𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃; ʳᵒᵗᵗᵐⁿᵗ ♡

𝘍𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰 𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴; ♡

leo... leo my husband. i love him.

𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼. . .

furture!leonardo likes to cuddle. he's a big guy, what do you expect? he loves to burrow his beak into your neck, marking his scent across your skin like perfume. he loves the warmth. whatever makes you so warm. he loves your mind and everything it creates. make more for him, won't you? he loves you. he loves you so fucking much, he thinks as he kisses along your collarbone, as he nips at your ear. kissing along the moon on your neck like you're a jewel he's been told to appraise.

furture!leonardo and that voice of his... the one that gets lower when he's tired. when he's hungry. it has a deep churr, a sound found from within the pumping crevice of his chest. what does he smell like? he smells like home. he smells like the rocks around hot springs deep in a summer cavern. he smells like the meat and the blood from his latest kill. each kiss of his is warm even if his body is not. he reaches at your clothes and bundles his fingers into them to feel their texture. he likes textures. soft ones.

if you want to make furture!leonardo basically be submissive to you, give him a good shoulder rub. poor man needs it. he's so tense yet he melts like butter in your hands. he'd probably grab your hands and ask you to continue if you tried to let go, mumbling a quiet "don't go yet" or something like that. he's never this vulnerable, so comfortable, so fragile. you'd be a fool to let this moment slip from your grasp.

if you ever got hurt, furture!leonardo would kneel down on his knee, working gently to remove your torn clothes. it barley matters, they're ruined anyways. he lifts your leg and examines the skin. at this point, most of the blood has been cleaned. he doesn't give you a warning, not a single moment or even allowing a single breath. all you feel is a cold sensation of his tongue that contrasts against the chill of the silent room. leo laps at the edge between skin and muscle, where blood has clot and where fat threatens to break the surface. he looks like a puppy, his tongue leaving behind saliva that seems to shimmer in the low light. forgive him for he could not protect you today, let him make it up to you.

furture!leonardo has nightmares of when and before the kraang. of his family who he's so sure hates him. everything he's lost, and every he could lose. he wakes up in a sweat and barely out of a daze, and he does not talk. he rolls back into the blankets and he wants to ignore the world. he wants it to all go, this burning inferno of ash. all the pain, all the regret. fuck. he's sorry. he's so sorry—he's so, so sorry—he holds onto you close and presses his forehead against your arm. he doesn't even realize he's shaking until you stir awake. brushing your fingers over the small of his neck, gentle, quiet. comforting—oh, so comforting. please... please to God, don't hate him. don't leave him too.