Misty

Hi I’m Misty, 29~ She/Her~ Roleplayer(literate anime/Tmnt

[lgb-without-t-deactivated202509]

[tim-ee-sis]

For anyone who doesn't know, this is from the Indy Drag Theatre where I live and these queens are SUPER talented. All of the shows are hilarious drag versions of popular movies/shows during which the audience is encouraged to interact like a drag show.

If you ever get the chance, come see a show! And obviously invite me to go with you since I live here!

[chloesimaginationthings]

Happy birthday five nights at Freddy’s in FNAF

[wierdstrangee]

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku Headcannons

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, possessive behaviour, stalking, unhealthy attachment, manipulation, psychological horror, torture, emotional dependency, implied isolation, canon-typical violence, blood, protective obsession, slow-burn obsession

Wordcount: 2,1k

No one would ever expect the Flame Hashira to become a yandere.

Kyojuro Rengoku is the embodiment of warmth. He is honorable, compassionate, selfless and fiercely devoted to protecting innocent lives. Even among the Hashira, he stands out as someone who greets everyone with the same bright smile and booming laughter.

He is simply too kind, right?

That kindness becomes the perfect disguise.

After all, who would ever suspect Kyojuro Rengoku of harboring something so deeply unhealthy? Surely there couldn’t be anything sinister hidden behind that genuine smile or those encouraging words.

That is also exactly why no one notices.

Kyojuro does not become obsessed overnight. His feelings are not born from lust or selfishness. They grow slowly, almost naturally, until one day he can no longer separate affection from devotion.

Perhaps you’re a close friend of Tanjiro’s. Maybe you’re the Tsuguko of another Hashira. Maybe you’re a Kakushi who quietly tends to wounded swordsmen after missions.

Your rank means very little to him.

What matters is simply you. Something about you quietly catches his attention.

You never flinch when he speaks with his usual booming enthusiasm.

You laugh at his excitement instead of finding it exhausting or overwhelming.

You don’t stare at him because of his reputation as a Hashira. Instead, you simply treat him like another person.

It is… refreshing.

He begins looking forward to your conversations. It’s the light of his day!

But soon enough, you begin noticing something strange. You seem to encounter the Flame Hashira almost everywhere.

At the training grounds.

Walking through the Headquarters.

On the paths between estates.

During meal hours.

Even after returning from exhausting missions.

Every time. It’s starting to become unusual.

“Young Y/N! What a wonderful surprise!”

His smile is as bright as ever. His voice carries across the courtyard with impossible ease.

“How are your injuries? Have you been eating enough? Proper meals are essential your strength!”

It feels like a coincidence, the first few times.

Then the coincidences become impossible to ignore.

Somehow he always seems to know exactly where you are. You assume it’s luck, it isn’t.

Kyojuro starts adjusting his own schedule around yours. If he learns you’ll be training in the eastern fields, he trains there too.

If your missions usually end around sunset he somehow finishes his own patrol nearby.

If you’re recovering in the Butterfly Estate after a battle. He just so happens to be visiting Shinobu at the same time.

He never lies, that wouldn’t be very noble of him. He simply arranges events until they naturally place him beside you.

“I see you’re training diligently! Excellent!”

His golden eyes shine with genuine pride and admiration.

“Iguro certainly expects much from you, but I can already see remarkable improvement!”

They sound like innocent compliments, encouraging words from a respected Hashira.

You don’t realize those observations come from countless hours of quietly watching you train from a distance.

He memorises the flowing movements of your breathing style.

The specific way your fingers hold onto the hilt of your sword.

The small improvements in your footing.

Fire begins with a single spark, left alone it spreads like wildfire.

Kyojuro’s admiration slowly transforms into something much more dangerous.

He starts believing your safety has become his responsibility. After all you’re precious to him!

Not because anyone asked him to but because he convinces himself no one else can protect you as well as he can.

Whenever you’re sent on a difficult mission, he feels incredibly restless, the worst outcomes appearing in his mind.

He finds himself asking where you’ve been assigned.

Who you’re partnered up with and how long you’ll be gone.

He tells himself it’s simple concern.

That’s all. It has to be.

Unfortunately concern slowly becomes anxiety. Anxiety becomes vigilance and vigilance becomes obsession.

Kyojuro understands that these thoughts are improper. He recognizes they are unbecoming of a Hashira.

He even attempts to suppress them.

He meditates.

He throws himself into training. To stop those inappropriate thoughts.

Yet no matter how fiercely he swings his blade, every thought returns to you.

He begins measuring the people around you.

The Kakushi who speaks with you for a little too long. The young slayer who always volunteers to accompany your missions.

The other Hashira who praises your progress. It should be just him praising you..

None of them have bad intentions. Kyojuro is aware of that which somehow frustrates him even more. Because he cannot justify the unease settling in his chest.

He would never harm another member of the Corps. Such an act would betray everything he stands for.

Instead, he simply makes his presence impossible for others to ignore.

One encouraging smile.

One firm handshake that’s a bit too firm.

A conversation held with unwavering confidence.

Few people willingly compete for someone’s attention when the Flame Hashira is standing beside them. Most quietly step away on their own.

Kyojuro thanks them politely. They never realize they were actually being warned.

To everyone else, he remains exactly as he always has been.

Incredibly noble, courageous and dependable. The traits of an ideal Hashira

Only you might begin noticing the smaller changes. How he somehow remembers every tiny detail you’ve ever shared.

Your favorite meals, which hand you favor while holding chopsticks.

The old scar hidden beneath your sleeve.

Your favourite things to do.

He never forgets, ever. He wouldn’t make a good husband if he can’t remember everything about his lover!

Then comes the day a demon leaves you bleeding.

Luckily, your wounds aren’t fatal. You’ll probably recover within a few weeks.

But that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that something vile laid its hands upon you.

Something dared to spill your blood.

Kyojuro kneels beside you as crimson stains your uniform. His warm hands remain steady as he carefully lifts you into his arms, holding you as though you might shatter if he loosens his grip for even a moment.

His iconic smile never falters.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

His voice is just as warm as ever, but his eyes… don’t match it.

He slowly turns toward the demon.

The warmth in his eyes disappears.

There is no rage.

No shouting.

No dramatic outburst.

Only something far worse, stillness.

Absolute, suffocating stillness.

The brilliant fire in his eyes dims, not extinguished but buried under something heavy and wrong. Something that makes the demon instinctively step back before it even understands why.

The demon doesn’t face the passionate Flame Hashira admired throughout the Corps.

It faces a man who has already decided that nothing in this world will ever be allowed to touch you again.

Not even by accident.

Not even in passing.

Every swing of his Nichirin Blade becomes terrifyingly precise.

Every movement is efficient.

Deliberate.

Like he is erasing a mistake from existence itself.

The demon’s screams echo through the forest, but they begin to feel distant, unimportant like background noise in something far more personal.

It tries to run.

It tries to beg.

It tries to bargain but Kyojuro does not respond.

Not once.

Because there is nothing to discuss.

Every escape route is sealed before it is even considered. Every attack is intercepted before it is completed. Every sound it makes is cut shorter and shorter until even its voice feels like it is being erased.

And when it finally understands it cannot escape.

It understands something worse. It was never meant to escape.

The battle ends only when Kyojuro decides there is nothing left worth acknowledging.

The demon does not simply die. It is reduced to ash so thoroughly that even its presence feels like it is being denied.

Only then does he sheath his sword like sealing something away.

When Kyojuro returns to you, the darkness disappears as though it had never existed.

His familiar, harmless smile slips effortlessly back into place.

As though nothing happened.

As though he hadn’t just rewritten the meaning of mercy.

He gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face before carefully lifting you into his arms once more.

“We’re going to the Butterfly Estate.”

“I’ll make sure you receive treatment immediately!”

His tone leaves no room for discussion.

Not because he is commanding but because the world no longer has the authority to disagree with him.

The journey is almost unnaturally quiet.

He speaks to you the entire way, even if you’ve already lost consciousness.

“You’ll be alright.”

“I won’t allow anything else.”

“Just stay with me. We’re almost there.”

The moment he arrives at the Butterfly Estate, the Kakushi rush toward him.

“They’ve lost too much blood-”

But Kyojuro’s gaze flicks to them and they stop speaking.

Not out of fear. Out of instinct.

Like something in them understands that interrupting him would be a mistake they would not get a second chance to regret.

Despite the urgency in his words, his expression never changes.

He doesn’t leave your side until Shinobu herself confirms your injuries are not fatal.

Even then, he does not move.

He does not relax.

He simply watches.

Hours pass. Night gives way to dawn.

The chair beside your bed never once becomes empty.

Every time a nurse enters your room, Kyojuro looks up immediately.

Not with impatience. With attention.

With a silent possession.

“How are they?”

“Do they need anything?”

The questions never stop and neither does the way his gaze lingers on you afterward, as if checking that you are still exactly where you are supposed to be.

When the room finally falls silent once more, he gently adjusts your blanket before brushing another loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His smile is warm again. It is comforting and safe but it does not reach his eyes.

“I shall remain here until you awaken.”

He means every word.

If it takes one night… He’ll wait.

If it takes several days… He’ll still be there.

If it takes longer then the world will simply have to adjust.

He watched your chest rise and fall.

He listens to every steady breath.

Counting every heartbeat like proof that you are still his to protect.

His eyes never leave you, not even once.

Because the last time he looked away, someone touched you.

And now he’s no longer certain he can ever afford to look away again.

After all, protecting the people you love is the duty of the Flame Hashira.

Even if, from this day forward… the warmth of his flame becomes something that quietly consumes your world.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Masterlist

Hopefully this is more mobile friendly…

Keep reading

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Thinking about Fae Tengen who takes full advantage of the fact your a simple human lost in the Fae realm. He was lucky to be the first to stumble upon you, disoriented and on the verge of tears. Your beautiful gown had ripped, the long blue tule ripped along the bottom and a huge slit on the back that reveals so much of your leg, revealing the skin, marred and changed with time but so appetizing as he watches carefully from the sidelines while you try to take in your surroundings. He should be polite, introduce himself, offer to help you. But the excitement he feels at the prospect of a new toy to play with has him staying back, trying not to seem too eager. He's calming himself down, thinking of things that are unpleasant to will his cock to relax, He's trying but as you attempt to rip the tulle further, shorten your dress for mobility he can't help but watch as you breast bounce in the corset the heart neckline giving him such a good view of every movement. 'fuck it' he thinks, checking himself over, making sure his wings are straight, no creases in the irridecent skin of them or dirt smudged in his clothes. He makes sure the long grey locks that rest on his back have no fly aways, smoothing it down and straightening the jewelry that lines his ears and fingers. Once he's satisfied he steps out, determined to make himself known

[peachygal-1009]

Milkman! Gyomei

Pairings - Milkman! Gyomei x shybaker! reader

Milkman! Rengoku and Gyomei started their work together early in the morning. Loading their truck with dozens of carts of glass milk.

Milkman! Rengoku and Gyomei, who had people salivating at the mouth, impatiently waited on the porch for more than just milk.

The way both of them rolled up their sleeves, showing their thick forearms. 

Who could blame anyone for looking? 

Anyone besides you, of course, you wanted to remain loyal to your husband. So instead of looking from your porch, you would gaze from your window. 

At least it wasn’t blatant. You had only truly gazed at one of them, Gyomei, from your porch once. 

“You must bake a lot of ma’am?”

His chest fell and rose normally, as if he wasn't carrying two full milk carts.

“Yes, I do, maybe one day you’ll be delivering to my bakery,” you murmured. Your flour-covered hands attempted to grab the milk carts from his huge hands. 

“Then you'll have to give your name so I can remember,” he firmly spoke. His hands still tightly gripping the cart.

No doubt he could probably carry five of those carts without breaking a sweat. 

“I don't know about that, you make so many deliveries you would probably forget.”

That made the corners of his lips curl. “I can assure you I wouldn't” 

You could only hum with your hands held out, hands gently closing and opening. Now, feeling far too timid to grab the cart from his firm grasp.

You didn't mean to stare. He just looked so big in that white uniform of his. 

“Your husband won’t grab these,” Gyomei questioned. 

Snapping you back into reality.

He could easily hear your husband rumbling about inside, probably still sitting on the couch. 

You’d ordered a hell of a lot of milk for you to carry in without any help.

“I can handle it, thank you” 

Milkman! Gyomei nodded his head, gently releasing the cart in your hands, only for your arms to jerk

You shrieked, your arms scrambled around the cart trying to find a place to hold. 

Time and strength weren’t on your side; you had two orders of cake to bake, but the box was just too damn heavy. And, you knew your husband would come up with some excuse for why he couldn’t bring the milk inside.

Milkman! Gyomei could only bite his tongue. 

He couldn’t bear to hear your little whines and moans leave your mouth from the discomfort, when your husband was clearly inside and could assist if he wanted. 

So he scooped the box up and whispered,” How about I take the box in for you. Don’t worry, I won’t go completely into your house. I can leave the milk in front of your house, and then you can ask your husband to get it” 

Your lips pushed together, and a small groan left your lips. It took you far too long to realize what he was saying as his proximity flooded your eyesight and his wood-like scent entered your nose.

You knew, from the way his velvety voice made your heart thump, that this was a problem you didn’t want to see unravel. 

However, you were on a time crunch and didn't have time to persuade your husband to help.

“Could you put it on my decorative table, please?” 

Milkman! Gyomei , who, from that moment on, enjoyed personally delivering your milk. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he enjoyed hearing your feet shuffle as he approached. 

He liked to think you were maybe just as nervous as he was. 

Milkman! Gyomei, who was shocked to smell the rotting of his last delivery of milk.Spoiling away on your front doorstep. His jaw only dropped even lower when he realized he could hear your cries too openly. 

Your door was cracked open.

He didn’t wish to intrude, but he hated how hard his heart started throbbing in his chest, how he could easily hear your muffled cries. 

We're you safe?

“Morning, ma'am milk delivery,” Gyomei grunted, trying to hide the shudder in his voice.

“I can’t afford it,” you deadpanned. 

Unfortunately, your husband didn’t hold that same loyalty for you and left, spewing,” he was made for better opportunities in the city”

You spent all that night yelling, begging for more explanation, and you knew there were other things he didn’t mention. Another woman, maybe? 

You didn’t know for sure, what you did know for sure was that it took him no time to shove divorce papers in your face and pack his whole life away like he never existed in your life.

like he never got down on one knee. 

Like owning a bakery was only a desire you had. 

“I didn’t ask if you could afford it, I said Milk delivery”

Your sniffling halted. He heard you slowly come over, clearly tired. 

“Why, if you start now, I might get used to it,” you barely muttered, your throat itching after each word. 

“I want to help you,” he admitted. 

You narrowed your teary eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was so helpful for. 

“We only spoke once, but I enjoyed it. If anything, you could pay me through conversation… not that you have to; this isn't transactional by any means. I wish to help,” He gushed, surprised by the amount of words that spilled out of his mouth—surpassing his three-word limit in his other deliveries.

Your eyes analyzed him, shocked by the quickness of his voice. 

He was nervous. 

The giant who completely towered over you with just his shadow alone was nervous. 

Towards you. 

“But….”

“A baker needs milk, correct”

“Correct,” you whispered, your hand slowly finding the doorknob. “Would you mind bringing it in”

And from that day on, he formed a habit. He would ensure you were his last delivery, and you would still watch from your window. 

Milkman! Rengoku,whose loud banter began to turn towards Gyomei. Teasing Gyomei for his crush on you.

“She’s not going to be single forever, try to talk to her!”

Milkman! Gyomei rubbed the back of his head shyly, almost like a child being questioned after being caught doing something they shouldn’t have. “I will don’t rush me” 

“He says for the 5th time, ' Oh, don’t make that face at me, go deliver her milk” 

Milkman! Gyomei only shook his head, ignoring Rengoku's teasing and bracing himself for you. 

“Milk delivery”

The door quickly opened, smacking the wall. “Hi!” you beamed. 

You had your cute yellow mittens and apron on, carrying your cake pan. A thin layer of sweat sat on your forehead; you’d be damned if you made a bad cake. 

You couldn’t hide your excitement; you had finally had the energy to greet him, not empty-handed, of course.

Milkman! Gyomei, baffled by your presence, could only grip the milk cart harder, trying to hide how flustered he was.

 His nose quickly smelled the sweet, fruity aroma in the air. 

“Do you like strawberries” 

Milkman! Gyomei had no other choice but to say yes. His red complexion only made him resemble one. 

“If you would come inside, I could give you a slice of the strawberry cake I made,” you shyly admitted, your lips pursed against each other, eagerly waiting for a response. 

Milkman! Gyomei could pass out and never wake up again. You didn’t realize the sweet tooth you would give him, and he wasn’t just referencing the cake. 

To think you said he might just always have you expecting milk, well, you would always have him expecting that warm, sweet scent of yours peacefully invading all of his other senses.

Milkman! Rengoku, whose eyes practically fell out of his head when he saw Gyomei enter your house. He could see the red on Gyomei's face from the truck. 

Milkman! Rengoku had to honk the horn twice. He clearly saw the silhouettes through your window. He needed something to eat, while you clearly had more than enough for Gyomei. 

Image credit: /enjey_nekii and einruji_ on ig

Do not repost on any other platform.

[justl-12]

Water family photo after they managed to pester urokodaki into taking off his mask

[mothdino]

tea for those who are scrolling?

also what fandom are you guys coming from?

[sonafae]

mdni rq 💔 hornyposting on main

writing husband!gyomei with pregnant!reader rn and im not gonna make it smutty but i literally cannot tear my mind from gyomei fucking u so well that he gets you pregnant the first time he cums in you. this man is huuuuge so just imagine how much seed is getting shot up into you. likee ur fullll twin 😭 one and done im afraid

he’d probably have to prep you for ages too like there’s no way ur gonna be taking his cock for at least a couple sessions. that said even his fingers are huge even one is enough to stretch you out and having you begging for mercy that you don’t really want

‘just the tip’ but you can barely fit just the tip no matter how wet you are 💔💔 oh lord i might need to study up on some smut writing because even thinking about this is insane to me. and it’s a need not a want btw

[pinkcamelia]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

M a s t e r l i s t ✿ A O 3 p r o f i l e

Pairings: Gyomei x fem!reader

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: none.

Tags: emotional intimacy┇ tooth-rotting fluff ┇ comfort

⤷ After so many missions and uncertain farewells, a night at a festival becomes a memory they will both cherish. For Gyomei, the things he can't see always seem more beautiful when he shares them with you.

•—————————•°•✿•°•—————————•

The end of summer arrives slowly, unhurried, painting the sky such a warm shade of orange that the mountains seem wrapped in glowing embers. The day's last light settles over the rooftops, slipping across the dark tiles before disappearing into the rice fields surrounding the small village.

The air is warm, filled with the sweet scent of wisteria still blooming along the nearby paths and the damp smell of earth that still holds the sun's lingering heat.

It has been a long time since anyone could breathe in such peace. For a few hours, at least, fear seems to have forgotten about this place.

Word of the festival began spreading throughout the region weeks ago. After an especially bountiful harvest, the villagers decided to celebrate it the same way generations before them always have: they hung hundreds of paper lanterns along the main streets, set up small food stalls beside the river, and prepared the town square so the sound of the drums could accompany the arrival of night well into the early hours of the morning.

For most people, it's a tradition. For the Demon Slayers, however, it's such an unusual luxury that seeing a village full of smiles instead of tears almost feels strange.

It's been nearly two weeks since the last major mission. A few days ago, Kagaya insisted that everyone take advantage of this brief truce, however short it might be, and go enjoy the festival.

Not everyone accepted the invitation. Some prefer to keep training, while others simply don't know what to do with a free evening. You, however, end up walking along a dirt path beside the man who probably fits into a place like this the least.

Himejima Gyomei walks beside you at an unhurried pace, his towering figure standing out among the trees, the prayer beads resting between his fingers as they slide gently against one another with a soft, steady sound. He's wearing the Corps uniform beneath his white and green haori, which the breeze barely manages to stir, and although anyone seeing him for the first time would probably feel intimidated by his size, you realized a long time ago that very few people radiate a sense of peace as comforting as his.

He can't see the first lights of the festival peeking through the trees, nor the colorful banners fluttering above the rooftops, nor the warm orange glow slowly beginning to embrace the village. Even so, he listens to every detail with quiet attention, as though trying to rebuild the entire landscape from nothing but what the world chooses to offer him.

Through the treetops, you can already make out the gentle sway of the first lanterns glowing in the distance. Their light filters through the branches, scattering tiny golden flecks across the path that appear and disappear with every passing breeze.

Without realizing it, you smile.

"We're almost there."

The movement of the prayer beads between Gyomei's fingers comes to a stop.

"Is it beautiful?"

You turn to look at him. His expression remains serene, untouched by even the faintest trace of bitterness or resignation.

"The lanterns are even prettier up close," you say without thinking, slowing your pace so Gyomei can keep walking beside you. "Some of them are completely red, but others have flowers painted on them. There's one with blue hydrangeas… and another with golden maple leaves. From here, they almost look like they're floating above the street."

"Do they move much with the wind?" Gyomei tilts his head toward your voice.

A gentle breeze sweeps down the street, and dozens of lanterns begin swaying all at once, casting dancing shadows across the rooftops and the stone road.

"Yeah… Very slowly, like they're breathing."

"It must be beautiful."

As you pass beneath the torii marking the entrance to the village, the lively atmosphere surrounds you at once. The sound of drums echoes powerfully from the town square, setting a cheerful rhythm that seems to pulse with the village's own heartbeat.

"To our right there's a stall full of pinwheels. They're small, made of paper, and there are pink, green, yellow ones… They're all spinning at the same time. Wait…" You laugh quietly as you notice a little boy blowing on one with all his might. "I think that kid is convinced the harder he blows, the faster it'll spin."

"Does it work?" A smile touches Gyomei's lips.

"Not really. Now he's gotten himself dizzy."

A low, restrained laugh escapes his chest. It's brief, but it's enough to make you laugh as well.

You discover that his laugh is exactly the way you imagined it: quiet, gentle, and warm, as though even something as simple as laughter is done with the same care he uses to hold his prayer beads.

The two of you keep walking without any particular destination, simply letting the streets guide you. Every few steps something new catches your attention: a craftsman carving tiny wooden figures, a group of young women trying to convince a friend to try a target game, an elderly man sketching quick portraits with black ink while his granddaughter collects the coins in a small wooden box…

"There's a man drawing portraits," you say, unable to look away as the old man begins painting another one.

"Is he good?"

"Very. It only takes him a few minutes… It's interesting." You pause to watch the brush glide across the paper. "He barely looks up. He only looks at the person once, then it seems like he remembers them entirely from memory."

Gyomei remains silent for a moment before replying.

"Some people learn to see in different ways."

His words make you look back at the old man, but now you aren't paying attention to the portrait anymore. Instead, you watch his hands. He moves the brush across the paper with quiet confidence, never losing his focus even as people walk past him from every direction.

You realize Gyomei is right, and before you know it, you find yourself seeing the festival differently too.

You start noticing the little things: the way a mother adjusts the collar of her son's yukata before letting him run off, the patience with which a vendor carefully wipes each candied apple before handing it over, and the tiny flecks of ash drifting upward from a brazier, disappearing before they can reach the lanterns.

"It smells like grilled fish," Gyomei suddenly says. "And sweet sauce too."

Gyomei turns his head to the left, and you follow the direction he's facing. A few yards away, a man flips several skewers over a grill while smoke rises in thin spirals.

"You're right. I hadn't even noticed it," you say, unable to stop yourself from laughing.

"Then I think this time I'm the one who gets to describe it."

You look at him in surprise, and the faintest smile appears on his face.

"The cook is brushing the skewers with a thick sauce," you say, accepting the game. "The smoke rises toward the lanterns, and it looks like it's wrapping around them. There's quite a long line… I think everyone had the same idea you did."

"Was I really that obvious?" Gyomei's voice is so calm that it's impossible to tell whether he's genuinely expecting an answer or simply playing along.

A pair of children waits impatiently in front of the stall, standing on the tips of their toes to get a better look at the food. The younger one keeps tugging at the sleeve of who must be his older sister while repeatedly pointing at the skewers.

"A little," you reply with a shrug.

"How unfortunate."

"You don't sound very worried." You raise an eyebrow and lean toward him with an amused smile. Your hand brushes against his by accident, and a faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

"That's because I was hoping you'd want to try them too."

You glance back toward the line in front of the stall, trying to hide the smile threatening to become far too obvious.

"So this whole time you were just looking for an excuse to invite me to dinner," you dare to say, only to see that now it's Gyomei who's blushing. "Alright, I accept."

Gyomei doesn't answer, but the two of you make your way to the stall. The vendor looks up as soon as he recognizes the Demon Slayer Corps uniform and quickly bows before carefully wrapping two skewers in small pieces of paper.

"No, no, please." Gyomei raises a hand before the man can speak. "Tonight, we're just two ordinary customers."

The elderly man hesitates for a moment before offering a shy smile.

"Then it'll be an honor to serve you."

The elderly man carefully finishes wrapping the skewers before handing them over. You take one while Gyomei accepts the other into his hands.

The two of you step away from the stall so you won't get in the way of the steadily growing line of customers.

As you walk through the constant flow of people, you feel the faintest brush against the back of your hand. It's so slight that at first you assume it's nothing more than a coincidence, the result of how little space there is between you as you weave past people coming from the opposite direction.

His knuckles graze yours before pulling away again, leaving behind a warmth on your skin that lingers even after the contact is gone.

You don't say anything, even though that tiny gesture is enough to make your heart race.

You keep walking beside him, convinced it was completely accidental, until it happens again. His fingers remain close to yours without quite touching them, hesitating for a brief moment that feels far longer than it actually is.

Gyomei is waiting for the smallest sign, anything that will let him know whether he can take one more step forward or whether he should pull away before making you uncomfortable. He doesn't need to hold your hand to find his way through the crowd, you know that, and so does he. He could follow the sound of your breathing, the rhythm of your footsteps, or even your heartbeat without the slightest effort. Even so, he stays perfectly still in that moment, silently giving you the chance to move away if you want to.

Your fingers stay exactly where they are of their own accord, and that's all the encouragement Gyomei seems to need. His hand gently closes around yours. It's large, warm, and rough from years of training, yet the way he holds it is incredibly gentle.

"I didn't want to lose you in such a big crowd." The excuse is so simple that you can't help smiling to yourself.

"Of course," you clear your throat, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

You lift your gaze in search of somewhere quieter, wanting to sit down and eat in peace, and a few yards away from the main street you spot a narrow stone path leading down to the river.

"It'll be quieter over there," you say as you point toward the path, only to remember a second later that he can't follow the movement of your hand. You quickly correct yourself with a small smile. "There's a path to the left. It leads down to the river."

Gyomei nods gently.

"I'll trust your guidance."

At the end of the path, you find an old wooden bench resting beneath a towering willow tree. Its branches hang like a veil around it, hiding it from most of the people walking along the opposite bank.

"This place is beautiful," you murmur as you watch the lanterns reflected on the water, their light slowly stretching and bending with the current. "It looks like the river is celebrating another festival beneath the surface."

Gyomei loosens his grip, ready to let go of your hand, but the moment he tries, you're the one who instinctively laces your fingers through his again. Warmth immediately rushes back into your cheeks, and you quickly turn your attention toward the river, pretending to be fascinated by the little ripples distorting the lanterns' reflections.

He stays still for a moment before his fingers settle around yours once more, this time with far more confidence than before.

Gyomei reaches out with his free hand to check the bench, running his fingertips carefully across the wooden surface. After a quiet nod to himself, he sits down.

The bench is narrower than it looked from a distance. Even though you leave a small space between you, your shoulders nearly brush every time the breeze stirs the willow branches overhead.

"You can see the whole festival from here," you say, breaking the silence.

"Tell me about it."

"The lanterns look smaller from here. They're like stars hanging between the trees. The smoke from the food stalls rises so slowly that it blends into the sky. There are children running around wearing fox masks, though I can only tell because the ribbons tied to them keep bouncing against their backs when they run." You pause to watch the water. "The lanterns are reflected across the surface of the river. Every time the current shifts, the reflections stretch out and break into tiny glimmers, as if a handful of stars had fallen into the water."

You turn to see what expression Gyomei has after listening to your description, and your heart skips a beat.

His face is much closer than you expected, only inches from yours. The warm lantern light softly traces his features, and you can't bring yourself to look away. The hand still intertwined with yours rests motionless on the bench. His other hand slowly rises, without the slightest sudden movement, stopping just beside your face.

"May I?" Gyomei's voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yes…"

His fingertips find your cheek with such tenderness that your heartbeat quickens even more. He gently caresses it, tracing the curve of your cheekbone as though trying to memorize it with the same patience he uses to pass each prayer bead through his fingers. His touch is warm and featherlight, so careful that it almost seems as though he's afraid of hurting you.

"You're smiling," Gyomei says, smiling too.

Your breath catches, and your gaze drops to his lips for a brief moment before returning to his pale eyes.

"What else is in front of us?" he suddenly asks, leaning just a little closer.

"U-Uh…" You glance away for only a second, trying to remember everything you had just been looking at. "On the other side of the river, there's an elderly couple. They must be husband and wife… He just took off his haori and draped it over her shoulders because it's starting to get chilly."

Gyomei remains silent, listening to every one of your words with complete attention.

"A little farther down…" you continue, pointing toward the river without thinking. "There's a little boy trying to catch the lanterns' reflections with a branch. Every time he thinks he's about to reach them, the current breaks them apart and they appear a little farther away. His father is watching him from the riverbank, but he doesn't try to stop him."

A smile finds its way to your lips.

"And right in front of us, there's a…"

You never finish the sentence.

Gyomei slowly leans toward you, his hand still resting against your cheek, stroking it with infinite tenderness as his lips meet yours in a slow kiss. The drums, the distant conversations, the murmur of the river, everything fades into the background, unable to break through the frantic beating of your heart.

Gyomei doesn't rush. He stays there, savoring your lips with quiet patience, and little by little, you melt into his touch, returning the kiss. When he finally pulls away, it's only enough for your foreheads to rest together.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, his voice so quiet it almost blends with the breeze. "I've wanted to do that for far too long."

You part your lips to answer, but close them again just as quickly. Your mind desperately searches for a single coherent thought to hold onto, yet every one of them disappears before it can even take shape.

Then you make the mistake of looking at his lips again, and before you can think twice about it, you close the small distance still separating you.

Your lips meet his a little awkwardly, lingering there for just a little longer, letting the kiss speak for you because it's infinitely easier than trying to put everything you're feeling into words. Your fingers tighten ever so slightly around Gyomei's hand as he remains completely still, quietly accepting your kiss.

When you finally pull away, you hide your face against his neck, completely flustered, and Gyomei's deep laugh rumbles softly beneath your cheek.

"My little goddess…" he says, gently taking hold of your shoulders to pull you back. The moment you feel him move, you quickly shake your head and burrow against his neck again, shyly clutching the fabric of his haori. "Don't hide from me."

You shake your head once more, unable to gather enough courage to look at him after being the one who kissed him again.

Silence settles comfortably between the two of you, and Gyomei doesn't insist. He simply stays there, his arms wrapped around you while the thumb of one hand absentmindedly strokes your shoulder through the fabric of your yukata. Only when the breeze stirs the willow branches overhead does he speak again.

"Thank you."

You frown slightly, still hiding against him.

"What for?"

"For sharing this world with me," he says softly. "You've filled a night that would've otherwise remained silent with light."

Little by little, you feel him lower his head until his cheek comes to rest against the top of yours.

"Thank you for being my eyes."

•—————•°•✿•°•—————•

[siennasside]

Yandere x Maid Reader HCs

WARNINGS: yandere themes, male yanderes, female reader

Haikyuu: Nishinoya, Tanaka, Hinata, Yamaguchi, Takeda, Shimada, Inuoka, Lev, Watari, Koganegawa, Goshiki, Akagi My Hero Academia: Midoriya, Kaminari, Kirishima, Monoma, Tetsutetsu, Mirio, Shirakumo, Hawks, Twice, Spinner, Slidin’ Go Danganronpa: Chihiro, Makoto Attack on Titan: Armin, Connie, Marco Ouran High School Host Club: Honey Fruits Basket: Momiji Demon Slayer: Rengoku, Tanjiro, Zenitsu Twisted Wonderland: Ace, Kalim, Epel, Sebek Hetalia: Sealand, Italy, America, Canada

He doesn’t notice you at first since you’re always quiet and efficient in your work. But when he notices you, he notices you.

He thinks you look cutest in your maid outfit and even adjusts the uniform to be shorter and show more cleavage.

You go about your work as always, unaware of the monster you’ve awakened by just being yourself.

He finds more and more excuses to be by you- “I’m just watching the maids work.” “Just making sure there’s no mistakes made!” “The work has to be done well, right?”

He knows he’s putting more pressure on you, but he really doesn’t mean to! Although his presence means stressing you out, making you work even harder, he can’t help himself.

It’s a sunny day when he asks you to meet him outside. You’re nervous- twisting your hands and biting your bottom lip- what does your master want to talk about? 

You ask if your performance has been unsatisfactory, and he laughs.

“It’s been more than satisfactory!”

He then asks you to be his girlfriend with wide, hopeful eyes.

You turn him down- you’re just a maid, you shouldn’t be dating your master!

He offers to pay for everything you could ever want, treat you to riches beyond anything you could ever imagine for yourself, anything, anything, as long as you’ll be his.

You hesitantly agree. It’s not like you have feelings for him, but the offer is too tempting.

He, however, deludes himself into thinking it’s because you secretly love him. You’re so shy about your feelings! But it’s okay now!

Your master will make you so, so, so happy!

[imthegreenfairy86]

If the Truck is a Rockin' Don't Come Knockin’

Series of One Shots with each of the boys.

Mature 18+

Raphael here

Donatello here

Michelangelo here

Last but certainly not least...

Leonardo

You kneeled on the floor between the leaders legs. His pants still in place over his beautiful ass but, unzipped to allow his cock to be free. Your mouth slowly licked his engorged length up and down humming to the heady taste of him along your tongue. You would never tire of that taste. It was like a fine wine you constantly craved, a want of it to explode with it's flavor along your taste buds. It made your mouth and... Other things water.

His sapphire eyes hooded with desire looked down at you as his hand cupped the back of your head. You cooed in delight, leaning into his large palm as your hand took hold of him at the base, letting your mouth engulf him, attempting to take him completely.

You never got tired of this angle. You never tire of him. The way his fingers massage your scalp as he moves the hair from your face to have a better display of your lips wrapped around him. Your tongue lapping up his long shaft, circling his head before going back down. What wouldn't fit you used your hand, slick with saliva to coat him. 

“Fuck…” He moaned, letting his head fall back against the old coach that sat in the truck. It was rare when Leonardo swore but when he did the sound, rough and deep went straight to your clit. You could feel your heart pounding in your core with every pulse of blood rushing through your veins. You wanted to devour him complete. 

Hallowing out your cheeks you sucked him harder having his hips thrust upwards on their own. His fingers gripping the edge of the couch as his other hand tangled into your hair. His large hand helping your head bob up and down over his thick length. 

“I'm close but I want…” He panted with a small hiss as you sucked on his head. “I want to be inside of you.” He groaned, as you pulled back from his cock with an audible pop. You smiled up at him, saliva and his precum rolling down your chin as you wiped it away with the back of your hand. 

You weren’t one to keep your leader waiting, especially when he was this far gone in lust. You stood, letting your pants fall to the floor, then your panties and tore off your top tossing it into some corner of the truck before straddling the leader's strong lap. 

He watched you with lustful eyes, the color of them always so beautiful as they met your own. Want of you, only ever you written over his face in a needy haze. You loved him like this. Craved him like this. 

Slowly you sunk down over his cock as the both of you let out a slow groan. His hand pressing at your shoulder for you to lean back as the other steadied you between the shoulder blades. He watched as you took him in, all of him so beautifully. Your pink, slick folds swallow him inch by inch. He hissed as you seated on his legs, the tip of his head reaching inside of you that made your breath hitch. 

His hand at your shoulder moved slowly, lovingly over your chest, circling your nipple then the other as you lifted yourself from him. He would never tire of the contrast of your skin against his. Soft and supple to his rough and leathery texture. It was criminal. 

Your body started to move faster on him as his hands clasped around your hips. His strength helping guide you up and down over his beautiful cock.

“Leo… God yes…” You moan, as your head lulls back. He lets you fuck yourself on him, enjoying the show of your body in his hands and over his cock. Your body took him so perfectly it surprised him each time.

But, he wanted his fun as well.

His arms circle around your back, pulling you flush to his chest as he stands easily from the couch. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist and his fingertips find purchase in the meat of your ass, holding you in where he wanted you, with his cock still buried inside of you.  

“My turn…” He growls, laying you on the floor in front of the tattered old couch. He kneels on the carpeted floor, your body still fused to his before he uses what feels like all of his power to start thrusting faster and with more strength than you could provide. Your hands reach for anything to anchor you to him, finding another seat above your head and locking your arms against it as he fucks into you.  

Your breathing catches with each hard, heavy thrust. His hands lifting your leg up into the crook of his arm as your calf rested along his large bicep. He somehow moved even deeper inside of you as your back arched. 

“L-L-eo, fuck.” You can barely manager as his hips continued faster. Your body rocking harder into the chair above you, making your arms strain from his strength. The truck itself sounded like it was going to snap off of its axel with the power behind each thrust. 

He loved you like this. Naked, face flushed with need, your legs spread as wide as he could get them showing off how well you took him. Your body swallowing all he had to give with ease. The sounds of your slick excitement taking in every inch as his hips slapped heavily against your own. He loved meditating at night and hearing the echo of it in his head. The sound of your bodies reaching your crescendo together. 

“That’s my girl…” He breathes, his hand at your thigh leaves to slowly circle your hardened bud, exposed for him at the hood of your sex. His thumb swiping up and down over it as his hips slowed but the strength continued. Endless, boundless strength into your body as he took it for his own. “You gonna cum, I can feel it Hato… Cum for me.” He commands and your body can only follow, to do what he says. Your back arching off the dirty carpet as his hips pick up the pace again. You don’t know how loud your being, but your throat ached as he drives himself into you. Your body fluttering around him, clenching his cock inside of you as he persists as only Leonardo can, driving you into another glorous release.

His body bowed forward, his hands catching himself beside your head caging you in his endless strength and arms. He always needed his face up this close as you came around him. Breathing in your air as he stole it from your lungs. Just as you loved to watch every expression of his as he lost himself in you.

“Let’s see if we can get one more, hmm?” He challenged, his body dropping to one elbow as his other hand pressed in between the both of you. His hips grinding down on you as his finger found your hardened bud again. Over stimulated and not ready for the sudden pinch between his rough fingers. You squirm, trying to get closer or away from him you couldn’t tell anymore. He holds you steady, moving his body slowly into you, as he rolls your clit between that pads of his fingers. 

“Leo, fuck, I-I can’t take…”

“Yes you can. And you will. Cum again.” He demanded, his eyes locking on your own as your head rocked back against the floor of the truck. Your back arching up into him and thrusting wildly against him as he moved back with just as much want. “There she is…” He breathed, his hips faultering as you clenched and fluttered around him again, somehow even tighter than before. “Good girl.” He praised, pumping into you a few more times before his head fell to your shoulder. His breath heavy in your ear as he kissed your naked shoulder and neck. You could feel his muscle tense around you as his breathing picked up. His soft moans and beautiful voice in your ear telling you how much he wanted you in Japanese. Babbling endless need of much he never wanted this to end as he came inside you. His hips slowed but didn’t stop. His movements pushing his release back inside you, deeper and deeper with each thrust. He always marked you as his. Only ever his. 

Finally he stopped. His forehead pressing into yours as his lips gently kissed you. He rolled from your body, bringing you with him as he laid back against his shell. His softening cock still buried inside you as you laid along his strong plastron. 

“I’ll have to check in with Donnie and see if the sound proofing really worked…” He said, looking around the cabin of the truck as you glared down at him.

“What?”

“I had to test it out somehow.” He shrugged with a large smile as you give him a soft slap against his chest. 

“I would expect such things from Michelangelo, but not you Leo.” You smile, giving his chin a kiss.

“Where do you think he learned it from?”

[imthegreenfairy86]

If the Truck is a Rockin' Don't Come Knockin'

Series of One Shots with each of the boys.

Mature [18 plus] only

First up....

Raphael

You felt your head slam hard against the cool metal of the large truck. His body tight to your own, his muscular thigh pressing in between yours, feeling the heat coming off from your dripping core.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all fuckin’ day.” He manages in a low growl, pulling the hem of his shorts down so his beautiful large cock can spring free. His hand grasping his cock, coating itself in your excitement before he pressed inside of you. Always so slowly, cautiously at first, watching his large cock being slowly engulfed in your pink warmth.

“Fuck, always so fuckin’ good…” He hums, spreading your legs apart wider as his hands move to cup around your ass. His muscles bunch and flex as he moves your body up along his cock, then slowly back down again. His eyes hooded with lust as he looks at your face flushed with want and back down to his thick cock spreading you open. “Always take me so well dontcha?” He asks, gliding your body up and down over him like his own personal fuck toy. Your head lulls back against the metal door to the feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely. It never got old. The burn and all encompassing feeling of being absolutely full of him. He played with you a bit more before shifting his feet, planting them firmly on the ground and thrusting his hips upwards into you. The heavy slap of his hips meeting you, making your eyes roll back in your head.

The large vehicle rocked back and forth to his heavy thrusts. Your moans are muffled by his large palm that settled over your mouth. “Shit…” He hisses, stopping his movements for a moment as his head turns to look towards the alcove that opened to the entrance of their home.

“Uh, Raph, you good?” He heard Donnie's inquisitive tone ask, just out of sight. Raphael smiled, looking you over as your eyes grew wide. Wasn’t the first time you and your large lover nearly got caught. Raph was something of an exhibitionist when it came to sex and you did nothing but enabled it.

“Doin’ just fine Don.” He chuckled, his voice raw, even rougher than it normally is, since he was buried balls deep inside you. He moved out of you slowly grasping around his shaft to circle around his thick head around your clit. Slowly up and down, then side to side making your body shift against him. The wet noise sounded almost in stereo with the large ceilings and narrow space. You moan, biting down hard on your lip to keep it from getting too loud before gasping out of your lungs by his cock slamming up into your cervix, in a heavy, hard thrust. “Just checking on something before I head in.” He called to his brother, as you watched Donnie’s lanky shadow shift on his feet.

“O-oh okay. If you’re sure. If you, uh, need help just let me know.” He said before you watched his shadow disappear back down the alcove.

“Where were we?” His voice is a guttural sound as he moves his hand from your hips. His large arms cupping under both of your knees as he pins you between him and the truck, perfectly aligned with his cock. Your body nearly bent in half as he pressed himself even closer into you. His eyes dancing over yours, his hot breath panting in your face swallowing your air before you had a chance to. “Wanna keep the screamin’ to a minimum baby girl, you wouldn’t want poor Don thinkin’ someone is tryin’ to murder this sweet, pussy.” He chuckles, slamming back into your tight core with a grunt.

Your head bangs against the metal door of the truck as your lips clamp shut from another scream. Your hands search over his body, shoulders, arms, neck and chest. Needing something, anything to anchor you to him even though you knew you couldn’t fall. He wouldn’t let you. His strong thrusts feeling like he was going to fuck you straight through the metal door. His endless ropes of muscles surrounding you completely.

“Raph, fuck…” You pant, placing your hands to your mouth moaning into them. Tears welling up in your eyes as he hits that perfect spot over, and over again. You swear you could taste him at the back of your tongue he was hitting so deep inside you.

“You gonna cum for me baby, c’mon. I know you wanna. I can feel it.” He growled, pumping into you faster. The truck behind you rocking harder on its wheels as you nod your head. One hand clasped around your mouth as the other reached between you to circle your clit. “Yes, that’s it. Play with that pretty little cunt.” He hums, tossing his head back as he moves even faster, grunting with each heavy slap that echoes throughout the high ceilings. “Oh, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fuckin’...” He moans as it turns into a guttural growl, deep and long from the depths of his chest. You feel him pulse inside of you and his movements slow, but don't stop as he moves your body up and down his large cock, milking it with all he has. Your cunt flutters around him, meeting him in his release.

Your hands fall from your face. Your body feels like it’s floating and sinking all at once. His large arms wrap around you, holding you to him as he opens the door to the truck and lays you along the soft carpet inside. He huffs a breath, his arms braced along the doorway before he climbs inside as well, laying next to you.

“You’re going to get us caught one of these days.” You chuckle, still completely cock drunk off of your behemoth lover.

“Next time maybe we’lll ask him to join huh?” He asks as you look over at him, his beautiful green eyes gleaming playfully at you. You smack against his chest as he leans over you with a laugh.

“You’re trying to kill me.” You shake your head as he kisses your face, your cheek and then your lips.

[thelaundrybitch]

Turtle Shenanigans - Meeting Raphael

Well my Turtledoves,

We've landed in the field of shenanigans once again.

I really just can't help myself.

➡️ Aged-up, adult turts

TW: Raphael being a bumbling idiot over a pretty girl.

And we wonder why Raph never lets Laundry write for him 😅

These shenanigans are brought to you by a story that begins with Leonardo.

Because, of course it does.

Are we surprised?

Meeting Raphael

You are good friends with Casey Jones, who thinks you'd be a perfect match for one of his close friends. Since you trust him (mostly), you agree to let him set you up on a blind date.

He's vague about said blind date, but tells you he will deliver you to this friend of his this weekend.

Oh, and his friend's name is Leonardo, Leo for short.

You don't get told if there are any stipulations as to what you should be wearing, so you decide to put on a cute little *red* dress.

Your favorite one, as a matter of fact.

And when you walk into the lair with Casey, your face nearly splits in two when you realize Casey's good friends are the vigilantes of New York.

At this point, Red is giving Leo shit about going on a blind date - especially when it's been set up by Casey Jo-

The hulking turtleman just stops mid-sentence.

Gawking

Mouth gaping like an idiot.

He recovers quickly enough, then quickly whispers, "Let me pretend I'm you," to his brother.

You walk right up to Red, all smiles with some pep in your step and a bit of a sashay to your hips, reach up and grab one of the tails to his mask that's hanging down over his shoulder in the front.

You bite your lip and give it a bit of a tug, and say, "Love the color.”

Man just about busts a nut on the spot.

Leo's like, "Yeah, I'm out.”

Leaves poor red a stuttering, stumbling mess of unintelligible incoherencies.

Looking up at him with the sweetest voice you can muster, you ask, "Are you Leo?" Trying to help the poor guy out.

And he's just like "No, I've got a boner."

Horrified and realizing what he's just said, he yells, "A BONER!"

Leo is fucking dying laughing and Red finally gets out, "BROTHER! I'M HIS BROTHER!”

Mike comes around the corner while eating some cookies, and all nonchalant, he asks, "Who's got a boner?”

Which has Leo doubled over and wheezing.

Splinter shuffles in and gently scolds a reminder, "Raphael, my son, that is not something we talk about in front of ladies." As he starts to shuffle away, he throws over his shoulder, "But if you are going to bone her..."

Red is absolutely mortified and yells back, "DAD, NO.”

Poor guy has his hand over his face. He's sooo embarrassed, and now he's trying to apologize.

And you're trying not to lose your shit because this whole fucking thing is hilarious beyond belief.

As you're gazing up at this poor guy, he's still a bumbling idiot, but he's hot as hell... and honestly, you wouldn't mind letting him bone you.

So, you offer him your name and smile up at him sweetly. With a huff of frustration because nothing is coming out of his face the way he needs it to, in order to redeem himself, he looks down at you and just wants to melt at that smile you're giving him.

Because despite him being a hot mess, you're still standing there looking gorgeous. And like every wet dream he's ever had. That fucking dress man.

So, he tries a new tactic. Dropping his hand to take yours, he introduces himself, "I'm Ralph."

Now, Mike - who is still standing there eating his cookies like he's watching the best drama ever created - just blows fucking cookie crumbs from his face like mount Vesuvius.

And you can hear Don from his lab absolutely cackling like a maniacal hyena.

Leo comes over and puts his arm around Red and says, "Yep. Wreck it Ralph," through some barely contained laughter and walks away shaking in hysterics.

It finally catches up to Red - what he's said - and he just hangs his head.

You, however, have decided to take pity on the hot-ass turtleman.

As you take in his asshole brothers laughing at his expense (even though it IS absolutely hysterical), you get a sly grin.

Looking back up at him, you grab his hand and say, "I'd let you wreck me, Ralph."

You can hear a pin drop as the record screeches to a stop.

Red's eyes nearly exit his skull. His brother's jaws are on the floor somewhere. And from the living room, you hear Splinter...

"Bring her to dinner first!”

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

~tags~

@leosgirl82 @atomicdaydream @wynndigogh @limitedsympathy @scholastic-dragon

@the-cauldron-witch @sophiacloud28 @avery73 @tmnt-tychou @thepinkpanther83

@milykins @justalotoffanfiction @yorshie @ferox-imagines @eveandtheturtles

@luckycharms1701 @raphsmuneca @oozedninjas @redsrooftopprincess @uniqueoutlierblog

@ninnosaurus @trufflemacandcheese @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @gornackeaterofworlds @mxalmighty

@zombiesnips-blog @xanadu-702 @rebel-hamato @pheradream-15 @shiftandshade

@iheartchv @t-annuki @fyreball66 @misty-angerose @meowph-132

@thomariealtsstuff @peachesdabunny @the-dying-star @so-called-yokai @shakeyourtrees

@adebauchedsloth @iridescentflamingo @snackugaki @raisin-shell @celeste-clearwater-06

@fluffytriceratops @ahhhhhhhhhfuck

[rebel-hamato]

perfection!

[yayxstitch]

[yayxstitch]

Fanfiction writers are y'all ok?

[chadobi]

“Say That Again”

Bayverse Raphael x fem!reader

The smell of pizza and burnt garlic knots filled April’s apartment. Mikey’s chaotic playlist blared from a speaker on the shelf, and somewhere in the background, Casey was yelling “NO FAIR!” at Donnie after losing a racing game for the third time.

You were perched on the couch with a soda in one hand, casually chatting with April about her latest job debacle, when the cushion beside you dipped.

“Still stunning as ever, babe,” Vern said with a smug little grin.

You blinked slowly. “Hey, Vern.” Flat tone. Minimal effort.

He leaned his elbow on the back of the couch, inching just a little too close. “I must say, you’re the only person I know who can make sitting under fluorescent lights and talking about sewer monsters look hot.”

You resisted the urge to sigh and glanced at April, who gave you a subtle smirk before disappearing into the bathroom. Traitor.

“I’m pretty sure I just ranted about my laundry issues for ten minutes,” you said, unimpressed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Vern replied. “You got that effortless cool thing going on. Must be tough, hanging around these four oversized reptiles all the time. You know, if you ever want a break from… mutant drama, I do have a pretty decent car. And no shell.”

You arched a brow. “How is that a selling point?”

Before he could answer, a familiar shadow loomed at the edge of your vision.

“Aw, don’t let me interrupt,” came a deep voice, low and flat.

Raph.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared Vern down with all the warmth of a brick wall. The tension was instant. You didn’t even have to look at him to feel it.

Vern turned with that awkward laugh of his. “Hey, man! Just, uh, talking to your girl here. Didn’t know you were around.”

“Uh-huh,” Raph said, deadpan. “Well, now you do.”

“Relax. I was just keeping her company.”

Raph’s lip curled slightly. “Sure. ‘Company.’ You tryin’ to sell her a used car next, or just your ego?”

You stood up and slid between them before the sarcasm turned into something heavier. Vern might’ve been annoying, but you weren’t about to let Raph go full “intimidation mode” in the middle of April’s living room.

“Hey, Raph,” you said lightly, placing your empty cup in his hand. “Mind grabbing me a refill?”

He didn’t move at first, still glaring at Vern. Then he gave you a look - half questioning, half knowing - and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Yeah. Come with me.”

You walked with him past the TV, where Mikey waved two pizza slices like pompoms. “Oooooh, Raph looks spicy!”

“Shut it,” Raph muttered.

Once in the kitchen, he set your cup down on the counter a little harder than necessary.

“So,” you said, casually leaning on the fridge, “that was subtle.”

“He was flirting with you,” Raph snapped, turning to face you. “Right in front of me.”

“He flirts with everything. He’d flirt with Donnie’s tech if it had a decent set of speakers.”

“That ain’t the point,” he said, voice low. “He was lookin’ at you like… like you were up for grabs or somethin’.”

You crossed your arms. “Do I look like I care what Vern thinks of me?”

He hesitated. “…No. I guess not.”

You stepped closer, nudging his side with your elbow. “Exactly. I didn’t flirt back, Raph. I wasn’t even interested in talking to him. He parked himself next to me like a lost poodle and started trying to be smooth.”

His jaw shifted, still tense, still chewing on the weight of his mood.

“Seriously,” you added. “Do you really think I’d waste time with Vern when I already date the one guy who can bench-press a dumpster and make sarcastic brooding look hot?”

That got a snort out of him, just barely.

“Don’t like the way he talks to you,” he muttered again, quieter now. “Like you’re just some… option. He knows we’re together.”

You shrugged. “Then let him embarrass himself. You don’t have to puff your chest every time someone tries to get cute. I’m not interested. Never was.”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just stood there, eyes down, frown still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You nudged his arm again. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I just don’t like anyone thinkin’ they can take what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your bike, Raph. I’m not something to ‘take.’”

He looked up fast. “That’s not what I-”

“I know.” You cut him off gently. “I’m yours because I choose to be. And no smooth-talking, hair-gelled local reporter’s gonna change that.”

“…Okay. That was kind of hot.”

You grinned and finally stepped back to grab your drink. “Now c’mon, let’s go back out before Mikey starts pretending to be our couples therapist.”

As the two of you stepped back into the living room, Vern glanced over from his spot - now safely across the room - and gave a sheepish little wave.

Raph stared at him. Silent. Stone-faced.

Vern cleared his throat. “Okay, okay. I get it. Loud and clear.”

Raph smirked.

“Say that again,” he said.

And this time, you didn’t stop the laugh that escaped.

[thelaundrybitch]

Scent of a Mate

Alright Turtledoves,

We're gonna try something new.

The link I am providing will send you directly to my Ellipsus doc so you can read my story. I think I might start doing my posts this way for the sake of saving a few spoons.

ANYWAY

➡️ Aged-up, adult turts

This is a choose-your-own-turt story. Hopefully it's not too biased with my own turt of choice 😅

TW: Mating Season mentioned. Other than that, your regularly scheduled shenanigans.

Scent of a Mate

Scent of a Mate | Laundry | Ellipsus

Ellipsus makes it easy for anyone to write together.

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

~Tags~

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[rebel-hamato]

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