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macklin celebrini has autism
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price
roma★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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KIROKAZE
sheepfilms
Kaledo Art
AnasAbdin
h
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Game of Thrones Daily
Janaina Medeiros
Three Goblin Art
NASA
Stranger Things
Xuebing Du
seen from United States
seen from Azerbaijan
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Austria
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@ahhhhhhhhhfuck
Master List! ( Adding more soon, still getting my blog established :D)
my turtlesona: [H^9]
all characters are aged late 20s early 30s :)
Raph
—>bisexual foot clan bayverse fan art: here here here
—>the bet (reader x bayverse raph) coming soon 😈
—> that should be me (raph x fem reader) 18+
Leo
--> Wheres the fun in that? Leo x reader x Raph: Here
Donnie
Mikey
All/other OCs
art/edits /audios!?
—> NSFW: Churring audio
..ok but like mando x virgin reader?? 👀
What she wants
Mando x virgin!reader
Warnings: smut, age gap, reader is 18+, first time, oral, penetration, not proof read
-
Everything about her is soft, small and gentle. The way she sits in the captains chair, legs tucked beneath her, arms crossed over her chest. Her body seems so small compared to his when piloting the ship.
Every about her is wrong. Forbidden, it’s the feeling of desire and secrets. The air surrounding her is hot and heavy, it follows her, sinks into the Mandalorian lungs like an airborne poison. He catches his breath as she swivels in the chair, leaning closer to him, her scent is intoxicating and it pulls him in deeper.
It’s wrong. It’s so so wrong.
She’s staring up at him from the chair, her eyes quickly glance up and down his frame —up to the window, outside at the stars, and back to him. Mando’s heart is hammering in his chest, her gaze is burning through him harder than any sun in the universe. His fists clench, palms sweaty beneath the leather gloves. She’s blushing, caught in the act. Watching the dark and brooding soldier.
A sigh escapes, and she relaxes more into the chair. Her hands falling into her lap, legs sliding from beneath her, skin exposed. The Mandalorian stills, his heart stops and he’s looking at her legs under the light of the stars. He focuses on her chest rising and falling in tune with her breath, lips parted, eyes wide — she’s intoxicating.
No.
He turns away, fuck was that too quick? The wall is more inviting and interesting, he’ll just stare at that until she says something. His weapons feel heavy, everything is heavy. His mind, his body, the idea of sin creeping in. The weight pulls him down and inside, begging him to reveal what is desired.
It’s as though he can feel her smiling, maybe it’s his imagination but he’s entrapped in the thought of her eyes on him, a small smile escaping her lips. She knows the air in the ship is thick with some kind of pressure, intensity, longing.
His gloves come off. The cape follows, blasters and holsters are set on the bench alongside the wall. A deep breath and the Mandalorian rolls his heavy shoulders back, a release. The tension is burning through him and as he pulls his breastplate off, he hears her voice.
“I was waiting for you,”
God it’s so soft, without the helmets enhancements her voice would go unheard, soft like a promise of everything good and sweet. A whisper from the sunlight, the stars.
He turns to face her, half clad in beskar — the armour between them is the only thing stopping her from seeing his true form. He’s taller than her, bulky, intense, strong. She watches the helmet tilt, the rasping breathing through the mask is filling the silence.
“I don’t expect you to wait for me.” His voice is monotone. Controlled. He leans back against the bench, slouched into himself.
“What else is there to do?”
Silence follows her sickeningly sweet voice. Innocent.
She’s so innocent.
There’s a heavy feeling of guilt and shame surrounding the soldier. He’s taking in every bit of her presence, staring deep into her soul. This is so wrong, he is her protector, her guardian. Entrusted by his commander to bring her to safety of her home planet, unharmed. The Mandalorian steps closer, pushing the boundaries. He’s thinking of every moment between them thus far, her lingering gaze, the silence between them that builds up so strong he has to take a moment. It’s been only a week, flying through the stars together, alone. Just the two of them in endless space, the journey will come to and end and he’ll never see her again. This will be over. The feeling of undeniable need, hidden passion. His mind is racing with the idea and she seems to know everything he’s thinking and feeling without saying it.
“I was so lonely in here,” she breaths, “I don’t like waiting.”
A pause. The helmet tilts to the side. He’s watching her so closely. What is she waiting for? Every moment between them has been packed with this tangled energy, it’s filling the air and suffocating him.
“Do you want an apology?”
She sighs, adjusting her position in the chair. It’s uncomfortable but she knows it makes him even more nervous with her in his seat. The captains chair, she wears it like a throne. She’s constantly searching for something, anything to get his undivided attention. The soldier is distracting himself constantly. Changing subjects, brushing past her. Ignoring her when it becomes to much to bare. He cannot get close to her and it drives her insane. Stuck alone in this ship with such a looming presence has turned her into something she is not. Something she has never been.
“I don’t know what I want,”
They both know. It’s been digging into them since the very moment she stepped onto this ship. The walls have been closing in every second the passes, melting and bleeding into unspoken words, longing, need. It’s pushing them into a situation neither expected. She’s been alone her entire life, locked away on the promise of some faraway king. A trade, an exchange. She’s sick at the idea and feels lost within her family traditions. Stuck, chained to her destiny.
The Mandalorian follows a similar path. Although unbound by contracts of marriage, his vows tie him to a code. Held up by tradition. It’s wrong, the cards have been dealt and choices have been made. It’s set in stone. The game has rules.
This is against the rules.
“Figure it out.” Harsh. He’s too harsh.
Her hands come up and brush through her hair. Her body stretches, sleek and smooth. She standing, coming closer. He retreats back to the bench by the wall, leaning back. She’s standing right in front of him now, looking up at the forbidden man, the darkness of the ship is pushing them closer. The redness from the lights on the dash casts a hazy beam over the helmet as she stares into it. Hes intimidating and silent, breathing ever so softly.
The seconds pass like years. Every moment between them has lead to this, the journey is nearly over and he can’t help but feel grateful she will soon be gone, out of his mind. The sick thoughts, the fantasy of it all. She’s beautiful in this light, it’s taking him back to the moment he first laid eyes on her. He’s never felt this kind of thing, a burning and intense attraction, fire and the need to take her. Burn out the flame. It’s all melting down to this moment as she’s before him, waiting, expecting this moment to change the course of each interaction between them.
It’s been so hard.
Watching her, feeling her presence. She takes up every ounce of his self control. Her voice, her body. Her touch as he helped her into the ship the first time. Her hand lingering on his, a soft brush of his shoulder. The details she takes in as she explores the ship, the weapons, the shadows of his home.
The Mandalorian knows this is wrong. She’s so close to him and it’s so wrong. She’s young and beautiful, a caged creature to admire. All to himself in this very moment.
“Figure what out?” She’s close. So close. “You think you know what I want?”
The Mandalorian looks down at his boots. His legs are parted a bit as he leans into the bench along the wall, arms behind him, holding him up. Holding him back. He’s slouched and desperate to make himself seem smaller, less enticing. She could fit so perfectly between his thighs if she wished. She could be right there, so close and all for him to take.
“I can’t tell you that,” he speaks through the mask. It’s heavy in his throat, the words, filled with hidden feelings. He’s hoping she doesn’t hear the desperate restraint in his voice.
The journey has been long. Too long. She too beautiful, too soft.
The flame between them was sparked the moment they looked at each other the first time. It’s a wildfire in this moment. Her body trembles thinking back on every moment since they met, this is the closest she’s been to the man and everything in the universe is telling her to be closer. She’s stuck on the idea that it’s not all in her head, that the energy between her and the soldier is real, inviting. It’s so wrong and she’s desperate to make him push her away, there’s only inches are between them. Her face is warm and her skin is prickled with nerves. He’s so close.
He feels her body heat, or is it his own? It’s pulsing and moving between them, dragging the pair closer. She lifts her hand, fingertips graze all the way up and hover over his chest. Shes got curiosity in her dark eyes, blown open and hungry with need. The heavy fabric of his shirt is soft under her fingertips. Time is frozen between them now.
“I think,” her voice is so soft. All she wants is him. The protector, the commanding man leading her through the galaxy to her final home. “You can figure out what I want.”
Fuck.
It’s rolling through him, that goddamn fire. His chest is tight. Her hand is on his chest, pressing close to his heart, her thumb slides under the open part in his shirt, skin to skin it nearly breaks him right there.
This is wrong. She’s just a girl, promised to someone else.
His bare hand suddenly grips hers and pushes it away. Her eyes flick downwards and there’s a tremor visible on his hands, and the spark dies, the fire subsides. Her heart skips a beat at his touch, she’s never felt this way with a man, a masked man with a voice such as his. An aura of power and strength. It’s everything she didn’t know she wanted.
The Mandalorian is snapped back into reality, her hand was off of him, there’s space between them again. They can’t have everything they want, even in secret, hidden behind the heavy metal walls of the ship. It’s against every code in his entire existence, in hers as well. What is he thinking, being so close to this girl? Letting her hands trace up his chest, feel his heartbeat, his longing? He’s a dead man if anything happens to this girl, a dead man with no bounty.
He says her name, not as gentle has he had hoped. He’s stern, controlled. “You don’t want this.”
She’s recoiling, stepping backwards ever so slowly, challenging him, coaxing him to follow and fuck he desperately wants to. Her confidence doesn’t falter, she knows what she felt. It’s there, clawing and screaming to be released.
A sigh. “Mando…”
Silence.
“Never mind. Goodnight,” she’s turning and moving towards the door, down to the bunks. The darkness seems to swallow her whole, and the air is hung tight over them. Tense and burning. The Mandalorian hesitates, pushing himself from the cold walls of the ship, following her for only a moment. Her steps fade, his falter. He’s frozen there.
She doesn’t turn to look back, and the regret seeps into his soul. Crushing him down to dust.
-
Three more nights of this. Sleeping ten feet away from this girl. He’s imagining how she looks right now, resting beneath soft covers, barely anything on. Bare beneath the stars. She probably looks so peaceful, so perfect. Untouched by the pain of the long days and treacherous nights.
Untouched. God he needs help.
The night is not even close to being over. There’s still hours to go, the moonlight is bright over the ship. And the wind whistles past, mocking him. He’s tossing the covers off, his rough hands brush over his face, through his hair. He’s uncomfortable with himself, the actions of earlier. Mando let it go too far this time. Has there ever been other times? She’s reached out to him, she’s moved herself to be closer to him, and her gaze lingers for a second too long, or is he noticing things differently? Reading too much into it. That has to be it. She’s a young girl, no knowledge of the world or of him before this journey. Nothing she does has meaning.
Is he reading too much into this? What does she possibly want with him?
“Fuck,” he sighs and he looks over to the wall. The time reads only past midnight, it’s been an hour since her departure to the bunks across the ship. He followed silently after he heard her door close, crept into his bed, still half clad in his armour. He can’t remove it, there’s a chance she’s coming back and there has to be something between them. Fuck.
His mind wanders to the thought of her again, her body, her sweet voice coaxing him in. Her form is so small compared to his, breakable, he’d shape her into something she’s not. A wrecked mess. The Mandalorian would break her. Ruin her.
God he wants to ruin her.
He mentally slaps himself out of the thought. No. This is wrong. She’s wrong for coming on to him in the way she has been. He is faithful, sworn to his code. He won’t break.
A light flicks on in the hallway.
He shifts in bed, startled. Sitting up the covers fall from his lap to the floor, and as he’s reaching to pull them back up a shadow crosses his half open doorway. It’s her.
“What are you doing?”
She jumps back at the harshness of his voice, realizing his voice is no longer obstructed. The mask is gone. Her back is facing him now, she’s turned away with a hand covering her mouth, smothering a small gasp. Her heart is racing a million beats per minute and there’s heavy, rustling movement behind her. Mando stands quickly from the bed and picks his helmet off the bedside table. With a hiss of air its back on, covering his face. He can breathe again.
Stalking through his bunk to the door, he looms behind her. She won’t face him. She can’t. Why did she come in here?
“I’m sorry.” She’s caught like a deer in headlights, head hung she’s scared to turn around. Her feet won’t move, he’s so close behind her she can feel every inch of his form towering over her. It’s heavy, his anger in the air. Is it anger? That voice was not what she was expecting, human, real and strong. “I can’t sleep, and I thought—”
“Thought what?”
Fuck, what was she thinking?
The fire in the air is ablaze again, curling up the walls with heavy waves of heat. Forcing them together. The Mandalorian can’t take it anymore and he’s reaching to grab her shoulder, forcing her around to look at him. He’s rougher than he meant to be, catching her stumbling, making her steady with two hands on either of her shoulders. With a slight shove to her shoulders she’s pressed back against the now fully open door. Is this what she wants? A step closer would bring them face to face, with her pretty eyes looking up at him. He closes the gap between them.
Her lips part and a small gasp rolls up through her chest.
“What are you doing,” her name rolls of the Mandalorian’s tongue like a pathetic prayer. Then he’s scolding her. “You can’t be in here.”
Putting her in her place.
She apologizes again. Pitiful and sweet, staring into his visor like her life depends on it, searching for a sign of what he could be feeling, thinking, anything. His body is surrounding her, covering her in warmth. The details of him stand out in the semi darkness. His dark clothing, the misplaced armour, the mask, the small slice of skin she can see where the collar of his shirt meets the edge of the helmet. His belt half undone. What was he doing? Half undressed in bed, waiting for her? She’s essentially naked before him, loose clothing slips around her body, barely clinging to her form. They’re opposites in this moment, steady and strong verses timid and weakened. She feels small right now.
“Quit apologizing. Explain.” His hands release her shoulders, sliding off the slender slopes, itching to touch her anywhere else. They drop to his sides.
She can’t possibly explain anything right now.
“You know, earlier…” she’s trailing off. Uncomfortable but comfortable with how close they are in this moment. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With this.”
What the fuck. Mando’s thinking and breaths in deeply. It crackles through the helmet and the very sound of it sends shivers down her spine. They’re so close she can almost feel it, his real and human voice, pushing into her. Dragging her down.
He’s let this go on for too long.
“I can’t be okay with this.” His voice is strained and his head tips back, as if he’s rolling his eyes dramatically at her, as if he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s exasperation, maybe desperation. His body language is giving off so many mixed signals she’s nearly going insane. He’s close enough that she could lean in and feel any part of him. “I’m not okay with this.”
“Why..” She’s asking and suddenly his hands move on their own accord, sliding up the front and top of her thighs, pulling, slowly dragging her clothes up with them. It’s so soft and delicate in his bare hands, her skin exposed in the soft lights it’s driving him crazy. God she’s got him in the worst possible position right now, or maybe she’s in a worse position — neither of them know. But it doesn’t feel wrong, her body under his hands. He doesn’t know what he’s doing touching her this way, convincing himself to stop he’s sliding one hand up the curve of her waist, touching beneath her breast. She’s letting him touch her, and the world is silent around them, waiting and watching. Both his hands meet at her jaw, gently cradling, tilting her head back a bit, forcing her to look up at him properly and it feels like every universe is collapsing around them. The Mandalorian is leaned into her, pressing close and she’s trying to remain calm.
“Why are you doing this to me,” he challenges her question. His thumb grazes over her bottom lip, tempted.
She’s stuck in his gentle grasp. Frozen in place, this is what should have happened hours ago when he first returned to the ship. Her hours and days of thinking of this very moment, it’s happening and it doesn’t feel real. But he’s real, the strong, untouchable soldier is inches away, touching her, questioning her. She forgets everything else except him in this moment, she’s too scared to speak, what if he stops?
“I want—”
“What?” Her name is uttered through the mask. And his hands push past her jaw, one lightly grips the side and back of her neck, tangled in her loose hair. She looks so perfect right now, caught with him, trapped in his hands.
The power he feels over her is wrecking him. It’s consuming him, his entire body is alight with hunger. She can’t want this, it’s wrong and can’t happen. It feels so good right now he can’t stop. The helmet leans down and her forhead is pressed to his, the Mandalorian feels her hands settle on his waist, above his pant line, inching towards his skin, craving something. Anything.
She’s shy and small now. No words escape her lips, only soft breaths and small gasps each time her hands explore further and further.
“You gonna show me what you want?” He presses her. The helmet is cold against her hot skin and she moves so he stands back, up straight again. It’s happening, he’s too far into this now. The code is forgotten, broken and lying on the floor. Shattered with every bit of his self control. Her voice is soft, her hands slide up and over his shoulders, pulling him in. They clasp behind his neck and his settle on her hips, connected. Please please, he’s silently begging her to do something, to be so bold as she was before so he’s not at fault for this entire mess he’s allowed them to get into. He needs her permission to break the rules, to allow him to break his code.
She’s quiet.
“Tell me what you want.” He’s gentle. “Please,”
“I want you, I just—” Her words are soft and needy, reminding him she’s just a lost girl trapped with him. Stuck in a forever loop, this moment will replay over and over until the world burns. The Mandalorian is impatient, the need to beg for her voice or actions or anything has vanished as she touches him on the side of his helmet. A touch, a whisper, a promise.
Permission.
Her heart stops when he pulls her closer and moves her to the side of the bed. He’s not waiting, her words have left her and she’s stunned into silence, a breathless and beautiful creature. Fuck she’s perfect, sliding onto the bed she’s all for him to take.
It doesn’t feel wrong anymore.
He’s above her on the bed, the pressure is building and he can’t believe she’s there with him, stealing every ounce of light in the room, it’s crushing down on them, forcing him closer. Teasing very small touches over her body, it’s torture for the both of them. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him, to stop, to continue. She’s right there open and waiting for him and there’s nothing stopping it. His mind races back to every thought of her, every touch, each word hinting at what could happen in the darkness of the ship. It’s lead them here and he doesn’t know how he’s managed to control himself this long.
“Mando,” she whispers, sliding her hands over him, pulling at the heavy armour. As her clothes ride up, every inch of her exposed body is heaven for him. “I haven’t ever—”
He stops.
Time halts in place. The world spins and comes to a stop.
Untouched.
Of course. He’s thinking and another wave of desperation pushes through him. Of course she’s never been with anyone, it explains her frustration, her lack of fear, her complete and utter desire. Her shyness. He’s sitting up and pulling her with him, looking directly into her soulful eyes. Her face is flushed, chest heaving. Shes breathtaking.
The Mandalorian utters her name, groaning with need. He’s even more tempted now, pulled in by the thought of being the first man to have her, to take her and show her how to feel so good.
“You’ve never?”
She stares into his soul. “Never.” The shyness creeps back in. “But I want this, I want you to tell me how to feel, please.” She feels pathetic and needy, begging the faceless man to show her what she’s missing. The years of waiting felt like a waste until she became trapped in this ship with him, the mysterious and terrifying, probably dangerous man. Her protector, her guide.
He doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know him. Strangers forced into this reality, together. Bound by unwavering need.
“I can show you what to feel,” his voice is caught in his throat. “You’re sure?” His eyes pierce into hers through the helmet, she can’t see it but she feels it.
She’s nodding again. Her body has never felt more alive.
“You’re just so—”
“So what?”
A hand slides over his helmet. He’s contemplating, running over the probabilities. How much trouble would this get them in. How much would she regret it? Would she regret it? She’s just —
“So young.” The Mandalorian is standing now. Away from the bed. “You don’t know what you want.”
Her face changes. “You told me you can’t tell me what I want.”
Fuck.
A scoff escapes the helmet. She’s right. Shes caught him and she knows it, sitting there in his bed, clothing pooled around her, inviting him in. He’s thinking over every way, any escape, an excuse. Something. Anything. His mind is drawn blank as she is peeling away her clothes, sliding the small straps down her shoulders, revealing herself to him. Each moment before this flashes though his racing mind, how she has coaxed him into this place with her, caught between desire and something else. Something wrong and unspoken of. The rules. The code. Her family, the life he is supposed to be escorting her safely to.
This is all so wrong.
—
The Mandalorian is gentle. Her body moves in tune with his touch, shivering and caving into him. Shes bare, blindfolded on the bed, the helmet laid discarded on the floor. Traditions forgotten and each second that passed brings them closer, his hands are rough and they slide up her legs, pulling them open. Her hands find his shoulders, run up to his head, searching for details of him. He’s slowly kissed each part of her, murmuring against her skin how perfect and beautiful she is. Their lips meet with a soft kiss, hidden in the dark and she moans ever so softly into him.
Exploring every inch of her body, getting used to the softness of her the Mandalorian is drunk on passion, every conscious and rational thought has left. He’s entrapped by her, the way she feels beneath him, touching him, begging for him to kiss her again because it just feels so good.
Desperately, he’s moving over her, placing kisses down her chest, his hands find her breasts, cupping and bringing his mouth down he slowly kisses and licks. She’s gasping, caught in the moment and god it feels so good. He’s warm and his mouth feels better on her breast than it did on her lips, she’s craving more. Anything he can give her.
“I’m going to do something and you’re going to tell me if it’s okay,” he’s pleading at this point, looking up at her between kisses on her nipple. His hands move to grope her breasts again and slide down her stomach, inching between her thighs. “Tell me it’s okay,”
“It’s okay,” she’s struggling to comprehend what he’s saying, her body is tense and she’s warm all over. Her stomach feels tight and there’s that burning hot coil winding up within her. “Keep going,”
The Mandalorian slides down, his hands pull a leg over his shoulder and he’s so so close to her centre he can smell her, sweet and inviting he can tell she’s slick with want. Her body is twitching and she’s unknowingly pulling him in closer with her leg. She’s needy and doesn’t even know what she wants. Something, anything. He’s slow with it, leaning in to softly kiss her, she’s shaking and her hands pull him in pushing him closer. He’s stopping himself from moaning at the taste of her, sliding his tongue up he’s teasing and slow, eating her as if it’s his last, cherished meal.
Fuck. He’s giving in and doesn’t slow down, his mouth on her cunt is pushing and pulling her to exactly where he wants her. Desperately close. He sucks gently, pushing her legs further open with his hand he brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks, then slowly slides them up and down her core. Warmth spreads through her entire body at the feeling, she’s lost and torn open, drunk on his touch. It’s overwhelming but she doesn’t want the feeling to end, there’s something missing and she doesn’t know what it is. The feeling is too good, she’s crying out his name, followed by soft moans and praise.
She’s so wet, Mando traces his fingers up and down once more before teasing entrance.
“Mando—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he’s back to licking and kissing her slowly, hands leaving her cunt. He’s above her now, one arm pressed beside her head, holding him above her. Blinded, she’s left in the dark with such a wretched feeling of emptiness without his mouth or fingers on her. His other hand traces around her centre, gathering every bit of warmth and wetness. “It’s okay, here—”
He’s kissing her deeply, slowly pressing two fingers deeper and deeper. Dragging her down into a warm pool, her body is shaking and she’s moaning into each kiss. It’s a small stretch and feels so good, breaking her open for him. God she’s tight around his fingers. He’s slow with it, gentle, sliding in and out, crooking his fingers ever so slightly.
“I got you, does this feel good?”
She’s gasping ever so softly. “Yes, Mando — oh my god.”
“Yeah right there huh,” he’s teasing and his words are calm, his deep voice is controlling every bit of her entire being. “Right there feels so good.”
Tell me it feels good. Please. He’s begging her internally, watching her every move, every shiver and sigh that leaves her body.
Her hands are on him, gripping his shirt. She’s kissing him back between his sinful words. “You feel so good, please,”
“I know,” he’s soothing her, pushing his fingers deeper. “I can feel it, how much you like this,” he’s calling her pretty names and sighing into each kiss, holding himself back.
Fuck.
“Just like that, tell me how it feels.” Keeping himself from tearing her apart, he’s whispering praise and instructions. He’s fucking her so slowly with his hand, gentle and loving in a way. As much as he wanted to ruin her before, thinking she was this wild thing to be tamed, to be taken as she so boldly came onto him, she knew was she wanted — now he wants to reassure every moment with her. The first time she’s been held and touched this way, it has to be perfect, the way she deserves. He’s proving to himself he can be gentle, he doesn’t just take what he wants. She’s is melting into his hands and it’s taking every single bit of whats left of his self control. The Mandalorian is sure this is a lot more than she imagined with him. Untouched, so innocent and perfect, not what he was expecting from her.
She’s struggling to find words. She needs more, his hand feels so good it’s killing her slowly. The burning hot feeling is fleeting, slowly burning out as his slows down, his fingers inside her, slowly pushing. More gentle than before. Fuck. Shes sliding her hand down to force him to continue when his fingers reach her clit, sliding in small circles she’s thrown back into burning hot desire. Her head is thrown back at the new feeling, thighs tighten around his hand. Shes gasping and moaning his name — pulling him closer.
“Mhmm, like that?” He questions, whispering her name into her ear, following with kisses down her neck. The blindfold tight around her eyes, she’s covered in darkness and all she feels is his hand and lips on her, the warmth of his breath as he tells her she’s doing so good for him.
“So good, you’re doing so good for me.” His body is solid over hers, covered with years of pain and suffering. The hard exterior is broken down with her, open and ready to be completely hers. Shes begging for more.
Please.
“Yeah, I got you,” he’s moving her up on the bed, repositioning himself before her. Her hands find his and bring them to her breasts, smoothing over her skin. He’s leaning down to kiss her once again, then pulls back and finally removes every part of his clothing. She hears the armour fall to the floor, the shirt lands beside her by the bed. His hands trail up her calves, parting her knees once again. “Come here, that’s it—”
She’s gasping when she feels him so close. She’s nervous immediately, that burning feeling is back. Hot and pooling inside her, begging for more. “Mando,”
“Shh,” his voice is soft, less gravelly as before. His chest rises and falls in tune with hers. “Stay still for me, tell me if you’re okay.”
She’s nodding beneath the blindfold, she feels his hand capture hers and lead it to his chest, he’s dragging it down with his over his abdomen and she’s feeling every inch of his skin, warm to the touch. His muscles contract under her touch, his hand over hers moves further down, grazing over his dick. The lightest of touches from her is sending him into a spiral, he’s never been this hard in his life. Watching her mouth open, a soft pant escaping her lips she’s craving more. Her hand moves with his over his cock, stroking lightly, teaching her how to touch, how to feel.
“My god…”
“You feel how bad I want you?” His voice is tight, strained under pressure. Her hand moves, turning to properly grasp him. Sliding up and down the way he showed her. God she’s already so good. “Fuck,” he’s over her now, hands on either side of her head, kissing her. Her hands move to cup his face, and he feels a tug in his chest, he needs her touch maybe more than she needs his. He says her name over and over again, the praise flowing from his mouth is sending shock waves through her body.
“I want you,” she’s breathing into his neck, her arms slide up and down his strong back.
She’s going to take it. He’s pushing himself up again and his hand goes to stroke his dick once more, the other pushing one of her legs up and onto his shoulder, stretching her open. Her body moves to be closer to his, her other thigh falling open towards the bed. The sight makes him groan, pressing a small kiss onto her calf muscle, he’s using his hand to guide and press his dick into her. Slowly, sliding up and down first. Fuck she’s still so wet, sick and coating the tip of his dick. She’s moaning, breathing heavy with each movement of his.
“Ready baby?” He’s calling her every pretty name he can think of in this moment, “baby, tell me you’re ready.”
She’s desperate, nodding, words can’t leave her mouth.
His hand leaves his dick and circles her clit again, slowly.
“Words, I need to hear them.”
“Yes,” she’s nearly crying at this point, pulling him in every way she can. “Please, Mando —”
With her permission he’s slowly sinking into her. The warmth washing over both of them, it’s intense and pulling them closer. He stutters for a moment, a small whimper leaving his lips. Gods she feels good. Perfectly taking his dick, she’s absolutely soaked, tight and he doesn’t want to pull out. His hand comes down to press onto her lower stomach. “Feel that baby?”
He’s slowly pulling out to slide back in, taking in every second of the feeling. Her warm cunt is taking every bit of him and it’s dragging him further and further away from every ounce of whatever religion or code he lives by. It’s ecstasy. The entire room is warm and nothing else matters but the two of them, the air is hot and heavy and their bodies are damp, pushing together and he’s telling her how good she feels as he fucks her. His hands pressing on her stomach softly she can feel him deep inside her, drawing out that heat, that want. The need she had felt the second she saw him. Her eyes are closed beneath the blindfold, screwed shut she’s gasping and moaning with each hit. Her body is tense and he’s telling her to relax, he’s got her, she’s so good for him, taking everything he has.
“Fuck,”
“Shh,” he’s cooing, his hand coming up to cover her mouth. He can’t listen to her cries anymore it’s too much, she’s bringing him closer and closer with each movement, he’s fucking her faster now, her bodies relaxed into him. Letting him take her. “Just like that, thats it, fuck baby.”
Her body is trembling and she’s overwhelmed. It feels good and slightly painful, the arousal is reaching a melting point. Boiling over and seeping into her bones, her nerves are on fire. Her chest is heaving, her hand on his covering her mouth she’s still breathing and pleading with each thrust. His hand slides to cup her jaw again, just as he did while avoiding the temptation from earlier. He’s looking at her, so perfect beneath him, taking it so well.
“Tell me you’re okay, please baby,”
She’s trembling. “You’re so good, so good,” he’s fucking her through her words, pushing her closer to the edge. He wants her to feel this, to understand how much he’s giving her. He needs her to break under him, submit to the feelings. He’s moving her legs and settling properly over her, face to face, kissing her, moving down to rest his head in the crook of her neck, he doesn’t stop, each trust feels better and better. His voice is contracted, caught between small moans of her name.
“You like that?” His words sink into her ears, warm breathingon her neck sends more heat though and inside her. “Fuck — like that? That feeling baby? I can feel how bad you needed this, tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she’s holding him close, letting him use her. “I feel—”
“What baby? You wanna feel good?”
God she doesn’t know how she could feel better. He’s moving again and shifting her, pulling out for a moment she’s groaning desperately, chasing that empty feeling without him inside her. The Mandalorian is craving her, every second he’s not fucking her is torture, he wants to make her beg, to plead for more. He wants to bring her so close to the edge she won’t even remember anything. He’s teaching her, showing her what real love and passion can be. She’s so close he can feel it even if she doesn’t know it yet. Her cunt is dripping, he’s feeling how wet and slick he’s making her with his words, it’s carnal and deep and bringing something out he didn’t know he had or needed.
“Come here,” he’s pulling her into a new position, turning her on her side. Sliding his hands up and down her body she’s so warm to the touch. “Come here let me make you feel good.”
She’s entrapped, drunk on whatever this drug is. It’s feeding into ever part of her body and soul, crashing around her. It’s hot and sending sparks through her body, his touch, his lips on hers, everything she’s wanted, he’s whispering in that deep voice right in her ear. She’s turning to face him, blind in the room. Feeling for him, finding his shoulder and tracing up his face.
The realization sinks in, the morals are gone, away in the night and forgotten. This is her own doing and she’s sure she’ll never feel this good again, his rough hands, exploring every inch of her, the way he feels filling her up, the cracks of his voice, so deep and filled with a yearning she thought she’d never experience. It’s sinful and sweet, he’s holding her so close and running his hands down her legs, pushing them open again.
His hands slide between her legs. He utters her name, soft, needy. “Please, let me finish.”
The Mandalorian is pulling her back down, riding the high of showing her just how good she deserves it. He’s craving her release, it’s so close he can tell. She’s so sensitive to the touch, her body is weakened, slack and allowing him to move her wherever he wants.
“Mando, I —”
He’s kissing her. Desperately and messy. “C’mon, let me show you how good this feels.” Kissing down her neck again, he’s going to show her just how beautiful she is. How good she can feel, he needs this. She hasn’t finished yet and his only goal is to prove he can show her he knows what she wants. The untouched, shy girl sitting in his captains chair only hours ago. She’s open and letting him run his hands between her legs, kissing her in all the right places, slowly pressing into her. God she’s so good.
“Please,”
“Let me give you want you want.”
--
Havent posted in years but randomly got the urge to write, watched an episode of the mandalorian and here we are, I did not proof read this nor do I think its good (lol) Anyways, hope you enjoyed
*slides into your inbox*
I MISS YOU!!!
*shakes you lovingly*
I hope all is going well for you! 💖
Stay safe~
☀️Laundry
I MISS U TOO !!! ❤️💕🥰
Life is kicking my butt right now but I’m hanging in there
Too Busy
Turtle doves!
I HATH WRITTEN! something other than academic work 😅 So, I thought I'd share it since the person I wrote it for has read it 💖
➡️ Aged-up, adult turts
TW: Fluff and a hot ass kiss.
Too Busy
Sitting on the couch in the lair, you were busy typing away on your laptop.
You'd been insanely busy with your work for the last couple of months and hadn't had the time or energy to do anything but.
Not even hang out with your bestie.
Now, you'd known each other for years. And had always had a crush on him.
As a matter of fact, he knew it. You came right out and asked him if he'd ever be interested in... you know... doing the dating thing.
He had immediately turned you down due to his terrible experiences with relationships. He wasn't about to ruin his friendship with you because he was a big anger machine and seeminly too much for anyone to handle in a long-term, intimate relationship.
It hurt for a while, but you moved on. You'd hoped that your heart would also move on, but no luck.
So, you loved him from afar. As his bff.
Raph hadn't been able to stop thinking about it either. The moment you'd walked into the lair with Casey, it was all over for him.
And, well, you know the story. Big, tough Raph didn't feel deserving.
But you managed to weasel your way into his world anyway. And now, you took up as much of his time as you did his heart.
Which, was pretty much all of it.
Unfortunately, you'd been nose to the grindstone with work out the ass for months. If you weren't working, you were sleeping.
He was understanding at first, but it slowly slipped into annoyance, then into frustration. Now he was straight up aggravated. He was just about ready to throw that stupid fucking laptop of yours in the toilet and give it a swirly.
Instead, he took a few breaths and went back to the weight room.
"Perhaps now is a good time to act, my son."
The sound of Splinter's unexpected appearance from behind Raph nearly had him jumping out of his shell.
"Geez, Dad. Give a guy a heart attack." He turned and kneeled in front of his father, so he wasn't looming. Raph had always found it incredibly disrespectful to look down on the wonderful man who raised him.
"And whatdaya mean?"
"My son, we all know your feelings for her. It's time she did, too. She needs a break."
"But her work-"
"She keeps herself busy for a reason, Raphael. She needs a distraction when... things become too overwhelming for her to handle."
"Things?"
"Her feelings for you."
"But she-"
"Raphael."
Raph looked down at the floor, knowing damn well that he was making up excuses.
"She is a wonderful addition to our family."
"How do ya know-"
"And if you do not tell her soon, I'm going to pair her with one of your other brothers..."
Raph gave his father a pointed look.
The old rat smirked as he turned to exit the weight room. "Leonardo would be quite-"
"A'ight! Fine!"
Splinter smiled to himself as he continued out of the room to head towards the kitchen. "You had better not wait too long, Raphael."
Once his father was out of earshot, he let out an exasperated sigh and dragged a single hand down his face before standing up again.
He paced back and forth for a few minutes, talking himself up, before nodding and heading to the living room, where you had taken up residence on the sofa.
Raph walked up behind the couch where you sat. "Hey," he started, only to get your index finger in response.
So, he waited. When ten minutes passed, he tried again. "Hey," he said, a bit softer this time as he placed his hands on the back of the couch, at either side of your shoulders.
"Wait," you told him, hyper-focused on your typing.
Another ten minutes went by, and he leaned down, hovering right above your head.
"Hey," his voice was just above a whisper. He was using that low register that you didn't just hear, but felt deeply. Deep enough to caress your soul.
"I just-"
"Stop an' lookit me."
You let out a huff, but tilted your head back so your face was completely facing the turtleman looming over you.
The turtleman, who leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
A small gasp left your lungs, and before you could sit up straight again, you felt his large hand smooth over the soft skin of your throat. A single digit held your chin up as he pressed kiss after kiss to your lips. His kisses lingered longer and longer until you moved your laptop blindly to the side and reached up to hold his face to yours.
Only then did his tongue lave the crease of your lips, gently caressing and asking for entry.
And who were you to deny him?
You parted your lips, and as you did, he rumbled, "I love you," into your mouth, his tongue following his words before you could respond.
He tasted you, over and over, upside down. And gods, did you taste like heaven. You moaned and whimpered into his mouth as he flicked and teased your tongue. A preview of promises for bed later.
When he finally pulled back, you were completely flushed and flustered.
Raph just stared down at you, waiting for coherence to make its way back to your brain.
When he saw you come back online, he smirked, that sexy quirk of his scarred upper lip sending a small thrill straight to your core.
"Think I can get some of your attention, too?" His voice was still low, but teasing.
"Only if you promise to kiss me like that again," you sassed him, raising a brow.
"Depends..." He taunted, a clear challenge in his voice.
"Depends on what?"
His smirk grew into a full predatory smile.
"Where ya gonna let me kiss ya... And put my tongue."
Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩
~Tags~
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*looking at myself in the mirror*
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
Okay, I will preface this with the GIGANTIC disclaimer that I promise I know how this looks, and I *swear* this is not personally motivated:
hey there's a thread from the owner of dreamwidth regarding some EXTREMELY alarming news re: the current state of livejournal that has not been announced in english - if you have any stake in any of the massive amount of fandom history currently existing over there, please give the thread a read and try and archive anything you have in whatever means you can
This is horrible news for TMNT fandom history.
I will be coordinating a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle FanFic Rescue Effort in 2026.
We need to save stories and communities not only on LiveJournal but also from other rickety websites before they disappear completely.
I need time, suggestions, feedback, and volunteers. I'm still very much in the planning stage.
If you would like to be a part of this, please comment so I can tag you as a plan takes shape.
If you have thoughts, suggestions, or questions-- please reblog and share them!
Please reblog and share this around so that folks know this is happening!! There's been no English language announcement from LiveJournal. Folks need to know so they can save their own stuff.
We're Getting Started... https://turtlerescue.neocities.org
Oops... you look again...
i miss u guys i’m sorry ive not been as active as i could be. love u all
Thresholds
Story Prompt: “Thresholds” [NSFW]
“Donatello x Fem!Reader x Leonardo” (Blurple x Fem!Reader)
(Cover Art by ThePinkPanther83)
🧺 Prompt: @thelaundrybitch's November's 2025 Monthly Prompt Challenge: Thresholds — That liminal space between friendship and something more. The quiet moments where everything could change with a single step forward… or back.
💌 Author’s Note: Written for @thelaundrybitch’s November TMNT Writing Challenge, “Thresholds”, my sixth month joining her amazing prompts. This month’s idea was created by @sophiacloud28, and it’s such a gorgeous, liminal concept that I couldn’t resist diving into a messy, soft Blurple dynamic. Thank you both for keeping this series going and inspiring so many of us to push our stories right up to the edge of something new. ~Pinkie 🍒
Masterlist
Find me on AO3.
Read this story on AO3.
💜🌀💙 Summary: Late-night lab sessions have become a quiet ritual, just you, Donatello, and Leonardo lingering in the soft glow of screens and half-finished projects. But when one of Donnie’s experiments briefly reveals a glimpse of a future none of you were prepared to see, the familiar dynamic shifts. Jokes land softer, touches linger longer, and suddenly every shared moment feels like standing on the edge of something deeper. Friendship has always been safe… but now the three of you are hovering in that fragile space where one small step could change everything.
Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘
"Thresholds"
You didn’t really mean to become a fixture in Donatello’s lab. It just… happened.
One late night turned into two. Two into a week. And somehow you ended up knowing exactly where he kept the spare microdrivers, which monitors flickered if you looked at them wrong, and how to time your coffee deliveries so he didn’t burn himself out.
Donnie didn’t question it, either.
He just started making space for you.
A clear stool would appear beside his chair.
A spare pair of safety goggles sat on the end of the workbench.
An open container of your favorite gummy worm snacks lingered where he could nudge it toward you without looking obvious.
Tonight, the lab is dim except for the glow of his screens and the steady pulse of some piece of tech humming under the table. You hand him a soldering iron without him even needing to ask, the motion so automatic it feels like you’ve always done this.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes glued to the circuit board like he’s trying to win a staring contest with it.
You sip your drink, leaning an elbow on the workbench. “You know, most people take breaks. Touch grass. Blink.”
“I blink plenty,” he says, absolutely not blinking.
You reach over and gently tap the corner of his glasses. “That’s not blinking, Donnie. That’s optical micro-recalibration-slash-hyperfocus trauma.”
He huffs a laugh, the soft, quiet kind that always sneaks out of him when he’s not fighting it. “Keep making up diagnoses, and I’m putting you on the payroll.”
“Oh? Love that for me,” you tease, nudging the snack container closer to him. “What’s the pay? Exposure? Free tech-induced radiation?”
“Mm. You’d be surprised how competitive my benefits package is.”
He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but you see the small smile at the edge of his mouth. You’ve gotten good at catching those.
Another tool passes from your hand to his. Another sip of coffee. Another shared moment tucked into the hum of the lab. And somewhere in between all those little exchanges, the air settles into something familiar… something comfortable.
Something that feels like a routine.
Like you’re meant to be here, in this dim little corner of his world, keeping him company long after everyone else has gone to bed.
And Donnie, he works just a little easier with you beside him.
It starts innocently enough, like everything else in this lab does. A door creaks open one night, and Leonardo pokes his head in, his blue mask catching the faint glow from the monitors. "Donnie, you still up? I was just... patrolling the perimeter. Thought I'd check in."
Donnie glances up, soldering iron pausing mid-air. "Yeah, just tweaking the comms array. You need something?"
Leo shakes his head, stepping inside with that effortless grace of his, katanas sheathed at his back. "Nah. Mind if I hang for a bit? It's quiet out there tonight."
You catch Donnie's quick look your way, a silent question in his eyes, but you just shrug and pop a gummy worm into your mouth. "Plenty of space," you say, gesturing to the stool on your other side.
Leo slides onto it, his shell brushing the edge of the workbench. The three of you settle into an easy rhythm, Donnie soldering, you handing tools, Leo offering the occasional comment on the tech or the day's patrol. It's not awkward, exactly. Just... new.
The next night, it happens again. Leo appears in the doorway, a faint smile under his mask. "Heard the music from down the hall. Figured I'd see what the fuss is about."
Donnie has some lo-fi playlist going now, soft beats and ambient synths weaving through the hum of the fans. The lights are dialed even lower, casting long shadows that make the lab feel cozier, more like a hideaway than a workspace. "Pull up a stool," Donnie says without missing a beat, and Leo does, his knee “accidentally” brushing yours as he settles in.
You pass around your favorite gummy worms this time, the bag crinkling softly in the quiet. Leo takes a handful, his fingers lingering when they touch yours. "These are addictive," he murmurs, popping one in his mouth, his gaze flicking between you and Donnie like he's reading some unspoken rule.
Donnie chuckles, eyes on his screen. "She brings them every time. Keeps me from keeling over on pure caffeine."
"Smart," Leo replies, his voice warm, steady. The chatter flows easily, Leo recounting a close call on the rooftops, you teasing Donnie about his latest invention mishap, Donnie firing back with a dry quip that has all three of you stifling laughs so as not to wake the others.
No one mentions how the air feels thicker now, charged with something unspoken. How Leo's presence doesn't disrupt the routine; it slots right in, like he's always been part of it. How your cheeks warm when his laugh rumbles low, or when Donnie's hand brushes your arm while reaching for a tool, his touch lingering just a fraction longer with Leo there to witness it.
By the third week, it's a pattern. Leo doesn't even knock anymore; he just slips in, nods hello, and claims his spot. The music plays softer, the lights dimmer, the gummy worms a shared ritual now, fingers dipping into the bag, accidental touches turning deliberate but deniable. You catch Leo watching between your face and Donnie's focused profile, the way his plastron rises with a quiet breath. Donnie steals glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, his purple mask hiding the flush creeping up his neck.
"You two are gonna make me install mood lighting next," Donnie says one evening, fiddling with a new gadget on the bench, a sleek device with swirling holographic displays, wires snaking from its base like veins.
Your standing by Donnie, when Leo leans in closer, his plastron nearly touching you. "What's that one do? Looks like it could predict the weather... or something more interesting."
Donnie's eyes light up, the hyperfocus shifting. "Future Probability Simulator. Experimental. It scans variables, current tech, behaviors, environmental factors, and spits out likely outcomes. Not like time travel, but... close enough for hypotheticals."
You tilt your head, intrigued, as Leo's hand reaches out and steadies the device with a gentle touch. "Like, what if we tried that new patrol route? Or..."
He trails off, and the lab goes quiet save for the music's gentle pulse. Donnie meets your eyes, then Leo's, the air humming with that subtle tension everyone's been dancing around. Your heart picks up, gummy worm halfway to your mouth forgotten.
"Or what?" you prompt, voice soft, the words hanging between you like an invitation.
Donnie swallows, his fingers twitching on the controls. "Or... if we should keep doing this. Nights like these. The three of us."
Leo's gaze flicks to you, a quiet intensity in his blue eyes, before locking onto Donnie's, unwavering. "And what does it say will happen?"
Donnie hesitates, his thumb hovering over the activation switch. The lab's low lights cast soft shadows across his purple mask, highlighting the faint flush creeping along his jaw. You can feel the weight of the moment, the way the air thickens, charged with all the unspoken glances and lingering touches from the past few weeks. Finally, he nods to himself and flips the switch.
The device whirs to life with a low hum, its holographic projector flickering into existence above the workbench. At first, the images are abstract, swirling probabilities manifesting as faint outlines of the lab, tools scattered, the three of you huddled close over shared snacks. Laughter echoes softly from the projection, distorted like a memory yet to form. Hands brush in the hologram, fingers intertwining briefly before pulling away, the figures leaning in during quiet conversations that stretch into the early hours.
But then the vision sharpens, the probabilities converging on a single, vivid future thread. The lab fades, replaced by a dimly lit bedroom, Donnie's quarters, with its organized chaos of tech blueprints pinned to the walls and a wide bed piled with soft blankets. The three of you are there, no longer in street clothes or masks, but relaxed, bare in ways that go beyond skin.
In the hologram, you're in the center, your body curled between them on the bed. Leo's strong arm drapes over your waist from behind, his plastron pressed warm against your back, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand rests possessively on your hip, fingers splaying wide, tracing lazy circles that make your holographic self arch slightly into him. Donnie faces you from the front, his longer limbs tangled with yours, one leg hooked over your thigh to pull you closer. His mouth finds the hollow of your throat, nipping gently before soothing with his tongue, while his hand cups your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.
The vision intensifies, your head tips back against Leo's shoulder as Donnie's fingers trail lower, slipping between your thighs to stroke your slick folds, parting them to tease your clit with precise, knowing pressure. Leo's free hand joins in, reaching around to grip your thigh and hold you open for Donnie, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs something low and encouraging. You gasp in the hologram, your body writhing between them, pussy clenching around Donnie's probing fingers as Leo's cock hardens against your ass, grinding slowly, promising more. Their touches overlap on you, Leo's hand guiding Donnie's deeper, both of them focused entirely on your pleasure, drawing out moans that fill the room. Sweat glistens on your skin in the projection's climax, your body shuddering as waves of release crash through you, their mouths and hands worshiping every inch.
The hologram holds on that intimate tangle for a breathless moment, bodies slick with sweat, entwined in shared ecstasy, no space for anything but the three of you connected through you, before it fades back to the lab's familiar glow.
Donnie's breath catches sharply, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he stares at the now-dark projector. The possible future hangs heavier now, raw and visualized, the music's soft rhythm underscoring the pounding of your pulse in your ears. Leo shifts slightly on his stool, his knee pressing firmer against yours, a subtle tension in his frame that mirrors Donnie's.
No one else moves right away, the vision's heat lingering like a promise in the low light. Your cheeks burn, a flush spreading down your neck, matching the warmth sparking in their gazes, both fixed on you, hungry and unspoken. For a moment, the gummy worms lie forgotten, the only sweetness paling against the vivid future etched in your minds.
The lab is dead silent except for the faint hum of the holographic projector cooling down. The three of you sit frozen in the dim light, the charged moment stretching taut between you like a wire about to snap.
Donnie is the first to move, his fingers twitching over the device before he flips the switch off with a decisive click. The air between you practically crackles. He adjusts his glasses, as a nervous habit, clears his throat, then adjusts them again when they slide right back down his snout. The purple mask does nothing to hide the way his cheeks flush darker, his usually smooth confidence thrown off by the raw intimacy of the simulation.
Leo, ever the fearless leader in more ways than one, shifts on his stool, his knee still pressed against yours, no longer pretending to be accidental anymore, you notice. His blue eyes are half-lidded, heated despite his composed posture, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the workbench. He exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly, before turning his head just enough to catch your gaze. His slightly nervous expression is somewhat knowing.
"So," he drawls, voice low enough to make your stomach flip, "that was... enlightening."
Donnie snorts, nervous, flustered, before clearing his throat again and straightening his glasses for the third time in thirty seconds. "Experimental results can be, uh… unpredictable." He's trying to sound professional, detached, but the way his fingers fidget with the wires of the abandoned gadget tells another story. His usual rapid-fire monologues have evaporated into short, breathless syllables.
You reach for the gummy worms, anything to ground yourself, but Leo’s hand intercepts yours, his fingers curling around your wrist with deliberate slowness. His grip isn’t tight, just firm enough to still your movement, his thumb brushing your pulse point in a silent question. "You’re awfully quiet," he murmurs. The heat of his plastron radiates against your side. "Thoughts?"
Your mouth goes dry.
Donnie shifts closer, his longer legs bumping against yours, his voice rough but hushed. "We could-" He stops, swallows, adjusts his goggles again. "-run the probability machine again. Just to be thorough."
The words hang in the air, a fragile bridge over the chasm the hologram just carved between you all. Leo clears his throat, the sound rough and deliberate, like he's forcing down a lump the size of the sun itself. His fingers tighten fractionally around your wrist before releasing, but the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin, a ghost of pressure that makes your pulse stutter.
Donnie doesn't wait for an answer. He leans over the device, his hands, usually so steady during late-night tinkering, tremble as he fiddles with a loose panel, pretending to troubleshoot some nonexistent glitch. Wires twist under his fingers, but he barely registers them, his focus fractured, eyes darting anywhere but directly at you or Leo. The flush on his face deepens, creeping down his neck, and he mutters something under his breath about calibration errors, the words tumbling out too fast, too disjointed.
You're too quiet, your body locked in place on the stool, every nerve ending hyper-aware of the space around you, the faint scent of circuit boards and Leo's clean, earthy musk mingling with Donnie's sharper, tech-tinged aroma. The soft music from the lab's speakers pulses on, a lazy heartbeat underscoring the silence that's heavier now than the explicit vision itself. It presses down, thick and expectant, wrapping around the three of you like an unspoken pact. Your mind replays the hologram in flashes, the press of their bodies against yours, the slide of fingers into wetness, the shared rhythm of breaths and moans. Heat pools low in your belly, unbidden, and you shift slightly, thighs pressing together against the ache.
Leo breaks the quiet first, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the workbench. "Thorough, huh?" He doesn't look at Donnie, his blue eyes fixed on you instead, searching, a subtle tilt to his head that invites you to speak, or not. His knee nudges yours again, this time with intent, the contact grounding and electric all at once. Donnie's hands pause on the device, his shoulders tensing, but he doesn't stop his feigned repairs, the shake in his fingers betraying how deeply the glimpse burrowed into him.
No one pushes further, the moment suspended, but the air thrums with it, the what ifs, the possibilities, the raw pull toward that future where boundaries blur just for you.
"We all saw the same simulation, Don. The probability didn’t exactly hint." Your fingers fidgetted. "We don’t need to run it again."
Donnie finally stops pretending to fix the machine, his hands freezing over the wires. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling faster than usual. He adjusts his glasses again, like a nervous tic, before clearing his throat. "So, uh. Hypothetically." His voice wavers slightly, but he forces himself to look at you, then at Leo. "If we were to... explore that particular outcome. Logistics-wise…"
Leo snorts, cutting him off. "Donnie, buddy, I love you, but if you start talking about logistics right now, I swear to god-"
Donnie huffs, flustered but amused. "I'm just saying! There are variables to consider! Emotional compatibility, physical boundaries, scheduling-"
You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Guys, I... I think I need to head out. It's getting late, and I've got that early shift tomorrow." It's a flimsy excuse, the kind that barely holds water under scrutiny, but you push up from the stool anyway, your heart hammering against your ribs. The gummy worms sit forgotten on the bench, the soft lab music fading into a distant hum as you grab your jacket from the hook by the door.
They both go still, the banter dying on their lips. Donnie's hands drop from the machine, his eyes flicking to you with a mix of concern and something sharper, unspoken. Leo's gaze follows, his posture shifting as if to stand, but he holds back, fingers curling into loose fists on his thighs. They don't press, don't ask why the sudden retreat, your flushed skin and averted eyes say enough. The simulation's echoes cling to the air, vivid and insistent, and you need the cool night streets to clear your head, to untangle the knot of want and what-ifs twisting inside you.
"Drive safe," Leo says finally, his voice steady but laced with that low warmth, his blue eyes holding yours. Donnie nods, murmuring a quick "Text when you get home," his usual tech-savvy efficiency undercut by the slight rasp in his tone.
You nod then slip out, the lair's heavy door clicking shut behind you, leaving the silence to settle over them like dust.
The days blur into nights after that, the routine pulling you back to the lab like gravity. Late sessions stretch on, the glow of screens and the scent of solder drawing you in, but everything feels... altered. The air hums with an undercurrent, a subtle shift that none of you acknowledge, yet it's there in every glance, every brush of contact.
One evening, you're perched on the familiar stool between them, a half-eaten bag of gummy worms within reach. Donnie's explaining some new upgrade to the security system, his voice animated as always, but when he reaches for a tool, his arm lingers against yours, the warmth of his scales seeping through your sleeve. It's not accidental, you catch the way his eyes dart to the point of contact, then away, before he continues like nothing happened.
Leo, who's supposed to be heading out for patrol with Raph, leans against the workbench instead, arms crossed over his plastron. "Make sure it's synced with the van's nav, Don. Last thing we need is getting lost mid-chase." His tone is casual, but he doesn't move to leave, his knee nudging yours under the bench, the pressure light yet deliberate. A joke slips from your lips about their overcomplicated tech, and it lands soft, met with chuckles that linger, eyes crinkling in shared amusement that's warmer, more intimate than before.
You notice it all, the way Donnie's fingers pause mid-gesture when you laugh, how Leo's gaze traces the curve of your shoulder when he thinks you're focused on the screen. When you shift to grab a worm, both of them angle toward you instinctively, their bodies forming a loose bracket around your space, protective and pulling. Donnie suggests one more test run on the code, his excuse to keep the lights on longer, and Leo chimes in with a question about patrol routes that conveniently loops you into the conversation.
Nobody brings up the projection, the holographic tangle of limbs and gasps locked away in the vault of unspoken things. But it simmers beneath the surface, coloring every touch that drags on too long, every quiet moment heavy with possibility. You catch yourself replaying it in stolen breaths, the memory of their hands on your skin bleeding into the present, and from the way their eyes meet yours, heated, and searching, you know they're thinking about it too.
The air is thick with unspoken tension, the hum of machinery and the soft glow of monitors casting long shadows across the workbench. Donnie’s fingers hover over the keyboard, his usual rapid typing slowed to a deliberate crawl, his attention divided between the screen and the way your thigh presses against his under the table. Your knee brushes his, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses for the hundredth time that night.
Leo, leaning against the bench, watches the two of you with a quiet intensity, his blue eyes darkening behind his mask. His fingers tap a slow rhythm against his plastron, the only outward sign of the restless energy coiled beneath his calm exterior. When you reach for another gummy worm, his voices stops you cold.
"Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "you’ve sorta been avoiding us lately."
The accusation hangs in the air, between the three of you, undeniable. You freeze, your pulse jumping, your gaze flicking between him and Donnie, who’s now staring at you with an unreadable expression. “What do you mean?”
Donnie swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he finally speaks. "We don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen." His voice is softer than usual, laced with something vulnerable, and raw. "The simulation. The... possibility."
Leo’s eyes rake over you absently, his look featherlight but searing. "We don’t have to act on it," he adds, though the way his eyes move over you suggests he’s already thought about it, a lot. "But we can’t keep dancing around it either."
The weight of their words presses down on you. The lab suddenly feels too small, too warm, the space between you three charged with something seemingly inevitable.
And then, in the silence, Donnie exhales shakily and reaches out, his fingers brushing your hand. "We want you," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Both of us."
Leo’s gaze burns into yours. "No more running."
The choice is yours. The moment stretches, suspended in the quiet hum of the lair, the future you glimpsed in that hologram now a very real possibility.
Leo's voice breaks the hush first, soft and measured, like he's testing fragile ground. He shifts closer, his presence a steady anchor on your left, the faint scent of clean metal and exertion clinging to him. "Did it scare you?" he asks quietly, his blue eyes searching yours without demand, just a raw edge of concern threading through his usual confidence. "What we saw... I mean, it hit me hard too."
You shake your head slightly, the warmth of his nearness seeping into your side, but before you can form words, Donnie leans in from your right. His fingers, still tingling from that brief touch on your hand, flex against the cool surface. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his snout, a habit that's more shield than necessity now, and his voice comes out in that precise, analytical tone he hides behind when emotions run high. "Do you... believe in unrealized variables?" The question hangs, nerd-coded and indirect, his amber eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that belies the clinical phrasing. "Like, probabilities that haven't converged yet, but they're there, waiting for the right conditions to actualize."
Neither of them presses for your desires outright, no blunt "What do you want?" slicing through the air. But it's etched in the way Leo's jaw tightens just a fraction, his gaze steady and unblinking, or how Donnie's breath catches, his usual rapid-fire thoughts stilled into this waiting silence. They're poised on either side of you, a living bracket of green-skinned strength and quiet vulnerability, the lab's low lights carving shadows that make the space feel even more intimate, like the world has narrowed to just this triangle of anticipation.
You're teetering on the brink of something vast, the simulation's echoes pulsing in your veins, the slide of scales against skin, the shared rhythm of breaths syncing into one. It doesn't frighten you, not truly; if anything, it pulls, a magnetic draw toward the uncharted. But the weight of it all, the shift it could carve into your lives, demands care.
"I'm not scared," you say finally, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. You meet their eyes in turn, Leo's first, then Donnie's, letting the assurance settle between you. "Really. It's just... big. Life-changing big. I need a few more days to think it through, you know? No rushing into this."
Relief flickers across Leo's face, softening the lines around his eyes as he nods, his hand lifting briefly as if to touch your arm before dropping back. "Take all the time you need," he murmurs, the leader in him yielding to patience, his tone warm with understanding. "We're not going anywhere."
Donnie exhales, a small, almost inaudible sound, and straightens a touch, though his gaze lingers, soft and hopeful. "Absolutely," he agrees, falling back into his rhythmic tapping on the keys, though it's more fidget than focus now. "No timelines, no pressure. Just... whenever you're ready to talk variables again."
The tension eases, not vanishing but transforming into something gentler, a shared breath held in promise.
The lab settles back into a comfortable quiet, the hum of machinery and the occasional clink of tools filling the space between you. Leo leans back slightly, giving you room, but he stays close, a silent reassurance. Donnie, ever the multitasker, pulls up a new project on his screen, though his fingers move slower than usual, his attention still mostly on you.
"Y'know," Leo says after a moment, his voice light but laced with something deeper, "if you ever wanna talk about it, like, hypothetically, we're pretty good listeners." He smiles, but there’s no teasing in it, just an open invitation.
Donnie snorts, adjusting his glasses. "Speak for yourself. I excel at listening." He pauses, then adds, softer, "And, uh... processing. If you ever need to... process."
The corner of your mouth twitches. They’re trying, awkwardly, sweetly, to give you space while still making it clear they’re here.
Leo nudges your knee, playful this time. "No rush, no pressure. Just... we’re in this together, okay?"
Donnie nods, his fingers finally stilling on the keyboard. "Whatever you decide."
The moment lingers, warm and unspoken, the future still unwritten, but no longer uncertain.
You linger a little longer in the lab, the easy rhythm of their voices pulling you in, but eventually, the weight of the night settles on your shoulders. With a soft goodnight and promises to text when you get home, you slip out, the lair's corridors echoing faintly behind you as you make your way home. The city air hits cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heated cocoon of the lab, but the warmth in your chest lingers, a quiet ember.
Sleep doesn't come easy that night. Your apartment feels too still, the sheets twisting around you as your mind refuses to quiet. When dreams finally claim you, they're vivid, unrelenting, echoes of the simulation bleeding into the dark, but sharper now, more insistent, as if the machine's probabilities have taken root in your subconscious.
In the haze of the first dream, you're back in Donnie’s bed from the projection, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. Leo's body presses against yours from behind, his thick cock sliding slow and deliberate between your thighs, teasing your slick folds without entering yet. His breath ghosts hot over your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other cups your breast, thumb rolling your nipple until it hardens into a peak. "That's it," he growls low, his voice vibrating through you, "feel how hard you make me."
Donnie kneels in front, his dark eyes locked on yours, hungry and unblinking as he leans down to drag his tongue along your inner thigh. His fingers part your pussy lips, exposing your clit to the cool air before he seals his mouth over it, sucking with precise, rhythmic pulls that send jolts straight through you. You arch into him, a moan spilling from your lips, and he hums against you, the vibration making your walls clench around nothing. Leo chuckles, nipping at your shoulder as he finally pushes his cock inside you, stretching your pussy wide with his girth, filling you inch by inch until you're gasping, pinned between their solid forms.
They move in sync, Leo thrusting deep and steady, his hips snapping against your ass with wet slaps, while Donnie's tongue flicks relentlessly over your clit, two fingers spreading you further so Leo could stroke that sensitive spot inside you. Pleasure builds like a storm, your body trembling as their hands roam, Leo's pinching your nipples, Donnie's gripping your thigh with one hand to hold you open, stroking himself with his other. "Cum for us," Donnie murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but commanding, and you shatter, your pussy pulsing around Leo's cock, waves of ecstasy crashing through you as they both groan, chasing their own release.
The dream shifts, fragments flashing like a montage of heat. Now Donnie's beneath you, his cock buried deep in your ass, the tight ring of muscle stretching around him as he guides your hips with firm hands on your waist. Leo kneels before you, feeding his throbbing length into your mouth, the salty taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks. They rock into you from both ends, Donnie's thrusts upward grinding against your walls while Leo fucks your throat with shallow pumps, his fingers tangling in your hair. Moans fill the room, yours muffled around Leo's shaft, theirs rough and needy, as sweat slicks your bodies, the slap of skin on scales echoing.
Another glimpse, You're on your knees between them, hands wrapped around their cocks, stroking in tandem as they watch you with hooded eyes. Leo's tip leaks steadily, and you lean to lick it clean, swirling your tongue before taking him deep for a blowjob that has him hissing. Donnie's turn next, his length thicker, veins pulsing under your grip as you pump him faster, your mouth switching to suck him while your hand works Leo. They cum almost together, hot spurts painting your tongue, your face, dripping down your chin as you swallow what you can, the taste of them mingling on your lips.
You wake in fits, sheets damp between your legs, your body aching with unspent need. The dreams replay in stolen moments throughout the night, flashes of their mouths on your breasts, fingers plunging into your pussy, cocks sliding against your skin, each one leaving you breathless, heart pounding. Desire coils tight in your belly, the brothers' touches from the simulation now branded into your senses, pulling you toward that probable future with an intensity that blurs the line between dream and reality.
By morning, the sun filters through your curtains, but the heat from the night clings, a promise of what might come if you step forward.
The pull is too strong to ignore. Before the city fully wakes, you're slipping back into the lair's hidden entrance, the early light casting long shadows in the tunnels. Your steps are quiet, deliberate, driven by the restless ache that chased you through the night. Donnie's lab door is ajar, the soft glow of monitors spilling out like an invitation.
He's there, hunched over a workbench, his bo staff propped nearby, a half-empty mug of coffee steaming beside him. The surprise flickers across his face when he looks up, eyes widening behind his glasses, lips parting slightly. "You're... early," he says, straightening with a mix of concern and quiet delight. He sets down the circuit board he's tinkering with, wiping his hands on a rag. "Everything okay? I wasn't expecting you until later."
You nod, stepping inside, the familiar hum of the lab wrapping around you like a comfort. "I couldn't sleep soundly. Had dreams... they kept showing me… things." Your voice is steady, but the admission hangs heavy. "I need to see the device again, Donnie. Not for the end result. Just... to understand the choices. The branches. What happens when the choice is made."
He searches your face, then nods slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that. The Future Probability Simulator, it can map decision trees, probabilities based on intent. I can calibrate it for clarity, no projections, just the forks." He moves to the console, fingers dancing over the keys with renewed focus, the earlier nervousness replaced by his natural curiosity.
Before he can initiate the sequence, the door creaks wider. Leo steps in, his blue mask slightly askew from what must have been a quick sprint to Donnie’s lab. As though he could sense you were there. Because of course he could, it's like he had a sixth sense for these moments. "Heard voices," he says, voice casual but eyes sharp, taking in the scene. "Couldn't resist checking in. What's going on?"
Donnie glances at him, then at you, a silent question passing between the brothers. You meet their gazes, the air thickening with anticipation. "We're running the sim again," Donnie explains, adjusting a dial. "Focusing on the choice points. You in, Leo?"
Leo crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, but there's no hesitation in his nod. "Wouldn't miss it. Whatever you're figuring out, we're doing it together."
Donnie hits the activation key, and the holographic projector hums to life. This time, it's not the vivid, flesh-and-blood illusion from before, no heated bodies or echoing moans. Instead, the display stabilizes into a stark, branching diagram, lines of light forking out like veins from a central node. Four outlines emerge, ethereal silhouettes against a neutral void, one for you, one for each brother and choice. No colors, no details, just forms poised at the start of paths that converge.
"See here," Donnie says, pointing to the first branch, his voice steady as he narrates. "Path one. Hesitation. You pull back, we respect it, time passes, connections deepen slowly through labs and patrols, but the intimacy stays tentative, touches lingering just short of crossing lines. It leads to the threshold, but it's fragile, flickering like a weak signal."
The hologram shifts, the outlines inching forward on separate trails, yours winding through shadowed labs and quiet talks, theirs parallel but apart, until they meet at a glowing archway. You stand in the center, the brothers on either side, hands outstretched to you, but not quite touching. The image wavers, unstable, edges blurring as if the probability could collapse.
"Path two. One steps forward alone," Donnie continues, his tone careful. "Say, I do… or Leo does. It pulls the dynamic into focus, but uneven. Jealousy creeps in, unspoken, and the third path diverges. Still reaches the threshold, but one outline hangs back, the convergence strained, lights dimming at the edges."
In the projection, one brother's form advances quicker, bridging to yours with a solid line, while the other trails, the meeting point at the archway tense, incomplete, one hand extended, the other withdrawn.
"Path three… We’re all in, and synchronized," Donnie finishes, his voice dropping lower. "No holding back. Intent aligns, trust, desire, all of it. The paths merge clean, strong."
The third branch shows it, your outline centered, the brothers' forms closing in from both sides, steps matched. They reach the threshold together, you between them, their silhouettes framing yours, hands connecting in a triad that locks the image solid, the archway blazing steady and bright. But a warning pulses in the display, Stabilization requires mutual advance. Divergence risks collapse.
"And path four," Donnie adds, his expression softening with a hint of reluctance, as if voicing it makes it real. "You choose to step away. We honor that, boundaries firm, no pressure. Friendships hold steady, late-night lab sessions turn back to pure collaboration, patrols to brotherly camaraderie with you as our trusted ally. Laughter echoes in the lair, support unwavering, but... the what-ifs linger like shadows. Glances that last a moment too long, silences heavy with unspoken yearnings. Leo and I carry it quietly, the pull toward what could have been, a bittersweet ache that never fully fades, even as life moves on."
The hologram illustrates it starkly, your outline turns from the archway, retreating down a solitary path that loops back toward familiar routines, labs filled with tools and chatter, training mats with shared exertion. The brothers' forms remain at the threshold, watching, their silhouettes still and yearning, hands half-raised in quiet acceptance. The convergence doesn't happen; instead, the lines diffuse into a gentle, enduring glow of friendship, but faint cracks of longing thread through it, unresolved echoes pulsing softly.
The hologram holds for a moment longer, the four paths overlaying like echoes, all funneling to that same pivotal point. Then it fades, leaving the lab in charged silence. Donnie leans back, exhaling. "It's not about endings. It's about the step. The choice to move together."
Leo pushes off the wall, his expression thoughtful, intense. "Makes sense. We've always been stronger as a unit. No one's left behind." His eyes find yours, steady and inviting. "What do you think?"
The projector light filters stronger now, but the real warmth builds from within the room, the decision point no longer abstract, it's right here, waiting.
The silence stretches, thick with anticipation, the hum of the machines the only sound in the lab. Your pulse thrums in your ears as the weight of the holographic paths settles over you. The choice is clear now, hesitate, and the connection flickers; step forward, and the convergence burns bright; step back, and the connection fades.
Leo’s gaze never wavers from yours, his blue eyes dark with something unspoken, something hungry. He shifts slightly, his fingers flexing at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach for you. "Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough, "you don’t have to decide anything yet. But I think we all know what we want."
Donnie exhales softly beside you, his fingers twitching toward the keyboard before he stills them, his amber eyes flicking between you and Leo. "The probabilities don’t lie," he adds, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than usual. "The strongest path is the one where we... move together."
The air between you crackles with tension, the heat from last night’s dreams still simmering under your skin. You swallow hard, your body aching with the memory of their touches, their voices in the dark, the way they filled you in the simulation. The choice isn’t just logical, it’s visceral, a pull deep in your soul that refuses to be ignored.
You take a slow breath, then meet their eyes, one after the other. "I don’t want to hesitate," you admit, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounds. "And I don’t want to wonder what if."
Leo’s lips part, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. Donnie straightens, his glasses sliding down his snout slightly as he stares at you, his expression shifting from nerves to something feral.
Then, in one fluid motion, Leo closes the distance between you, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your jaw. "Good," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Because neither do we."
Donnie doesn’t hesitate either. His hand finds your hip, his grip firm as he pulls you against him, his breath hot against your ear. "No more simulations," he murmurs, his voice thick with want. "Let’s make it real."
The lab dissolves around you, the world narrowing to just you between the two men you’ve been falling hard for.
Your gaze lifts first to Leo, his blue eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His plastron rises and falls with quick breaths, the muscles in his neck taut, waiting. Then you turn your head slightly, catching Donnie's amber stare over your shoulder, his lenses fogged just a touch from the heat building in the room, his lips parted as if he's forgotten how to speak.
The expression on your face must say it all, raw need, certainty, the end of doubt. It draws them in like gravity, both brothers leaning closer, slow, deliberate movements laced with hope and a flicker of terror at how fragile this moment feels. Leo's hand still cups your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, while Donnie's fingers dig into your hip, anchoring you between their solid forms.
“I want this,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can second-guess them. “I want you both. No more waiting, no more what-ifs. Just us.”
Leo's response is immediate, a low rumbling churr vibrating from his chest as he surges forward. His mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that feels like fire and claim, lips firm, tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours, tasting of salt and unspoken promises. He devours you, one hand sliding to the small of your back to pull you flush against him, his plastron pressing into your chest as his free arm wraps around your waist.
Donnie presses in from behind, his body a warm wall at your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. His hands roam up your sides, caressing the curve of your ribs through your shirt, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You arch into the touch, a soft moan escaping into Leo's mouth, and he takes that as encouragement. Donnie's fingers hook the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward slowly, tentatively at first, testing, giving you every chance to stop him. But you don't. You lift your arms instead, letting him peel the fabric away, cool lab air kissing your skin as he exposes you in just your bra, the lace clinging to your curves.
The sight, and feel, of you bare from the waist up snaps something in them. Leo’s eyes rake over your chest, darkening as he takes in the swell of your breasts straining against the thin material. “Damn, you're beautiful,” he mutters, voice low, before dipping his head to nip at your collarbone, his teeth grazing, making you moan.
Donnie's hands don't stop. One slides around to cup your breast through the bra, his palm kneading the soft flesh, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens into a peak. His other hand dips lower, fingers splaying over your stomach, tracing the waistband of your pants. He mouths at the nape of your neck, tongue flicking out to taste your skin, a quiet groan rumbling against you as he grinds his hips forward, his growing erection pressing insistently against your ass through his pants.
You’re caught in the storm of them, Leo's mouth trailing fire down your throat to the edge of your bra, his hands shoving your pants down your thighs with urgent tugs. He kneels as he works them off, nuzzling the newly bared skin of your hips, his breath teasing the damp spot already forming on your panties. Donnie follows suit, unhooking your bra with a deft flick and letting it fall away, his mouth replacing his hand, lips closing around one nipple, sucking hard while his tongue lashes the sensitive bud.
The dual assault has you trembling, hands fisting in Leo's mask tails to steady yourself as waves of heat pulse through you. “Yes,” you breathe, hips bucking instinctively toward Leo's face. He doesn't make you wait, fingers hooking your panties aside, his large tongue delving straight into your folds, lapping at your clit with firm, deliberate strokes. Donnie switches to your other breast, teeth grazing the nipple as his hand slips between your legs from behind, two fingers circling your entrance before pushing in deep, curling to hit that spot that makes your knees buckle.
Leo stands abruptly, shedding his clothes and gear with efficient pulls, his thick cock springing free, hard and leaking at the tip. He lifts you effortlessly, Donnie helping to guide you, and they maneuver you onto the workbench, tools scattering with a clatter neither of them notices. Leo slots between your thighs, rubbing his length along your slick pussy, coating himself in your arousal. “Tell me again you want this,” he demands, voice strained, eyes boring into yours.
“I do,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Fuck me, Leo. Please.”
He thrusts in with one smooth drive, filling you completely, your walls clenching around his girth as he sets a rhythm, deep, pounding strokes that have the bench creaking. Donnie positions himself at your side, cock in hand, stroking himself as he watches, then leans in to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans.
But he doesn't stay sidelined long. As Leo's pace quickens, hips snapping against yours, Donnie moves behind you, lifting your hips slightly to angle you better. His fingers join where Leo's cock stretches you, rubbing your clit in tight circles that push you toward the edge. “Cum for him,” Donnie urges, voice husky. “Let us hear you.”
The pressure builds unbearably, your body coiling tight until it snaps, orgasm crashing over you in shuddering waves, pussy spasming around Leo's length. He follows with a guttural groan, burying himself deep as he cums, hot spurts flooding you. Donnie's right there, pulling you off the bench and into his arms, turning you to face him. He enters you swiftly, still slick with Leo's release, fucking you against the wall with urgent, erratic thrusts, his genius mind lost to pure animal instinct.
Leo presses in from the side, hand between your bodies to pinch and roll your clit as Donnie had done before, mouth on your neck as Donnie drives you to another peak. You cry out, nails digging into Donnie's shoulders, and he spills inside you with a choked moan, the three of you tangled in a sweaty, breathless heap.
The aftermath is a haze of sweat and labored breaths, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. As the aftershocks fade, they hold you close, Donnie's forehead against yours, Leo's arm caressing your waist. No words needed; the paths have converged, real and unbreakable. Leo shifts first, he lifts his head from where it rested near yours, his blue eyes heavy-lidded but bright with something deeper than lust. His thumb traces your lower lip, catching a stray bead of sweat, his voice rough but tender.
"Damn," he exhales, a slow smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "That was... definitely better than a simulation."
Donnie snorts against your shoulder, still pressed flush against you, his plastron warm against your body. "Understatement of the century," he murmurs, voice muffled but amused. His fingers lazily trace circles on your sides, possessive but soft.
Leo’s smile widens, shifting into something smug. "And to think, you almost nerded us out of this with your probability charts."
Donnie stiffens, then leans around you to shoot his brother a glare. "Excuse me, you're welcome for the scientifically proven confirmation that this was the optimal path." His retort seems annoyed, but there’s really no bite to it, not when his hand splays over your hip, grounding himself.
Leo rolls his eyes, but the playful glint doesn’t fade. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, we skip the graphs and just go for it."
You feel Donnie’s indignant huff against your skin, but before he can argue further, Leo leans in, sealing his mouth over yours in a slow, claiming kiss, one that leaves your toes curling all over again. When he pulls back, his smile is downright dangerous.
"...Speaking of next time."
Donnie’s groan is half-exasperated, half-aroused. "Ugh. Leo, really?"
But neither of them moves to pull away.
You stand there sandwiched between them, the cool metal of the lab wall at your back and the workbench scattered nearby, remnants of tools forgotten in the chaos. Your body hums with lingering pleasure, muscles lax and skin flushed. Leo's kiss lingers on your lips, a promise of more, while Donnie's touch on your hips turns soothing, his thumb stroking lazy patterns over your bare skin.
A soft laugh bubbles up from your chest, breaking the charged quiet. "You two are too much," you murmur, voice husky from cries and moans. Your hand reaches up to cup Leo's face, then twists back to tangle in Donnie's bandana tails. "But... I wouldn't have it any other way."
Leo's grin flashes, all sharp edges and warmth. He nuzzles your jaw, lips brushing your earlobe. "Good, because we're just getting started." His hand slides down your thigh, squeezing the muscle there, a gentle reminder of how he'd gripped you earlier, pounding into you with a relentless drive.
Donnie lifts his head, glasses askew, his amber eyes soft behind the lenses. He adjusts them with one hand, the other never leaving your body. "We clinically confirmed this path's viability. Now we... explore it." His tone dips into that familiar mix of intellect and heat, and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothes the spot.
The banter fades as exhaustion creeps in, but so does a deeper contentment. Donnie eases you down to a bed he keeps on hand for naps between projects. He’s careful, protective, spreading a nearby lab coat as an makeshift blanket. Leo joins, pulling you into his lap while Donnie stretches out beside you, one arm draped over your waist to settle by his brother's hand across your stomach. Their fingers tapped each others briefly, a silent acknowledgment of shared ground, before they settled.
You nestle closer, head on Leo's plastron, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beneath the shell. The lab's hum returns, a backdrop to your slowing breaths, the Future Probability Simulator flickering off in the corner with a satisfied sigh.
"No regrets?" Leo asks quietly after a while, his voice vibrating against your cheek.
You shake your head, tilting up to kiss his snout. "None. This feels right. We feel right."
Leo chuckles low, his breath warm on your neck. "The simulation was spot on. But reality? Way better." He shifts, his cock, still half-hard from the intensity, brushing your thigh, but he doesn't push. Instead, he just holds you tighter.
You've crossed the threshold, the paths merging into one solid line forward. No more flickering uncertainties, just the three of you, bound by choice and desire.
As sleep tugs at the edges, Donnie's hand resumes its circles on your skin, Leo's lips murmur goodnight against your hair. Later brings patrols, inventions, the chaos of their world, but right now, and all the nights to come, you're in this together. The door to more adventures, more touches, more everything, stands wide open.
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Masterlist
OMG i feel so bad
theres this very sweet anon who has been asking me questions and I haven’t had time to answer them fully
anon if you see this - Thank you for sending me the asks !! I’ll do my best to answer them soon 🥹
Fanfic on Tumblr in 2025
No fandom would be complete without its fanfic. We can’t not mention it—not least because of the sheer volume of it on Tumblr: You created over 1 million posts tagged #fanfic, which garnered over 40 million notes.
So, here’s to the fic writers who sustain us all through the lulls between seasons and in the aftermath of the big movie moments. And a special shout-out to those fic writers so committed, that they’re writing their OTP or rarepair long—sometimes for decades—after their show has been canceled. We…won’t be sharing any of that here, but we see you, and your vast numbers certainly became incredibly apparent when we got engaged to Ao3. We love your commitment to your craft <3
How was your 2025 on Tumblr? What were your fandom highlights? Add your voice to Year in Review by using #tumblr 2025.
Love language
Adam Frankenstein x fem reader
Adam’s love language is physical touch and after trust is built, he’s eager to explore intimacy.
CW: Established relationship, making out, fingering. I also try really hard to keep him in character but also honoring that he is a man, you know? He wants love and connection but I also want to keep it realistic from the pain he’s gone through. (I understand that he’s a giant but he’s ALSO my precious baby and I will fight for his honor)
Adam adores physical touch. He always touching you in some way, your hands latched together, he loved it when you held his arm while you took walks. He often wraps his arms around your torso in a hug, your head resting against him as he savors your warmth. Adam also couldn’t sleep without touching you but don’t mistake it for inherit submission. Once he grows comfortable with you, losing the shyness and the worry that he isn’t acceptable to you, he doesn’t cower.
He looks down at you with yearning. Adam traces your features with his fingers, tilting his head as he feels your lips. You hadn’t crossed intimacy yet but he was very passionate. He loved kissing and he met your mouth. Adam cupped your waist and continued with deep kisses. He was so big that he had to be mindful of not crushing you with his weight.
You moaned when he brushed his tongue against yours and Adam recently understood this was a good sound. He pulled away only to pepper kisses down your neck and glanced up at you.
“May I touch you, feel you from…inside?” Adam had also been reading scenes from books that depicted sex. He learned so much about mankind and reproduction. But the connection was something that had to come naturally and grow with trust.
You smiled, a warmth in your chest that he felt safe enough to explore this. “Yes, Adam. You can touch me however you want.”
He cleared his throat and looked down, his broad shoulders covered by a comfortable sleep tunic.
“Tell me what pleases you, angel. I want to learn all about your body…” Adam had a way with words and you sighed as he pulled back the blankets. You weren’t the most experienced but you separated your thighs and Adam took the initiative to take off your panties.
He went to immediately touch you but you gently touched his chest. “Before you use your hands, kiss me more, kiss all over me and it’ll make it feel really good,” You whispered and Adam kissed you again with ignited fervor.
He sucked your lower lip, you cupped the back of his head and you lightly tugged through his dark hair. He groaned and panted against your mouth. Dragging his tongue along the crevice of your cleavage, you pulled down your collar and let him explore your breasts.
“You are so beautiful, as if you were made from God for me.” He breathed above your nipple before sucking it. You cling to him;
“You can use your fingers now, please touch me,” You pleaded and he was happy to oblige. Adam’s thick digits felt through your wetness and sought out your center. “Right there; not too hard-just like that,” You guided him and Adam was a great student.
He looked at you with hazy eyes and pressed the heel of his palm against your clit. Then sank two fingers inside you, knuckle deep and you whimpered. “Yes, just like-yes, good, good boy,” You managed and Adam met your mouth again. He was a bit too gentle so you moved your hips against his hand. It was more of a mesh of lips but Adam was hungry for you and his enthusiasm brought you over the edge. You cried out and curled inward but he moved to keep looking at your face. He kept moving his fingers and cum coated them. He was drawing every single moment out and you had to tap his back.
“You did really good, Adam, thank-“ He kissed you again and removed his hand from your pussy. He brought the fingers to his mouth and licked off the remains with a hum.
“May I taste this from the source?” Oh, this was the beginning of a good, long night.
Frankenstein 2025, dir. Guillermo del Toro
“Jacob is a really well-proportioned man, so it was ideal and I could see that in his frame but he also had an almost panther-like grace in his body and his movements. I think he was born to do this.” — Mike Hill, Creature design (Frankenstein: The Anatomy Lesson)
happy thanksgiving everyone !!!
dispelling these sketches from my system like im exorcising a demon
GO MY TURTLES
I made the colored version… I’m still studying Leo for now. Sorry for the quality, when i’m finished I will put the better one.
I will make an entire page just with Leo. Who am I gonna do after him? Ralph? Donnie? Or Mikey?
