was completely pressed to his chest, his lips kissing the underside of your jaw and whispering in your ear, whispers he didn’t know he was speaking out loud.

“Taking my cock so good, mi amor, such a perfect cunt for me to sink into, like a champ.” He growled and felt his lips twitch, so close to cumming at the idea of you pushing backwards and wanting to take more of him.

“Girl you're mine now, you were made for me

Cum for me baby, you don't gotta wait for me,”

Miguel’s fangs dug into his bottom lip as he tried to muffle his loud animalistic sounds, thinking about you so asking and tightening around his cock, fucking your through your orgasm as he watched a creamy ring form around his dick. The vision made his saliva pool on his tongue and he swallowed it, along with his words.

“Te ves tan hermosa así, solo para mí.” He grunted in Spanish and felt the tension growing in his dick, his orgasm briefly blinding him as ropes of cum shot from his cock, more than usual as he heaved in heavy pants.

You were so fucking beautiful and as he opened his eyes again, his spent still dripping down his own abdomen, his sight caught the current video feed of you.

You, hiding in a corner as you listened with your ear pressed against his office wall and your hand in your suit as you touched yourself.

“No fucking way.” He whispered to himself, catching his breath once more. Miguel looked around and had an idea. Poking his watch a bit, he called you.

“Y-yes?” Your voice was shaky, which he smiled at darkly.

“I need you to bring me some towels. I had a spill in my office.” He spoke, leaning back and watching the cameras ss your body shook and he could hear you gasping through your receiver.

“Be there soon…” you whimpered and he just laughed.

“Just get here quick, so I can replace that hand in your pants with my face, ok pretty girl?” His voice dropped and you let out a moan.

“Y-yes…!” You nodded frantically and swung to get what he needed, making him smile as he leaned back once more in his chair.

Part 2

[gilbertscurls]

Heyyy so i could get this request where reader is triplets bsf since they were young and reader did vid with them on car like who knows reader better and fans notice how Chris looks at her and makes edits of them both and the eventually confess their love and thank youu

hope you like it!! <3

Sparks Fly ➵ Chris Sturniolo

You’d known Chris Sturniolo and his brothers for as long as you could remember. Growing up with triplets meant your life was always a whirlwind of laughter, chaos, and inside jokes that no one else could understand. Chris had always been your person, though. Even when you were kids, he was the one who sat with you during movie nights, who remembered your favorite candy, and who sent you memes late at night just to make you laugh. He was your best friend—the kind of friendship that made everything feel easy.

That is, until recently.

The three of them had started their YouTube channel a couple of years ago, and it blew up faster than anyone had expected. You were always around, whether it was helping them brainstorm video ideas, holding the camera, or appearing in their challenges. You’d been in a bunch of their videos, just another one of the guys. That’s how it had always been: you, Matt, Nick, and Chris. But lately, things had changed. Or maybe it was just you who had changed.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you realized you had feelings for Chris—real feelings, the kind that made your stomach flip whenever he smiled at you, the kind that made your heart race when his hand brushed yours. Maybe it was during one of your late-night conversations when he opened up about his dreams, or maybe it was when he laughed so hard at one of your jokes that he snorted. Either way, your feelings were undeniable now, and it terrified you.

Because this wasn’t just any guy. This was Chris. Your best friend. And if things went wrong, you could lose him.

But then there was that video—the one that had changed everything.

It was one of those classic “Who Knows Me Better?” challenges. Chris was in the backseat of the car, next to Nick, while you sat up front, turning around every now and then when you asked ridiculous questions about yourself. “What’s my favorite snack?” “What movie do I quote the most?” It was silly, fun, like every other video you’d done with them.

But when the video went live, the fans saw something you hadn’t.

Within hours, the comment section exploded.

“Is anyone else noticing the way Chris looks at Y/N? 😍”

“Chris is definitely in love with her, right? Or am I imagining things??”

“The way he smiled when he got the answer right... I’m SCREAMING!”

You scrolled through the comments, heat rising to your cheeks. What were they talking about? You and Chris were just friends. That’s all you’d ever been. But when you rewatched the video, you couldn’t unsee it. The way his eyes lingered on you a little too long, the way his smile softened whenever you spoke. It made your heart ache with a hope you weren’t ready to face.

And then the edits started.

Fans put together clips from all the videos you’d been in with Chris—the little moments you hadn’t noticed before. Him reaching out to help you down from a ledge, the way he would always sit next to you without thinking, how he’d glance at you between takes, like you were the only person in the room. It wasn’t just the fans anymore. Even Matt and Nick started teasing him, dropping hints about how “someone” had a crush.

It was overwhelming. You spent days replaying every interaction, every look, every smile, trying to figure out what it all meant. Did Chris really feel the same way about you? And if he did, what would that mean for your friendship? You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, of ruining what you had. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing tension between you.

One afternoon, you found yourself at their house again, just like always. You and Chris were in his room, lounging on his bed, the afternoon sun spilling in through the curtains. The air felt thick, charged with all the unspoken feelings hanging between you. He was scrolling through his phone when he let out a soft groan.

“Ugh, the fans are relentless,” he muttered, glancing over at you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your heart was already racing.

He turned his phone to show you. It was another edit—this time, it was a montage of every time he had looked at you with that soft, almost dreamy expression. You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched it. It was undeniable now.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “They really love their shipping, huh?”

Chris laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, they do. But… it’s kinda weird, isn’t it? I mean, we’re just friends.”

Your heart dropped. There it was—he had said it. Friends. That’s all you were, all you ever would be. You felt your chest tighten, and you were about to brush it off, make some joke to change the subject, when Chris spoke again, his voice quieter now.

“Unless… I don’t know. Maybe they’re not completely wrong.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his blue eyes filled with uncertainty and something else, something that made your heart pound in your chest.

“I mean… maybe they’re seeing something I’ve been too scared to admit,” he said softly. “I don’t want to mess this up, but… Y/N, I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now. I just didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your mind was spinning, trying to process his words. Was this really happening? Did Chris just say he had feelings for you?

“Chris…” you started, your voice barely a whisper. “I—”

“I know it’s a lot,” he interrupted quickly, his cheeks flushed with nerves. “And if you don’t feel the same way, we can just forget I said anything. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “No, Chris, that’s not it. I… I’ve been trying to hide it too. I’ve been scared because I didn’t want to lose you either. But the truth is… I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, the kind that made your heart skip a beat every time.

“Really?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

You nodded, feeling the weight of all your fears finally lift. “Yeah. Really.”

Before you could say anything else, Chris leaned forward, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, and it felt like everything you’d ever wanted but had been too afraid to hope for. The kiss was sweet, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for so long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were smiling, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything made sense.

“So,” Chris said, his voice light and teasing, “do you think the fans are gonna freak out when they find out we’re actually together now?”

You laughed, your heart full. “Oh, they’re definitely going to freak out. But I don’t care. I’m just happy we finally figured it out.”

Chris grinned, pulling you into another kiss, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was the start of something incredible.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69

[whisperturnedecho]

Just go with what I'm saying

George Clarke x fem reader / mild angst, steamy smut

Summary: You’re all kinds of nervous around George Clarke, feeling unsure. And just like that, George cooks up a surprise plan.

TW: swearing and some degradation, male dom/female sub game, masturbation, anxiety w/a happy end, phonesex

18+ MDNI!

You walked into a lunchroom together with your friend Arthurtv and found a booth by the window. Once the drinks were sorted, you started eyeing the menu, stomach growling. "Ham, egg 'n' chips sandwich it is!"

Arthur smirked as you talked about wanting a change, only to end up with what was familiar. "I'll also stick to my go-to: a Caesar salad with garlic bread," he told the waiter.

While waiting for lunch, Arthur started chatting about the Bach & Arthur podcast. They were introduced to their cool new space themed setup not too long ago. You’d know Arthur loved his work; he’d go on about it for hours.

"The other day, someone asked if I’d post philosophy vids on the 'Arthur Frederick' channel, but honestly, it feels more like a podcast thing. Don’t you agree?" You nodded and sipped on your cappuccino. "You’re a perfect team when it comes to deep talks like philosophy. I often listen while cycling or cleaning."

The food arrived; it looked delicious. Arthur got lost in his salad.

"Before I forget!" Arthur suddenly blurted out as he checked his phone. "There is a party at the boy's flat. Come! It's this Saturday at 8pm. George invited a bunch of friends and we'd like you to be there, even though you haven't been around for long." You said yes right away, no second thoughts.

George. It was a mix of excitement and butterflies imagining being with him again. You were low-key obsessed with the guy rocking the curly mullet and big arms. Playing it cool? Not a chance. And nope, you hadn’t mentioned it to Arthur. The redness in your cheeks didn’t escape Arthur’s attention.

"What's happening here?" he wondered.

"Oh, the eggs on this sandwich aren't fresh," you quickly made up, "I'm getting some kind of flush." Arthur tilted his head. "Yet you ate three-quarters of it, we could have sent it back, stupid." You chuckled. You couldn’t tell if he’d figured you out, but it seemed like you got away with it.

When the bill arrived, you reached for it, only for Arthur to stop you with a cheeky wink. "This one’s on me, next time, you’re paying!"

Heading back, your mind kept drifting to George Clarke. There was something about him. While Arthur felt like a safe haven, George always left you a bit on edge when you met him. It wasn’t easy keeping cool while talking to someone you secretly liked. He might’ve guessed you were dodging eye contact, keeping busy, and fighting the urge to giggle. You were so caught up and smitten.

Saturday night, you kept it simple but classy—white blouse, black jeans, and ready for a great night. You wondered if George might like you in heels. Sure, you could manage heels, kind of. But why make things harder? Blue Converse it was. A quick dab of Coco Mademoiselle behind your ears and you were good to go, remembering your mum’s advice to never settle for cheap perfume.

Hill opened the front door when you arrived. "Y/N, you’re here!" he said, all hyped up. After a big, warm hug, he pointed you toward the kitchen for drinks. You grabbed orange juice for now, but shots might happen later.

The atmosphere of the night was chill. Hill took charge of the music, while Arthur quietly focused on his chess app after the second round of drinks. It didn’t trouble anyone. Chip was laughing with Calfreezy. Chris was in the kitchen. George roamed the room, socialising. You watched him from a distance, trying not to be too obvious about following his every move.

You found yourself twirling just a little on your toes as he neared your table.

The two of you started talking. When you asked him about life as a newbie streamer, he replied that he was currently in his active era. He was still trying to work out how everything worked on Twitch. "I did a 7,5-hour stream not too long ago. " Your jaw dropped as you thought about your early nights, propped up in your bed with a book and your cat Bella.

"Were you okay the next day?" you wondered. "Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I can take care of myself." Watching him, so smooth and self-assured, made you feel like you couldn’t compare.

You got chatting about his childhood in Bristol, and out of nowhere, he mentioned Arthur had told him about your love for drawing. He said he might show you his sketches someday. While you studied his face, you made sure not to meet his eyes, the awkwardness eating at you.

George excused himself to visit the bathroom and walked away. He stopped. "Can a man not just turn around, without someone looking at his ass? " he called out. Out of nowhere, you snorted. Oh no! You slapped a hand over your face to keep yourself from losing it. His trip to the bathroom was a small blessing, so you could die in embarrassment.

Arthur came by and put his hand on your shoulder. "It sounds like you are having a good time," he said. "Promise me we’ll dance soon," he insisted. You nodded.

George came back with two cocktails, and you grabbed one. Classic you, spilling it right in the middle of the room after tripping on your shoelace. Chris and George cracked up. “Butterfingers and twinkle toes,” George teased. At least your blouse survived.

"Cool that you’ve got it all together," you said with a hint of sarcasm, barely paying attention while grabbing napkins. "Do I?" he replied, sipping slowly. You noticed a playful smirk behind his cocktail glass. "You’re into people who know how to take charge, aren’t you?"

Don’t blush, don’t blush, you thought, but you felt the blood rush to your head. For a moment, your mind went blank, and you didn’t know what to say. George winked at you and grazed his beard with his fingertips.

As Arthur asked you to dance, George wandered off, his attention caught by a female friend on the other side of the room. "Thanks for saving me, " you told Arthur with a sigh. He frowned. "What happened?" he asked. You let out a nervous laugh and confessed to acting silly in front of George. "Don’t stress—no chandelier antics, right?" he said, twirling you with a smirk. "It’s just George, you’re good."

Party over, you crashed at home. After feeding Bella and removing your makeup, you got into bed all warm and cosy. "Men are confusing," you muttered as Bella paced with her tail curled like a question mark. "Avoiding them seems easier—especially the charming ones. I definitely made a mess of things tonight." Bella didn’t care and was already distracted by something outside the window.

After scrolling through "X" on your phone, you started feeling the pull of sleep. Nightlight off, pillow hugged tight. It was time to sleep. Ping! Your phone went off after 20 minutes. It grabbed your attention. Who texts this late? It was the middle of the night. Did you forget something back at the party? You picked up your phone and read the text:

George: It's me, George. Add me on WhatsApp.

You: How did you get my number?

A 'please' would’ve been great, you know? What was so important? With Wi-Fi on and his number saved, you were sitting straight up in bed, curious and nervous.

George: Chill, we were just tidying up after the party, and I asked Arthur for your number ‘cause I wanted to keep chatting with you. He said I could grab it from his contacts, so it’s all good.

All's good? You were going to kill Arthur.

George: You looked amazing tonight, no lie. That blouse and your silver bangles totally caught my attention.

Hold up, was George flirting? You couldn’t believe it and covered Bella’s eyes. You were a mess, with butterflies fluttering like crazy.

George: Everyone’s free to dress how they want, but I prefer when women leave a little to the imagination instead of putting it all out there. That’s my vibe for my girl.

Omd, you were scrambling to text back, completely panicking.

You: Yup, that’s totally me. But honestly, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say here. You had questions. George: You don’t need to get me, just go with what I’m saying. Wanna play a little game? We’re both in bed now anyway. I love dirty talk. I think I’ve got an idea of the kind of stuff you’d like. You: Are you serious? I don't know how good I am at stuff like that, but it sounds hot. George: At any moment you feel uncomfortable we can stop, okay? And then, we just move on like nothing even went down. You agreed. George: You wore black jeans today that fit perfectly. I saw you dancing with Arthur. Your ass looked too hot not to spank. You felt how your body reacted to his words, and you pressed your legs together. You weren't a beginner, but didn't have a lot of experience in the bedroom. You felt aroused, no doubt. Normally, one of the first people you'd reached out to when there was something exciting going on was Arthur. Crazy that he was the first person you wanted to talk to. Instead, you typed a reply to George. You: Maybe I would let you. Playing him at his own game felt wild. Nothing came through, even after several minutes. Out of the blue, your phone lit up with a WhatsApp call. George? Seriously? You hated taking calls, and now your nerves were all over the place. "Hey?" you said, unsure, as you picked up the call. "I called you because want to hear you say it. Tell me that you want me to spank your ass." Your mouth felt dry. "I—I want you to spank my ass Ge—orge." You could hardly talk. Your ears were on fire. Your pussy was throbbing. You had to talk normal, please. "Good girl," he replied "you can do it. You can say all the naughty things that your mind tells you that you can't say. Unless you want to go back to texting? Or stop?" You steadied yourself and said, "No, go on." The way he spoke had you curling your toes and feeling all kinds of things. "You liked that, didn't you?" he said in a sultry voice. You like it when I call you a good girl. You're a very special person Y/N. I think you are just right for me." You soaked up his words and moved your fingers underneath the edge of your panties. You needed to touch yourself. You rubbed your clit through your upcoming wetness. You heard how George hummed. It was as if you felt electricity all over. Fuck. "I would put you over my knees Y/N and pull your panties down, so that ass would be ready for me. I would put a drop of that perfume you wear on your thighs." Your back arched at his words. "I would slap you, then rest my hand on your ass to enjoy the heat. I would squeeze your ass and slowly dip my wet finger in and out of your arsehole after warming you up. You would tell me about all the times that you have masturbated thinking about me. You'd confess to everything with those bright red cheeks. Got it Y/N?" "Yes George." Your face flushed. It was impossible to stop touching yourself. You circled over your heat. Your fingers circles from your clit to your hole. My god that felt good. "George?" you said. It was more of a plea than a question. "You are touching yourself, aren't you?" he asked. "I can hear it that you are touching yourself. It's making me really hard." "Yes, I am George. I couldn't help myself. You do so much to me. "

"As do you. Next time you are going to ask me for permission to touch yourself, is that clear?" "Yes sir." Sweat ran down from your head to your neck. "Do you have a sex toy?" George made it sound like the most casual question in the world. "Umm, I have a solid glass dildo. You know, a toy you can warm up." "Get it out now and get ready to fuck that velvet pussy for me, Y/N. Push it all the way in. You are going to look so sexy. Your legs spread wide, filling yourself up. Your eyes all desperate." You lifted your legs to pull off your wet panties and did as you were told. "Can I put it in George… please? Can I? I want it so much. I want you." "Yes darling, put it in your tight hole." Your heart was racing when you moved the dildo in and out. "You are going to cum for me, fucking yourself with one hand, rubbing your clit with the other hand. I will count from 10 to 0." You gulped. You were so close, but you didn't know if he could actually make you cum that quickly, but you knew that you had to be honest with him. He was the one in control. "10…….9…….8…….7..…..6……. 5……. 4……." Please! Oh god. You felt your head spin. "3..….2….. you are going to cum for me. You look me right into the eye. Cum over my cock, you little slut …..1…..0." You cried out at the top of your lungs. "Oh god George, George," you called out as you climaxed. Your phone fell from your hand. You were shaking all over. You had a deep urge to please him, to make him feel proud of you. "Gosh, that was incredible," you said when you felt mildly sane again. "Thanks, I guess, I didn't expect this." "We are not done. I know that you have it in you to cum a second time Y/N," he said with a low voice. " You really think I haven’t noticed you avoiding eye contact? You’ve been waiting for someone like me, and it’s obvious. I’ve been watching you from every corner of the room. I know you think about me… sexually. A girl like yourself is made for submission. You would do anything for me… yes?" "Yes, I would George," you panted, and you felt yourself climax again. Damn, it felt so good. As you were caught up in your own joy, you heard George moaning as he came. It was the best sound in the world. Silence followed. He probably stepped away to clean himself up. After, he told you that your loudness was charming. You were leaning into his words, tired and drowsy. It felt weird and wonderful to share such an intimate moment with George. "Do you think you’ll manage to look me in the eye next time we’re face-to-face?" he asked. "Nope, no way!" you answered. "Goodnight darling."

"Goodnight George."

----------

If you enjoyed reading, let me know. It will encourage me to write more. ❤️

[syluslnd]

Could you do a scenario of would happen if Sylus found out reader can pole dance? Like maybe he found an old vid of her pole dancing or however you want!🥰 I can't decide if it should be nsfw so you decide too😭 Thank you!

✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── ✦

You woke up to the sound of loud, rhythmic music filling the room. Your body jerked to attention, confusion taking over as the beat reverberated in the walls. The bright morning light was still filtering through the curtains but there was no denying the sound that was now flooding the space.

You blinked, still groggy, your brain struggling to piece together what was happening. When your eyes darted to your laptop, the cause of the disturbance immediately hit you like a ton of bricks.

Sylus was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through your laptop, his eyes fixed on the screen. But it wasn't the work files you expected him to be browsing. Instead, there were videos-videos of you. Pole dancing. Professional-level, graceful and shockingly seductive pole dancing.

Your heart skipped a beat. The music continued blasting from the laptop, a song you recognized from the videos. Oh no.

"Sylus" you started, your voice thick with embarrassment as you rubbed your eyes,

"what are you-"

He glanced at you slowly, a wicked glint in his crimson eyes as he took in your confused and shocked expression. His lips curled into a knowing smile and before you could say another word, he raised his finger to your lips.

"Shh" he teased "I'm trying to appreciate the performance." His eyes flicked back to the screen, clearly enjoying the way you were reacting. "I didn't realize you had such a talent."

Your face burned with embarrassment. You quickly pushed yourself up into a sitting position, still half-dazed but fully mortified.

"S-Sylus, can you turn that off?" you asked, trying to hide your face in your hands.

"Please, just-"

But Sylus was already laughing softly, teasing in the most dominant way possible.

"I didn't know about this little secret" he said, clicking his tongue as he looked back at you. "Why didn't you tell me you were so... talented?"

His gaze swept over you in a way that made your pulse spike, his amusement evident in the way his eyes sparkled. "In fact" he said, his voice dropping to something more mischievous "I'm a little upset you didn't invite me to watch sooner kitten."

You tried to hide your face in your hands but the teasing was far from over. "I mean” he continued, his voice low and taunting "I think it's only fair you show me a live performance."

Your eyes shot up at him, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours. "Right now" he added, making a small gesture with his hand, as if the command were just another casual request.

You blinked in disbelief, trying to think of a way to escape. "There's no pole" you said, trying to muster up some cocky attitude, as if the situation wasn't embarrassing enough.

"So, I don't know what you expect me to-"

But before you could finish, Sylus snapped his fingers, and the momentum shifted.

You were frozen in place for a heartbeat, your breath catching in your throat.

Then by using his evol he made a pole appeared right in the center of the room, gleaming and polished.

Your mouth dropped open. There was no escaping this now.

Sylus's smile grew, sharp and predatory.

"There's a pole” he said, his voice filled with mock sweetness. "Now, show me what you've got."

You huffed in annoyance but your body couldn't help but respond to the dominant energy filling the room. Slowly, you slid off the bed, your feet moving to the pole almost involuntarily.

Sylus watched, still seated on the bed, his eyes following your every movement. His gaze never wavered, intense and expectant.

You glared at him, still annoyed but unable to escape his forceful presence. "I don't need you watching me like this” you said, trying to keep some semblance of control.

Sylus just raised an eyebrow. "Ah, ah” he said, lifting his hand as if to stop you. His voice was playful but you could hear the command beneath it. "I believe it would be funner If you'd take something off first,wouldn’t it sweetie?."

You blinked, your frustration rising. "What?"

With another smirk, Sylus pointed to your shirt. "Take it off. I don't think it's needed right now."

You stared at him, your cheeks burning as you hesitated. "You're unbelievable" you muttered but the intensity in his gaze left no room for argument.

You slowly reached for the hem of your shirt, eyes never leaving his. The way he kept his gaze on you kept you under his control and there was a part of you that couldn't resist,couldn't ignore the power he had over you. Slowly, you removed the shirt, the action feeling almost disobedient but irresistible all at once.

Sylus's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Good girl" he murmured, his voice now thick with an emotion you couldn't quite place-appreciation? Desire? You didn't know but it felt like something far deeper than a mere tease.

"Now" he said, leaning forward slightly.

"Dance for me."

You rolled your eyes in mock defiance but you could feel the heat of the room, the weight of his gaze. You had no choice but to dance and as your body moved, the sensation of his control hovered over you, making every twist and turn feel like an indulgence and an obedience all at once.

[authorscurse]

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A LATE APRIL FOOL'S DAY POST BYE! I got the idea from this vid on tiktok that I can't seem to find but it was so funny and I just thought why not make it into a sylus post so here it isssss!!! I posted this so late and it's no longer April 1😔 BUT ITS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS RIGHT

It was April Fools' Day, and Sylus wanted to prank you. He knew it wasn't the best idea considering you were overwhelmed by the five-month-old twins who consumed all your time and energy, but he was just so bored.

He walked into the nursery and saw his two newborn children playing around in their playpen—that he had splurged on despite your protests—when an idea struck him.

He searched for you in each room until he finally found you in the kitchen, snacking on the treats he bought you just yesterday. He walked inside, yoga mat in hand, and laid it on the floor in front of you. You watched him with curious eyes and a puzzled expression on your face.

"Are you gonna show me some yoga moves or something?" you asked with a chuckle at his unusual behavior. Sylus only ignored you, which piqued your interest even more. What was your husband planning to do?

You took a bite of your chips as you wondered what he was up to when he walked out of the room and returned a few seconds later with Achilles, one of your twins, in his arms. Your full attention was now on Sylus as he held Atlas with both hands. One hand was supporting his head, and the other was on his legs, and he lifted the boy up and down like a barbell.

Your mouth dropped open as you watched Sylus use your son (your literal son!) as a piece of gym equipment! "Sylus, what are you—" Your words caught in your throat as he held Atlas against his belly with one arm and lifted him up and back down. Your heart raced, and your blood boiled at the sight.

You barely managed to open your mouth again to tell Sylus to put your five-month-old child down before he walked out. You hopped down from the stool and were about to follow Sylus out, but he walked back in, now holding BOTH Achilles and Atlas—one in each hand—by their onesies.

Your crazy husband was about to lift the two giggling babies up and down before you started yelling loudly and snatched both of them away.

"No way you're using my babies as your barbells, Sylus!" you yelled, grabbing Achilles from his hand and balancing him on one arm before reaching for Atlas, which Sylus pulled away from your grasp.

"Put the baby down, Sylus, before I cut your arm," you glared. "What? We're just playing, sweetie. Look, Atlas even likes it, right, baby?" Sylus asked the giggling child, who only laughed and tried to reach for his father's face.

Sylus was a tall man, and the height from the floor to his outstretched hand was enough to injure your baby if he fell. Though you knew Sylus would never harm your children, it still didn't stop you from worrying and ensuring that never happened.

"Put my baby down, Sylus!" you said with much more irritation as you reached for Atlas, who only giggled and tried to reach for you as if all of this was just a game to him. Your baby had no survival instincts, for sure.

"Okay, okay, I'll put him down," Sylus chuckled as he watched you struggle to reach Atlas. You didn't calm down until you felt the fabric of Atlas's clothes in your palm. You took him by one arm while holding a giggling and wiggling Achilles by the other. You glared at Sylus before walking out of the kitchen and to the nursery.

"Don't get mad at me now, Kitten. I was only joking, and look, Atlas and Achilles had fun; no harm done!" Sylus chuckled as he walked behind you, trying to reach for Achilles, who tried to reach for his hand, but you only walked faster to the nursery.

As soon as you walked in, you closed the door and locked it, preventing Sylus from entering. "Sweetie, open the door," Sylus nervously chuckled as he knocked on the door, but you didn't open it or even unlock it.

After minutes of begging you to open the door, you finally opened it, finding a pouting Sylus leaning on your doorframe. You stood there in front of him, arms crossed, with a glare and a disapproving look on your face. "I'm sorry, I was only joking, Kitten," he apologized, raising his hand to cup your face, which you swatted away. "They're five months, Sylus! Five months!" you said, raising your hand in his face with your fingers spread out to show five fingers.

"I know, and I was just joking, I swear. Happy April Fools' Day!" Sylus smiled nervously, hoping it would help calm you down, but boy, was he wrong. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight," you said with a huff as you closed the door and locked it again. Lesson learned: Never prank your wife by using your five-month-old twins as gym equipment.

[babybearnation]

Lance stroll x dilf teammate reader. I uh you know that vid we discussed of Lance on the couch

-🦊

my title below this is a gob full lmfao - also lowkey forced a birthday on reader, soz everyone who's birthday isn't october 29th

lance stroll x male!dad!f1 driver!teammate!reader

cw: suggestive content (mentions of breeding kink)

you weren't that much older than lance, only six years, but you:

a) had a child

b) had years of race experience over lance

and c) radiated such dilf energy that lance was falling for you way before he could stop himself

plus you two shared a birthday, so lance claimed you as his from the get go

you were fast, faster than him, and lance always praised you when you finished in the points

his flirting was painfully obvious but you didn't mind it, especially since no one wanted to flirt with a man with "baggage"

that baggage was an ex-wife who realised at twenty-six that she was a lesbian and an eight year old daughter who proudly bragged about having the best parents in the world

but okay

and sure, it might've been weird to some people that you were still close friends with your ex-wife but lance knew your story and he didn't care

in fact, lance used your ex to try and get with you, something that you loved to tease him over after the two of you got together

he's also so sweet with your daughter, something that warms your heart to no end

the first time your daughter called lance dad, he literally melted - she was the cutest

lance says she got it from you...r ex-wife and you start tickling him, making him giggle and laugh, bringing a smile to your face

genuinely though, no one can deny that lance is such a good dad to your daughter, especially when they take naps together and you can see the blankets and stuffies he got for her

your daughter wears a t-shirt for you, and a (badly-fitting) cap for lance and she proudly screams her lungs out for you two

your ex-wife lowkey does the same

even though you're both cis men, lance will absolutely beg you to put a baby in him during sex

drives you fucking insane and usually leads to 3-5 more rounds

you gotta make sure it works, right?

and even though lance knows begs for it with tears in his eyes, he isn't actually too upset that it's not possible - he's very happy with your odd family

when you met your ex wife's new girlfriend for the first time, you expect it to be awkward, but her and lance hit it off instantly, both of them bonding over you and your ex-wife and your daughter

she ends up being added to your family and now your daughter proudly brags about having two mums and two dads and therefore her family is the best of everyone at her school

racing celebrations depend on if your ex-wife or daughter are there or not

ex-wife and daughter? you and lance are hitting the clubs, usually to be found making out in a dark corner, whilst your ex-wife looks after your daughter (she agrees to it, of course)

no ex-wife and daughter? the exact same thing except you & lance stay out even later that night

no ex-wife but daughter? yeah, no, you and lance are on dad duties tonight, get back to that hotel!

if you ever worry that lance is just with you for your body, lance will nip that in the bud instantly

whether it's on accident because he's playing with your daughter and making your heart melt

or on purpose where he confesses all of the non-physical reasons that he loves you

it always work and lance will refuse to let you feel insecure and/or doubtful over your relationship

genuinely, you can't feel insecure or concerned around lance, he's just too in love with you for that

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[hyuniemyunie]

Across the Leoverse

different versions of leonardo hamato x reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): little moments with leos, established relationship, fluff, lil bit of angst here n there, mentions of blood and injuries, domestic fluff

2003 up to 2023 leo.

i love love love love tmnt stawp. i have a vid of 3yo me sobbing over my mom telling me if i dont brush my teeth she'll lure my "husband" out with pizza and hand him to shredder. said husband was leonardo.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

MORNING RITUALS

The first few times you stayed over in the lair, you’d awaken to the sound of his breathing—deep, measured, rhythmic—and realize, not without a flutter in your chest, that he was already up, already dressed, already kneeling on the mat across the room with his swords resting beside him. It used to make you self-conscious, the way he’d train before sunrise while you were still tangled in sheets and dreams. But then you realized that he wasn’t trying to be impressive or distant; it was just his way. His version of peace.

Eventually, you started joining him, not to train—though he always offered to teach you—but to sit beside him on the tatami mat, wrapped in a hoodie you kept in the lair, sipping slowly from the cup of tea he’d always have waiting for you. He never said anything during those moments, didn’t need to. Just leaned a little closer, let his shoulder press against yours. It became a ritual: his morning meditation, and yours—quiet, mutual grounding before the world started asking things of you again.

---

AFTER-MISSION CARE

There’s a specific look Leo gets after a rough mission, a tightness around his mouth, a flicker of guilt in his eyes even when no one got hurt. You learned to spot it early in your relationship, even before he admitted how heavily failure—or even perceived failure—weighed on him. He never really spoke about it. Not directly. Not unless you pried.

So you stopped prying.

Instead, when he came back with a split lip or knuckles scraped raw, you’d reach for the first-aid kit without asking, sit him down, and tend to him in silence. You learned the way he winced, not from pain but from being seen, from being vulnerable. You learned the small, silent language of his guilt—the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you cleaned the cut across his collarbone, or how he’d clench his jaw when you dabbed at a bruise on his temple. You’d talk softly about mundane things—what you made for dinner, what Mikey said that made you laugh—and eventually, the tension in his shoulders would melt just a little.

The first time he let out a shaky breath and leaned into your touch instead of away from it, you didn’t say a word. Just kissed his knuckles, right over the bruises, and felt the way his fingers threaded through yours in response.

---

WHEN HE CAN’T SLEEP

You woke up to the sound of his footsteps, soft but unmistakable, pacing. At first, you thought it was part of a dream. But when you cracked open your eyes and saw the empty space beside you, the faint light of the hallway casting long shadows across the floor, you knew.

You found him in the training room, of course. Sword in hand. Sweat darkening the edge of his bandana. You didn’t say anything right away—just leaned against the doorway and watched as he moved, fluid and sharp. But there was something off about it. A hesitation in the swing. A falter in the stance.

“Nightmare?” you asked quietly.

He stopped mid-strike and let the tip of his katana dip toward the floor. Didn’t look at you. Just nodded once.

You walked over and took the sword from him gently, like it was a weight he’d been holding too long, and set it aside. You didn’t ask what it was about. You knew he’d tell you if he needed to. Instead, you reached up and cradled his face between your palms, feeling the faint tremble in his jaw.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered.

And he just folded into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, forehead pressed to your shoulder, and stayed there like your heartbeat was the only thing anchoring him to the present.

---

QUIET CONFESSIONS

Sometimes, the deepest things he said came when he wasn’t trying to be poetic at all—when he was halfway between exhaustion and honesty, staring up at the ceiling from the makeshift couch-bed in your apartment while your fingers idly traced the curve of his plastron.

“I don’t always know how to be… just a person,” he murmured once, the words falling like water in a quiet room. “Not a leader. Not a warrior. Just… someone.”

You had looked at him then, surprised but not startled, and slid your fingers up to touch his cheek.

“You don’t have to figure that out alone,” you said simply. “You’re someone to me.”

His eyes had gone soft, distant. “I know,” he said, voice barely above a breath. “That’s the scariest part.”

And you understood, somehow—how terrifying it must be to be seen so completely. But he let you see him, over and over. Let you love him, despite the edges.

---

DUMB DOMESTIC STUFF

There was one afternoon when you walked in on him trying to fix the sink.

He had the most determined expression on his face, wielding a wrench like it was a second katana, muttering under his breath while Donnie hovered in the background, clearly amused but not interfering. You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, biting back laughter.

“Should I be worried?”

He didn’t look up. “I’ve got it under control.”

“You say that like you didn’t once accidentally decapitate a vacuum cleaner.”

“That was one time.”

“That was last month.”

He paused, gave you a flat look, then—when the pipe under the sink gave an ominous creak—sighed and set the wrench down.

“…Okay, I might need help.”

Donnie burst out laughing. You just smiled and walked over to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll go get the towels.”

---

LITTLE TOUCHES

He’s not very physically affectionate in public. Not in the way Mikey is, with his constant hugs and leaning. But in private, in the soft quiet of shared space, he touches you constantly. Not clingy, not needy, but present—a hand on your back when you’re cooking, his knee brushing yours when you sit beside each other, his fingers brushing your wrist as he passes by.

You started keeping count once, just for fun, of how many times he touched you in a day—twenty-seven before dinner. Thirty-eight by bedtime. Each one said something different: I see you. I’m here. I need you. I love you. He never said the words often, not out loud, but they were in every gesture.

And the nights when he did say it—usually quiet, soft, spoken like a prayer against your skin—you felt it in your bones.

---

WHEN HE LETS GO

There are rare, sacred nights when Leonardo actually lets himself laugh. Not the polite little chuckle he gives when Mikey’s on a roll, or the amused exhale when Raph gets caught in his own sarcasm—but a real laugh, warm and unguarded, the kind that shakes through his whole body and makes you feel like the universe just cracked open and let the sun in.

One night, it was because you were trying to do a yoga pose he’d shown you, and you lost your balance and flopped onto his lap in the most undignified way possible. For a second, you were horrified. But then he looked down at you, eyes wide with disbelief, and burst out laughing—full-on, head-tilted-back laughter that made your embarrassment melt away completely.

“You—” he gasped between laughs, “—you looked like a falling turtle.”

“Wow. I feel so loved right now.”

He pulled you up into his lap, kissed the top of your head, still grinning.

“You are,” he said, and his voice was so full of affection you couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

---

FUTURE TALK

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, late at night when everything is quiet and you’re wrapped in blankets with the hum of the city in the distance, he talks about the future. It always surprises you, how gentle his dreams are.

“I think about a place,” he said once, voice barely more than a murmur against your shoulder. “Not a battlefield. Just… somewhere quiet. Green. A garden, maybe. Somewhere I could still train. Somewhere you’d feel safe. Somewhere… we could be.”

You reached back to thread your fingers through his.

“We could make that,” you said.

He was quiet for a long moment.

“I want to,” he whispered.

And you knew he meant it. Knew he could, if you stayed beside him.

---

THE MOMENT THAT STAYS

There’s one moment that lives in your mind more than any other.

You were standing on the rooftop one evening, watching the sunset bleed into the horizon, his hand warm and solid in yours. No words. No plans. Just the two of you breathing in the same sky.

And without looking, he said:

“I used to think peace was something I had to fight for. But with you… it’s just there.”

You squeezed his hand.

And in the hush of that moment, with the world spinning soft and slow beneath your feet, you believed him.

The distance didn’t kill your love, but it did stretch it thin across time zones and lonely nights, and it made his return less like a reunion and more like learning how to hold him all over again—learning that the Leo who came back from the jungle wasn’t the same one who left. He was broader now, more serious than ever, and sometimes got lost in his own silence like it was the only thing he trusted. But he looked at you the same way, touched you the same way—tentatively, reverently, like every part of you was a prayer answered.

---

THE RETURN

You still remembered the way his arms wrapped around you the first time he came back to the lair—not in some movie-perfect spin-and-dip hug, but something tighter, fiercer, almost desperate. He didn’t say much, barely got out a “Hey,” before his arms were locked around you and your face was buried in his neck. You could feel the roughness of travel in the folds of his bandana, smell the damp earth and jungle still clinging to his skin, hear the tremble in his breath as he exhaled like he’d been holding it for seven months.

You had whispered, “You came home,” and he’d replied, voice cracked with something brittle, “I had to.”

---

THE NIGHTMARES

He didn’t talk about what happened while he was away—not at first. There were too many ghosts in his silence, too many things he hadn’t processed yet. But the nightmares gave him away. You’d wake to find him sitting at the edge of your shared bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, breathing like he was still running through the jungle.

You didn’t ask what he saw. You just touched his shoulder, climbed onto his back like a child needing reassurance, wrapped your arms around his chest and pressed your cheek to the curve between his shoulder and neck. “You’re not there anymore,” you’d murmur. “You’re here. You’re home. You’re with me.”

And every time, he’d cover your hand with his and hold it like it was the only solid thing in the world.

---

DOMESTIC STILLNESS

The lair was quieter since his return. He wasn’t loud to begin with, but something about the way he moved now was even more subdued—gentle footsteps, careful glances, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to take up space anymore. But you found ways to fill the quiet together. Long evenings reading on the couch, your legs tossed lazily over his lap while he traced slow patterns into your shin with a calloused finger. Sometimes he’d fall asleep like that, upright and still, head bowed slightly, your warmth the only thing anchoring him to the present.

You learned to cook simple things together—soups, stir-fries, quiet meals shared shoulder-to-shoulder in the kitchen while the city buzzed beyond the sewers. He once smiled halfway through chopping carrots and said, “I missed this.”

---

WHEN YOU FOUGHT

It wasn’t frequent, but when you fought, it was like a dam cracking. His voice rarely rose, but his words could cut sharp when he was afraid—“You don’t understand what’s at stake,” or “I have responsibilities you’ll never have to carry.”

And sometimes, it felt like he was still more committed to his duty than he was to you.

But when the silence settled afterward, when the adrenaline was gone and his shoulders dropped under the weight of regret, he always came to you. Not with grand apologies, but with his heart in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whisper, kneeling in front of you, fingers tangling in your own. “I’m trying to unlearn the part of me that thinks I have to do it all alone.”

And each time, you’d remind him—gently, sometimes with your own tears held at bay—that love wasn’t another mission to complete. It was allowed to be messy. To be shared. To be leaned into, not carried like armor.

---

HIS UNGUARDED MOMENTS

There was one rainy evening when you caught him dancing in the kitchen—not good dancing, not graceful or poised—but pure, genuine awkward foot-tapping and hand-flailing while some old soul record played through the static of the lair’s ancient radio. He hadn’t seen you come in, and when he finally turned and saw you, he froze mid-step, one hand still raised like a deer caught in the act.

You laughed so hard you nearly cried.

He groaned, turned around, tried to play it off—but you ran to him and threw your arms around his neck and kissed him right there, half-bent in laughter, rain thudding overhead and the smell of cinnamon from the tea still steeping.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled into his skin.

His arms tightened around you, his voice low and happy. “I know. But only for you.”

---

WHEN HE’S SICK

He is the worst patient.

Absolutely the worst.

He tries to train through fevers, insists he’s fine even while coughing into his arm, and refuses to rest until you threaten to sedate him. You have to wrestle him onto the couch and pile blankets on him like you’re trapping a wild animal.

“You’ll overheat me,” he grumbled once, flushed and pouty under two comforters and a quilt.

“You’re a reptile,” you replied, adjusting his position.

He gave you a look that was mostly amusement and slight betrayal. You kissed his forehead before he could argue again, and he melted instantly, limbs going soft under your touch.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he mumbled.

And he did. Because if nothing else, Leo always listened when you asked him gently.

---

HIS LOVE LANGUAGE

Leo was quiet with affection, but he showed it in the way he memorized everything about you—the way you liked your tea, the angle you curled into when you were cold, how you always tilted your head when trying to decide something. He’d hand you your favorite mug before you asked, pull a blanket over you without a word, step into the space behind you and wrap his arms around your waist like it was second nature.

When you were stressed, he’d set up a bath for you, light candles (awkwardly, because Raph always teased him for it), and sit nearby while you soaked, reading out loud from whatever book you were working through, voice calm and low.

When you were sad, he didn’t try to fix it. He’d just hold you—sometimes in silence, sometimes whispering little truths against your temple: “You’re not alone.” “I love you.” “I’m here.”

And somehow, that made everything bearable.

---

THE MOMENT THAT STAYS

There was one late night—city asleep, lair humming soft with the sound of distant subway cars—where you both lay tangled in a nest of pillows and leftover warmth, your head on his chest, his fingers trailing up and down your back with thoughtless devotion.

And he whispered, like it hurt to say, “Sometimes I don’t know if I deserve this.”

You didn’t move. Just rested your hand over his heart and whispered back, “But you have it. Every part of it. Every part of me.”

And he pulled you in like that answer was the only thing keeping him whole.

---

THE PATH FORWARD

He still struggled, sometimes. With balancing duty and love, with forgiving himself, with remembering he didn’t always have to be perfect to be worthy. But you stayed. Through every stumble, every silence, every moment where he thought he had to carry it all alone—you stayed.

And every time he looked at you, you could see it.

The peace.

The gratitude.

The quiet, relentless love that built itself up in the spaces between missions and memories, in every little moment you made together.

THE FIRST TIME HE REALIZED YOU WERE IT

It wasn’t even a grand moment. No sweeping music or slow-motion realization. Just you, one late afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the lair, a bowl of popcorn on your lap, humming some dumb song he didn’t even recognize while watching a show he didn’t really care for. Your hair was a little messy. Your shirt was one of his, worn and soft. Your fingers flicked popcorn into your mouth between laughs.

He was supposed to be training. Supposed to be focused. But something in his chest squeezed—slow, gentle, like his heart was blinking. And he knew, then and there, watching you in the glow of the TV, feet wiggling in time to the opening theme, that this was it. You were his person. His future. His home.

He’d said nothing. Just walked over, sat behind you, and rested his chin on your shoulder. Quiet. Heavy with feeling. You didn’t say anything either—just reached up and threaded your fingers through his.

---

MOVIE NIGHTS GONE WRONG

He always picked the cheesiest, most dramatic action flicks. You made fun of him relentlessly for it.

“Leo, why do they keep flipping over cars? There’s no reason for this car to flip. It’s a normal road.”

“They’re setting up tension!”

“That guy just caught a grenade with his teeth.”

“Okay, but it was symbolic.”

You spent the entire runtime with your legs tossed over his lap, throwing popcorn at the screen while Leo tried to defend the plot like he wrote it personally. At some point, your arguing always dissolved into giggles, and by the end of the night, you were curled up against him, his arm around your waist, your head tucked under his chin.

He always said, “Next time, we’re watching something serious.”

And then picked another action flick every single time.

---

THE TIME YOU TOOK CARE OF HIM WHEN HE WAS HURT

Leo wasn’t scared of getting hurt. He was a trained ninja. He knew pain. What he wasn’t good at? Accepting help.

“Leo, sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Leo, your side is literally bleeding onto the floor.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You had to push him—gently but firmly—onto the couch, your fingers tugging off his gear while he hissed and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. You cleaned the gash slowly, carefully, your brows furrowed, mouth pressed into a flat line of worry.

He watched you, quiet. Noticing the way your hands trembled just a little. The way your lip wobbled like you were trying not to cry. And it hit him then, hard and sudden, how much you cared.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“Because you’re hurt, idiot.”

He reached up, brushing your cheek with a knuckle. “I’m okay. Because you’re here.”

You sniffled and swatted his hand. “Don’t flirt while you’re bleeding.”

He grinned anyway. Blood loss and all.

---

TRAINING TOGETHER

Leo was a surprisingly patient teacher—meticulous, focused, and always watching you with this tiny smile that said he was proud even when you were just learning how to punch.

He always caught you when you fell. Always adjusted your stance with careful hands, never too tight, just the right amount of touch to send a jolt down your spine.

When you finally knocked him on his shell (with some help, but you never had to know that), you stood over him panting, beaming, triumphant.

“Did you let me win?” you demanded.

He grunted, winded. “I plead the Fifth.”

You flopped down on him, laughing, sweat-slick and breathless.

“Next time, I’m going for Mikey.”

“Good luck,” he wheezed.

---

THE TIME YOU WORE HIS GEAR

You’d been cold. That was the only reason. His chest strap was nearby, and you’d slung it on over your hoodie just for warmth—but then Leo had walked in mid-strut and stopped dead in the doorway.

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. Or sprouted wings. Or maybe both.

“What?”

“…Nothing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He walked up slowly, eyes locked on you like you were something sacred.

“You can’t wear that,” he said, almost breathless.

“Why not?”

“Because—because I can’t focus when you do.”

You raised an eyebrow, smug. “Oh?”

He tore it off you in two seconds and kissed you up against the wall like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

You wore it again the next day.

---

RAINY DAYS

You curled up in his bed while thunder rolled overhead, legs tangled together under too many blankets, both of you sleepy and warm and tangled in that lazy affection that only came when the weather outside demanded stillness.

Leo read out loud. A book you’d been working through together, his voice low and slow and a little rough from how relaxed he was. You had your head on his chest, listening more to the sound of him than the story.

He paused mid-sentence and kissed your hair without thinking.

You mumbled, “That’s not in the book.”

“Should be.”

---

THE ARGUMENT

It was over something dumb. Pizza, or missed training, or him not letting you follow during a mission. But it exploded, like everything you’d both been bottling up came out in one go.

“You don’t trust me.”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“And I’m not just something you can shelve when things get hard!”

Silence.

He stared at you, breathing hard. “I know,” he said finally. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sat down hard on the couch, all your anger gone in one breath.

He joined you a second later. Quiet. Small.

“You mean everything to me,” he said. “It’s hard to let you be in danger. Even when I know you can handle it.”

You rested your forehead against his.

“Next time, let me decide what I can handle.”

He nodded. “I will.”

And he did.

---

WHEN HE MISSED YOU

He once went away for a training retreat with Splinter. Only a week. But it felt longer than that.

he called when he could. Left you little notes in your hoodie pocket. Texted you every morning:

Morning, Sunshine.

Stay warm today.

Eat something real today, no cookies for breakfast.

I miss you.

When he came back, he held you like the world was ending. His face buried in your neck. His arms iron-tight around your waist. You didn’t speak for a long time. Just held each other, breathing each other in, until the ache of absence finally faded.

Later that night, curled up in bed, he whispered against your cheek, “I love you more every day.”

You whispered back, “I never stopped missing you.”

---

WHEN YOU GOT HURT

He panicked. Like, really panicked.

There was blood. A sprain. You were limping. And Leo was at your side instantly, eyes wild, hands trembling, trying to touch you everywhere at once—your face, your arms, your legs—checking.

“Are you okay? Talk to me. Where does it hurt?”

You tried to laugh it off. “It’s not that bad—”

“You’re hurt.”

His voice cracked on the word.

He carried you home. Didn’t let go once. And when you were bandaged up and resting, he just sat beside you, head bowed, hands clasped.

“I can’t lose you,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” you promised.

And he didn’t.

---

A PEACEFUL FUTURE

There was one evening where nothing hurt. No fights. No stress. Just the two of you on the rooftop, watching the stars through the hazy New York night. You were sitting between his legs, his arms around you, your fingers laced with his.

He murmured, “Ever think about the future?”

You tilted your head. “All the time.”

“What do you see?”

You leaned back against him. “You. Somewhere quiet. Maybe a cabin. A garden. Peace.”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he whispered, “I want that. With you.”

And you sat there, under the stars, wrapped in warmth and the promise of a someday that felt more real than any mission ever had.

WHEN YOU REALIZED DATING LEO MEANT NEVER BEING BORED AGAIN

It started with a text.

leo: meet me on the roof. urgent.

You panicked. Sprinting up the stairs, heart racing, imagining blood, tears, a krang invasion, a missile falling from space. Only to find him dramatically lying on the floor like he was in a Renaissance painting, hand over his forehead, face contorted in pretend agony.

“What happened?!”

He blinked open one eye. “They... they ate the last pizza roll.”

“…Leo.”

“I was SAVING it. It had my name on it. I wrote it in Sharpie. In cursive.”

You groaned so loud it echoed, but then he sat up and gave you the most ridiculous puppy eyes in existence.

“Only your love can fill the pizza-roll-shaped hole in my heart.”

You still kissed him. Because of course you did.

---

THE TIME HE TRIED TO MAKE YOU A ROMANTIC DINNER AND ALMOST SET THE LAIR ON FIRE

He insisted. “I can cook. I watched a whole two-minute tutorial. I am a culinary legend.”

You should’ve known something was wrong when you smelled smoke before you even got to the kitchen.

You burst in to find him frantically trying to teleport flames off the stove and onto random plates, his apron reading “Kiss the Chef (Or Else),” flour on his face, and one noodle dangling from his bandana like it had tried to flee and died in the attempt.

“I can fix this,” he said, wild-eyed.

“Leo.”

“You love me, right?”

“…unfortunately.”

He ended up ordering pizza. You both ate it on the floor, legs tangled together, sauce on your faces, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt. You never let him cook again.

---

WHEN YOU WERE SAD AND HE TRIED (HIS VERSION OF) COMFORTING YOU

He didn’t always know what to say when you were quiet. When your eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually did, when your words got shorter, sadder, when you started holding your breath more than speaking.

But he knew what to do.

He appeared in your room wearing a blanket cape and a handmade crown (don’t ask where the glitter came from), holding a glittery scepter made of a spoon and duct tape.

“I hereby declare today A No Sad Days Zone,” he announced. “By royal decree, you are required to be adored, pampered, and held like the precious creature you are.”

You blinked at him.

Then you burst into tears.

He panicked—panicked—but then you just clung to him and buried your face in his plastron, sobbing and laughing all at once, and he just held you.

He held you until the tears stopped. He kept the crown on the entire time.

---

COUCH CUDDLES, AKA HIS FAVORITE PASTIME

Leo would always pull you into his lap the second you even glanced at the couch. Movie night? His lap. Game night? His lap. Nap time? Guess what.

He called it “his throne,” and you were “the crown jewel.”

His arms were always wrapped tight around your waist, chin perched on your shoulder, legs tangled beneath you. He radiated body heat like a furnace and always hummed random songs in your ear—off-key, sometimes on purpose.

And if anyone dared interrupt?

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were trying to DIE today.”

---

WHEN HE GOT JEALOUS

He wasn’t mean about it. But he was dramatic.

Someone flirted with you at the hidden city market once and Leo stared them down with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” he said, arm tightening around your waist. “I haven’t banished them to another dimension. That’s restraint, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but he leaned down and kissed your cheek in front of them, whispering, “Mine,” into your skin.

You never saw the stranger again. You assumed it was a coincidence. Probably.

---

THE TIME YOU GOT HURT

Leo tried to laugh it off.

At first.

“You’ve had worse papercuts than this,” you groaned, clutching your arm.

“Yeah,” he said, voice too high. “Totally. Totally fine. Not freaking out. Nope.”

He teleported you to Donnie so fast you almost threw up, and then paced like a caged tiger while Donnie worked.

When Donnie said you’d be okay, Leo collapsed onto the floor in a heap of relief. “Sweet merciful pizza gods,” he moaned.

You stared at him. “You good?”

He reached for your hand from the floor. “You’re not allowed to die. That’s, like, the one rule.”

“I just sprained my wrist.”

“The ONE RULE!”

You had to climb down to kiss him where he’d melted. He didn’t move, just sighed dramatically. “Your love resurrects me.”

---

PILLOW FIGHTS TURNED WAR ZONES

It started innocent. A little bop to the head while you were both making the bed. He smirked. You smirked.

Then he jumped behind you like a villain and whacked you square in the back with a pillow so hard you went flying onto the mattress.

“You DARE challenge the champion?!” he cackled.

“YOU’RE A COWARD.”

War was declared. Pillows were shredded. A plush turtle went flying and broke a lamp. Mikey walked by once and got caught in the crossfire. Raph had to confiscate your pillows for a week.

But your laughter echoed through the lair long after the feathers settled.

---

LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS

It was 3 a.m.

You couldn’t sleep. And Leo… well, Leo never really slept unless he had to.

You were lying on the rooftop, side by side, the city humming beneath you, stars barely visible through the glow.

“I don’t get it,” you murmured. “Why me?”

He turned to you slowly.

“What?”

“You could have anyone. You’re Leo. You’re cool, and funny, and handsome—”

“Go on,” he said, waggling his brows.(or..the bones..that were there..)

You laughed, but looked away. “Seriously. You’re you. Why’d you pick me?”

He was quiet. Then:

“Because I’ve never met someone who looked at me like I was more than the jokes. Like I could be something... real. And you make me feel like I’m not pretending all the time.”

You turned back. His eyes were so soft.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I love you more.”

And then he kissed you slow, under the stars, like the city was just background noise.

---

THOSE TINY, SILENT MOMENTS THAT MEANT EVERYTHING

Like when he always waited for you to walk through portals first, just to make sure you’d land okay.

Or how he’d draw little doodles on your arm with his fingers when you sat beside him, absentminded and sweet.

The way he’d steal your snacks and then pretend he saved them from “spoiling.”

How his hand always found yours—without even thinking, like muscle memory.

The way he looked at you when you laughed too hard. Like the world had just started spinning again. Like you were gravity.

---

THE MOMENT HE KNEW IT WAS FOREVER

He had been scared. Of being serious. Of committing. Not because he didn’t love you—he did, deeply, wildly—but because sometimes he felt like a spotlight with nothing under it. All flash, no foundation.

But you believed in him. Always.

And one morning, you were curled up on the couch, your head on his lap, hair tangled, sleep-warm and safe, and you looked up and mumbled, “I want this forever.”

And Leo, for once, didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t tease.

He just smiled. Soft. Wide.

“Me too.”

THE FIRST TIME YOU REALIZED HOW HARD HE TRIES TO IMPRESS YOU

It wasn’t loud. Not like most things with Leo. Not like his chaotic flips through the living room or his exaggerated battle cries or the way he used to dramatically flop over the furniture anytime he got a scratch and yell, “Tell my story…”

No, it was subtle—like the way he started fixing his bandana every time you walked into the room, smoothing it out in the reflection of the toaster oven or tugging at his elbow pads like they were fancy suit cuffs. Like the way he stood a little straighter when you were around, or the soft flush that crept up his cheeks when you caught him staring too long. You hadn’t realized it before—how much he wanted to impress you, how every quip, every gesture, every over-exaggerated pose was him holding out his heart in his hands, not quite sure what to do with it, but hoping you’d take it anyway.

And when you finally told him, just barely above a whisper, “You don’t have to try so hard. I already love you,” he froze. Blinked once. Twice.

Then smiled—small and bright, the kind of smile that made your ribs ache with how tender it was.

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “But I’m still gonna keep trying.”

---

WHEN YOU FOUND OUT HOW PHYSICALLY CLINGY HE IS

Leo was a limpet.

If he was within three feet of you, odds were high he was touching you—elbow against yours while you sat at the table, knee bumping yours when you stood still, arm slung around your shoulder like he was your personal weighted blanket.

But his favorite thing? Cuddling. Not just cute, little snuggle-in-bed cuddling. Full body clinging. He’d sprawl across you like a blanket that talked too much, his chin resting on your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, legs tangled with yours like you’d both get blown away in a storm if he let go.

You couldn’t move. Not without hearing a soft little whine and feeling him grip you tighter like a sleepy octopus. “Don’t gooo,” he’d murmur into your shirt, voice muffled. “You’re my favorite pillow.”

Even if you peeled yourself away, you’d find him crawling after you five minutes later like a needy little cat. “Come baaaack, I miss you already,” he’d say, despite you having only gone to grab water.

You stopped fighting it after a while. Not just because it was cute (though it was disgustingly cute), but because the way he sighed when you let him hold you—like all his tension dissolved the second he had you in his arms—made something melt in your chest.

---

THE DAY HE BROUGHT YOU FLOWERS AND GOT PUNCHED (KINDA)

He’d been planning it for days.

You knew something was up. He’d been suspiciously sneaky, whispering with Mikey and giggling in corners, acting like he was pulling off a heist every time he left the lair. Then, one day, he came into your room holding a messy, chaotic bouquet that looked like it had survived a battle with a weedwhacker—but he was beaming, blue eyes wide and bright, petals in his teeth, leaves sticking out of his bandana.

“For you,” he said proudly, thrusting the bouquet toward you like it was Excalibur and you were royalty.

You stepped forward to take it—and promptly got smacked in the face by a thorny stem sticking out at an unholy angle.

“OH MY GOSH—I’M SO SORRY—I SWEAR I—MIKEY SAID IT WAS A ROSE—IS THIS POISON IVY—ARE YOU BLEEDING—SHOULD I GO GET DONNIE—IS THIS HOW I LOSE YOU—”

You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

He looked so distressed, cradling your face and inspecting the barely-there scratch like you were on your deathbed. “I just wanted to be romantic,” he sniffled.

You kissed him on the cheek and said, “You are. You’re the most romantic person I know.”

He carried that bouquet around for the rest of the day like it was sacred. Accidentally hit Raph with it. Refused to apologize.

---

WHEN HE GOT NERVOUS ABOUT SAYING “I LOVE YOU” AND BLURTED SOMETHING ELSE INSTEAD

You knew he loved you.

It was obvious—in the way he always remembered your drink order from that one place, in how he’d travel across five boroughs to bring you your favorite snack, in how he always instinctively stood between you and danger with his arm held out like a shield. But saying it? That was another story.

One night, curled up in a hammock, swinging slowly with the sound of the city murmuring through the lair vents, he was holding you close—closer than usual, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your back, his voice quieter than normal. You looked up, about to speak, when he blurted:

“I really like your face.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean—not just your face, I like—you. All of you. I just—you know—your face is—really great—and—uh—”

You stared.

He panicked.

“I LOVE YOUR FACE, OKAY?”

You were laughing before you could stop yourself. You grabbed his cheeks, squishing them until his words stopped fumbling out in a rush, and said, “Leo. It’s okay. I love your face, too.”

His whole body melted.

Later, when it was darker and softer and sleep was starting to curl into the edges of your mind, you heard him whisper it. So quiet it barely existed.

“I love you.”

You squeezed his hand and whispered it back.

---

THE FIRST TIME HE SAW YOU CRY

He didn’t know what to do at first.

You weren’t loud. You didn’t scream or sob or throw things. You just... shut down. Went quiet. Your hands shook when you tried to hold your cup. Your breath hitched like your chest was breaking under invisible weight.

And Leo—Leo, who could attempt to talk his way out of any situation, who could joke through danger and chaos and fear—suddenly had no words.

He sat beside you. Not too close at first. Let you curl inward, pull your sleeves over your hands. He waited until you looked up at him, until your walls cracked just enough to let him in.

Then he opened his arms.

You collapsed into him without hesitation, and he held you like you were something breakable and precious, rubbing your back in slow, even strokes, murmuring nonsense—little sweet words, things like “you’re safe” and “I’ve got you” and “let me carry some of it, please.”

And when you finally fell asleep against his chest, his hand in your hair, he whispered, “You don’t have to be okay for me to love you. I love you anyway.”

---

WHEN YOU GOT HURT AND HE WENT FERAL

He doesn’t remember half of it.

One second you were fine, laughing beside him during a fight, trading jokes and ducking lasers, and the next—someone knocked you to the ground. Hard.

He saw red.

He was not the biggest, not the strongest—not like Raph—but Leo was fast. And when he was angry, when something precious was threatened, he moved like a knife through air.

By the time the others caught up, the attacker was down—hard—and Leo was at your side, shaking, his hands hovering over you like he didn’t know where to touch, afraid anything might hurt you more.

You were okay. Just a bump. Maybe a scrape.

But he held your face in his hands and whispered, “I need you to be okay. I can’t—please—just—stay with me—”

You kissed him. Right there. Right in the middle of the battlefield.

“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for hours.

---

SILLY MOMENTS THAT HAPPENED WHEN NO ONE WAS LOOKING

Like when he tried to do one of those “cool lean-in” kisses and headbutted you by accident. You both had matching bruises for a week. You still call him "horny turtle" when you want to make him blush.

Or the time he accidentally turned on romantic music during patrol and started spinning you around like a ballroom dancer in the middle of a dark alley. “For ambiance,” he claimed.

When you were brushing your teeth and he peeked around the corner to rap battle with your mouth full of toothpaste. You lost.

Or how sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers little things into your hair like, “You’re my favorite part of the day,” and “I think I want forever with you.”

---

WHEN HE KNEW HE WANTED YOU TO BE HIS FOREVER

He didn’t know how to say it. Not really. Not yet. But he knew.

It was a quiet night. You were sitting beside him on the fire escape, legs dangling, your head resting on his shoulder, the stars barely flickering against the smog. He looked at you—just looked—and felt that ache in his chest that wasn’t painful, just big. Too big to contain.

You turned and smiled at him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you knew he was in love without him saying it. And you kissed his cheek and said, “I’m happy.”

And Leo?

He held your hand and whispered, “Me too.”

But what he really meant was:

I want every tomorrow to have you in it.