#idc about who or what Mrs Flood actually is and I don’t think she’s a time lord but god this is a hilarious concept to me

[interestingturnofthetables]

Gonna be honest. When I first saw this shot of Mrs Flood I was immediately reminded of Mary Poppins

Between the umbrella and the suitcase bag, and standing on top of a roof (almost like flying with the open umbrella) it set off Mary Poppins bells in my head.

And then I remember the “Mary Poppins is a Time Lord” theory from a while back.

And then I remembered Missy also carried an umbrella.

So now I’m thinking Mrs Flood is another Time Lord/Lady and Time Lady’s just really fucking love the aesthetic of carrying umbrellas with them to complete their look

[wolftraps]

For some reason, I am now imagining the Archive Crew calling the Archivist, “Arch” for short and “Archie” to tease. They take him out for dinner one time. The Archivist proceeds to eat the waiter’s Statement: Jon:... we can now never come back to this restaurant.

I’ve been thinking about this a fair amount, and can’t quite make up my mind. 

This all definitely pertains only to a more light-hearted AU where they’re all generally accepting of a creepy Jon doppelganger who gives people almost debilitating nightmares. But I think probably all of the Archive gang would refer to the Archivist at least slightly differently. 

Tim is definitely the one who starts the nick-names, but i’m not sure he’d ever settle on a single one. It really depends on how (un)gracious he’s feeling toward the supernatural that day. He’ll use Archie if he’s in a good mood. Mr. Eye, sometimes. Definitely “Spooky Jon” whenever normal Jon is around, just for the way it makes Jon’s eye twitch. 

Sasha is hard to judge, for obvious reasons, but I’m leaning towards “Archie” for her because it makes it sound more approachable and she doesn’t get quite so caught up on the whole eldritch-fear-monster thing.

Martin doesn’t want to be disrespectful. He asks the Archivist what it would prefer to be called, if it minds the nicknames, etc., and tries not to let on how irritating it is when the Archivist gives a very long-winded answer that amounts to “*shrug* idc”. He eventually settles on Arch, most of the time, because it’s more humanizing but the familiarity of Archie still makes him a bit uncomfortable.

Jon refers to it only as “The Archivist,” and tries to remain as detached as possible. It’s a subject, a thing to be studied, not a coworker. And even if it was, that doesn’t mean they’re friends. 

In an AU like this, yeah, I can see them inviting it out to dinner with them. They actually ask multiple times, and each time it is silent for a few seconds and then says no. It’ll find sustenance elsewhere. And they don’t really question it, because god, what a Jon response. Until one day they ask and it does that pause and then says “Yes, that will do.” And then they get there and it requests a particular waiter. And of course it waits until the rest of them have gotten their food, because it Knows that’s only polite, but then they get to sit through twenty minutes of some poor guy explaining how he hasn’t been able to keep a job for more than a few months in years because there keep being fires or floods or some other freak accident that destroys the place or puts it out of business and also usually kills a couple people and he’s sure if it happens again, people are going to decide he’s responsible and even if the police don’t accuse him of being a serial killer or something, he’ll still never find another job.

Tim does his best to assure the manager that the waiter’s done nothing wrong and it’s definitely their fault he broke down sobbing at their table while Martin tries to calm the guy down and Sasha steers the Archivist out of the restaurant as subtly as possible. It’s actually Jon, who can’t help asking just what about that story was supernatural, that convinces the Archivist that getting rid of the Desolation creature stalking the guy is the least it could do after ensuring he’ll be having nightmares about it all for years to come. 

They do stop asking the Archivist out with them, though.

[boneswriteswords]

I Like The Way You Move - Leonardo

A/N: This was something that started as a self-insert Mikey fuck but turned into a dom-ish Leo moment and I’m not sorry. (No that’s a lie, I am sorry that I never got my self-insert Mikey fuck)

Enjoy. Or not. IDC man, you control whether you read it or not. 

Its smut. 

Pairing: Leonardo x reader

Word: ~3100

You hitch your backpack so its sturdier on your shoulder as you approach the building your studio was renting space in, sending a quick text to Leo that you made it safe.

Not that you needed to. You knew he was watching you. Ever since you and him tipped into the 'we aren't together but we actually kind of are because I don't have eyes for anyone but you but neither of us have made an actual move yet because this is kind of like foreplay and its exciting' territory, you could feel his eyes on you everywhere you went. At home. At the gym. At your favorite shops. At the park. At work.

Everywhere.

And he was there as you weaved in and out of the people in the city as they rushed to get wherever they were going, watching as you slipped the key into the lock and went inside. Watching as you entered the fifth story room and waited for the other dancers to arrive.    

He was always watching.

Guarding. Protecting. Treasuring.

You have never felt more safe in your life.

Even the rowdy construction men who hooted and whistled like the pigs they are whenever you passed by the construction zones down the block from the studio didn't register as a threat to you anymore, despite being triple your size and aggressive.

Leo was bigger. Leo was stronger. Leo would never let them harm you.

You sighed dreamily, feeling the stirrings of arousal pool low in your abdomen as you thought about him.

How he'd grip you tight against him to pull you from those who would try and take you from him. How his body would shield yours as he tore the hands off anyone who'd even think to touch you without permission. How he'd carry you away and check you over thoroughly to make sure you were unharmed....

The door opened, ripping you from your daydream, and Mila walked in, smiling at you and tossing her bag near yours.  You made polite conversation until the rest of the students and Mr. Parker arrived, doing everything you can to try to ignore the wetness in your panties.

"Y/N," Mr. Parker calls once class is finished, motioning you over in the universally recognized signal for 'I need to speak to you.' You pull your baby blue sweater on - something you deliberately picked because you knew Leo would feel some type of way about seeing you in it - over your bodysuit and make your way over to him, making sure you are directly in front of the window.

"Yes?" you ask, tilting your head to side.

"I just wanted to congratulate you again on all your hard work," he smiled, green eyes squinting, "You are one of the most talented dancers I have ever taught and you deserve the role of Ella."

You beam under the praise, "Thank you sir. It means a lot."

"But," he exclaimed abruptly, "make sure you practice! You may be the perfect dancer but Ella is a powerful woman. Fierce! Confident! Sensual! She is more than just perfect landings and pirouettes! Her soul is one with her body!"

You promise, unable to keep the grin from your face. You had been cast as the lead character - Ella - in an new play created by a well-known playwright and it felt like all your hard work over the last few years was finally getting you some where as a professional dancer.

Mr. Parker rolls his eyes fondly as he ushered you out, "Bright and early tomorrow Y/N."

And you do come in bright and early. So early in fact, that it isn't even bright out and Leonardo hadn't even finished his patrol before you had left your apartment and there is no one at the studio and there wouldn't be for hours.

Which he wasn't too happy about but you couldn't be bothered to care when his message suggested your 'punishment' would not necessarily be something you wouldn't like. He kept it as vague as he possible could but the undertone of arousal and promises had you aching for the rest of the day.

Still, despite the wetness between your legs, you eventually manage to channel Ella in all her sensual glory. You can feel her energy, her passion, her elegance streamline into your very veins as you go through the routines. She envelopes you, guiding you until you are no longer alone in your body and you can feel her as deeply as you can feel yourself. There is a buzzing under your skin where she has settled and you feel warm all over.

You end the final routine with your knees splayed and head tossed back, forming an arc with your spine, gaze resting on a blank bit of ceiling as you try to regulate your breathing back to normal. There is sweat dripping down your body, sticking your bodysuit even closer to your skin.

So far gone into your head space as you were, you almost didn't realize that you were being applauded.

But when you did, you jumped, terrified. No one was supposed to be in the studio aside from you. You snap your head around, scrambling into a less vulnerable position off the hardwood floor, eyes zeroing on the intruder.

Leo's eyes are dangerously dark as he leans against the wall by the door, strong arms folded over his hard chest. His makeshift armor was gone but his weapons were placed on one of the chairs in the corner, suggesting he had been watching for a while.

"Leo!?" you question, voice no more than a whisper. He smirks, straightening up and making his way over to you until he was standing in front of you, blue eyes looking into yours.

The Ella inside of you nudges to the front of your brain, whispering 'Get closer.'

"What-what are you doing here?" you ask, leaning in to him a bit before you overthought it.

"I saw you through the window," he purred, "I wanted a closer look."

"O-oh."

He tilted his head down and for a brief moment you thought he was finally going to make the move. The move that will transform the current state of your relationship with him into the one that you both wanted.

"Keep going, lovely. I want to see it again," he murmurs, the faintest touch of his lips on yours as he does and your breath stutters, a whine bubbling and dying in your throat. You loved being called soft, feminine nicknames - it made you feel womanly and perfect and beautiful - and the timber of his voice molding around the world did wonderful things for you. His dark eyes roam over your face, licking his lips, before stepping back and taking his place by the back wall.

You turn back to the giant mirror, taking in your wanton appearance, the very visceral, physical effect he has on you obvious, and take a few deep breaths before calling Ella back to the forefront.

You start the routine over from the beginning, determined to give Leo a show. You ease into it like you would if you were alone. You were used to him watching you and the proximity of where he was didn't change how you felt about it. Besides, Ella was powerful and self-assured. She knew what she wanted and she takes it without hesitation.

With her at the helm, you felt like, maybe, you could too.

Landing on the bar after a high jump that has your thighs burning, you break the silence. "I like when you call me lovely. And sweetheart. And a good girl." You can see him in the reflection in the giant mirror, watching you shamelessly, and your body hums in pleasure.

His eyes narrow, smirk widening, "Do you now?"

"I do," you choke out, an admission, but suddenly Ella is gone and its just you now. The confidence is gone but its too late to take it back. Leo is on his feet and crowding you again, a hair's breath away and smelling way too good for it to be natural. He smells like man and strength and slowly dissolving restraint and you want to bury yourself in him.

"You like when I call you a good girl," he repeats calmly, eyeing the way your body is perched on the bar and putting his hands on your hips, "Then I guess you wouldn't mind is I called you 'my good girl' hmm? You want to be my good girl, lovely?"

A whimper rips from your lips before you can stop it and you nod desperately, no longer caring about anything aside from his hands on your body. He runs them over your legs before skirting back upwards and over your nipples through the bodysuit. Electricity fires through you at the touch, pushing back into his hands as he flits them over again.

"You like it when I touch you sweetheart?" he coos, catching you as you buckle, keeping you from collapsing onto the floor.

"Yes," you whine as he hoists you up like you weight nothing. With his mutant strength, you probably don't and the possibilities that the image of him holding you up invokes sends a thrill down your spine. He hums darkly, setting you on the ground, moving your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself so he could wiggle the bottom half of your bodysuit and leggings down.

A flash of insecurity floods over you as he tosses your clothes off to the side and grips you so your body is flush against his, fingers dancing along the edges of your soaked panties. Leo's face is set in stone, stoic aside from the darkness flashing in his eyes, and you worry that your body isn't what he wants. Maybe he doesn't like what he sees?

"I always new you were pretty, lovely," he grumbles, his fingers flexing and pulling at your body, encouraging you to press into him and grind into him. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing into your mound and you try not to buck into it. "But this - you naked and needy and dripping - is so much prettier than I was ready for."

"I don't- I-I" you gasp as his hand trails down your back and grips your butt, spreading your cheeks wide and kneading the flesh.

"I'm a lucky turtle," he growls, voice somehow deeper and darker than before, "I see the way people look at you, princess. I see the way they move closer to you to get a better look or catch a whiff of your perfume. I see them watch you as you walk by, saying crude things about your body, your mouth. I see them want you. But they can't have you, can they?"

It takes you a minute to realize he wasn't asking a rhetorical question. "N-no Leo."

He hums approvingly, "And why is that honey?"

"B-because I'm your good girl?"

"That's right lovely. You are MY good girl. And you wouldn't look at any of them twice. Not when you have me at your beck and call. Not when you know I'll come running to you."

The impromptu confession of his devotion sent your skin buzzing and you could feel yourself calming down, the edge of desperation softening into a dull throb. This was more than sex. This was more than a game. This was a real connection bleeding into a different form of intimacy. He found you desirable but it ran deeper than lust.

A low rumbling churr vibrates under Leo's plastron once he focuses on your lace panties - dark blue and soaked even darker.  Leo's large hand cups your face and you nuzzle into the comfort of it. The turtle's fingers are strong and thick as he pulls you to him so his lips could meet yours. His tongue wastes no time in forcing its way into your mouth, leaving you breathless as desire coursed through you. It was everything you had imagined but nothing at all at the same time.

"Princess," he murmurs against your mouth, "so sweet."

The praise envelops you like an aphrodisiac. Leo's fingers trace the edge of the lace before moving down, taking two fingers and swiping across your soaked entrance over the soaked fabric. Little sparks danced across your clit at the touch and you tried to grind down into his hand, whimpering when he pulled his hand away.

"So wet baby," he groaned, kissing you again hungrily, "Want me to touch you? Stroke your pretty little clit and stretch you nice and wide for me?

You nod, almost mad in your lust, bucking into his hand, "Please Leo. Want you. Want you so much. Don't make me wait." You are rewarded with another bruising kiss.

He removes one of his hands from your body to untie his pants and drop them onto the floor. His cock is huge, bigger than anyone you'd ever seen before, and dark with blood. You always pictured him to be proportional to the rest of his body but the reality surpassed all your fantasies thus far. He was going to be so big inside you -the stretch...

"I've thought about this princess," Leo murmurs, dark blue eyes fixed on your face again as he kicks his pants away from him and moving closer again. You could feel his cock against your belly, smearing precum on your skin. "Thought about how you'd look. How you'd feel. Hot and tight and mine. How'd you taste. Have you thought about me? Have you thought about me when you touch yourself at night? When you stick your pretty little fingers in your pretty little pussy?"

Shaking, you grip onto his arms to steady yourself and nod, "Yes, Leo." His fingers edge underneath the panties and slid them off you and you launch yourself forward into his arms, burying your face into his neck and clinging to him. You spread your legs, dripping as he teases your clit with his finger before tentatively testing the give of your entrance.

A load groan erupts from his mouth when it slips right in to the first knuckle and you clench around him, trying to pull it in further.

"Oh my lovely girl," he sighs, claiming your mouth in another kiss as you whimper and buck in his grip. "So good for me. All wet and wanting. I'm going to stretch you out nice and good."

"Please," you whisper, head tilted back as he moves down your neck, biting and nibbling licking as his finger slides deeper inside of you. He drags you right to the edge of an orgasm before pulling his finger free, grinning at the long winded whine it drew from you.

"Uh uh my good girl," he shushed, "You will come on my cock or not at all. Do you understand? Do you want to keep being my good girl?"

"I want to be your good girl, Leo please," you whine, canting forward to kiss him again. You could feel yourself being lifted, large green hands guiding your legs to wrap your legs around his waist so he is the only thing holding you up. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance as he hovers you above it and you try to cant down onto it, needy and wanting.

He pulls away from your mouth, panting, "Tell me I can."

Arousal made you slow and stupid so it took longer than it should have for you to understand what he meant. When you did, you trembled and nodded, pleas falling from your lips like a mantra.

Leo smirks, adjusting you in his grip before lowering you down, pushing the bulbous head of his cock into you. You fall against him again, licking and kissing his neck and shoulders as he lowered you down slowly, his cock sliding in inch by inch until you were stuffed full.

The stretch was so good. You feel so good.

Leo swears under his breath, nothing more than a growling whisper of words as you clench around him. He can feel you expanding around him, convulsing as you adjust to his size and grinding down to gain desperately sought friction.

Lifting you up, he adjusts his stance a bit for better leverage before gripping your waist hard and slamming you back down on him, praising you as he does. He's panting, breath ghosting over your slick skin as he lifts you up and down, impaling you over and over again like a rag doll. His lovely little fuck toy.

There are actual tears in your eyes from how wonderful it feels to finally be joined with him. Months of teasing and playing and flirting culminating into this desperate, passionate act of mutual adoration. You had waited so long for him.

"Oh baby girl. I'll never make you wait again." Had you said that out loud? As much as you wanted to be embarrassed, you couldn't be - not with the way he was thrusting inside you, hitting your special spot, and kissing your face and mouth.

"Feels - feels," you moan, breath hitching as sweat drips down your face and back.

"How does it feel lovely? Tell me."

"Feels so - so good. Leo. Leo! Leoleoleo!" You cry as you cum, writhing against Leo's plastron as he fucks you through it, hand slipping down to toy with your oversensitive clit. White lights dance behind your vision and you arch into the touch at the pain.

And oh, he likes that.

"Oh," Leo growls, sparks of fire dancing behind his eyes, "I'm going to enjoy you."

You preen, limp in his arms, and his pace builds until hes slamming into you brutally. When he cums, its deep inside you, burying his load and filling you up. A grunt forces his way out of him and you squeeze as much as you can around him, fucking him through it like he did for you.

You were always big on reciprocity.

You slump together onto the floor in a tangle of sweaty and sore body parts, enjoying the high as it ebbs between you both. He gently pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss and the feel of his seed trickling out of you.

Minutes tick by in silence before you open your eyes and stare into his. He's watching you intently, trying to gauge your reactions. He wants to know how you feel, how you are taking this new change in dynamic, if its something you want long term now that the game is over. He wants to know if you are his.

You smile, keeping your expression soft as you reach out for him again.

A beat and his smile presses against yours.

~~~~

End

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