I’m Old School I Only Like Women

Drown in It (18+)

pairing: Fontaine x black! reader (1.1k words)

summary: He makes you squirt on his face. That's it.

warnings: no specific gender/size/shape mentioned, reader has a vagina, fontaine refers to reader as "ma" and "baby", cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, he bites reader once, the word 'daddy' is used once, overstimulation, squirting, multiple (2) orgasms and hint of more, kissing after head (lmk if i missed any!!)

You were laid back and spread out on the couch, eyes clamped shut and toes curled as your stomach began to tighten. Two of Fontaine’s thick fingers were deep inside you, pumping at a consistent pace to build you up to your peak. His other hand gently rested on the back of one of your thighs, keeping you folded up and open for him. “Open them eyes, ma..”

A whine escaped your throat at his words, your body felt too good to keep your eyes open but you knew better than to test him right now. You tilted your head and looked down at him, immediately enthralled by the look on his face. His eyes were dark, full of lust and intensely trained on you.

The way he stared at your soaked pussy as his fingers slid in and out put a hazy smile on your face. “Taine…” Your soft voice broke him out of the trance he was in, his eyes coming up to meet yours. He hummed in response, a teasing look beginning to spread across his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and at the same time Fontaine crooked his fingers inside you, hitting your favorite spot. He chuckled as you choked on your words, your eyes and mouth widening in shock at his cruel teasing. His fingers began to speed up, causing you to lose your breath again, head falling back once again.

“Fuuuckkk..” That’s all you could say, over and over again, as he meticulously worked your body.

A hiss left your mouth as you felt a sharp pinch on your inner thigh, your eyes snapping back open, brows furrowed in confusion. “I told you to keep them eyes open.”

His voice was stern but slightly muffled as he pinched a bit of your thigh meat between his teeth. “Y-you bit me, you son of a–”

His fingers stilled. “And I’ll do it again if you ain’t gon’ listen.”

You pouted but complied, as best as you could. It was too good, his fingers in you, he kept you right there on the edge. Speeding up, slowing down, speeding up again, hitting that spot that was deep inside you only to back off of it again.

“Fuck, ma,” He stared at your cunt again, obviously entranced by the juices flowing out all over his hand. “So fuckin’ pretty…can I taste you, baby?”

You gathered the last bit of strength you had to nod, quickly, panting out a slow “pleaseeee,” which turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your lips.

He didn’t go slow. He licked you like he was starved, maneuvering around his fingers to suck up all the wetness you had to offer him. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as you listened to the way he moaned and slurped into your pussy, it was one of the most debauched things you’d ever experienced.

Fontaine’s lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked, matching the rhythm he kept with his fingers. This time, you felt a stronger sensation building within your tummy. Your eyes were low and your mouth hung open as you focused on the man that was currently on his knees, eating you like his life depended on it.

“Taine, fuck, please…” Your legs shook and your hips bucked the closer you became. His grip on your thigh tightened, keeping you in place as he devoured you. “Please what?” His voice was gruff, the vibrations sending a chill through your body.

“I’m s-so close, daddy, pleaseee..” In the haze of your quickly approaching release, you didn’t even realize what you called him, but the title spurred him on. “Shit, baby, you gon’ cum for me?”

With your bottom lip between your teeth and your low and focused on him, you nodded. He quickly replaced his mouth on you, his fingers notching up to your spot, this time with no plan to slow down. Your moans and cries filled his ears as he pushed you to the edge, ready to take everything that you were willing to give him.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh goddddd..” Your body shook, quivering above Fontaine, within his grasp. Eyes clamped shut once again, not caring if he punished you for it, you let out noises you didn’t even know you could make. He sighed into your pussy, lapping up and swallowing down your juices with fervor.

When the initial wave passed, your body relaxed a bit but only for a moment, before you realized that Fontaine wasn’t finished yet.

He continued his ministrations, ignoring your gentle shoves at his head. “Baby, please, I can’t..” Your pleasure was beginning to turn into overstimulation and you could feel another peak coming.

Fontaine growled into your folds, not letting up whatsoever. His fingers slid out of you, both hands now tightly gripping your hips as he began to pull another strong orgasm out of you with his tongue and lips. This one felt different, there was more pressure built up in your lower tummy, almost like you had to pee.

“Fuck, Taine, I can’t, I’m gonna fuckin–” A scream left your mouth as you came again, warm liquids spraying out of your pussy right into his mouth. You nearly blacked out, with your body tensing and shaking at the same time and your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Mhmm mhmmm,” He groaned, sloppily sucking up every last drop. His warm tongue slowly swiped up your folds, coming back to clit and tracing gentle circles around the swollen bud. He landed a few kisses onto your pussy, whispering little curses and praises in between.

After a few moments, you managed to gather yourself, sitting up a little and opening your eyes. In front of you sat Fontaine in his white tee, looking at you with a certain look on his face, a smirk gracing his glistening lips while your juices soaked in his beard.

“What?” You rasped out, feeling just a tiny bit self-conscious under his dark gaze. He still had you spread out in front of you, looking down at your pulsing cunt every few seconds.

Fontaine shook his head and chuckled, sitting up on his knees to get closer to you. He released his grip on your thighs, allowing you to sit up as well. “You so fuckin’ sexy,” His voice was deep, and raspy, already stirring up something deep within your tired body. “Imma have some fun witchu tonight.”

And when he put his hand on the back of your neck to bring your faces together, allowing you to taste yourself all over his lips, you knew that you were far from being done cumming for the night.

Follow Me. *Blue Boy*

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AN: I have so many stories to write but I had to do this. Blaming being sick, m'kay? Fever has got me bad and these meds got me loopy. Thinking we need some good, silly fun in our lives, right? Plus, now that I've watched Rise, I'm hungry for some big Raph appreciation. I know I ain't the only one

Part 2

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: near peril, easily smitten, possible errors due to fever (what kind of fever is up for deliberation🥴)

Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes. That doesn't necessarily mean muscles, either. You just love you a big man - someone with a bit of something-something to them. More to love, you know? Given your track record with the greater world, it shouldn't be all that much of a mystery. Cats? Get yourself a tiger that you can cuddle into. Jumpers? Comfort central, baby. Beds? If you can't spread eagle then you see no point. The old-age saying does declare that the bigger the better, so who are you to disagree? How true that is may be up for debate but it’s merely as simple as understanding what your preferences are.

However, this makes dating a difficult ballpark to play in. No matter how tall, jacked, or voluptuous someone is, it never feels like enough. Human biology and genetics can only go so far in the conceivably possible sense. You just want to be absolutely engulfed when you get a hug. Is that such a crime? Apparently, it is. Unfortunately, you also seem to come across the worst jerks when you attempt to date within this set of criteria. One might argue it's your karmic justice for being so superficial and picky but a woman has needs. Not those kinds of needs, either. Get your head out of the gutter.

All hope seems lost and after yet again, another failed date, you decide to call it in for the evening and make your way home. A fresh failure and another wonderful outfit gone to waste. By no means is it anything flashy but you put a lot of work into it: pencil skirt, turtle neck sweater, and a nice pair of boots to compliment the look. The whole shebang! All of that effort for nothing. This is the last time you spend three hours doing your hair and makeup. Block after block, your feet grow heavier with every step. What you would give to come across a mountain-like man you can climb who is also a kindred spirit. Perhaps this dream guy will forever be that - a dream. Men like that don't just fall out of the sky.

"Look out!!"

The sudden shout almost scares you into tripping over and you look behind yourself, wishing you hadn’t. Two very large, very dangerous-looking figures entangled in battle, those of which are approaching your helpless little self. You quickly duck as the giants hurdle over you. One falls on its side whilst the other claws and skids against the ground, regaining its balance. It shakes its head and locks onto you, a guttural snarl rumbling past its jowls. Such a creature is surely from the stuff of nightmares. An indescribable nightmare whose sights are set on you. The smart option would be running away but it's as though your shoes have melted into the pavement. Pawing into the tarmac, the beastly thing growls and lunges for you. Great. This is how you die: torn limb from limb by a demon dog. Well, assuming your clothes join you, at least you’ll look like a total babe in the afterlife.

"Oh no ya’ don't," the other one yells from behind the predator, grabbing it by its tail. “Pretty ladies are not food!”

With a mighty tug, he pulls it back and swings it as far away from you as possible. You release a shaky breath, legs trembling beneath you. That was far too close for comfort. The fight isn’t quite over, however. Just as it approaches him, the green goliath swivels on his feet, full 180, and whacks the creature's jaw with a closed fist. His speed alone has you in awe but the force is astounding, practically earth-shattering. It completely knocks the air around you and pushes you onto your backside.

When the dust clears, the first thing you see is your saviour panting, his spiky shell(?) pointed towards you. Just past him in the distance, you notice three more figures in blue, purple, and orange taking a closer look at the unconscious tyrant. You swear one of them pokes at it with a stick. Witnessing strange beings such as this isn't entirely new. Anyone who's watched Chateau Pretenche knows about the celebrity chef turning into a grotesque pigman. To describe it in one word? Horrifying. It's just whether people choose to believe it genuinely happened or if these bizarre entities exist. Being up close and personally observing it now puts your scepticism in check.

As the humanoid turtle calms, he turns to face you, recapturing your attention. A red mask sits over his eyes and there’s a noticeable snaggle tooth poking past his upper lip. Typically, the prerogative is keeping out of sight but it’s much too late for that. He gradually advances towards you. You watch him warily and he keeps his movements slow for that very reason. It wouldn’t be a shock if you were to try and make an escape. He wouldn’t blame you. Currently, all he wants to do is make sure you weren’t hurt during that fiasco provided you don’t suddenly come out of your bewilderment and run off. You have good reason to but he just saved you. Either that or he’s as ravenous as that beast and wants you all to himself. The irrational conclusion remains as such - irrational - when he descends to one knee and outstretches a hand. There’s an irrefutable kindness in his eyes; a caring nature that can’t be replicated in the face of savage brutes.

"You okay?" he asks.

You continue to gawk without a word but, bit by bit, you reach out for his offer. Your fingers lightly trace the centre of his palm before comfortably trusting the proposal. His hand engulfs yours completely and Raph hopes to mercy that you don’t realise how sweaty he’s getting. He can feel his heart beating like crazy. He wonders how much of that is the adrenaline from the fight and how much of it is being in the presence of such a beautiful gal. As he helps you to your feet, he rises to his own. Someone of his stature shouldn’t be capable of being this delicate but he is. It has you running through a loop and you unintentionally stare at the remarkable behemoth.

Quite pathetically, you nod, unable to verbally respond to his question. How can you? You are effectively starstruck. Once you gloss over the turtle-y features, all you see is the sheer size of him as he towers over you. Height, width, the magnitude of those arms! All of it is glorious. You can hear the universe asking, “You want a big man, huh? How about one who isn’t human?” to which you answer, “Who gives a damn?”. If the only way a man can be this big is not to be human, so be it.

Amidst a whisper, your mouth moves on its own, "You're beautiful."

"What?"

"Huh?" Blinking out of your trance, you realise what you’ve said and giggle sheepishly, "I mean, you're be... ba... booming! Totally awesome with the whole- uh... saving thing." Nailed it. 

He blinks right back down at you. This is certainly a first. He can feel his face heating up and he withdraws his hand lest you endure the wrath of his bashfulness, opting to hold the back of his head. At this moment, he seems to look anywhere but you.

"Heh. Gee, thanks." His humility is adorable and you’re glad he doesn’t question your initial statement. He turns to you once more, regaining some composure. "You sure you're okay, though? That thing was pretty scary looking."

It’s clear that you haven’t sustained any physical injuries but even bearing witness to something so unsightly can have lasting effects on one's mind. His brows furrow gently in concern down at you and it occurs to you that there’s a soft heart under all of that shell and muscle. Bonus points. This makes you smile for the first time in front of him and Raphael is sure that the streetlights got brighter.

You laugh fondly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Twiddling your fingers, your lips purse up in his direction.  “Is there any way I can repay you?”

He places his hands on his hips and chuckles cutely, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

He may be indulging in his alter ego - the Red Angel of Preventing Harm - but it’s not every day he gets paid thanks when he saves someone. It’s also not every day he gets to save such a pretty woman, either. You, however, can’t just leave it at that. There must be some way in which you can properly thank him. Ulterior motives include getting to know this already loveable lug better but shh. It feels like the odds are finally turning in your favour and you won’t let this slip away from your grasp. That’s when it hits you.

Muttering under your breath, you erratically search through the confines of your little handbag. You are certain that you had one in here somewhere. In the spare pocket maybe? Ah! Found it. Fumbling to take the lid off of your pen, you hold out your hand, gesturing for his. He slowly complies, to which you jot down a series of digits on his palm accompanied by your name and a tiny 'x'. 

"Gimme a text sometime," is the last thing he hears before you disappear around a corner.

Oh? Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Getting your number is the last thing he expected. Did he get hit on the head during that scuffle or something? Was everything from the last few minutes a dream? He bores holes into the writing on his skin, scanning it over and over, scared that it’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. A dumb, wobbly smile not so gracefully decorates his lips as he trudges back to the turtle tank. He takes his seat but it’s obvious that he isn’t all there. Being so caught up in his rose-tinted bubble, he doesn’t register his brothers' voices. In an effort to gain his attention, Michelangelo jumps onto his shoulder, partly intrigued by what their leader is so absorbed by.

"Oh me gosh!” the young brother screams in shrill excitement, “Raph's in love!"

Careful not to smudge the neat ink, he’s quick to hide his hand against his chest. "That's crazy talk!”

Donatello sniffs the air and mockingly covers his nose. "The overwhelming manifestation of your nervous stink indicates otherwise, dear brother."

"I got a girl’s number!” he continues to defend, feeling his face go all kinds of red. “'Course, I'm nervous but that don’t mean I’m in love."

Lies and slander. It was practically love at first sight. He just doesn’t like the idea of his brothers knowing that. It’s easy pickings to be made fun of.

"Don't worry, Big Red. Lucky for you, you got a guy who knows all about the charm." Leonardo points both thumbs at himself as he falls back into his seat and props his legs up on the dashboard. "First, you just need to..."

The "helpful" advice drowns out as the large snapper opens and gazes at his palm again. He just can't comprehend how a gorgeous individual such as yourself could take one look at him and give him your number. It's puzzling but he supposes there’s a first for everything? That also doesn't mean he won't text you. The only thing getting in the way of that is fear. Raphael thinks he’d rather go toe-to-toe with that mutant dog again than have to face the risk of embarrassing himself. To anyone who knows him, it’s no surprise that he caves under pressure. No. He will do it! A chance like this is one in a million.

Oh boy. What could possibly go wrong?

@ africangonwild

I’m old school I only like women