INTRO TO MY TUMBLR PAGE!!!!!

announcement!!

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coming out with a fic tomorrow! I used to be a semi-popular fanfic author on WattPad back in 2016-17, username: sketch pocket, and I really wanna relive that, hopefully I don't get the Ao3 curse.

my popular fic was, unfortunately, Leonardo X Karai/Self-insert (This was at the time Leorai was seen as normal, but oh god incest was way too popular in the damn fandom) and if anyone remembers my user or a fanfic named "Je'taime Amor"...no the absolute fuck you don't :3

T1kT0k and In$st@ are letting me down so I guess I'm switching to Tumblr? I just want to do commissions again

tiny me :D

Getting used to a drawing tablet on PC is rough 😮‍💨

Working on chapter 2 of my mini fanfic, for the meantime please sit down and dine on this commission (ps ps, my comms are open, please slide into my DMS)

should've been endgame, is klance still around???

show me, p☆rnstar

Cpt. John Price x Trans Masc P☆ Reader

part 2/?

word count: 1250

tags: nsfw/mdni, dom price/sub reader, self-degradation??? (the author degrades you in text, but honestly, calling out my own filth and kinks, chat), pet names for reader, just down bad for a man you don't even know, filthy thoughts

a/n: genitalia is referred to as cunt/pussy, clit, etc just in case that makes you uncomfy, by the way I never mentioned but reader is in fact over 21, you’re in your last year of college after all. just a short update for now, edging you for the fun of it :)

Your live went well, surprisingly, with quite a lot of donors this time around, but halfway through, you realized that a particular username never appeared once, and looking across the stats and donations on your screen stitched a pout on pretty lips. Of course, you didn’t make it even close to obvious while live, but when the camera cut off, an almost disappointed sigh left your lips. He didn’t show up. He always showed up; why wasn’t he here? He had never missed a stream before, not in the several months he had been subscribed to you. Maybe it’d be just a one-time thing? How pathetic of you- to be so obsessed with just a name. But it happened again and again, twice a week for over a month, and not once did he show up. Christ- did he just walk off the planes of the earth? 

This anonymous man is a paying customer, not some love interest in a romcom. A man falls in love with a stripper he thinks loves him back but this time the stripper fell in love with a man who was just there to get his dick wet. It frustrated you to cling onto this perverted idea of him, an idea you don’t even have the face to; your lonely late night pleasures just made it far from worse, as if the only hands you wanted on your naked form were his. What could he give you that no other man could? Hell of a lot of money, sure, but what would getting bent over your counters and bed be like with him. How fast could he make you come, or would he even let you? What if instead he abused your aching clit and plunged his fingers so deep into your needy, sloppy cunt, reaching spots you never could have with your own. Just edging you to the brink of spilling out, but no, he'd never let you cross into the bliss of an orgasm, not until he had his fill. Not until he filled you. The absolute filthy thought of this man made the air feel heavy, just the damn thought but it had turned you on more than any adult film or sex toy ever could. God, you fucking slut, just getting wet at the want, no, need, the need to be fucked by a man who most definitely only watched you for his entertainment and you had no shame. Bloody playing yourself like a guitar.

November, exam season. Regular work and college would be eating you up, meaning it was finally time for a month-long hiatus again, which you announced via a post where you posed in a seductive photo, finger to your lips in a ‘shh’ motion. The caption explaining the upcoming lack of content, but you’ll be back soon with extra material for December. Once the post went live, you decided, for the best, to tuck away your camera and sex toys into a cabinet; focus on exams, pleasure can wait. Keep the cigarettes out though; you’d need them. Outside of all this, you honestly had a simple life, majoring in what you’ve planned on working towards since you were a little one and working at a cafe that was a bit away from campus. A simple life. For the first few days, you followed a premade schedule down to the second, classes, studying, and a late night shift. Nothing came before or after. It did get boring here and then but this was what life was going to be once you dropped the whole pornstar career for the one you spent thousands on- thank you shit scholarship, barely made a dent in your damn tuition cost. What a life.

The ruckus of regulars had slowly died down in the cafe as you began to mop the floor for the night. It had stayed open late for exam season, taking advantage of groggy students who needed the extra caffeine and sweets to crawl through sessions of long textbooks. The only sound available to ease your aching bones was the howl of the snowstorm outside and your playlist blaring through the headphones wrapped around your neck. This was a moment you were swaying in, caressing the mop as if it was your dance partner on a ballroom floor. The world around you felt like it was paused just for you to have this, until, unfortunately, it was disrupted by the jingle of the doorbell and heavy shoes thumping against the freshly mopped floor. Oh, come on, it took forever to get that shining like new. You sighed softly as you paused the music blaring from your headphones.

“We’re closing in 10, so it’s order and leave, pal.”

And as soon as you turned to face whoever had walked through the door, your heart just stopped. A bloody handsome older man stood there in a heavy coat, his hands tucked into his pockets. You felt your hand let go of the mop before snatching it back up, a soft stutter leaving your lips. He stared for a moment, this quick flash in his eyes before he started to walk towards the counter as you did the same. Keep it together, keep your shit together! As you rounded behind the counter, he had already grabbed for his wallet; at least he was ready. Something about him felt familiar, a bit too much. It had to be the stress of a long shift, right? Standing in front of the register, he glances towards the menu before his intense gaze pierces through your skin, making a shiver run down the bone of your spine. 

“Coffee, black, medium.”

That voice, it rumbled heavily, a roughness to it, yes, but it lured you in. A soft nod was your only response as you reached for a medium paper cup and pen, hands curling around the edge before looking into his gaze, and as you asked for his name, you swore the wires in your brain were beginning to fry. 

“Name's John, sweetheart” 

John. And he had to lay the pet name on there. Your knees were already weak as it is; desperation does unexplainable things to your body. In almost messy handwriting, you spelled out his name and went to work on brewing him a new batch of coffee. Having to clean the machine again was a nightmare, but this felt so worth it. Why? Now it was just you, this man, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Little did you know, with your back towards him, John was staring heavily at your lower back, eyes twitching with recognition as his brows furrowed. Weeks, he had been gone for weeks with no chance of being able to watch his pretty little thing and by some fucking chance the cafe he walked into at 12:50 AM for just a quick drink had just what he craved. You were none the wiser. 

a/n: finally an update! trying to make sure the ao3 curse doesn't get to me even if we are on tumblr

Something something- I will finish my homoerotic fanfics before the american government drags me back to my country just so I can leave my legacy, writing a Captain Price smut story right now, it's about drive it's about power we stay horny we devour ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ

Fanart of our favorite loud blonde boy and proof that it's mine with Derivakat's 4am playing in the bg

𝕊𝔼𝕃𝔼ℕ𝔼

Ch. 1: after the war

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

word count: 1,033

tags/cw: self insert, OC, angst, mentions of death & violence, drugs, sibling bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: selene is the backstory to my tmnt oc, Monet. they are the oldest sibling of the turtles and I'll leave a link to their bio so you can understand their character more. this is the first fanfic I've written since 2017 so please forgive me if it sounds like it came from that era. I also don't have a proof-reader, if there are any mistakes I apologize :)

Under the city that never sleeps, next to rumbling tunnels was the surprising quiet of the turtle’s lair and if you were to stand in the center of it all, everything from the world above would be faint to your ears. It was just a few hours away from morning, but there below the skylight on the creaky wood of the highest platform came the harsh stench of cigarette smoke.

A turtle older than the rest taking puff after puff as they stared into the heavily frosted windows above, their aching legs squatting over. Next to them was a busted navy green radio playing some random station, static interrupting most of the lyrics. Memories of everything that had happened in the months before kept them from curling up under freshly washed sheets. Watching the boys they had been around since they were tiny little eggs take down a man, a monster, who had terrorized all of them for years. This whole messed up ordeal was a weight on the eldest shoulders, a weight that wasn’t meant to be carried alone like this. The memory of watching their father die right in front of their eyes didn't help much either, it still lingered in the back of their head hour after hour. And now, because of that, they were responsible for the well-being of four mutant turtles who could honestly take care of themselves just fine but what kind of sibling would that make them if they just abandoned this family because of the heart ache. Splinter would be disappointed wouldn't he? Or maybe he would understand, he had watched his own wife be killed before him, he would understand the absolute horror of witnessing your loved one be brutally murdered before you and the need to get the hell away. Everyday felt like the last, nightmare after nightmare, sleepless nights and aching joints. The heavy lump in your throat that just wouldn't go away, like you're under the pressure of being 20,000 feet below water, swimming up would just be so fucking pointless…

“Monet?”

As quickly as russet eyes widened, the mutant extinguished the flame of their cigarette, discarding it to the side before standing up to face the blue clad turtle behind them. Sneaky brother, you didn’t even creak the wood.

“Leonardo, you should be in bed”

“I could say the same for you” Leonardo retorted as he sat on the edge of the wood, inviting the yellow clad turtle to do the same. The air around them growing thick.

Monet felt themselves huff at the sound of their younger brother’s tone but it wasn’t the first or the last time they’d hear it, and it brought a strange comfort to them. They walked over and plopped down, heavy scarred legs dangling over the wood, surprisingly none of them sustained splinters from these platforms. Leonardo glanced over before sighing and taking off his mask, a habit he had started to grow when he needed to have a tough conversation with someone. He didn’t want the mask in the way he said. Nothing to hide.

“You were smoking again, weren’t you?” It was, of course, obvious. The remaining smoke from the discarded bud still lingering around “Said you would stop months ago”

Monet stared down towards the water below the skylight, one slip and anyone would fall down about 10 feet. The yellow masked turtle shrugged, unaware of the eye bags underneath both their eyes and Leonardo's grim expression.

“It's hard to break habits”

“You know what Donnie said about this”

“Then don't tell him”

Leonardo felt his shell tighten before he shook his head and grabbed Monet's arm tightly, trying to force his older sibling to look at him but they wouldn't budge. How could they? To look into their brother's sharp blue eyes and not notice how much he had grown but instead seeing the baby turtle they had helped raise alongside their father. It was too much.

“Monet, you can't keep avoiding everything, you don't even go out on patrol anymore”

“..I just need time”

“How much time? You're perfectly healthy, and we're hurting just as much as you are but you have to learn how to continue in life” Leonardo spoke up, his words came out a bit harsher then he wanted them to but he had grown far from just worried about Monet.

He couldn't just watch as his sibling withered away in a cloud of cigarette smoke, hell, he had tried to get rid of the packs Monet had brought home but it wasn't enough. Even Donatello, the genius that he was, couldn't find a way to help.

“Please, just..just start joining us on patrol again, ok? We want you around, Mikey misses his big sibling”

Leonardo tried to flash Monet a somber smile but it immediately went away as he watched Monet's eyes tear up as the yellow clad turtle finally looked in his direction. Their bandaged hands trembling as they murmured nothing but ‘I’m sorry’s. He hadn't seen them cry since Splinter’s funeral, Leonardo had finally gotten past a wall of many. This was the moment he had desperately needed to have with his older sibling, to help them heal just as the others had helped each other. Monet sniffled, his snout twitching before they reached over and held Leonardo's face, fingers tracing the details of their baby brother's cheeks, a sad chuckle leaving his throat as he teared up more.

“You’re so much like our dad” Monet whispered as he felt the urge to do something he hadn't done in over a decade.

With a heavy heart, the mutant pulled Leonardo onto his lap and held him close, the exact way a mother would hold her newborn baby. Leonardo froze slightly, his eyes widening in confusion as he glanced up at them.

“What..what are you doing?”

“I used to hold you like this when you were just a baby turtle”

“But I'm not”

“I know, but you'll always be my baby brother to me” Monet just held onto him really tight, a very confused turtle who slowly gave in and leaned into the touch with a warm smile.

a/n: it's shit right? this will probably just be a short series, I just wanted to give Monet an actual story