desceros

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*cocks a missile* *aims it directly at @desceros *

A balm for the soul for everyone currently getting dragged ass backwards through the angst fields by symphony right now. Like haha wdym about an almost papatello scenario, no no, you’re wrong! They’re actually very happy and Leo still? Doesn’t? Know how to hold a baby? She’s not a cat why are you gripping the back of her onesie like that babe.

Everything’s fine! Look at the amount of baby burritos! (Non edible) (I cannot stress this enough)

#putting this on my dash……. mean #god. god help me. the way they look the same in the bottom one is just [puts hand on heart as if shot] #tmnt #rise #papatello

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and on the eighth day god made rise tmnt and turned leo into a little meow meow bitch who gets put into the shake jar and passed around. and it was good

#ask tag

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good luck, soldier 🫡 also can i just say that reading your comments has been So fun so thank you for those hahahahha

#reason number 4948372939 i cant wait to finish dayjob au: i get to work on symphony again #ask tag

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he's forty years old. he's babygirl. he's unhinged. he's creating problems for himself and everyone else. he's god's favorite punching bag. he's a whore. he's pathetic. he's my poor little meow meow

#literally future leo #(<- prev tags) cleric. did you just call me god #laugh tag #tmnt #rise

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when someone you adore starts posting the notp

#sam voice: dont go where i cant follow #text tag

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i’ll show you REAL bisexuality *runs directly into the doorframe for some reason*

#screaming actually #laugh tag

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So excited for the up coming one shot. I think about it all the time! The factory is definitely hearing about it. I’m glad the factory can’t talk, because all it would talk about is my depraved turtle thoughts. Can’t have that, gotta be ‘neurotypical’ lol

i'm having So Much Fun working on it, tbh. i know the factory machines would be Screaming if they could.

as a little thank you for your patience and to whet everyone's appetite, i'll break my own rules a little and give you a little snippet. just so y'all can get a bit of the flavor for how this one's gonna go. :)

#ask tag #looks in the mirror to make sure my fake halo is on straight

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god that one post you reblogged about the intimacy of making something together... donatello/scientist reader-chan vibes. funny vibes where they build a second robot together, where they pull all-nighters together and shelldon keeps asking when they're "going to give him a little sibling" and the rest of the family gives them shit about it too. OR. OR. angsty vibes where reader helps donnie rebuild shelldon after his destruction. trying to make him sleep. giving him hope that it's possible

hhhhh skims my fingers over the surface of the water. the inherently human eroticism of me helping you make something that carries with it forever an imprint of both of us

#ask tag #me: invention is a metaphor for childbirth and donnie lies awake at night thinking about how this is the only way he'll ever get to do that #and to do so with you; the love of his life; is as close to fatherhood as he thinks he'll ever get. so he cherishes. cherishes. cherishes. #you: ok grandma lets get you to bed

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sleepyhead

#ahhhhh…. the follow up. heart eyes emoji #tmnt #rise #sweatpantello #favorite #the look he gives you when he realizes youre enchanted by how cute and sleepy he is #desceros dot com aka the sleepy darling appreciation society

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there is so much intimacy in creating something together

#billboard tag #the eroticism of playing toys

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#him…………….. #tmnt #bayverse

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The sound of shuffling feet from your bedroom, a solid thunk, and low grumbling makes you turn your head. 

Donnie’s sleep-ruffled and cute, blearily glaring at your door frame like it’s affronted him. He does tend to run into it a good bit, always taking a moment to say something foul to it like the collision was a conscious thing and not just his shell catching a groggy misstep. Muttering some loathing curses about dumb narrow doors and lab much nicer, he rubs at his keratin and then resumes his journey.

“You look like you could use another hour. You should go back to bed,” you tell him, lips curling with amusement as he tries to find where you are. Resting your elbow on the back of your couch, you wait. So cute. He’s so cute. You love how he gets like this after a really good nap; kind of dumb, still half-asleep as he ambles about, cuddly, filterless. 

Donnie waddles closer. Opens one eye and spots where you are on the couch. With a long yawn, he stretches his arm up to rub at his nape where his mask knot sometimes settles uncomfortably if he sleeps on it wrong. Your first thought is sympathy, a desire to call him close so you can massage out the hurt a little for him.

…Your second thought is that little sliver of his hip that steals your breath away as his sweatshirt separates from his sweatpants, tantalizing. You run your tongue over the back of your teeth. He’s sleepy. It’d be a little mean to jump him when he’s defenseless like this (even though he’s done the same to you, many, many, many times, and you’ve liked it every single time.)

He still hasn’t spoken. He’s just standing there, trying to get his brain back online. Looking stupidly cute. Looking warm. Looking cozy. Looking edible. Damn it. God damn it. You try to look back at his face, where he’s rubbing at the edge of his jaw, but your traitorous eyes fall back down to the hem of his sweatpants again. Hm. Hmhmhm. How easy it would be to just… eat him alive. 

“…good,” Donnie mumbles after a moment, pulling your attention away from the mental image of coming around the back side of the couch and dropping to your knees in front of him. Getting your hand underneath all that soft cotton to caress the keratin underneath. Slipping your tongue inside his cloaca until he drips down your chin and you can ask him to ride your face.

“What’s good, my sleepy darling?” you ask, feeling your heart melt when he presses his lips together and furrows his brow as he tries to string the thoughts together. So cute. Right. No filter. He just says what he’s thinking without concern for its coherence. Really nice when you wake him up with a couple fingers in his cloaca. Less nice when you’re trying to behave because he needs the rest. 

“…smell,” he settles on, making you look around. You’d cleaned before he’d come, put something nice on the wax warmer you’d found that made you think of him. Wood Cuttings, or something like that. It makes your apartment smell like a cabin, almost, cedar and pine and earthy and nice. Like a workshop. Like him.

Or maybe he means the leftover aroma that trickles in from your kitchen, where you’d made him a nice supper and then chin-handed your way through his recitation of his latest project. He’s so fucking clever, it’s hard not to just stare at him with hearts in your eyes every time he talks about something that interests him, no matter the subject. The happy jump in pitch his voice gets when he’s enthusiastic makes your heart pound in your chest, compounded by the way he devours your cooking before he says any of it because he likes to boast to his brothers about how you’ll cook for him whenever he asks. It’s a subtle aroma, as everything’s all cleaned up and some time has passed, but it’s possible with that nose of his.

Donnie doesn’t elaborate. He just stands there, staring at you. Then, he says, “Come here.”

Ah. Maybe it’s something where he’s standing, you guess, putting down your book where you’d been thumbing through it while waiting for him to wake. You step in close, trying not to sigh too much when he pulls his hand out of his pocket to rest it in the small of your back, like this spot on your body is a more comfortable place for it to rest than where he had it before. 

You inhale. You don’t smell anything. 

“What do you—?” you start to ask, only for the question to get cut short when he pulls you even closer. Close enough that you mold to his plastron. Close enough that he can dip his beak to your shoulder and nuzzle there. Close enough that you reflexively rest your hands on his sides, curling your fingers into his sweatshirt. 

“You,” he answers, brushing a kiss, then another, then another, on your throat. “You smell good.”

Flustered affection makes you melt. Feeling warm, you press your forehead to the edge of his plastron. His other hand finds your nape, giving it a little squeeze, and you feel your fingers feather down to that torturous gap above his sweatpants that had taunted you before. You close your eyes and hum with delight, the pads of your fingers tracing over the smooth keratin you find there, lost in the sensory bliss of his mutant body.

The hand in the small of your back curls. A low rumbling churr vibrates through your bones. You sink into it, into him, caressing long lines, letting your hands go where they will without any conscious direction from you. Seeking all his lines, his curves, his textures. The dip of his shell at his hips. The smooth leather of his soft shell. The thick edge of his vibrating tail—

—oh. Oh. 

“Donnie,” you protest, though it’s a weak pathetic thing that convinces no one. He’d been smelling you. As in— “You need to rest. You’re exhausted.”

Donnie makes a sound of agreement in his throat. Then, “Come to bed with me.” 

“For sleep?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“…Eventually,” he says, pressing his teeth to your pulse in a light promise. “…You smell really good. Want it close. Want to taste it.” 

That fucking filter, you curse, pressing your thighs together as the mental image comes through loud and clear. Donnie, half-awake, sleepy and pussy-drunk, his tongue lazily suckling at your clit as he makes you come over and over and over and over. Even in that half-conscious state, he’s so strong, it’s impossible to wiggle away when you think you’re going to die; he easily pins you down and eats until he’s gotten his fill.

“Yeah. That smell,” he says, voice low in your ear as you curl your finger around the drawstring of his sweatpants and feel your panties start to soak in anticipation, like your body knows he’s hungry for it and wants to be as succulent as possible. “Come on. Bed. Eat you out. Then sleep.”

And so you go, pulled behind his shuffling steps, watching as he careens into your door frame and glares at it sourly, before turning to you. 

“You need to just move into the lair with me already. I’m so tired of running into this damn thing.”

…Oh, you think, swallowing the butterflies and pressing the curl of your giddy smile, disappearing into the bedroom after kicking the door shut behind you both.

sleepyhead

#chin hands at you so hard my jaw splinters into pieces and i need four corrective surgeries before i can speak again #this is.... a little targeted maybe. teehee. #anyway. i've yelled about this on discord already but allow me to do so more here. god DAMN im. so heart eyes emoji at this. just. #the warm cozy feeling. the softness. the intimacy. the domesticity of seeing him in this vulnerable sleepy state. hrk bites my handkerchief #[redacted redacted redacted] hhhhhhh [redacted] hfhrhhhfhf [redacted] #ok. ok. ok. i know you're waiting for this so im just gonna. yeah. #tmnt #rise #sweatpantello #favorite #my fic #donatello/reader #rated: m #but like. a spicy m. like an m that goes mmmmmm should i be an e? nah i'm an m. but should i be an e? mmmm. nah m.

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"porn... for Her" made me laugh irl. not the same anon, but i also wanted to compliment you on/appreciate you for making your Porn For Her very uh. universally enjoyable? for lack of a better explanation: i like reading dominant readers, which is not very popular in most fandoms, so i instead go looking for well-written fic that includes stuff i like: fave-kun being vocal, super in love, etc, which you tend to write a lot. i'm endlessy grateful for that!! ty for feeding my starving ass sam.

oh yeah, as the resident Huge Sap Who Needs A Happy Ending of this corner of the internet, i love two characters that are just like, disgustingly in love. like. fifty years after marriage the honeymoon period is still there. the kids rolling their eyes when they come home and it's like ahhh... my beloved i have Missed you today and they're like ugh you were separated for an hour ugh. that's my number one favorite thing to write. might make you walk over hot coals to get there. but we'll get there.

#ask tag #thank you!!! :DDD

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Is this purple fucker bothering you, hermosa?

No Thoughts. Only @desceros and @gbao3 BVAU Leo

#walks into a doorframe. takes a step back so i can walk into it again. takes a step back so i can walk into it again. takes step back so i c #tmnt #rise #blurple villain au

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accurate image of you and des coming up with story ideas and the rest of us going insane in the process.

BAHAHA @desceros

i'm so glad but honestly we are much less graceful about it than this. we just trip and fall face-first into an idea and then drag the other one down with us before we realize how Potent it is. or in other words:

anyone caught in our crossfire is an unintentional casualty... usually.

#UGLY LAUGHTER #turtle grenades aren't usually that elegant no... though the running and screaming in circles is accurate #laugh tag

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Donnie dancing on Bad Guy

#screaming. bye #tmnt #misc tmnt

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#donatello vibes