#or if its the sewers for me tonight

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: I'm here, Nightwing. What's the situation?

Dick: This one is a doozy, Batman. About thirty minutes ago, GCPD responded to a Killer Croc call. Croc was seen thrown out of a manhole by an agitated meta who claims the villain was trespassing in his side of the sewers.

Damian:....I beg your pardon, but what does that mean?

Dick: Honestly Robin, can't even blame you for that question. I'm confused, too.

Bruce: Where is the meta now? Is he dangerous?

Dick: Not that I saw. He seems mostly upset that people are interrupting his dinner. This is his manhole. *Knocks on Manhole cover*

Danny, who's been living in Gotham for three months and extremely homeless popping out:

Dick: As you can see, the suspect is going all out tonight. He's even wearing his dinner hat. He screamed that information at me for five solid minutes.

Danny: ITS MY FANCY DINNER HAT!

Dick: Yes, you said that already.

[stellaspectral]

Can you do a Bayverse Raph x Childhood best friend reader who's kind of a girly girl (loves pink, knows a lot about makeup and fashion, likes dressing up in pretty and cute outfits, and is an absolute sweetheart).

During when the tower is falling (reader isn't here for this) and Raph is cofessing, is where he spills that he's loved the reader for years but never said anything because he felt like he wouldn't be good enough for her and that she deserves better is also around the time they just landed on the ground and his brothers as well as April know the truth about Raph's feelings for her, and reader feels the same but also didn't say anything because she was worried it would affect their friendship in a negative way.

The way they confess to each other could be very similar to Lumity, where his brothers set them up on a 'mission' together. Which is actually a set-up date that Raph destroys out of embarrassment and fear of getting rejected, which makes the reader sad because she thinks he doesn't like her. But after something goes wrong and protects the reader from it is when they finally tell each other

A/N: Hello, anon! I haven’t watched The Owl House in a hot minute, but I tried my best to capture the vibe of *that* episode in a TMNT context. Thank you so much for the request; it was fun to finally write some Bayverse turts!

Rooftop Confession (angst/fluff)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Near-death situations (past & present), angst/insecurity, mutual pining, first kiss, happy ending. Takes place between the first movie and Out of the Shadows. All characters are aged-up.

The memory still hits Raph sometimes, sharp and sudden. Hanging onto that crumbling tower, the world tilting beneath him, the certainty of oblivion pressing in. He remembers that moment when, with everything stripped away, the raw truth clawed its way out.

“I … I shoulda told her,” he remembers choking out, the words torn from him by fear and regret, barely audible over the roar of destruction.

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey—they heard it. April, clinging nearby, heard it too.

“I always loved her. Since we were kids. But she deserves better. Someone … normal. Not a freak like me.”

They survived, somehow. Landed hard, bruised and battered, but alive. The confession hangs in the air between him and his brothers, an unspoken acknowledgment. They know. April knows. The only one who doesn’t know the depth of his feelings for you is … you.

❤️ Some Months Later ❤️

You adjust the bow on your pastel pink crossbody bag, humming softly as you follow Leo through the lair’s entrance tunnel.

Tonight’s outfit is one of your favorites: a soft, lavender A-line dress with little white flowers embroidered on the hem, paired with cute white sneakers that have delicate ribbon laces. You’ve also done your makeup—a shimmery pink eyeshadow, a touch of blush, and your signature strawberry-scented lip gloss.

Dressing up always makes you feel happy, even if you’re just hanging out in a sewer lair with your giant turtle friends.

Especially one giant turtle best friend specifically.

Your heart does its usual little flutter-kick when you see Raph leaning against a wall, arms crossed, looking characteristically grumpy. But you know him, know the slight softening around his eyes when he sees you, even if he tries to hide it. You’ve been friends since you were both kids—you, the bright-eyed human girl fascinated by the shadows. And him, the equally fascinated mutant turtle hiding within them.

You share secrets, scraped knees, and watch terrible late-night movies together. And somewhere along the way, your childhood affection has blossomed into something deeper. Something you are terrified to name for fear of shattering the precious bond you already have.

“Alright, team,” Leo says, clapping his hands together. “Quick recon mission tonight. Donnie picked up some unusual activity near the old waterfront warehouse district. Could be the Foot stirring things up, so we need a quiet approach.” He looks pointedly between you and Raph. “Raph, your strength might be needed if things get heavy. And you—your observational skills are top-notch. And frankly, you blend in better than the rest of us. But make sure to keep comms open and report back.”

You try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the idea of working closely with Raph tonight. “Just us? Are you sure, Leo?” you ask, tilting your head.

Mikey practically vibrates with suppressed energy behind Leo, giving you an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. Donnie adjusts his glasses, looking suspiciously focused on a scanner that isn’t turned on. April, leaning against Donnie’s desk, offers you a small, encouraging smile.

Something feels … orchestrated.

“Positive,” Leo answers firmly. “Now gear up, you two.”

Raph grunts, pushing off the wall. He doesn’t meet your eyes directly, which is odd. Usually, he’d at least give you a nod or a gruff, ‘hey.’

You grab Donnie’s enhanced binoculars and a pair of comms devices from his desk, attaching one to your dress. You hold the other out for Raph, who takes it without a word. His thick fingers brush yours for the briefest second, and a pleasant jolt zings up your arm. He recoils as if burned, shoving the device into a belt pouch before storming towards the exit and muttering under his breath.

You follow him out, casting a quick, slightly bewildered glance back at the others. Mikey is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, Donnie is suddenly very interested in polishing his glasses, Leo gives a sharp nod that feels more like a dismissal, and April just winks.

Okay, definitely orchestrated.

You hurry after Raph, your sneakers quiet on the concrete floor. “Raph? Everything okay?” you ask softly as you catch up in the tunnel leading out.

“Peachy,” he grunts, his voice tight. He won’t look at you.

The silence stretches between you as you walk. Usually, these tunnels echo with your shared laughter or Raph’s rumbling complaints about Mikey’s latest prank. His shoulders are rigid, his sais held tight at his sides, radiating a tension that has nothing to do with the upcoming mission. It prickles against your skin, making your own nerves fray.

You risk a sideways glance at him. His jaw is tight, his gaze fixed firmly ahead. The usual grumpy facade is there, but underneath it simmers something else—something agitated and uncomfortable. It hurts, just a little, this sudden wall between you. He’s never been this closed off before.

“So,” you try again, keeping your voice casual. “Waterfront warehouses. Creepy. Think we’ll see any ghost pirates?” You’re referencing an old inside joke, a ridiculous B-movie you watched together years ago. Normally, it would earn you at least a scoff, maybe even the faintest hint of a smile.

He doesn’t break stride. “Focus,” he grunts, the word clipped.

You bite your lip, feeling a flush creep up your neck. Fine. If he wants to be all business, then so can you. “Right.”

You adjust your bag again, suddenly self-conscious about your dress and sneakers. Maybe dressing up wasn’t the best idea for potential Foot Clan trouble. But Leo knew what you were wearing …

You pull your own focus inward, scanning the tunnel ahead, trying to push down the disappointment churning in your stomach. Why is he acting like this? Did you do something wrong?

You emerge from the sewers near the waterfront. The air here is cool, carrying the distant sounds of the city—a lone siren, the rumble of traffic on a far-off bridge. Ahead, the hulking shapes of the warehouses loom against the night sky, their windows dark.

“Okay, Leo said quiet approach,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Raph, pulling out the binoculars. You scan the nearest rooftop, looking for movement or any sign of Foot activity.

Raph moves ahead, his enormous frame surprisingly silent as he hugs the shadows along the alley wall ahead. He pauses at the corner, peering around it cautiously before gesturing for you to follow. As you move to join him, your sneaker catches on uneven pavement. You stumble, letting out a tiny gasp.

Instantly, a large, three-fingered hand shoots out, steadying your arm. The touch is firm, grounding, and sends another jolt through you. You look up, surprised, straight into Raph’s eyes. And for a fraction of a second, the wall is down.

You see the worry in his gaze, the familiar protective instinct overriding whatever else is bothering him. His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, a reflex honed over years of watching out for you. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

He snatches his hand back, turning away sharply. His shoulders tense up again, maybe even more than before. “Watch your step,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just melts back into the shadows at the corner, resuming his watch.

Your heart skips a beat, though it’s tangled with confusion. That brief moment—that flicker of the Raph you know—only makes his current behavior more baffling. He’s here, right beside you, but he feels miles away. And whatever this mission is, you have a growing suspicion that the real challenge tonight won’t be finding the Foot.

It’ll be navigating the strange, sudden distance between you and your best friend.

You activate your comm. “Okay, Leo, we’re topside at the waterfront. Area looks clear for now. Anything else we should be looking out for?”

There’s a crackle, then comes Leo’s voice. “Negative, just keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. How’s … uh … how’s the teamwork going?”

You glance at Raph’s stiff back. “It’s … quiet,” you say carefully.

“Good! Good! Quiet is good for recon!” Leo replies quickly. Then you hear a muffled shuffling sound and what might be Mikey whispering, “Ask them if they’re holding hands yet!” followed by a sharp “Mikey!” presumably from Leo or Donnie, and then static.

Your cheeks flush. Okay, now you know for sure. This isn’t a mission. This is a set-up. Raph’s brothers—they’ve thrown you two together out here. But why? And why is Raph acting like he’d rather wrestle Shredder blindfolded and unarmed than be alone with you?

“So,” you say, deciding to push forward with the charade, mostly because you don’t know what else to do. “Rooftop access?”

Raph grunts and points at a rusty fire escape ladder on the side of the nearest warehouse. “There,” he says, moving towards it.

He tests the lowest rung, satisfied when it holds his weight, and begins to climb without a word. You follow, hoisting yourself onto the first rung. You focus on the climb, placing your feet carefully, acutely aware of his broad back moving steadily above you.

Normally, Raph would check back, offering a hand even though he knows you’re capable, grumbling about making sure you don’t fall. Tonight, he just climbs, putting distance between you—and the hurt twists a little deeper in your chest.

You reach the flat, gravel-strewn roof, panting slightly. Raph is already crouched near the edge, his silhouette stark against the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off the low clouds as he scans the cluster of warehouses. You join him near the edge, keeping a respectful distance, the silence stretching taut between you.

The rooftop overlooking the warehouse district is surprisingly nice, in a way. The city lights glitter in the distance, reflecting off the dark water. There is even a small, neglected rooftop garden across the street with overgrown planters. It feels almost … romantic.

You take a deep breath of the crisp night air. “It’s actually kind of pretty up here, isn’t it?” you offer, trying to break the tense silence.

Raph swats away a loose piece of gravel. “It’s a rooftop. Concrete and pigeon crap.”

You wince slightly at his tone. “Right. So, uh … any signs of Foot activity?” you finish lamely, pulling the binoculars back up to your eyes, though you’re not really looking at anything.

He shifts beside you, sweeping away another stone, sending it skittering across the rooftop. “Nope,” he grunts. “Place is dead quiet. Just like Leo probably knew it would be.” There’s an edge to his voice, a raw frustration that goes beyond simple grumpiness.

Lowering the binoculars slowly, you turn to face him more directly. You can feel the thump of your own heart against your ribs. “Raphael,” you begin, your voice softer than you intended. He flinches, just slightly, like the sound of his full name startled him. He finally glances towards you, though his gaze lands somewhere near your shoulder, not quite meeting your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He stiffens immediately, crossing his thick arms over his plastron. “Nothin’s wrong. Told ya. Just doin’ the mission.”

“No,” you persist, finding a little more firmness. You know him too well to buy that. “Something is wrong. You’re barely speaking to me. And you’ve been acting weird ever since we left the lair. Did I … do something?” Your voice trembles slightly on the last question.

His head snaps up slightly at the tremor in your voice, a flicker of alarm crossing his features before he clamps down on it. “No!” he says, the word sharp, almost explosive. Then, quieter, more strained, “You didn’t do nothin’. It’s just … this whole thing is stupid.”

“Stupid? The mission?” you ask, latching onto the excuse, even though your gut tells you it’s not the entire story.

“Yeah! The ‘mission’!” He practically spits the word out, gesturing vaguely at the empty warehouses spread out below. “Leo sends us out here for nothin’. Just … gawkin’ at empty buildings in the dark.” His frustration is palpable, rolling off him in waves. He still won’t quite look at you.

“So you’re mad at Leo?” you probe gently, sensing you’re circling the actual issue.

He scrubs a hand over his face, his expression a turbulent mix of anger and something else. Embarrassment? Conflict? “Yeah. Mad at Leo.” He pauses, then mutters under his breath, almost inaudibly, “and Donnie. And Mikey.”

“Why?” The question hangs in the air, though the orchestrated nature of the evening has become blindingly clear. “Because they sent us out alone?”

Raph finally looks at you.

The raw emotion swirling in his eyes makes your breath catch. It’s frustration, yes, but tangled with a vulnerability that mirrors the look you saw when he caught you stumbling in the alley. He is watching you, a strange mix of frustration and something softer flickering in his eyes before he quickly looks away, scowling harder.

“This is dumb,” he growls, suddenly rising, pacing back and forth. “Just standin’ around. We should be doing somethin’.”

Your usually bright demeanor dims again, and a knot of disappointment forms in your stomach. Usually, even when Raph is moody, he isn’t this dismissive towards you.

You hug your arms around yourself, the pretty dress suddenly feeling even sillier. “If you don’t want to be here with me, you can just say so. Leo can send Donnie or Mikey.”

Raph stops pacing, looking genuinely taken aback for a second. “What? No, it’s not … It’s not you. It’s this whole … mission.” He gestures vaguely again, looking flustered. “It’s pointless.”

His words, meant perhaps to reassure, land wrong. This—being here with you—feels pointless to him?

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blink them back, turning away to stare fixedly at the skyline. “Oh. Okay.” Your voice is small.

Raph opens his mouth, then closes it, running a hand over his head in frustration. He looks utterly miserable, caught between his fierce feelings and his equally fierce fear. He hates seeing you sad, especially when he knows he is the cause. But the thought of confessing—of seeing potential pity or rejection in your eyes—it paralyzes him.

This whole set-up by his brothers is backfiring spectacularly.

Suddenly, a low groan echoes from the structure beneath your feet. Not metal stress. But something heavier, older. Concrete shifts.

“What is that?” you ask, glancing down nervously.

Before Raph can answer, a loud CRACK splits the air. The section of rooftop near the edge, right where you are, buckles violently. A chunk of concrete the size of a small car breaks loose, plummeting towards the alley below, and taking the patch of roof you are on with it.

You cry out, stumbling backwards as the ground disappears beneath you while Raph roars your name.

In a fraction of a second, all his awkwardness, fear, and frustration vanish, replaced by instinct. He launches himself forward, his massive green hand clamping around your wrist like a vise just as your feet leave the stable part of the roof. He hauls you back, stumbling himself but managing to pull you against his plastron, shielding your body with his own.

You land hard against his chest, the air knocked out of you, heart pounding against his like a drum. His arms are iron bands around you, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. Dust fills the air. Below, the chunk of concrete smashes into the alley with a deafening crash.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. You are trembling, clinging to the rough texture of his skin, the solid reality of him beneath your hands. He is holding you as if his life depends on it, his breathing ragged.

Finally, he loosens his grip slightly, tilting your chin up with one finger, his eyes scanning you frantically. “You okay? You hurt?” His voice is raw, thick with adrenaline and fear.

“I-I’m okay,” you stammer, tears finally spilling over, born of shock and relief. “You … you saved me, Raph.”

Seeing your tears, his expression crumples. “Aw, hell, I …” He trails off, looking down at you cradled in his arms, so small and fragile compared to him. The nearness, the lingering danger, almost losing you—it breaks down the last of his carefully constructed walls. “I’m sorry. For before. For bein’ a jerk.”

You shake your head, still trying to catch your breath. “It’s okay.”

“No,” he insists, his gaze intense, locking with yours. “It’s not okay. I ruined it. This … this whole thing.” He takes a shaky breath. “Leo an’ the guys—they set this up. This wasn’t just recon. It was supposed ta be … somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Like … a date?

“I panicked,” Raph admits, looking deeply ashamed. “Because … look at ya. You’re amazing. Always have been. So bright, and kind, and perfect.” He gestures at himself. “And I’m just … this. And I freak out, thinkin’ there’s no way someone like you can ever”—he pauses, swallowing hard—“feel the same way about someone like me.”

He finally echoes the words he confessed on that falling tower. “I’ve loved you for years. Since we were kids, watchin’ cartoons. But I was scared. Scared I’m not good enough. Scared I’ll ruin everything. I think you deserve … better.”

Waves of emotion wash over you—shock, understanding, overwhelming relief. The tears flow freely now, but they aren’t sad tears.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you cup his cheek. “Oh, Raphie,” you whisper, using his old childhood nickname. “You idiot.” A watery giggle escapes you. “You big, strong, wonderful idiot.”

Now, he’s the one whose eyes widen in surprise.

“You think I didn’t feel the same?” you continue, your voice gaining strength. “You think I didn’t spend years wondering if you saw me as anything more than just your human friend? I was scared too, Raph. Scared of losing you, losing our friendship if I said anything, if I misread everything. Scared I wasn’t tough enough, or cool enough, for you.”

You press your forehead against him. “You’re not ‘just this.’ You’re brave, and loyal, and you protect the people you care about more fiercely than anyone I know. You have the biggest heart, even if you try to hide it under all that grumpiness. How can I not fall for you?”

He stares at you, his usual scowl completely gone, replaced by stunned vulnerability. “You … you mean that?”

“Every word,” you breathe.

Slowly, tentatively, he leans down. You meet him halfway, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that is hesitant at first, then deepens with all the years of unspoken longing. His hands are infinitely careful as one cups the back of your head, the other resting gently on your waist.

And when you finally pull back, breathless, you are both smiling.

“So,” Raph mumbles, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “This, uh, date kinda sucked hard until the end.”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, the ending was pretty spectacular.” You feel safe and warm nestled against him, the earlier hurt completely forgotten. “Maybe we can try again? Somewhere more structurally sound?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, tightening his arm around you protectively.

Your comm crackles to life. “Uh, guys? Everything okay?” Leo’s voice sounds cautious. “Donnie lost your signal for a minute after that tremor.”

Raph glances down at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he switches on his own comm. “Yeah, Leo. Everything’s fine. More than fine.” He pauses, then adds, unable to resist, “Mission accomplished.”

You giggle, burying your face against his plastron as you hear Mikey whooping victoriously over the comms. The set-up might have gone disastrously wrong, but sometimes, it takes a little chaos to finally knock down the walls and let the truth come tumbling out.

And looking up at Raph’s relieved, smiling face, you know one thing for certain …

This ending was worth the wait.

[moonlightandromache]

okay jumping on the buddieravi trapped under rubble together bandwagon. consider this, there’s no big love confession, but eddie hasn’t moved back to la yet, the earthquake happens not long after the funeral and hes still there and its an all hands on deck sort of situation, and thus buddieravi ends up trapped, they’re sitting there under the rubble and eddie confesses ‘if we survive this, chris and I are moving home’ and buck whips his head around to stare at Eddie with wide eyes and it’s quite for a moment, and ravi to break the awkwardness and also mistaking buck’s bewilderment as panic says ‘well, buck if you need a place to stay Ihave a pretty decent guest room’ and before buck can even turn to look at ravi eddie’s like ‘don’t be ridiculous, i’m not kicking buck out, we can share’ and buck, still staring bewildered at eddie goes ‘ha ha yeah of course’ and ravi decides to just drop it because he’s so tired of being stuck in Their Bullshit.

(unfortunately for ravi, this is Not the last of this particular bullshit)

cut to the night of eddie and chris moving home, they spent most of the afternoon into the evening unpacking the uhaul, chris has gone to bed and buck and eddie are sitting on the couch together sharing a beer, both utterly exhausted but neither wanting to break from their peaceful little bubble, until eddie yawns big and loud and buck goes ‘you should take the bed tonight—you’ve been driving all day and your back doesn’t need to be more fucked up than it already is’ and eddie looks at him like hes grown two heads and goes ‘don’t be silly, we’ll share the bed. it’s not like we haven’t done it before’ and buck obviously can’t say ‘well that was before i realized i was bisexual. and also maybe am in love with you’ so instead he goes ‘haha, yeah, of course’ and when they get in bed buck ends up lying so stiff that eddie rolls his eyes (which buck doesn’t see because he’s pointedly staring at the ceiling) and goes ‘buck, hey, relax. it’s just me—it’s not like i don’t know about how you snore like a grandpa’ which does get buck to relax a little because he turns to glare at eddie insisting ‘i don’t snore like a grandpa’ and eddie gives him a toothy smile, reaches out to pat him on the cheek (which buck totally doesn’t tense up again because of) and says ‘sure bud, just get some sleep, i’m not gonna kick you out of bed in the middle of the night’ and then rolls over and goes to sleep. the next night when they are once again sitting on the couch together nursing beers, eddie stands up, smacking his thighs and declares that it’s time for bed and before buck can even suggest any kind of sleeping arrangement eddie holds out his hand for buck to use to haul himself off the couch with a ‘c’mon bud’ and eddie, instead of letting go once buck’s on his feet, turns and tugs buck along with him to the bedroom, leaving no room for buck to protest as he declares he’s taking the bathroom first and buck can just get changed in the bedroom while he waits.

cue a montage of the next couple of nights where buck, trying to be normal about it, ends up getting some of the worst sleep of his life because he forces himself to stay awake as long as possible to make sure eddie’s actually fallen asleep and then subsequently makes sure he wakes up in the morning before eddie, nights spent at the firehouse are actually a reprieve for him, at least the ones where they can actually lie down in the bunk room for a little while. which works for a little while until they end up having a particularly grueling shift with back to back calls allowing for little to no rest, buck finds ravi after their shift is done while eddie is still in the showers washing off sewer (he drew the short straw) and asks if he could crash in his guest room that night. ravi raises his eyebrows and responds with a teasing smirk ‘what did eddie finally kick you out?’ and buck, slightly offended on eddies behalf replies ‘no of course not’ to which ravi’s eyebrows manage to raise slightly higher and buck, slightly panicking blurts ‘eddie and chris are having a father-son bonding night and i don’t want to intrude’ and ravi just kinda stares at him for a moment and buck hastily adds on ‘i’ll make dinner?’ and ravi, not one to argue with the offer of free food shrugs and says ‘sure’ and they agree that buck will come by around 6 and its set.

except eddie and chris don’t have any kind of father-son bonding night planned, and buck has to come up with an excuse for why he’s heading out for the evening and, again panicking slightly, tells eddie that he had a date. to which eddie raises his eyebrows and goes ‘you’re dating again?’ and buck, already set in the lie, responds ‘just, uh, just casually. i’m not—not looking for anything serious right now, just trying to, y’know, get back on that horse?’ and eddie is quiet for a moment just looking at buck and then says ‘right, sure.’ and buck turns to leave but pauses again, ‘uh, don’t wait up? i don’t know how late i’ll be’ and eddie, voice going slightly funny replies ‘right, uh, i guess—have fun?’ and buck nods, pleased with himself for his on the spot improvisational skills, and heads out the front door.

the night spent at ravi’s rejuvenates buck and he is able to fall back into the routine he crafted for himself to be able to share the bed with eddie for about another week until the lack of sleep catches up with him again and he finds himself reaching out to ravi again, this time claiming ‘chris is having a sleepover and it’d be kinda hard to crash on the couch when theres a whole bunch of teenagers camped out in the living room determined to stay awake as long as possible’ and offers to bring ravi some of his latest batch of baked goods and ravi once again is like. sure man. because who turns down buck’s blueberry surprise muffins? and anyway everything is once again set. except for the fact that there isn’t any actual sleepover happening at the diaz house that night, so buck once again makes up a date, and once again tells eddie ‘not to wait up’ and eddie doesn’t ask how the date went the next morning when he wakes up to buck making breakfast.

and it continues on like that for a few weeks, buck making up some kind of reason he needs to be out of the diaz house for a night to ravi and then telling eddie he’s got another date and not to wait up and buck foolishly thinks he’s hacked the system.

until the fifth time it happens, buck comes home from ravi’s place to find eddie already awake, sitting on the couch, waiting for him. eddie doesn’t meet buck’s eyes when he says ‘this is your fifth date this month’ and buck, confused replies ‘uh, yeah, guess so’ ‘same person? seems like it could be getting a little bit serious’ and buck rubs at the back of his neck ‘oh, no, uh, different—different people’ and eddie, still not looking at buck goes ‘really? i mean—you haven’t felt a spark with any of them?’ and buck chuckles nervously, entirely unprepared for this conversation and replies ‘uh, no, guess not’ and eddie finally, finally looks at buck and goes ‘why are you lying to me?’ he holds up his own phone like a piece of evidence ‘we have location sharing on, remember? i know you’ve been going to ravi’s’ and buck, deer in the headlights, completely panics and blurts out ‘i’m sleeping with him’ and eddie, looking suddenly very confused, eyes squinting slightly says ‘what?’ and buck, already climbing into the hole he’s dug for himself goes, ‘we’re having sex. me and ravi' and eddie is once again staring at him like he's grown a second head and buck decides to make a stealthy retreat (read: goes to the kitchen and makes a bit of an extravagant breakfast) and then chris is awake and the conversation doesn’t get brought back up.

except, they have a shift that same day, and while buck initially is grateful for this, about 4 hours into their 24, ravi comes up to buck while he’s doing inventory in the supply closet and goes ‘hey, uh, did—did i do something to make eddie mad at me? because i feel like he’s mad at me.’ and buck replies ‘what? no. eddie isn’t mad at you’ and ravi goes ‘are you sure? because he’s been acting…a little weird? but like, specifically to me?’ and buck is like ‘pshh, what? no he isnt. hes just being—regular eddie.’ and then in comedic timing eddie appears, does a slight double take at buck and ravi standing together in the supply closet, makes a weird face ‘sorry, didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt anything.’ and he says it like the words are sour in his mouth, still looking between buck and ravi, and then he seemingly remembers why he came looking for them in the first place and says ‘food’s ready’ and then promptly spins on his heel and leaves before buck or ravi can say anything.

and ravi just, fixes buck with a Look and buck goes all sheepish and says ‘uh, so maybe eddie’s acting a little weird.’

[morethanmemory]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.

[tf-boi]

Rubber

"I'm off to work!" Jake said, putting on his work shoes. He was going to his job as a night shift worker at a local spa.

"You seem happy to be going to that gay spa" Charlie, Jake's boyfriend, said.

"Not really, we're understaffed today, so I'm gonna be working the front, then hope its slow enough that I can clean the place and restocks and ughhhh" Jake moaned.

"Wow that sucks. They didn't hire anyone new yet?"

"Nope so it's just me tonight."

Charlie got up and walked towards Jake "Should I help?"

"Nah Charlie, you wouldn't want to." Jake denied.

Charlie hugged his boyfriend and whispered "Well if you finish work early we can borrow one of the rooms and fuck."

Jake blushed, "W-well sure...if you don't mind" he put his hands over his excited cock.

"Cool then its settled then" Charlie said putting on his shoes and jacket.

The pair arrived to Jake's work, the new gay soa that opened up in town. On the outside it looks like an ok hotel but on the inside it has pools, saunas, hot tubs, and even private rooms for people to rent.

"Your late!" Said an annoyed looking twink behind the counter.

Jake put his hand behind his back. "Sorry Dave, traffic was rough".

"Whatever..." Dave said getting out from behind the counter, showing he only had the staff shirt and a pair of speedos on, his bulge looking to big to be on a twink but nobody questions it, only crave it.

Dave pointed at Charlie "And who's that?"

"My boyfriend" Jake said "He's gonna help me out tonight."

"Wait thats smart, I should have asked my boyfriend to work with me." Dave said, impressed with Jake's idea.

"Yeah so you mind loaning him your shirt?"

Dave rolled his eyes and took his shirt of, revealing his thin figure tp the world. He tossed it to Jake. "I'll be im the pool for a bit if you need back up"

"Thanks Dave!" The two workers waving goodbye to each other.

Jake handed Charlie the shirt and watched him put it on. "Ok you can man the front desk. Its pretty simple, they come in, enter their info on the tablet. Then you take their money and hand them a locker key." Charlie nodded as if thinking this task was simple enough. He sat behind the counter where Dave was. Jake grabbed some cleaning supplies and walked off. Through out the night Charlie did as Jake told, some of the patrons even grabbing a condom from the bowl. Charlie sat there thinking about Dave's massive bulge, how he wanted it in him. Charlie and Jake were dating but both of them prefer to bottom so they'd often get others to join in with them. A few hours passed and Jake returned. "Hows it goung babe?" Charlie asked enthusiastically. "Its going alright" Charlie responded "But the condom bowl is empty".

Jake looked at the bowl and gave out a small gasp.

He ran to the supply closet and emerged a few minutes. "Aw crap we're out". Jake sighed.

"Oh well." Charlie said putting his head in his hand.

"Its not 'oh well' babe one of our selling points was we gave out free condoms!"

Jake started to panic but then stopped at looked at Charlie with puppy dog eyes.

As if he knew what Jake was thinking, Charlie snarled "No way not happening"

"Pleeeeease" Jake begged "I'll get Dave to fuck you if you let me."

"W-what??" Charlie gasped.

"Please babe you weren't exactly subtle staring at him."

Charlie blushed "Can you really do that?"

"Yeah he's pretty wild. A few times I ended up inside that monster! He even churned me into cum and splattered me all over the shower room wall. I ended up respawning in the sewer."

Charlie turned red at the image of his boyfriend getting cock vored by his coworker. He then sighed. "Sure do your thing".

Jake grinned and twirled his fingers. Suddenly Charlue started sinking as his body is being dissolved into a pile of condoms. Soon his entire body was reduced to a pile on condoms. Jake scooped up his boyfriend and filled the condom bowl with him.

"You better turn me back!" Charlie's voice echoed in Jake's head.

"Don't worry as long as I have one of you I can turn you back." Jake picked one up and twirled his fingers once again making the condom glow for a moment. "There, I put most of your soul and mind into this one so I should be good." He said, putting Charlie into his pocket.

Jake sat back behind the counter taking over for Charlie.

Throughout the night, more and more customers come into the spa and grab a condom from the bowl. Charlie moaned in his mind as he felt his multiple condom bodies being used. He felt large and small dicks, soft gentle thrusts and wild animal-like thrusts. Jake got an erection as his mental link with Charlie meant that he felt what he felt as well. "I-i should have thought this through. . . " Jake said, putting one of his hands in his pants massaging his cock.

"N-no you should do this more often! AHHHH~" Charlie moaned in Jake's mind.

As the night goes on, Jake gasps and huffs in lust as he saw each of the guests leave one by one. Soon it was 5AM, closing time for the Spa, which was really just an hour between the night and day shift for cleaning.

"Phew almost done. . ." Jake said reaching for the rest of Charlie's condoms. A hand swoops in and grabs the rest of them, it was Dave looking like he enjoyed his night.

"Good work Jake," Dave winked "Uhhh where's your boyfriend?"

"Oh uhhh. . . he went home a few hours ago, he's not used to the night shift."

"Oh shame, I wanted to do a threesome to top my night off, but you will do for tonight."

Jake blushed "W-what? No way I gotta clean this place for the day shift!"

Dave giggled "Oh nah, I spent the last hour or so cleaning the rooms as the customers left, I was thinking of how I would fuck the both of you when your shift was done."

Jake stuttered "well . . I. . .ummm I don't know if Char-char would approve. . . "

"Do it!" Echoed Charlie's voice "I want to feel that dick in me too!"

Slowly Charlie's horniness slowly leaked into Jake's mind and he felt like he couldn't say no. "S-sure Dave!" Jake shouted as he followed Dave into an empty bedroom.

The two begin to make out as Dave slowly strips Jake down.

Jake moaned into Dave's mouth as they fall onto a bed. After making out for a while longer, Dave broke off and stared at his prey. He removed his speedo revealing his massive cock. Jake was in awe of his third leg begging for it to be inside him. Dave went to work shoving his cock into Jake's ass raw. "Ahh Ahhh" Jake moaned as his coworker wrecked his asshole.

"You like that bitch?" Dave barked, dominating Jake.

"Yes daddy, harder!" Jake pleaded

Dave happily abided as he fucked Jake faster and harder.

"Holy shit his cock is so massive!" Charlie thought as he was mentally fucked by Dave. "Damn, good thing I'm a condom right now, I would have cummed by now!"

Dave soon slowed down and shoved his rocker deeper and deeper into Charlie. Dave then lifted Charlie up and fucked him against the wall.

"ahh ahhh" Jaked moaned as his mind is insides are being rearranged by Dave's giant cock. He held him and gripped Dave's back as his ass is taking the beating of a lifetime. Dave took this as a sign to go harder as he sped up his pounding. After a few more thrusts, Dave moaned as pumps and pumps of cum comes out of his dick and into Jake. He placed him onto the bed as he fills Jake up, expanding his stomach with his cum. When Jake looked like he was full, Dave pulled out and continued to jizz all over Jake's body.

Covered in cum, Jake moaned as he tried to catch his breath "D-dave I think you went too hard! This place is a mess. . ."

Dave didn't respond and suddenly Jake felt his feet being wrapped in a warm embrace. "W-what" Jake muttered as he looked down, seeing his feet disappear into Dave's cock. "Dammit Dave!" Jake protested.

Dave smirked as he sucked Dave's legs into his cock slit. "I was gonna cock vore both of you guys but you will have to do for today! After you reform tell loverboy about it so I can fill up both my balls!"

Jake tried resisting but gave up as soon as he realizes the fucking he just had drained all of his energy, he gave up as his chest goes into Dave's cock. The world goes dark as his head is enveloped into Dave's monster cock leaving the shape of his body visible from the outside of Jake's cock. His cock sucked him into one of Dave's nuts. Jake rolls up in the fetal position as he gets comfortable in Dave's ball sack. Jake moaned as he felt the walls of his new home massaging him turning him into more spunk for Dave. On the outside, Dave was masterbating to help speed up the process. Jake felt his skin go white and soft as his body is broken down do sperm. As Dave stroke his cock, the condom that contained most of Charlie's mind fell out of Jake's pocket. Dave smirked as he picked Charlie up and wrapped his cock with Charli's condom body. Charlie moaned as he felt him being massaged by Dave's hand over Dave's cock. After a few more strokes, Jake has fully become conscious sperm. Jake then felt his new home pushing him out as his cum body exits Dave's cock and into Charlie's condom body. "Ahh ahhh" Dave moaned as he filled charlie up with Jake. Charlie felt like he was gonna pop when he was filled up to the size of a watermelon.

Dave carefully took charlie off and tied a knot so Jake won't spill out.

"Dammit Dave!" Jake thought as he made his body slosh inside Charlie.

"We HAVE to do this again!" Charlie begged.

Dave walked over and picked up Charlie filled with Jake.

"Well at least I didn't cum into drain this time" Dave teased as he tossed Charlie and Jake into his locker. "You should reform by the time your shift starts, see you later!" Dave said as he closed his locker door.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 14th

Orgasm Denial, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Orgasm denial; Mary’s a sadist wbk; established relationship; all of this is consensual; naked woman, clothed man; face-slapping; praise kink; degradation kink (is it really written by me if it doesn’t have at least one of these?); fingering; no lube; cunnilingus; dacrophilia; use of sex toys; dry humping; biting; pain kink; vaginal sex; piv sex; unprotected sex; choking; squirting;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mary liked to make it hurt but the hurt was always so good you would forgive it every single time. He did things to you that you never thought you’d enjoy and opened up a whole different side of yourself you didn’t know lay dormant. Of course, you weren’t innocent like most people assumed, you did have a dark side. But Mary somehow managed to take that dark side and twist it until it had become darker and hungrier than before. And you loved every second of it.

Outside of the bedroom, Mary was the most beautiful human in the world. He was sweet, kind, caring, attentive, somewhat a golden retriever. Between the sheets, he was evil, downright demonic. And tonight was no exception. Apparently he’d gotten into a fight with one of his bandmates, and you were going to pay the price for it. He’d sent you a text before leaving his friend’s place: you better be naked with your legs spread by the time I get home or else. Or else what? Remember the safe word?

Lemon.

Good.

That was the last you heard from him. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you completely undressed and did as he asked. You knew what would happen if you were caught slacking, and given the mood he was in, you didn’t really want to risk it. The last time that happened, you couldn’t sit down for an entire week - because it wasn’t just your ass he beat. The guilt he felt afterwards was crazy and you had to keep reminding him that you wanted it.

You were scrolling on your phone, laying on the bed with your whole body on display when you heard the front door slam shut. Immediately, you threw your phone across the room and put your hands above your head, exactly how he liked. Not even three seconds later, the bedroom door swung open. Mary’s expression was dark, and he was filled with such a rage you rarely saw. He was scary when he was angry - the kindest people usually were. You felt arousal flood your cunt at the sight of him.

“Finally,” he said, “someone who does as I ask.” He placed his guitar on its stand before turning back to you, his eyes roaming the entirety of your body until they stopped on your exposed centre. “I half expected I’d have to come back and punish you. I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, quietly.

He moved to the side of the bed and sat next to you, cupping your cheek in a moment of worrying calm. “For what, my angel?” He asked softly. “For being an obedient slut for me? For letting me find you with your legs spread like a fucking whore?” The same hand that was gently touching your face disappeared, only to strike your cheek with enough force to sting, but not enough to leave a mark. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

His other hand moved down your body and immediately began playing with your clit - he didn’t bother gathering any wetness from your hole, at least to begin with. His middle finger ran circles around it, and despite the friction being enough to start a fire, it felt good. You bit your lip at the sensation, trying not to let out any moans without permission. Mary just laughed and pulled it out from between your teeth. “No, baby. I want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear me fuck you dumb tonight. Hide those pretty moans from me and I’ll make you suffer, got it?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.”

You felt his index and ring fingers slide inside of you, again without any additional lubrication beside your own wetness. The stretch wasn’t too painful, more uncomfortable, but he didn’t give you any time to think about it - instead he began hitting your g-spot over and over again, putting his entire wrist and hand into the roughness of his work and immediately hitting you with intense pleasure. The more he moved, the more wetness got onto his hands and the better it felt. But things really felt better when his second hand came into play, when he used his finger to play with your clit. The look of concentration on his face and the way he bit his lip was enough to make you almost blow right there, but you hadn’t gotten the permission to cum yet, and you knew that cumming without permission would have landed you in serious trouble. Though, Mary could feel how tight you were getting, how needy you were when you bucked your hips to chase that feeling.

“Are you close?” He asked, his voice teasing and bordering on condescension.

“Yes!”

“And what do we say when we’re close?”

“C-can I cum?”

“Can you cum… what?”

“Please! Can I cum please.”

“Good girl.”

You could feel it creeping up on you. It felt so fucking good. His masterful hands brought you so close you could almost taste it. Yes! Yes! Right there. Right there!

He pulled his hands away, his fingers and thumb covered in your slick. You watched him as he admired the shine you left on him, pulling his fingers apart and watching the string snap in between them. All the while you felt that orgasm ebbing away. You clearly looked dejected, and this made him laugh when he saw the expression you wore. “You were a good girl for asking, but I still didn’t give you permission, did I? Let’s go again, shall we?”

His hands went right back in to the exact position he was in beforehand. This time, however, he’d moved down the bed and was sat in between your spread legs, his tongue replacing his other hand on your clit. The same middle and ring finger that he used before, he used again, but this time he added his index finger to stretch you a little more, once again not bothering to slick it up and making you wince at the burn.

Mary would sometimes lick your clit, but he knew the real pleasure you experienced came from him sucking on it. He suctioned his mouth around your pebble and began to suck hard, stealing your breath as he did it. Your hands almost moved from your spot above your head because you were so desperate to touch him. You needed to at this point. “P-please, Mary.”

“Please what?”

“Let me t-touch you!”

“Aw,” he cooed, “is the pleasure too much for my little angel, hm? Does she need to pull on my hair?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, then.”

As soon as he dove back in, your hands flew down to his hair, grateful for the permission. You were always overly touchy during sex - the desperate need for closeness and affection too much for your body to handle, and your hands always took on a mind of their own. Mary loved it. He loved the way you pulled on his hair when he ate you out, how you cupped both of his cheeks when you kissed him while he was deep inside you, how your nails would scratch down his back when he hit that sweet spot, how your hands would always clutch onto his thighs or hips when his cock was down your throat. The constant need to be as physically close to him as possible made him feel loved and wanted. And so he would only begrudge your touch as a punishment.

Your hands tangled in his hair, the strands a little harder than usual because of the styling gel he used, but still you pulled at the roots. You heard him groan in response, no doubt growing harder in his pants the tighter you pulled. The harder you pulled, the faster his fingers moved and the harder he sucked. Again, you were so close, and you announced it only to have him pull all the way back again, completely remove all his touches. You whined and pouted.

“Now, now, angel.” He scolded. He held your chin between his thumb and index finger, swiping the tip of his thumb over your pouted lip. “Don’t do that. Don’t brat out on me now or there will be consequences. Take what I give you.”

“I wanna cum so badly.” You said. Your throat was tight from the disappointment, and you could feel tears begin to brew.

“Poor baby. Suffering so much. I know what could make it better. Close your eyes.”

You hesitated for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. But once he made it very clear he wasn’t moving until you closed your eyes, you obliged. You felt the bed shift beneath him as he reached over you, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against your soft, naked thigh. The bedside drawer opened slowly so as not to immediately alert you to what he was doing, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was reaching for one of the toys you kept in there. You didn’t hear it close, nor did you hear him grab anything. Instead, you felt something big and bulbous sit at your clit before it sprang to life at the flick of a button. Your wand. You didn’t even hear him plug it into the wall. Even on its lowest setting it was torturous enough for you to scream out, both in surprise and sensitivity. Your eyes opened entirely and you saw him kneeling between your legs, wand held tightly in his hand and a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you writhe and attempt to escape from the feeling.

“You like that?” He asked. When you didn’t answer him, he turned the vibrations up a little more and pressed the wand further into you, applying more pressure to the area and intensifying the feelings. “Fucking answer me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Yes! I like it!”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Have I fucked you brain dead already, hm? I haven’t even touched you with my cock yet and you’re already fucked up. You should see yourself right now - you look so fucking pathetic.” He laughed at your whimpers and the way your hips were moving at the sound of him being so fucking vile. It always turned you on to hear him be an asshole in the bedroom, given the polar opposite personality he displayed every other day. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean any of the things he was telling you, but he always said it with such conviction, especially in the moment you believed him - and it felt amazing.

Mary lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, making it parallel to his body. The back of your thigh was resting over the top of his incredibly hard cock, that was trapped still underneath the layers of cotton and denim. His composure always made you feel like he wasn’t quite as affected as you were by all this. If it wasn’t for the blown out irises of his eyes and the way he was now rubbing himself up against you, you’d think he wasn’t bothered at all. But he took his pleasure from you as he tortured your body, humping the back of your thick thigh as if he were desperate for relief. The look of you, red-faced, sweaty and desperately wailing like a bitch in heat had him far more affected than you realised, and he needed to get it out of his system one way or another. Right now, your thigh was the closest thing he could use.

“M-Mary, I’m gonna c-cum!”

He removed all contact again, even holding your ankle to get your thigh away from his body, denying himself pleasure as he denied you. He waited, wordlessly, for you both to calm down, before he attached the wand to you again, but this time two times more powerful than before. You screamed at the feeling and your hand immediately went to the wrist that was holding the vibrator, nails digging into the white skin and leaving red scratch marks. He went back to humping the back of your thigh, with a little more vigour given the loudness of your moaning. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside you, to spear you on his thick cock and take his own pleasure out of you. He couldn’t wait to make you cum, to shatter your entire world around you and make you think only of him as you tried to breathe. He’d been thinking about it all day. With every frustration he felt he was going to deny you an orgasm. Three so far. Another two to go.

You felt his lips on your calf, kissing the skin there until one particularly hard thrust against your thigh had him groaning and sinking his teeth into you.

“Cumming!”

He pulled away again before you had chance to. You were so close that time. You would have taken any punishment he dished out if it meant you could have cum there and then. But he stopped you before you had chance to tip over the edge and you screamed in frustration, punching the bed beneath you. The tears you shed at the beginning of the session were nothing compared to the tears you shed now. You watched through blurred vision as Mary’s eyes lit up at the sight of you crying in frustration. He turned the vibrator off and threw it to the side, pulling himself out of his confines and lining himself up to your entrance.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. I fucking love it when I make you cry. You’re always so pretty. Gets me so fucking hard.” The last sentence he said through gritted teeth and directly into your ear, his body lying down on top of you and trapping you between himself and the mattress beneath you. He gave you a chaste kiss to your lips, ignoring the tears you were shedding, before pushing himself all the way in, stretching you out even more than before. The tongue that had been licking your cunt earlier was now licking away the tears you shed, and a groan escaped his lips when the head of his cock kissed your cervix as his tongue registered the saltiness.

He thrust gently at first. He may have been acting like a monster but he definitely wasn’t one, even in his anger. While he thrust in and out of you shallowly and tentatively, his lips ran down your cheeks, across your jaw and down to your neck, where he licked, kissed and sucked at a sensitive spot of yours. “I fucking love this tight cunt.” He commented, his voice muffled by your skin. He pulled out and slammed back into you. “I love the noises you make when I fuck you.” Pulled out again and slammed back in. “I love hurting you and making you remember who this pussy belongs to.” Pulled out. Slammed in.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him as close as possible. The feel of his loose, grey vest softly dragging against your very erect nipples only added to the heightened sensitivity of your body making you cry out every time they rubbed against you. His jeans bit into your bikini line and thighs as he slammed into you, hitting your cervix every. Single. Time. Fuck it hurt. It hurt so fucking good.

He picked up the pace and the roughness, but he took this opportunity to attach his lips to yours, knowing how desperate for affection you’d become now. You were still crying - partly out of frustration for your almost orgasms, but also because of just how good he felt. Mary kept groaning and grunting into the kiss, his own voice coming out involuntarily from how good you wrapped around him.

He broke the kiss and sat up onto his knees, still thrusting away inside of you, his pace never faltering. “Fuck!” He grunted as he watched your body jiggle with the force of him. He always loved how your body moved,how you ricocheted off every thrust. He looked down at where you both were connected and saw a string of white around the base of his cock where you’d creamed all over him. “Fucking Hell!” He cried out. “Look at the state of you! This slutty pussy creaming all over me. Does it feel that fucking good?”

“Yes! Feels so good, Mary! You fill me so good.”

“Let the neighbours know who’s filling you this well, angel.”

“You are!”

“Say my name.”

You moaned at one of his thrusts. “Mary!”

“Again.” He slapped your thigh.

“Fuck! Mary!”

“What a good whore for me.”

He reached over to the neglected vibrator and turned it back on, setting the intensity back up to where it was the last time he used it. You visibly winced. “Mary, no!”

“Do you need to use the safe word?”

You shook your head in response.

“Then you’re gonna fucking take it, aren’t you?”

He placed the vibrator over your clit again and continued to fuck you as hard as he could. His grey vest shirt was now dark in most places from the sweat that coincided with the exertion. The sight of him wet and determined had your cunt tightening around him, earning you an appreciative, “fucking slut.” Then, with no warning, the vibrator’s intensity was turned up again, causing you to scream out loud and tears to start falling again. The stimulation bordered on painful, teetering on the edge of delicious and unbearable. You didn’t think he’d ever let you cum - that he’d keep you dancing the line until he finished and that he’d leave you. The thought of it was hot, of course, but by this point you were exhausted. Tired of being brought to the precipice but never quite falling over it. Mary watched your reactions intensely, drool practically slipping from his mouth. You were getting closer and closer by the second.

“Mary, I’m gonna cum.”

This time, he didn’t move the vibrator away. Instead he kept the speed and pressure exactly the same. You could feel it building and building, your entire body tingling in anticipation. He was finally going to let you cum. You were going to cum. You were so fucking close. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

And then he moved the vibrator away.

“No!” You screamed. “Mary, you piece of shit! You fucking asshole! Let me cum, please!” You moved your hand down and began rubbing at your clit working yourself desperately to release. But you didn’t get much time as his free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “I fucking hate you!” You didn’t. Not really. But in this moment you couldn’t help it. You began thrashing against him, trying to fight against his strength but now he was putting his full weight onto you and you were having trouble winning this fight. He let go of the vibrator and slapped your face again, this time a little harder and timed with a particularly hard thrust.

“You wanna fucking fight me? You little bitch. Do you want me to tie you to the fucking bed and keep edging you all night, hm? Acting like a bitch in heat. So desperate to cum. So fucking embarrassing.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher. His free hand now came to your throat and began squeezing at the sides. Your breath didn’t escape you, but he was restricting the blood flow. You felt like your eyes were going to burst any second. “I should punish you for that. Remind you your place.”

“I’m sorry!” You said quietly. “Mary, please.”

He bent down and gave you another kiss, his hand still restricting your throat. When the kiss ended, he released you from his grasp and picked the vibrator up, turning it onto its highest setting. “You wanna fucking cum? That’s fine. Cum whenever you want.”

He placed it to your clit and had you screaming at the intensity, more tears falling from your eyes and wracked sobs shaking your entire body along with his insane thrusts. At this point you were practically screaming through it: babbling incoherently, screaming his name, expletives, anything just to take the intensity away and relieve some of the tension. His other hand that was once restraining yours now rest at your hip and allowed him some leverage to continue to rail you into the mattress. He was exhausted, you could see it from the look in his eyes. You wondered how many times during this whole ordeal he almost came too.

One of your own hands moved to the one on the vibrator, and you grabbed hold of his index and ring fingers. He let you, wanting nothing more to lock hands with you and provide you the comfort you were craving. But he was so focused now on getting you both to orgasm he would let that slip today.

“Mary, I’m close! Please.”

“It’s okay, angel.” His voice was soft now. Gentle. He wasn’t the same, angry, crazy man who was ramming into you just moments ago. “Cum for me. I’ll talk you through it. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay?” You nodded. “Such a good girl for me, hey? Feel so fucking good around my cock. I got you, angel. Let go. Cum for me.”

And you did. Oh hells, did you cum. All five of the orgasms you missed now came charging through you at full speed, freezing every muscle in your body and stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes glazed over and for a second went black, the violence of your orgasm now taking all of your senses for you and numbing your brain until all you became was nerve endings reaching climax. No noises were made, no thoughts were thought, no breaths were taken. It wasn’t until eons later when you felt Mary’s hand tapping your cheek you were brought back down from wherever the fuck you’d gone. His voice faded back into focus, finally reaching your ears.

“Hey. Hey, angel. Come on, come back to me.”

You blinked. “Mary?”

“Hi, baby. Bear with me a little longer, I’m almost there, okay?”

You couldn’t say anything, instead you just nodded. You felt him enter you again, unsure when he pulled out completely, and after a few intense and oversensitive thrusts, you felt him still and cum inside you. His own orgasm wasn’t quite as intense as yours, but it still nearly wiped him out. He lay on top of you for a few seconds, his own body unresponsive to his wants, but once he had regained his own strengths, he gave you a chaste kiss and headed to the bathroom. He always made an effort to clean you up a bit, even if it was only a brief wipe down, it was enough. When he came back, you looked at the state of him. His black jeans even blacker around his crotch and thighs, and it looked like he’d pissed himself.

“What happened?” You asked weakly.

The smile that Mary returned made your heart skip a beat. “You came so hard I was forcibly ejected from your cunt.” He said climbing back onto the bed. “And you squirted everywhere. We’re going to have to change the sheets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. I wanna make you do it again.”

“Not tonight, love. I’m tired.”

Mary laughed. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He placed the wash cloth on the bedside table and lay down next to you again, scooping you up and holding you tightly, allowing you to bury your head in his bare chest now that his shirt had been removed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You replied, placing a little kiss over his heart.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[mindless-existence1]

Summery: 2018rottmnt Donnoie fluff where reader falls asleep on his lap while he works.

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND!

Authors note: Reader is gender neutral as always and isn't described as yokai or human so you can pick what you are, whatever fits you bookie. Only thing is that they fit in Donnies lap while he works so this kinda leans towards people with smaller frames aka me. Also Donnie and reader have been in a relationship for a while by the time this happens.

The lair was dark when you started making your way through the sewer tunnels. It wasn't surprising since it was so late, normally when you slept over you'd spend the day there but you go back up doing stuff at home you couldn't come till now. It sucked you couldn't hang out with the guys and April but you'd have time for that tomorrow. Right now though you want to see your boyfriend.

You had your small backpack but it mostly just had games and snacks in it. Everything else you'd need would be in Donnie's lab. On your way there you passed kitchen where Leo was making tea. You knew his insomnia was bad and so was yours so you didn't say anything since he didn't see you.

Speaking of insomnia, you had assumed Donnie would be working in his lab instead of sleeping in his room. So you started looking for him there first.

You crept past the main area and up to the large doors of Donnie's lab. He had given you the password a while ago, after a lot of convincing, so you got in easily. With a quiet whooshing noise the doors slid open.

The inside of Donnie's lab had his signature purple lighting and gadgets of all sizes surrounding the somehow organized room. After scanning the room you found him sitting at his desk tinkering away. You smiled to yourself, your assumption was correct!

The doors closed and made a semi loud click noise. This is what alerted Donnie that someone had entered his privet area. He turned in his chair and found you walking towards him. "Oh hello dearest I didn't know if you were still coming tonight." He said, his voice slurred with exhaustion.

"Yeah I didn't know if I was but I finished up early so thought I'd sleep here." You smiled at him and when you reached his desk you gave him a soft kiss. "Glad you came, I'm just finishing up on this and then I'll head to bed." He spoke with slight ergancy now.

"Honey it's already late, you should get some sleep. Preferably with me." You said, a yawn punctuating your words. "Last time you acid you were "finishing something up" you spent all night on it."

You held his face in your hands as you spoke. He frowned slightly. "I apologize y/n but i really have to get this done. You can go lay down while I finish up." He answered and turned back his chair to face his desk without another word. You glanced over at the matrice that he has in his lab for late night projects.

With a sigh you walked over to the bed and dropped off your bag before walking back to your heard working boyfriend. You pulled on the back of his chair and turned him around a bit so he was facing you. "Honey I'm sorry but i told you I got to finish this." He said a slight undertone of annoyance, though he could never truly be annoyed with you.

"I know I know, Mr. Genius man." You teased as you moved his arms so you could get into his lap. "You can still work on that, and I can get my cuddles! It's a win win situation." A dark blush finds its way onto Donnie's face and he's very glad you can't see it.

He can already feel your exhausted body go slack as you getcomfortable. "Yeah ok, win win situation." He chuckles and uses his feet to kick the chair back so he is facing his desk. "Good night sweetheart." He says with a kiss to your forehead. He hears you mumble something into his plastron, your voice slurred with exhaustion.

With a soft smile and blush on his face, he gets back to work.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Sunset Bedroom (18+)

FastForward!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Just me wanting to make a smut in the Fast Forward setting, heh💙

------------

Sex with Leo in your shared penthouse guest room💙

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Spelling, oral, female receiving, dirty talk, light choking, unprotected sex, Leo being a tease.

------------

The future wasn’t as bad as one could fear it would be. It was much nicer and much brighter than you had imagined. But that could very well be because of the many windows in Cody’s penthouse. The food was good, if not a little strange, but you liked it nonetheless. The entertainment was also pretty good. Way different than what you were used to, but still good. But if there was one thing that stayed the same, no matter the time, being it the past, present or future, was Leonardo.

Your sweet terrapin boyfriend stayed the same, even after an accidental time travel into the future, and that was just the way you wanted it. Even after the sudden chance from sewer to penthouse, he stayed humble and caring. He still looked out for you in small ways, like placing a hand over the corner of the table when you were walking by, or always making sure there was a full glass of water by your side. He still cuddled you close at night and kissed you at every opportunity he got.

Even 99 years into the future, Leo still insisted on spending his planned time with you, just as much as he insisted on his training. The big difference being that Leo now had the opportunity to take you out, instead of planning dates in the lair, in your apartment or on your roof. But even in futuristic restaurants Leo would still hold your hand and keep his famous eye contact with you, while listening to you speaking.

But there was one thing that had changed between you and Leo; your sex life. Never before had you and Leo been able to get intimate so often, without interruptions. Though 2105 wasn’t without its dangers and villains, it was generally much more peaceful, which gave Leo and his brothers extra time to kill. And luckily for you, that meant getting fucked your brains out on a pretty much daily basis.

Tonight was no different. You and Leo had retreated into the big spacious bedroom Cody had given the two of you. Located on the western corner of the penthouse, with big open windows, you and Leo had one of the best sceneries in New York City. And of course the two of you have had sex several times with the city and the sunset as your background. There was just something about watching your face covered with the warm glow of the setting sun, as you begged Leo to make you cum with your sweet taste on his tongue, that made his mind spin ecstasy.

You were laying across the big soft Alaskan king sized bed, your hair cascading behind you on the mattress. Your pants and underwear had been discarded long ago, laying somewhere on the floor and out of your side. Your bra was on the edge of the bed, having been taken off by Leo the moment you got onto the soft sheets, and your shirt pushed up over your chest, revealing your breast to Leo and the air in the room. Your cheeks were flushed, your breathing was heavy and moans were escaping your lips. Thank God that a luxury penthouse in the future meant that the bedrooms were soundproof, because otherwise you would be getting in big trouble.

The sight between your legs was enough to make you roll your head back in pleasure. Leonardo, naked without any of his high tech gear or bandana, had his face buried between your thighs, with the tip of his skillful tongue rolling against your clit. Your legs hung over his shoulders so your calves were laying against his shell, with his strong arms wrapped around your thighs pulling them apart, giving him more space to devour your dripping core. His blue eyes held your gaze, making you shutter in excitement. All of this, bathed in the orange and yellow glow of the sunset, was an image you would never forget.

“Oh, fuck, Leo”, you moaned, your hands finding their way to the top of Leo’s head, pushing him further against you. He hummed against you, his hands gripping tighter onto your thighs, no doubt leaving a new pair of marks. His tongue started to do slow flat licks up your folds, running all the way from the bottom to the top, before giving your clit a flick with the tip, causing you to jolt underneath him. Leo chuckled against you before doing it one more time.

Leo took in the sight of you wiggling against his lips and the sounds escaping your beautiful plump lips, and started to grind his already dropped penis against the sheet underneath him, causing him to moan lightly against your center. The vibration shot through you, making your back to arch slightly.

“Please, Leo”, you continued, trying to push your hips closer to his face with the help of your legs on his shell. Leo however pulled back slightly, a small grin appearing in his face, as he watched you wriggle in frustration underneath him, without his tongue connected to your folds.

“Please what?”, he asked smugly, using his thumb to spread you open for him, enjoying the sight of your cunt glistering with a mixture of your own juices and his spit. It was a lovely sight, especially in the sunshine. It made it almost look like honey. You sighed in pleasure as he moved the thumb up towards your clit, pushing down you ever so slightly. Leo knew exactly what you wanted, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just like that. No, he wanted to work you up for it, have you beg for it. Have you beg for him. And you knew exactly that’s what he wanted. That had never changed and will never change, not that you were complaining. It was incredibly hot to be in this position under him.

“Please just fuck me, Leo!”, you cried out, your toes curling against his shell as he started to rub slow circles against you.

“You have to be more specific, sweetheart”, Leo said, his breath fanning over your wet opening. “How do you want me to fuck you? With my fingers? With my tongue? With my cock? Whatever you want, you just have to tell me, darling” He punctuated every option with a small flick of his thumb, making you jolt each and every time. God, you loved this man so much, but sometime you wished he would just fuck the life out of you.

“Your cock, Leo!”, you cried out once more, your hips chasing his thumb as he moved it around. “Please! Fuck me with your cock!”

Leo chuckled as he did one last circle over your clit, before sitting up with his erection showing off proudly with a slight bit of precum leaking out at the tip. “Your wish is my command”, he said, grabbing a hold of your legs to pull you closer across the bed. You yelped as he pulled you in one hard tuck, before giggling as he leaned down over you, feeling his penis just ghosting over your entrance. Leo’s lips found yours, his tongue quickly gaining access to the inside of your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on Leo’s lips, lifting your hips in hopes of gaining some frictions against his rode. Leo’s right hand went to your hips, pushing you down onto the mattress with ease. His left hand made quick work, catching both of your wrist and pinned them on top of your head.

“What happened to ‘your wish is my command’?”, you wailed frustrated, trying to push against his hand. Damn him being so fucking well trained, all though it looked good and proved amazing in bed.

Leo smiled. He really had no reason for doing it, other than to hear you wailing a little but. Nothing new there. He had always been a tease in bed, enjoying your whimpering and squirming. “I never said I would do it straight away”, he smiled, his lips finding their way to your jawline, slowly kissing their way up to your earlobe.

“Your fucking tease”, you breathed, tilting your head to the side, giving him space to work on.

“And you like it”, he murmured against your ear, smugness dripping from his every word, sending shivers down your spine.

He was right; you did like it. Scratch that, you loved it. He would build you up over and over again, until finally giving you that earth shattering orgasm you had been waiting for. Begging for, even.

But you couldn’t ignore the burning need building between your legs, as Leo continued his slow assault on your jaw and neck, feeling his cock touch you folds every once in a while, almost making you go mad.

“Please, Leo!”, you begged, struggling against his hand. “Please just do it! Fuck me, Leo!”

You could feel his breath against your skin as he huffed out a chuckle. “Have you been teased enough?”

“Yes!”, you exclaimed, your head nodding wildly in agreement.

“Really?”, Leo asked, letting go of your hip to take a hold of his aching cock, slowly sliding it through your folds, yet another idea popping into his head. “How badly do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“So badly, Leo! Please!” Fuck this man and how easily he made you beg as if it was about your life.

“Good girl”, Leo praised you, before slowly pushing into your entrance. By reflex you curled your legs up around Leo, closing your eyes as you felt the stretch of him slowly filling you up. “Fuck”, Leo breathed into your ear, feeling his length being absorbed into you. “Always so tight”.

“Please move, Leo”, you whimpered, nudging him with your foot against his shell.

“As you wish”, he smiled, giving your cheek a kiss before he slowly started moving his hips against you. He pulled until he was almost out of you, before pushing back in. Both of you moaned at his movements, enjoying the pleasure it brought the both of you.

Leo’s thrusting started picking up, making you turn your face against your restrained arm, closing your eyes as you took in the pleasure he brought you.

“No”, Leo mumbled, using his free hand to turn your face towards him. His face contorted in focus, his gaze burning into yours and his mouth agape. “Look at me. I want to see you”. This always did something to you. It did not matter how many times Leo told you to look at him during sex, with him buried deep inside of you, it always did something to you. Made your stomach tighten and tingle in excitement, feeling the climax he had been building inside of you being brought closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful”, Leo mumbled, moving his hand from your face to your throat, holding you still as he stared into your eyes, his hips getting faster at the sound of your moans and whimpering. The way you said his name, begging him to bring you closer to the edge. At this point the sun had just dipped below the horizon, replacing the orange glow outside with the dark sky and the shining starts, the neon glow of the city casting colors throughout the dark room, lighting up you face, letting Leo see your reactions as he fucked you harder with every thurst.

Leo let go of your wrists, using his left arm to bring your leg up, so it rested against his arm, giving him space to curl his leg up and making it easier for him to thrust into you at a rapid speed. Your hands flew to him, on around his neck, the other holding on to the arm of the hand that was increasing its grip slightly, forcing your airway open and making your moans louder.

Leo groaned at the feeling of your tightening around him, pushing your leg up onto his shoulder, so he could use his arm to support himself.

“Leo! Baby! I’m close!”, you cried out, feeling that familiar feeling build up inside of you.

“Let it go, babe”, he groaned, tilting your head slightly forward so he could look directly at you. “Cum for me, (Y/N). Be a good girl and cum around my cock. Show me how good I’ve fucked you”.

That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. With a scream like moan you came, the leg over Leo’s shoulder tightening up and your nails digging into his skin, in a way that made him moan in pleasure. Yet Leo’s speed didn’t falter. He fucked you through your high, egging you on as he watched your face. He would never stop loving the sight of your face whenever you came. Your beautiful face contorted in pleasure - pleasure he had given you.

Once through your high, Leo pulled out of you, leaving you heaving for your breath on the big bed. But you weren’t done. You knew that. Leo had never stopped after drawing one orgasm, and he never would. So you weren’t surprised when he shoved you onto your side, pulling you close with one of your legs up against his plastron. He stared at you with a mischievous yet yearning look in his eyes, covered in the neon blue light from the city outside. You would be lying if you said the sight didn’t get your heart going like crazy, holding your breath in anticipation.

“That was one”, he said, tugging himself a few times before lining up against your still pulsating entrance. “Let’s see how many we can do before sunrise”.

[yuellii]

gn reader ; no aq spoilers ; slight phantom au

“You’ll sing for me tonight, right?”

Eyes sharp from the end of the gondola, Arlecchino’s voice cut through the air of the Fontaine sewers like a blade through the mist. Her glaring gaze met upon doe eyes, and you feel small at the rusted metal of this canal. Yet, she holds her stare to a person shivering like so, even as her hands steadily wade the oar down the water.

By her words, it was past midnight now. No wonder you felt so cold. “At the Opera Epiclese,” she continued, voice booming louder than the splashes of water. If not for the unsteadiness of this boat, your body would have flinched from the way her voice echoes off the metal walls. “Where the richest of Fontainians will hear the music I taught you.”

On the contrary, a voice like yours was meek against a Harbinger of her status. “I… Suppose so…”

“And why so fearful?” she asked you. You stared up at her face, looking for signs of any irritation that you prayed you wouldn’t find; but it was impossible to seek any reason when your Lord had the eyes of the Devil himself. You were only lucky she seemed to be in a good mood for now. “Do you think I have not trained my muse well enough?”

You stuttered at the low rumble of her voice, a deep vibrato that coursed through the veins of your nervousness, simply too rattling to bear. “You have,” you quickly reassured, not wanting to upset her. “I’m just having…” A gulp forced its way down your throat, feeling as the cold air nipped at your skin like little sewing needles teasing at your very existence. “Second thoughts…”

“‘Second thoughts’?” A curious hum followed her echo, but you knew very well such ‘curiosity’ was a fleeting disguise for a thinning patience. “About what, dove?”

About you, your mind cut to thinking. About my life und your hands—For you knew if you sang even a single word of her piece, this little performance would be over. Her own personal contract of greed would be fulfilled, and this showtime would end with you locked in a golden little cage as her pretty songbird of music.

Just this one performance, and you’d have sold your soul.

“About my part in the show,” you meekly mumbled. “Lyney and Lynette should steal away the audience already with their magic tricks, right…? Perhaps my operatic ending would be too drastic of a change to consider—”

Half your world turned black as the pressure of her darkened hands wrapped around your neck. Her breath was cold against your ear like sin, and your vision was attempting to recover from the sudden wind as you blinked to the sight of the metal ceiling of the canal above. Sterling silver, cold as the demonic nails of her fingers; your body shivered despite the pain in your back from hitting the edge of the boat.

“You’re acting like a child,” she spews through gritted teeth. You’ve annoyed her.

The grip on your neck tightens in a way that’s sharp, so lovingly deadly that you feel her obsession with you through her fingertips—through the oxygen your Lord expelles from you.

“Because all of this… sounds like excuses…”

A whine escapes your throat when she releases you, pulling taut the necklace around your neck—the one she gave to claim you. And just as your lungs desperately inhale for just a moment of air, her mouth is on yours in such a sinful way, biting your lip until it’s bruised, bloodied, and you’re gasping once again to breathe.

“Don’t forget your role,” she spits out harshly, throwing your body down again by the neck as your back collides with the rocky boat. And when she returns to her position at the end—rowing down the canal with much more insanity than before—you realize from the soreness of your body that your life was over before this contract even started. “You will sing for me tonight,” the Knave said.

She smiled; Only a demon would look such a way.

“And by then, you’ll be bound to me.”

ok now i go study :thumbs up emoji

[acidsoju]

OKAY BUT HEAR ME OUT lost prince! soobin who got his lame ass caught and ended up teletransported into another dimension where royalties arent so important like he believes

lost pince! soobin who emerges in your world out of the sewer just like the enchanted movie from dinsey

lost prince! soobin that comes to you, the only person in sight at one in the morning, eating something with your bare hands????

lost prince! soobin who says "peasant, i seem to be quite far from my castle, shall you be granted the honor to escort me back-

college student! reader who simply looks up at the tall, weird stranger in a ridiculous attire and answers "sorry man, i dont have any money' while munching down on your hotdog

broke college student! reader who watches the man's face twist in surprise at your speech

lost prince! soobin who's at lost of words at your unfacing self; you were in front of a prince- the crown prince and you dared be so disrespecful

lost prince! soobin who eyes the hotdot in your hands a little too much

college student! reader who notices that and hesitate a little before offering the rest of your midnight snack at him "here, have this, its really late you should go back home now"

lost prince! soobin who's froze in his place, hand holding a hotdog, watching how you wave at him and walk away

lost prince! soobin who, being kind enoght to forget your previous misbehavior, is moved by your act of generosity

lost prince! soobin who's following you back into your home

college student! reader who crosses her arms over her chest, turning in her heels and snarls at the prince "stop following me, ill report you to the police if you dont"

"police? is that who's in charge here?"

"yup"

"take me to them"

college student! reader who walks the strange man to the police station and is kicked out by the officers who told you they "dont have time for jokes, kids"

"oh im signing for war once im back to my kindom"

lost prince! soobin who looks just so lost, nose and cheeks rose from the cold of the night, eyes glossy and lips pouted while mumbling nonesense

careless college student! reader who sighs and stars walking home, "come on, ill let you crash at my place just for tonight... besides you really should wash up, you stink."

i need to write this fully but i have so much to study:((

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 1)

This fic was the result of several Thunderfam members in this post.

Those responsible include @sailing-on-a-puddle @idontknowreallywhy @womble1 and @alexthefly amongst others as they bantered while I was working my Thursday night late.

This was a thank you fic for the entertainment, written sometime before midnight Thursday night after work. I posted it originally in that thread, but thought I would repost it to its own post so it is easier to find because I have now written a Sweetapple sequel, which I will post shortly.

This one has been tidied up just a little as I didn't even reread it before posting on Thursday. Many thanks to all of you for being so kind and fun and supporting me through a three hour desk shift after an eight hour day.

Also hugs to @onereyofstarlight for the read through and sanity check :D

Warnings for sickfic and sick!Virgil.

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil yawned and did his best not to choke on his own lungs.

His throat was as clogged up as his face and his head was throbbing, both from lack of sleep and the stupid flu he had picked up from probably London, in the sewers, no less.

Stupid uniform had stupid torn and diluted excrement had soaked his stupid undershirt. The smell had him dry heaving and as soon as they located the children who had caused the callout and made sure they were all safe and getting the attention they needed, Virgil had drowned himself in the heavy duty shower on Two…which he also had to clean when he finally made it home.

But the damage had been done and three days later, the first signs of the lurgy from hell had made itself known.

It turned out to be a bad flu, which wasn’t fun in the slightest, but considering what else he could have caught from raw sewage, the flu was on the preferred list.

But it was still a flu with all the horrid symptoms. At this point all the mucus in his body was residing in his head and he was in the process of developing a sinus infection that throbbed horribly with every single hacking cough.

Sleep was something he desperately needed, but couldn’t attain, and consequently his brain was not functioning anywhere near a conscious capacity.

Right now, all he knew was that he needed a drink, so he was staggering down to the kitchen to get one.

The house was dark and he was happy about that. He felt no need to stab his already aching eyeballs with light. He knew the house; the dark was calming and safe.

He made it down the kitchen stairs, to the sink, and the water hitting the back of his throat was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He took another and splashed his face with the cool liquid.

God, that felt good.

Of course, his lungs couldn’t have that, so he was again coughing. He staggered against the breakfast bar, trying to draw in breath.

Eventually he was able to gasp enough to keep himself alive. It felt overly dramatic, but considering the pounding in his head, he felt he deserved a little self pity.

Okay, drink taken, most of it had managed to stay down…now back to his bedroom.

He groaned internally. He did not want to go back to his room. He had been staring at the ceiling for hours. Being exhausted and not able to sleep was a unique kind of torture.

But honestly, wandering around the house was not recommended. Grandma would roast him - he was supposed to be in bed.

It was an image of his grandmother that drove him to climb back up the kitchen stairs to the comms room.

Apparently, there was no moon tonight. Virgil tried to recall what the date was but his brain refused to oblige.

In any case, it was dark with starlight interrupted by cloud the only light making it through the rafters. Just enough to vaguely outline the shadows in the room.

A vague idea of maybe crashing on the couch and staring up at those stars had Virgil taking a few steps into the room rather than towards the elevator. Perhaps he could open the balcony doors and breathe some fresh air.

His bare feet padded softly towards the door mechanism.

A press of a button and the massive glass panes smoothly separated, both retracting into the floor as the doors quietly opened.

The breeze that blew in was pure and fresh Tracy Island. Not that he could smell it, his nose was a snotty mess clogged all the way up to his hairline, but the breeze touched his too warm skin and, oh, that was so nice.

He moved closer to the centre of the doorway, listening to the sounds of his home, the rumble of distant surf, the rustle of leaves…his shoulders relaxed, ill muscles slowly unwinding.

Yes, he would curl up on the couch, stare at the stars, and relax into the breeze.

He took a step towards the sunken lounge and his foot came down on something sharp.

He gasped and stumbled, desperate to remove the source of the pain under his foot, only to catch something stabbing his other foot.

Ow!

The floor was suddenly covered in sharp and painful objects he could not see. No matter where he tried to put his feet, there was something, something that hurt and slid on the wooden floor.

He stumbled and his feet slipped out from under him, throwing him to the pain-filled floor with a yelp. He crashed into something that shattered beneath his shoulder in a cascade of hard pieces and he finally came to a stop on his back with a multitude of sharp shapes stabbing him.

He groaned.

Everything hurt.

Breath struggled in through his teeth.

He lay there, ignoring the stabbing in his back and limbs, not entirely confident he would be able to get up.

Then bright white completed the injuries as someone turned on the lights.

“Virgil!”

Eyes clenched shut, his sinuses and brain dancing the tarantella somewhere behind his eyes, Virgil didn’t answer his big brother.

The clatter of objects being kicked out of the way and Scott was beside him, his hand landing gently on his chest. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, dumping an arm across his face to keep all the light out.

“Talk to me, Virgil.” A touch of Commander added steel to the big brother worry.

“Kill me now.”

A soft snort was his answer.

“Why are you bathing in Lego?”

“Wha-?” He opened his eyes blinking tears away and forcing himself to focus.

A literal mountain of Lego sat beside him. Its shape was an eerily familiar Tracy Island…minus the villa and some of the rocks around the caldera…which had apparently joined the Virgil stabbing party when he fell on it.

“C’mon, let’s get you up.”

Virgil was still staring at the Lego version of the Island. Wha-?

Scott wrapped an arm around his shoulders and levered Virgil into a sitting position.

Ow, now he was being stabbed even more in the butt.

He scrambled awkwardly onto his feet, everything complaining as he stared down at the mass of scattered Lego.

Scott didn’t let go of him.

“Who made this?”

“Gordon and Alan. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“I’ve broken it.”

“You have.” Scott sighed. “But it is Lego, it can be rebuilt. You, on the other hand, need to go back to bed.”

Virgil grunted, but was betrayed by his body as it swayed in Scott’s grip.

“Or better yet, the infirmary.”

“God, no. I’m f-“ He gasped and then sneezed, his head screaming.

“Ow.”

Scott sighed again. “Let me check you over and…” He frowned down at Virgil. “…attend to your Lego injuries.” There was enough smirk in the concern to be brotherly evil.

Virgil managed to mumble a protest, but he was more than tired and leant into his brother’s half hug, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“C’mon, little brother.”

Virgil groaned. Scott only called him ‘little brother’ when he was worried and wanted to get his way. Mostly because it worked every time.

A soft snort and Scott was leading him out of Lego hell and walking him to the infirmary.

Virgil may have fallen asleep on Scott’s shoulder at some point.

But he was beyond caring.

And Scott was, as always, doing enough for the both of them.

-o-o-o-

Next

[lakemojave]

Tonight at 6pm Pacific: The Direct Actors, A Baldur's Gate 3 "Adventure" pt. 15!

Last time we took care of some final errands in the shadowlands and Dhudlei got very sad. I'm sure with just a little pep talk he should be in good shape to kill his immortal best friend, right? Come see @radiofreederry play Dhudlei Durite, elf paladin, my friends Nana and @mayflowers429 play Leviathan, Dragonborn Dark Urge Monk, @caputvulpinum play Micah Harper, Tiefling Cleric, and me play Delilah "Mama D" Harper, Halfling Bard!

Art by @terrafey, recap under the cut. See y'all then!

THE STORY SO FAR: On the way to a union rally, Delilah "Mama D" Harper and her grandson Micah were abducted and taken aboard an ilithid nautiloid, which they escaped with mysterious dancer Leviathan and self-proclaimed "Champion of Ilmater and Paladin of Good" Dhudlei Durite. Each infected by a mind flayer tadpole, but so far immune from transforming into mind flayers themselves, The Direct Actors, as the party have come to be known, have been pushed to their breaking point in the Shadow-Cursed lands, and now look to break the power of Ketheric Thorm and end the curse once and for all...

LAST TIME: Before heading into the mausoleum of the Thorm family, the Direct Actors decided to tie up some loose ends in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. As the party was heading out for the day, Dhudlei confided in Micah about his relationship with Ketheric Thorm, admitting that despite everything he did not wish to fight his former friend.

The party explored the sewers beneath Last Light Inn, where they encountered a group of meenlocks who proved a greater challenge than the party had been expecting. They then encountered the shadar-kai He Who Was and killed him for his desecration of the dead and attempt to act as judge and jury for the dead.

At camp, Leviathan and Mama D had a conversation where they discussed Leviathan's feelings towards Mama D and Mama D's vulnerabilities as well as Leviathan's frustrations about the rest of the party's treatment of him.

The party then explored the old Mason's Guild, where they fought the shadows of some of Dhudlei's old friends, and Dhudlei had to take a walk to clear his head. The Direct Actors then rescued Rolan from the shadow curse and himself. Dhudlei returned to Last Light Inn to spend time with Isobel while the others made a stop at Moonrise Towers, where Leviathan made a gnoll kill its master and uncovered a truth - an Elder Brain dwelled beneath the castle. The oarty returned to camp, where they agreed to take Astarion to scout out the mausoleum while Micah worked out a plan.

At the entrance to the mausoleum, the party was approached for the devil Raphael, who offered them a deal: kill a devil in the mausoleum for him, and he would reveal the truth about the runes carved into Astarion's back. The party agreed.

Back at camp, the party made their plans for the next day. Dhudlei warned Leviathan that he still had his eye on him, and Micah attempted to give Leviathan an outlet for his stress in the form of sparring, which Leviathan responded poorly to, finally exploding with criticism at Micah. Finally, Mama D and Dhudlei spoke about Dhudlei's past and his relationship with Ketheric.

What will the Direct Actors find in the Thorm mausoleum? Will Wulbren Bongle ever get the stick out of his ass? Will the Nightsong be revealed? Will Dhudlei and Leviathan fight for real this time? Find out in another instalment of Baldur's Gate 3, starring the Direct Actors!

[paragonrobits]

so i was browsing some things and I came across this bit in Quora noting a signifcant bit from 'Remember It' in X-Men 97

bearing in mind one thing I was actually talking about to my brother tonight, but i forgot that it might have some in-universe context; one of Gambit's biggest running plot lines and character details in the original comics is that he is directly responsible for the Morlock Massacre, a horrific event where Mister Sinister (a man so unbelievably evil that not only does he call himself Mister Sinister, he was so evil Victorian scientists kicked him out of the scientific community because even they thought his eugenics ideas were too evil) had Gambit recruit the team that would become the Marauders, at the time an extremely deadly team of killers and mercenaries. Gambit was at this point somewhat mercenary and didn't know or care what they did.

And then the Marauders slaughtered the Morlocks, a community of scared mutants too inhuman-looking to live among humanity but not powerful enough to defend themselves, so they isolated themselves in the sewers of New York. The X-Men tried to defend them, but they were also horribly maimed in the process; Angel (as he was then knonw) was crucified to a wall and septic infection necessitated the amputation of his wings and caused him into a horrible doom spiral is perhaps the most dramatic example, but just about everyone got fucked up in it.

Gambit only found out later, and after he joined the X-Men the horrors he had unknowingly allowed to happen haunted him.

Now, consider the events of Remember It (and oh god i just saw it the night before as of this writing and realizing that its Gambit's last words before he does the most heroic thing and takes out a goddamn master mold is FUCKING ME UP)

WELL, I DIDNT EVEN TIHNK OF THAT.

I DIDN'T EVEN MAKE THAT CONNECTION.

I AM SUPER OBSESSED WITH THE CLAREMONT ERA ESPECIALLY AS ITS BEING REPRESENTED IN THIS SERIES AND THIS HIT ME LIKE A GODDAMN TRUCK AND FUCKING THANK YOU THIS HURTS BUT ITS A GOOD KIND OF HURT. GOOD NIGHT, SWEET PRINCE, YOU WENT OUT LIKE A REAL GODDAMN X-MAN.

(A link to the post I screenshotted here.)

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 20th

Foodplay, Aurora x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Food play; hella sapphic (I was in a mood and decided to make it everyone else's problem lmao you're welcome); slow burn; chef!Reader; established relationship; blindfold; semi-public; marking; nipple play; biting; spit as lube; fingering; praise kink; cum eating; recommended listening: Opera.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

This is another favourite of mine, please enjoy!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The Ministry kitchens had been dimly lit by hundreds of long, black candles, flames flickering with the gentle breeze that flowed through the air conditioning vents and cooled the metal room. The gentle and sweet tones of classic opera were floating around the room to hush the electrical hum of the kitchen appliances and make the room feel just that bit more atmospheric.

Aurora had no idea you were planning this, but now she was back off tour and Papa had given her a significant chunk of time to just exist, it felt like the perfect moment to reconnect with her. Her helmet was off, her long hair tied back in a low ponytail and your hands covered her eyes as she walked tentatively into the room.

“It smells great.” She commented, though still a little nervous. She didn’t know where you were and that was what she didn’t like.

“I hope so, it took me ages to make it all. Okay.” You removed your hands from her eyes and took a step back. You couldn’t see her face, but her audible reaction was enough to elicit a beaming smile from you.

“You did all this?” She asked, clearly pleased by the surprise.

“Well, Papa helped decorate. I wouldn’t let him go near the food for obvious reasons.”

Her beautiful hands came up to cup your cheeks as she pulled you in for a gentle kiss. “Thank you so much! I love it!”

“You’re welcome.” You wrapped your arms around her waist. “Welcome home.” You gave her another kiss before you let her go. “Right, tonight we’re playing a game.”

“Oh?”

“I have been practicing how to make these dishes to absolute perfection. I want to blindfold you and see if you can tell which dishes they are.”

“How many are there?”

“Six.”

“Six!?”

“Three meals and three desserts.”

Aurora sat at the table in the centre of the kitchen and rubbed her hands together. She tried looking around in the darkness for some hints or clues to help her tell which dishes you’d cooked, but she couldn’t see anything from her position. So, she sighed. “I’m ready, let’s go!”

You gently tied the blindfold around her eyes and made sure she couldn’t see what was happening in front of her before you ran to grab the food. You lay each item out in front of you, giving yourself easy access to each dish.

“What happens if I don’t guess them correctly?”

“You don’t get to eat tonight.”

Aurora slapped you playfully. “Don’t you dare!” She paused. “What happens if I guess them correctly?” Her tone was a little suggestive in comparison to her last question.

You sat down on the bench next to her. “What do you want to happen?”

Aurora just smiled at you. “What’s the first dish, chef?”

The first dish was perhaps the easiest of the three but by no means the least delicious. Spaghetti carbonara; a delicious dish made with spaghetti, eggs, Pecorino Romano cheese, guanciale (or pancetta), and black pepper. The luxurious richness that envelops each strand of al dente spaghetti in a delicious embrace is the first flavour to meet your taste in a dish like this.

A tantalising role is played by the salty, savoury overtones from the crisped guanciale or pancetta, which gives the dish a delicious smokiness that lingers and creates a pleasing contrast with the creamy sauce.

The Pecorino Romano cheese, which generously coats each forkful with a robust and salty tang, greets you as your teeth sink into the pasta. It embraces you with its nutty, salty embrace. By adding depth of flavour, this cheese counteracts the dish’s richness with its distinctive sharpness.

The dish becomes more complex with its taste, and adds a zesty, mildly spicy kick thanks to the finely ground black pepper that has been cracked and sprinkled throughout. It offers a soft warmth, similar to a warm embrace on a chilly night.

You twirled a fork in the pasta and tried to gather as many of the ingredients as you could in a small enough bite so as not to make a mess and make Aurora embarrassed. “Open wide for me.” You told her, your voice low and soothing against the backdrop of Pavarotti and the Philharmonia Orchestra. Gently, you deposited the forkful of food into her mouth, and watched intently as she chewed politely, moving the dish from one side to the other and working hard to figure out what it was she was eating. Her brows furrowed cutely as she thought.

“Carbonara!” She said excitedly.

That was an easy one. “Correct!” You said.

“That was incredible, though, holy shit!” She was never one to mince her words when she liked something.

You ran to the freezer to grab one of the six coupes of raspberry sorbet, and explained to her what it was. “It’s to cleanse your palate between each meal so you don’t confuse the flavours.” You fed her the whole scoop of sorbet - it was only one, but it took a few cuts with the teaspoon to get it to disappear.

The second dish was osso buco; a savory and hearty Milanese specialty that features braised veal shanks simmered with white wine, broth, onions, carrots, celery, garlic, and tomatoes. It’s often garnished with gremolata, a zesty mixture of lemon zest, garlic, and parsley, which adds a burst of freshness to the rich, tender meat. This dish is known for its complex, comforting flavors and is often served with risotto or polenta. The veal shank, which has been expertly braised, yields easily to your fork and reveals its meltingly soft, succulent core, giving off an impression of unctuous tenderness.

To create a delicious harmony of flavours that dances on the palate, tomatoes add a luscious, fruity acidity. Combined with a rich, velvety sauce that coats the meat has earthy undertones from sautéed carrots and celery and a deep, mellow sweetness from caramelised onions.

Each bite is infused with a delicate, fragrant bouquet of rosemary, thyme, and garlic, which adds layers of complexity and a tinge of Mediterranean warmth. The dish is given a depth of savoury umami and a gentle, nuanced acidity by the white wine and broth, which have been simmered to perfection.

The gremolata garnish adds the finishing touch with a burst of vibrant freshness and zest. With each forkful, the combination of zesty lemon, pungent garlic, and vibrant parsley adds a fresh, energising contrast to the velvety rich sauce and tender veal.

Purposefully, you added risotto to the dish to throw her off, hoping she’d confuse it with another dish that was somewhat similar. Which she did. “Risotto alla Milanese?” She asked.

“Unfortunately, my love, that is incorrect. You think we have the money for saffron?”

“What is it?”

“Osso buco!”

She slapped her knee. “I would not have got that in a million years!”

“Really!”

“Yes! I only ever had risotto alla Milanese once when I went with Papa on a business trip up to Milan. He paid for it. It was expensive.”

You fed her a spoonful from a fresh coupe of raspberry sorbet. “That would be because it came from one of Papa’s fancy Milano restaurants that has the money for saffron.”

You noticed that a bit of the sorbet had pooled at the corner of her mouth without her noticing. You didn’t think, with your hands full you had no way to wipe it away, so you leaned forward and placed an open mouth kiss to the corner of her lips in an attempt to not make it obvious you were straight up licking her face.

At the crescendo of Un Bel di Vedremo from Act Two of Madama Butterfly, Aurora turned and locked her lips with yours, her hands moving up to your neck to pull you in for a surprise and passionate kiss. Her tongue darted into your mouth and you could taste the raspberry sorbet on her earning her a moan from your lips.

When you finally pulled away, she giggled. “What was that?” You asked.

“The music was getting intense, I just wanted to try it out and see something.”

You fed her another spoonful. “Okay, and…?”

“That felt incredible. My heart did a flutter and it felt like I was flying.”

You giggled a little at that, but understood what she meant. It was a very cinematic moment, for sure.

The final meal was lobster ravioli, a decadent pasta dish that combines plump, luscious lobster meat with delicate pasta pillows. It’s often served with a creamy tomato or seafood sauce and garnished with fresh herbs. The first bite reveals the lobster meat, which is tender, succulent, luxuriously rich, and delicately sweet, similar to the sea’s treasures. Every morsel tastes like the salty kiss of the sea.

The lobster filling is encased in soft, velvety pasta that offers a delicate counterpoint to the robustness of the seafood. It seems as though the pasta was created to cradle and highlight the lobster’s beauty.

The dish gets a layer of lusciousness from the creamy sauce, which frequently contains tomato or seafood broth. Every mouthful is infused with a velvety elegance that contrasts the lobster’s inherent sweetness. It is rich, decadent, and subtly tangy.

The dish is garnished with fresh herbs and a hint of lemon zest or parsley for a burst of freshness and vibrancy. These components improve the flavour as a whole, like a cool breeze on a summer evening by the sea.

The oceanic allure of lobster, the delicate pasta, the creamy sauce, and the vibrant accents of herbs and citrus work together to create a harmonious medley of flavours.

On your fork, you picked up one piece of ravioli and gently placed it in her mouth, waiting ardently for her answer. “This one’s tricky.” She announced between chewing. “Definitely seafood, but I can’t tell if it’s crab or shrimp.”

“Ah, interesting.”

“Which means it’s neither.”

“What? Where did that come from?”

“Your reaction. If I was right you would have told me. It’s ravioli… but what’s the meat? Lobster? Lobster ravioli?”

“Correct.”

You went to grab another coupe of raspberry sorbet.

“Really? You can afford lobster but you can’t afford saffron?”

“Saffron is ten dollars per gram!” You sat down and began feeding her the sorbet. “Lobster is only twenty euros per kilo if you go to the right vendor. You get more bang for your buck with a lobster. Besides, one of the cardinals requested lobster for one of his own private meals this lunchtime, and I thought it was a great idea.”

“So this is cardinal leftovers?”

You sighed which triggered laughter from her. “Yes, my love, I went back upstairs after the cardinal’s dinner and I scraped all the little lobster bits off the plate and turned it into ravioli. Watch out for the extra chunks of vegetables and whatever else went into that dish. This is a real Frankenstein’s monster of a pasta dish.”

“Did you feed me this because I fuck you good and Italy doesn’t have a Red Lobster?”

You wanted to be mad at her and chastise her for ruining the moment, but your head tilted back and laughed instead at her poor joke. “There is actually a Red Lobster in Roma as far as I know.”

“And you’ve never taken me there?” She acted offended. “Do I not fuck you good enough, is that it?” She placed one of her hands on your chest over your heart.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

She placed her hands around your neck and pulled you in for another kiss. “I love you too. What’s for dessert?”

As was the same with the meals, there were three options for dessert. The first, cannoli. The delicate, shatteringly crisp exterior of the crispy shell gives way to a slightly chewy, tender interior in a symphony of textures. It resembles a golden, edible treasure chest that is filled with sweet riches.

The filling is a masterpiece of creaminess and is typically made of a velvety ricotta cheese mixture. It has a luxurious dairy richness that envelops your taste buds in a comforting embrace. It is smooth, luscious, and slightly tangy.

There is a lot of sweetness, but it’s never overbearing; rather, it’s perfectly balanced. Due to the inclusion of ingredients like tiny chocolate chips, candied fruit, or chopped nuts, the ricotta filling is frequently punctuated by flavorful explosions on a small scale. Each bite is a harmonious fusion of textures and tastes thanks to the addition of these delightful contrasts.

The cannoli is covered in powdered sugar, which adds an ethereal sweetness to go with the creamy filling. It adds sweetness in a subtle way without overpowering the overall experience.

These components work together to produce a dessert that is both indulgent and delicate, providing a sensory experience that is both texturally fascinating and flavorfully exquisite.

Aurora took a bite and was so surprised at the crunchiness, she made a sweet little noise. Her hand came up to catch as many of the crumbs as she could but quite a few had found their way to the floor.

“Cannoli!” She said immediately, her mouth still full of cannoli. “How would I not know your favourite dessert?”

“Honestly, I put this in just in case you didn’t know the rest of the dishes.”

She hit you. “Give me another bite of that, baby.”

You fed her another mouthful of cannoli, gulping at the sight of her. Her lips wrapped around it obscenely, in a way you only saw when she was on her knees taking your strap. She lifted her head to better reach the dessert you’d unintentionally held just out of reach, exposing her soft, beautiful neck in the process. You chastised yourself for perving on her while she was eating, but it had been so long since you last saw her you were almost experiencing withdrawal. And the little noises of delicious approval she gave you were going into your ears and shooting straight down to your cunt. You couldn’t help it. When she’d finished her dessert, she took your fingers into her mouth to lick off the remaining ricotta. She had to have known what she was doing, surely?

“What’s next?”

You shook your head and closed your mouth, pulling yourself out of the horny trance you were just in.

The penultimate dish, tiramisu: a beloved Italian dessert known for its luscious layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cheese. It’s delicately flavored with cocoa powder and sometimes a touch of liquor like rum or coffee liqueur. The mascarpone cheese layer offers a velvety, luscious embrace that is both delicate and indulgent, and the first spoonful is a revelation of rich, creamy decadence.

As they yield to your fork with a soft, sponge-like tenderness and release an espresso-infused essence that is both bold and mellow, like a warm, comforting hug, the coffee-soaked ladyfingers offer a satisfying contrast.

The dessert’s surface is flecked with cocoa powder, which adds a bittersweet, earthy flavour that harmonises beautifully with the mascarpone’s sweet creaminess and the coffee’s warmth.

An understated alcoholic kick, frequently from rum or coffee liqueur, adds a level of complexity and gives the dessert a chic, boozy undertone that dances on your palate.

The bitterness of the coffee and cocoa provides a well-balanced counterpoint that keeps the overall taste experience from becoming overly sweet. It is a dessert that achieves perfect harmony, much like a well-balanced symphony.

The noise she made when she took that bite was downright lewd in your overstimulated brain. It was a deep, gutteral moan akin to the noise she makes when your lips wrap around her for the first time that night. Her tongue escaped to mop up the leftover mascarpone and cocoa powder and you felt your breathing get heavier. Your mouth was open, almost drooling at the sight of her enjoying the food you cooked, your mind filling with completely sinful thoughts to the point you could barely think of anything else. Your hairs stood on end, goosebumps decorated your skin, and your eyes were watery where you’d not blinked in who knew how long. “Tiramisu.” She whispered. “My favourite.”

“Fuck, Aurora.”

“Last one. Quickly.”

The final dish: Panna Cotta. Meaning “cooked cream” in Italian, it’s a smooth and silky dessert made by simmering cream, sugar, and gelatin. The result is a delicate custard-like dessert with a subtly sweet, creamy flavor. Panna cotta is often served with a fruit coulis or caramel sauce on top for added flavor and elegance.

Each spoonful glides across the tongue with a velvety, melt-in-your-mouth sensation that is incredibly smooth and opulent, giving off an initial impression of silkiness.

The flavour is delicately sweet, like a delicate caress of sweetness, letting the cream shine in all of its pure splendour. It has a tinge of vanilla that adds a warm, fragrant embrace that improves the overall experience.

The texture is ethereal, as though a cloud had transformed into a sweet. With each delicate bite, it dissolves easily because it is tender but firm enough to hold its shape.

Her lips were stained with the red of the fruit coulis when she took her final bite and that was when the last thread of sanity inside of you snapped and exploded without your permission or desire to. You stood from your seat, throwing the cutlery down on the table and spread her legs so you could stand between them. Your hands cupped her cheek and rested on her arm as you leaned down and licked the coulis away from her top lip, the strawberry flavour tingling your tongue and earning you a moan. The hand that rested on her arm moved upwards to untie the blindfold as your tongue gained entrance to her mouth in a heated kiss, the taste of the panna cotta now registering on your tastebuds and making your girlfriend even more delicious than usual.

Being the tiny thing she was and weighing next to nothing, you picked her up off the stool and placed her on the table without breaking the kiss, your hands beginning to roam around her clothed body. The frustration you felt when you realised she was still wearing her Ghoul uniform was severe. You needed her naked. You needed her easily accessible. You just needed her.

Her waistcoat was the first to get removed and thrown somewhere into the darkness, followed by her black shirt that you all but ripped open. She squealed into the kiss, but didn’t protest, her own hands coming to remove your clothes as best as she could with you being feral in front of her. You unclasped her bra, uncaring which one she was wearing or even what the colour was and launched that across the kitchen too. Your hands worked at her jeans, ripping them from her body in desperation to get at her core. She was left only in her panties.

Your lips moved from hers, down her jaw and to that sweet spot at the crook of her neck, and revelled in the gasp she released when she felt your tongue licking and sucking a hickey into her skin. “Oh my… God!”

You kissed down to her nipple and sucked it into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the soft bud and alternating between sucking, licking and biting. Every time you bit her, her hips bucked upwards, her cunt searching for stimulation. Your newly spit-soaked fingers dipped into her panties, black lace - her bra must have been too, and began stroking her clit as soon as you reached it. Another gasp was taken from her, followed by a pornographic, “Yes!” Fingers dug into your biceps as she fought to keep herself grounded.

You released her nipple from your mouth and moved up to her lips, not kissing her, but so close you could feel her breath on your face. You delighted at the look of anguish on her face as your furiously and roughly rubbed at her most sensitive bundle of nerves, her eyebrows furrowed upwards and nostrils flared as she tried her hardest to breathe through the desperation she felt. Wanton moans tumbled from her open mouth, becoming more and more strangled the faster your fingers moved.

“You didn’t tell me what the final dish was.” You told her in a low voice, almost a growl. You felt her cunt flutter at the sound.

“What?”

“What was the last thing you ate, princess?”

“Fuck! I don’t know.”

“You have to tell me otherwise you don’t get to cum.”

“Fucking hell! ___, please!”

“What did you eat last?”

“Flan!”

“No, baby, that’s Spanish.” You inserted two fingers inside her and she released a scream when you tapped up. “Try again.”

“Fuck! I don’t know. Blancmange?”

This time you laughed at her; taunting her as you relentlessly hit her g-spot over and over again. “You know blancmange but you don’t know what you just ate?”

“Your fingers weren’t inside me when you fed me!”

Your free hand reached back over and picked up the spoon and small glass of panna cotta, shoving them both into her empty hands. “Have another taste now that my fingers are inside you.”

“Fuck!”

You backed your head up a little bit to watch her dip the spoon in the glass. Her tongue came out to steady the spoon as her hand was shaking from the pleasure until finally the spoonful of the dessert had disappeared down her waiting throat. She let out another whine at the taste then placed the glass down next to her. “Panna cotta!”

“Good girl!”

There was still a small amount of liquified and melted sorbet left in one of the coupes on the table, and so your brain did perhaps the most obvious thing once it comprehended what your eyes had announced. Your free hand wrapped around the stem and poured it onto her clavicle, wasting no time in licking it back up off of her, sucking until another hickey formed.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me.”

You felt her tighten around your fingers and pulsate as her orgasm hit her, her mouth hung open in a silent scream and gasping for her lungs to start working again. As usual, you continued to provide stimulation until her orgasm had completely ended, and her brain had begun working again and she peppered your face in kisses. “That was incredible!” She said in between pecks. Her hands made their way to your trousers and fiddled with the button to free you as best as she could. “Your turn.”

You, in the desperate need to access your lover’s body, ended up mostly clothed. You were free of your own shirt and undergarments on the top half, but your bottom half had remained untouched the whole time. And so, as soon as your positions were switched and she was standing in front of you, she made light work of the offending garments that blocked her from her goal. As soon as you were completely bare to her, sat on the table and core fully out on display, she spread your legs, pulled up a chair and got herself situated. Rather aptly timed, the sweet tones of Duo des Fleurs began to play over the speakers which made both of you giggle. It seemed ridiculous to have sex with opera in the background as oftentimes the lyrics did not match the situation, but as soon as Aurora’s began her work, you understood it immediately.

She started by giving you faint, gentle pecks to your calves that were timed irregularly so you didn’t know when they would happen. Any exposed flesh she could touch was tenderly caressed by her fingertips, adding yet another layer of sensation to the already gentle touches. Then her lips advanced towards your pubic mound. Before she kissed you, you could feel her breath flowing between your folds, making you shiver in anticipation of her touch. Sweet and soft touches working in tandem with the music echoing throughout the room had you seeing stars without the pleasure even beginning.

You unintentionally screamed out at the first broad, rough lick. However, this was quickly followed by her lips encircling your clit and sucking with as much force as they could, giving you an intense pleasure that bordered on pain. The tip of her tongue continued to work your clit in a variety of directions with her mouth still closed, her movements seeming erratic. Her head moved in all directions as she sucked on your sensitive bud to keep your pleasure as vivacious as possible, your hand still tangled in her beautiful, long hair as she gave you the most delicious pleasure. She continued in this manner for what felt like an eternity. She remained face-first in your core, unyielding and unwilling to stop until you reached your peak, even when your hips bucked and you began using her face for your own pleasure.

All of this was heightened by your surroundings, the location - the fact that anyone could walk in and see you laid bare for your lover in the place you worked. The music that made your head spin in a heavenly manner. Aurora’s tongue and mouth working to make you feel as good as she possibly could, with her fingertips digging into your flesh and rubbing soothing circles. The smell of the desserts, especially with your eyes closed, filled and clouded your senses. You’d seen the pleasure on Aurora’s face when your fingers were deep inside her as she took another bite of panna cotta, and the curiosity got the better of you. You leaned back on the table slightly and reached over to the plate of cannoli, fingers wrapping around the hard shell and bringing it to your lips.

The crunch got Aurora’s attention, but she only smirked as you enjoyed the treat with her lips still attached to you. And the sensation was nothing like you’d experienced before.

Your mouth tingled at the tang of the ricotta, your tastebuds falling under the similar control from the food that Aurora had at your centre. It offered a sensory delight that was both texturally intriguing and flavorfully exquisite; delicate and indulgent. Undoubtedly among the most delicious creations to ever grace the palate, it was a tantalising explosion of flavours. A beautiful composition of crispy, creamy, and sweet components. The combination of the dessert and Aurora treating you like one, had you floating in ecstasy and was quite possibly the most heavenly experience ever created.

Your pleasured moans occasionally harmonised with the music; your eyes rolled back. “Please don’t stop!” You practically whispered as you got ever closer to that edge, her mouth working harder and faster as ever. She knew you’d lose that feeling if she stopped what she was doing, so she didn’t. Instead, she accelerated her movements and increased her fervour and, when you’d swallowed that last bite of cannoli, you allowed yourself to fall, crashing back down to Earth from the heavens as you reached orgasm, your fist tightening in her hair and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, climaxing all over her face. Your mouth opened wide as your back arched and a stream of profanities spilled out. Aurora didn’t stop until you pushed her away.

With her swollen pink lips stained with your cunt, she was unquestionably a sight to behold as she emerged from your wetness. She sat up to get closer to your lips with a knowing smile on her face and a giggle in her throat. You pulled her in for a passionate kiss, overwhelmed by the incredible orgasm you’d just had, her thumbs continue to caress your thighs. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?” She asked, a bright smile on her face.

“We need to do that more often, holy shit!” You agreed.

“You know, I thought those cannolis were exceptional. Didn’t realise they’d be orgasmic though.”

You kissed her again. “You fucking idiot.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You sighed. “The food’s gone cold.”

“We have a microwave.”

“Ugh, heathen! I’m starving.”

“What, that cannoli wasn’t filling enough?”

“I’m actually going to break up with you.”

She kissed you. “Come on, let’s get dressed and get some food.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[thepinkpanther83]

The Golden Melody (Pt.2 Signal and Static)

Story Prompt: “Turtle Song”

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Previous Chapter: Chapter One: “The Lonely Frequency” Next Chapter: Chapter Three: “The First Duet”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Two: “Signal and Static”

The signal tower looked like it had lost a bet with gravity.

Leaning slightly to the left, covered in rust, tagged up with graffiti both ancient and fresh, it jutted from the edge of Queens like a broken antenna reaching for God. The fences around it were more suggestion than security, and the lower floor had long since given up pretending to be off-limits.

Mikey crouched in the shadows across the alley, one hand resting on the hilt of his nunchaku.

“Classy spot,” he muttered. “Home sweet haunted post-apocalyptic tech bunker.”

He sprinted low across the open stretch, vaulted the fence with ease, and landed silently inside the perimeter. The building loomed over him like a skeleton, its windows empty eye sockets. There was a faint hum, though. Something alive inside all that dead brick and concrete.

The first few floors were quiet. Dusty. Abandoned for real. He moved like smoke through them, checking corners, peeking around rusted doorframes, mindful of creaking boards and loose pipes.

And then, midway up the winding central staircase, he heard a voice.

Not music. Not a soulmate song like he’d been chasing like a man possessed.

Just a woman’s voice.

It came from somewhere above. Low, confident, threaded with static from whatever ancient mic setup she was using. She was speaking in a near whisper, but there was power there. Raw, unfiltered. Like she didn’t need to be loud to be heard.

“Tonight… the city dreams in broken chords,” she said, almost lazily. “But someone out there’s still listening. I know it. And if you are… this one’s for you.”

A vinyl crackle. The soft lift of a needle.

And then, jazz. Sultry, haunted, bleeding through the floors like cigarette smoke.

Mikey froze.

That voice didn’t just carry. It called.

He exhaled slowly, the stairwell suddenly a cathedral.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Definitely not a Foot outpost.”

He kept climbing. Quieter now. Slower. Like the tower had become sacred ground.

He didn’t know what he’d find up there.

But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was the only one broadcasting into the void.

He was halfway up the final staircase when he heard it.

It wasn’t the crackle of vinyl, or the smooth slow burn of a trumpet fading into nothing, it was her again. Her voice.

Not words. Just a hum.

Soft. Thoughtless. Like a habit.

Like she didn’t even know she was doing it.

He stopped moving. One foot still raised mid-step. The whole building shifted around him in an instant, like the air bent sideways.

It was that song.

His song.

The one he’d never heard, but instantly recognized, like he’d been chasing it, like it lived in the edges of dreams. The one his brothers had found. The one he’d come to believe he might never know for himself.

And she was humming it.

Not perfectly. Not polished.

But close enough to pull something out of his chest he hadn’t realized he’d been holding hostage.

He didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t dare move.

The sound wasn’t loud. It barely made it through the gaps in the floorboards. But it vibrated in him, low and warm, like the first light through the sewer grates after a long mission.

It belonged.

To him.

To her.

To them.

And in that instant, Michaelangelo Hamato, brightest of them all, the one with the open heart and loudest laugh, felt like the world had finally tuned to the right frequency.

He didn’t need to see her yet.

He already knew.

She was it.

His hands trembled as he reached for the railing, suddenly unsure if he could climb the last steps without falling to his knees.

“Dude,” he whispered. “You gotta be kidding me.”

His soulmate was up there.

And she was singing his song.

He froze just outside the entrance to the upper booth, crouched low beside a busted air duct vent, still half-covered in rain and subway grit. One hand rested lightly against the doorway, as if pushing it open too fast might shatter something sacred.

He didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t dare interrupt.

Because the hum curling out from her throat wasn’t just a sound. It was a frequency, his frequency. The one he'd spent years straining to hear in the quiet spaces between patrols and pipe dreams. It wrapped around his chest like a thread, golden and invisible, tugging at something ancient and buried and his.

His mouth opened slightly. No words came out. Just awe.

The soft glow of string lights bathed the room in amber. She moved through it like a ghost in a concert hall, barefoot, layered in mismatched black and silver, head swaying to the beat as she checked her dials. The song winding down on the turntable was low-fi, dreamy, vintage soul. Something warm. She hummed along to the last few bars, eyes closed.

His name was stitched into the melody.

Then, you turned.

You didn’t know why.

You just felt something shift. A presence. The weight of eyes on you, charged and unfamiliar. Your breath caught as you looked toward the back of the booth, just past the recording equipment, toward the cracked-open doorway of the storage stairwell.

And standing there…

A giant mutant turtle.

You didn’t scream.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t drop your headphones.

Instead…

You reached for your stun baton.

He raised both hands immediately, palms up, weapons down, eyes wide with that particular mix of panic and reverence only Michelangelo could manage.

“Okay… okay, whoa, whoa, easy there, static queen, no need to zap a guy for vibing.”

You didn’t lower the baton.

He didn’t blame you.

“I swear, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, tone soft but fast, like he was trying to talk a bomb out of going off. “I just… uh- I heard your broadcast. Big fan. Huge, actually. Love what you’re doing with the signal modulations. Pirate radio is totally underrated these days, by the way.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t moving. Your grip tightened.

Mikey swallowed hard, eyes flitting from your weapon to your face and back again. “Okay, so, fun fact… mutant turtle. Hi. Name’s Mikey. And I know I look like a walking fever dream with a nunchuck fetish, but I promise I’m the good kind of strange.”

Still no movement. You didn’t even blink.

His heart pounded in his throat. “Also, um… you were just humming. A song. My song. Which, uh, probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but to me, that’s kinda a big deal.”

He laughed nervously. “Like, cosmic big deal. Universe-sent, one-in-eight-billion kind of deal.”

You cocked your head, expression unreadable.

Mikey winced. “Okay, yeah, hearing that out loud... I sound insane. Cool. Coolcoolcool.”

Then, softly, almost reverently, he added, “But I swear… I’ve been looking for that sound my whole life. Looking for you.”

Mikey held his breath. Not because you looked ready to tase him into next week, though, yeah, that too, but because he’d never felt something like this. This sudden, surreal gravity pulling him toward a stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all.

His fingers flexed slightly in the air, still held up in surrender. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter.

“Do you ever get this feeling like… like you’ve been running through static your whole life, and then suddenly, someone’s voice cuts through it? Clear as a bell?” He tilted his head, eyes impossibly soft beneath that orange mask. “Like your whole damn soul just went, ‘There you are.’”

He smiled, and it wasn’t cocky. It was hopeful. Ache dressed up in sunshine.

“I know I sound crazy. I probably am. I’ve been patrolling rooftops at two in the morning listening for songs no one else hears, so, y’know, that’s... not exactly stable behavior.” He laughed, then glanced down sheepishly before adding, “But I swear I’m not here to scare you. I didn’t even know I’d find you tonight. I just heard you humming and-”

He looked back up.

“-I think you might be the only person in the world who sounds like home.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Then, you slowly lowered the baton… just a few inches. One eyebrow lifted.

Your voice was dry as winter salt.

“You’re cute,” you said, tone perfectly unimpressed. “But I don’t do stalkers.”

Mikey’s eyes went comically wide. “Stalker?! Whoa, okay… whoa-whoa-whoa… nope, nuh-uh, that’s not… look, I know how this looks, but I swear on all my comic book boxes, I’m not some rooftop creeper!”

He took a cautious step back, hands still up, like the baton might boomerang toward his snout at any moment. “I didn’t even mean to find you tonight! I mean… I did mean to find someone, but not like… you specifically, well, I was hoping to find you eventually, I just didn’t know it was gonna be tonight, or here, or… oh my god, I’m doing that thing again, aren’t I?”

He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Leo always says I talk too much when I panic, and honestly? Valid.”

Then, straightening slightly, he put a palm over his chest and took a breath, starting over with a sincerity that made his usual antics look like smoke and mirrors.

“I’m Mikey. I didn’t break in. I just… followed a voice. Yours. And not in a creepy way! Just in a ‘holy crap, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and I think it’s literally vibrating in my soul’ kind of way. Totally normal. Definitely not cult behavior.”

He blinked. “Okay, maybe a little cult behavior. But, like, a nice cult. With snacks.”

You didn’t lower the baton.

But your brows arched just a bit as he kept talking. And talking. And… talking.

Cute. Too cute, if you were being honest. And a little breathless from all that rambling, which made him even cuter in the dumbest, most dangerous way.

You let him dangle in the awkward silence for a heartbeat longer than necessary, just to see what his face would do. The wide, blue puppy eyes. The bashful smile. That hopeful, too-honest energy rolling off him in waves like late-summer heat.

Then you tilted your head, gave him a once-over, and smirked.

“Okay,” you said slowly, your voice smooth and skeptical, “so… let me get this straight.”

You finally lowered the baton, just enough to show you weren’t gonna fry him where he stood.

“You break into my tower, sneak past two layers of rusted security, pop up in the middle of my broadcast like some kind of paranormal activity extra… and now you’re standing there looking like a six-foot turtle-shaped hallucination with a heart problem telling me I’ve got ‘snack cult’ energy?”

You crossed your arms.

“I told my producer we needed to start screening for this exact kind of crazy.”

She didn’t have a producer.

“But,” you added, one corner of your mouth tugging upward, “you’re kinda lucky I like weird.”

Mikey blinked.

Then blinked again.

He wasn’t sure what hit him harder: her voice, her face, or the fact that she lowered the baton and still called him crazy. Or maybe it was the smirk. Yeah. Probably the smirk. That little curl of mischief on her lips like she already had him figured out and still hadn’t decided whether to kiss him or throw him out the window.

“...Oh no,” he whispered to himself, too low for her to hear. “Oh hell, it’s over. I’m in love.”

Because he was.

It was ridiculous, it was fast, it was insane, and it was her. The wild energy, the sharp mouth, the eyes that scanned him like a radio dial looking for the right frequency. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream. Didn’t treat him like a monster. She treated him like a problem. A puzzle. Something mildly inconvenient and maybe… a little interesting.

Which was way worse, somehow.

His knees went a little weak.

“Okay, alright, so I came in hot… rookie move,” Mikey said, throwing up his hands again in surrender. “I’ll own that. But can I just say, for the record, I did try knocking. You just… y’know. Didn’t hear it. Probably cause I was too busy melting down over the fact that you were singing my soulmate song. Like an actual siren. Like, do you know what that does to a guy?”

You raised a brow, amused. “Apparently it makes him trespass.”

Mikey grinned, sheepish. “Guilty. And enchanted. And like... maybe a little lightheaded.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, tail twitching behind him.

“Look, I know I’m a lot. Like, a lot-a lot. But I swear I’m not a stalker, okay? I didn’t even know what I was looking for until I heard your voice. And then… boom. There it was. The song. Our song. And it just… it hit me. Like a tuning fork straight to the heart.”

He stepped closer… slow, careful, every movement broadcast in full-body honesty.

“I don’t expect you to get it. Not all at once. But I’ve been waiting to find you for so long. And now that I have…” He looked up at you with open awe. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do except stand here and hope you don’t throw me off this tower, or tase me into next Tuesday.”

You studied him, still holding the stun baton loosely in one hand. The turtle didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just stood there with the most ridiculous look on his face, like someone had just handed him the moon and told him it was real.

And you had to admit… he was kinda cute.

Weird. Definitely weird. But cute.

He looked like trouble in the way puppies look like trouble, like he’d chew through your furniture and you’d just end up thanking him for it somehow. Big, bright eyes. A grin that could disarm security systems. And those arms? Yeah. Not bad. Not bad at all.

“Alright, turtle boy,” you said, flipping the baton off with a faint click. “You’ve got… exactly one song.”

He perked up like you’d just given him a lifetime supply of pizza.

“One song?” he echoed, trying to play it cool, but his tail did a happy little flick behind him that gave it away.

“One,” you repeated, stepping past him toward your rig. “Don’t talk. Don’t flirt. Don’t break anything. Just sit your mutant ass down and try not to make me regret this.”

He nodded quickly… too quickly. “Silent as a ninja, promise.”

You smirked, flipping a switch on your battered mixing board, cueing up your next track. “Ninja, huh?”

He froze. “Uh… metaphorically.”

You turned your back before he could see your grin.

“Sure, metaphorically. Go sit in that corner over there, metaphor ninja. You make me drop a mic, and I will tase you.”

He saluted as he backed away. “Yes ma’am. Corner. Sitting. Not dying. Got it.”

You didn’t look at him again, not directly. But you felt his eyes on you as you queued up the track, as your fingers danced over the knobs and sliders like muscle memory. You were aware of the weight of his gaze, the way the air had shifted in the room, like the frequency had changed and you couldn’t hear it… but you could feel it.

He didn’t speak.

But he was still there.

And for some reason… you didn’t want him to leave.

He kicks the door open like a victorious sitcom character and immediately blurts, “I found her!”

Donnie spins around from his console, goggles still perched on his eyes. “You what?”

Mikey just grins, dreamy and smug and leaning against the nearest support beam like it’s holding him up. “Bro. She’s real. She's hot. She’s… mine.”

Donnie blinks. “Okay. Slow down. Did you get a reading? What’s the signal source? Any visual recon? Tech specs?”

Mikey waves a hand like he’s batting away flies. “Yeah, yeah… energy spike, rogue wavelength, hidden radio tower in Queens, sure. But more importantly, she sang our song, Dee.”

That makes Donnie pause.

“She what?”

“She sang it,” Mikey says, softer this time, like even repeating it makes his chest hurt in a good way. “She hums it on-air as part of her outro. Just… casually. Like it’s not the most beautiful sound in the multiverse.”

Donnie finally stands, adjusting his goggles absently. “…You sure it’s your song?”

“I didn’t imagine it.”

Donnie doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods once, slowly. “That explains the harmonic flare. I was reading a frequency oscillation I couldn’t map to a device… but if it’s her voice-”

“Then she’s the original Siren prototype,” Mikey says, the realization finally catching up to him. “Isn’t she?”

Donnie doesn’t deny it. But he also doesn’t confirm it yet.

“She’s important,” he says instead. “Whether Project Siren knows where she is yet… that’s another story. But if she’s your mate? That makes you both a target.”

Mikey shrugs. “Let ‘em try. I’ve got something worth fighting for now.”

And Donnie actually smiles. “I’m happy for you, Mikey. Just… don’t let your heart outrun your shell, alright?”

Mikey’s grin softens. Not his usual wide one… this one’s quieter. Real.

“I won’t,” he says, voice low. “But it’s not just my heart anymore, Dee.”

He taps his chest once, right over the place where the song still hums inside him, faint but undeniable.

“It’s hers too.”

And for once, Donnie doesn’t have a scientific rebuttal.

Just nods, and turns back to his console, already scanning for the next ripple in the city’s broken harmony.

Mikey heads toward the door again, slower this time. More grounded.

But before he slips out, he glances over his shoulder, light catching the edge of his smile.

“She let me stay… but only for one song.”

Donnie raises a brow ridge. “So what are you gonna do?”

Mikey shrugs. “Go be her encore.”

He disappears into the tunnel shadows, the faint sound of his hum echoing behind him-

…soft, sure, golden.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three: “The First Duet”

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[hoodedboy79]

Part 6

-(Male Reader)-

Sorry it took months for me to update this, this chapter is mostly in game dialogue to push the story along a bit and I just got bored writing it out so it took ages 💀

=========

'Finally a little life.'

Jonathan’s footsteps were cautious as he took in the scene of the—quaint?—pub. The dimly lit space was sparsely occupied, its patrons barely sparing him a glance before returning to their own business, just as the man had said they would.

Slightly reassuring, he supposed. But then, another thought quickly shattered that sense of ease.

What was he supposed to do now?

He barely knew where he was, had nothing on him except a pocket watch and a syringe—not exactly items he could brandish in public—and now, he was essentially alone.

And those blood splatters outside weren’t doing much to calm his already frayed nerves.

"Whoa you look like shit."

Jonathan’s attention snapped toward the man leaning against the counter—the same drunk he had noted earlier, possibly a dockworker.

"Yes...I apologise for my outfit. It's been a long night."

He had bigger things to worry about than his appearance, but that didn't stop the flush of shame he felt at being perceived in such a state.

The drunkard scoffed, though there was a note of agreement in it. 

"Ain't they all?"

"Where is everyone? It's like everyone is hiding."

"You must be new here...Haven't you heard about the murders? Everyone fears the Sewer Dog."

Murders? Sewer Dog? Jonathan couldn't decide whether there was any sense in what the man was saying or if he was just entertaining a drunk man's imagination. But then again—what had made sense tonight?

"The Sewer Dog? What is that?"

He’d bite—better to entertain the idea than ignore something that might actually be relevant.

"It's the local boogeyman. The convenient answer for every crime that happened for decades. You murdered someone? Blame the Sewer Dog, hah!"

He continued, his words getting more and more blended together as he spoke and swayed on his feet.

"Pah! People will always believe in monsters...it's easier than accepting their own darkness. We can all be monsters."

Jonathan wondered how much of that was true.

"Have you seen anyone come through here tonight, sir?"

Maybe there was a reason for all the blood outside—one that wasn’t just a drunken tale of a boogeyman.

"Can't say, sorry. Spent the night makin' love to that gorgeous bottle, see?"

"This is important, sir. Are you sure no one has come in here in the last few hours?"

If anyone had been here all day, Jonathan would wager it was this man.

"I don't know and I don't care! This is a free country, people still have the right to come and go, don't they?"

The gent was clearly getting annoyed. Best to leave him be, at least for now.

Jonathan doubted he'd get anything more coherent out of him tonight anyway.

He stepped away, glancing around the dimly lit pub. His eyes landed on a young woman on the other side of the pub, sweeping the floor—the barmaid, he surmised. She moved quickly, with a practiced motion, though her gaze flickered toward him now and then, wary but not hostile.

He approached, keeping his movements measured. She stopped sweeping as soon as she caught sight of him coming over.

"Hello, sir. Are you all right? Is there any way I can help you?"

"I don't know, maybe you could just... talk to me?"

"Maybe you'd prefer to speak to Tom, then. He's more agreeable talking to strangers." She's uncomfortable, clearly.

"I just want to talk. I didn't mean to scare you."

The barmaid straightened, easing her tight grip on the broom a bit before meeting his gaze.

"I'm not afraid, sir. It's just... I've other customers to take care of."

Jonathan glanced around the near-empty pub. The only other notable patron was the drunk he'd just spoken to.

"I only see one customer."

"Oh yes, of course. I mean...I must take care of this customer."

"You don't seem to have much business. Where is everybody?"

She hesitated, then sighed.

"Most people are sleeping right now. And those that are awake tend to avoid going out."

Her voice carried a quiet tension, a kind of forced normalcy layered over deeper worry.

Jonathan nodded slightly, taking in her words. It made sense—the streets weren’t exactly welcoming tonight.

"This is Tom's bar, the Turquoise Turtle. I'm the barmaid here, Sabrina, if you wanna know."

Jonathan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "And you keep the place running, I take it?"

She gave a small, tight-lipped smile. "Tom does most of the running. I just keep the drinks flowing and the place tidy. Well, as much as I can anyway."

Her attempt at casual conversation was thinly veiled, but Jonathan didn’t press. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice.

"Has it always been this quiet?"

Sabrina shook her head.

"No, it's only since the epidemic started. Tom thought that people may need a safe place to stay."

Jonathan’s expression darkened.

"What have you heard about the epidemic?"

"The Spanish Flu, yeah..." She exhaled. "Killed so many last summer. I thought we'd seen the last of it. Dozens dying every week."

"Are the authorities doing anything about it?"

"Nothing... There are so many quarantine zones in London now, it's got really hard to travel across town."

Jonathan could believe that. Even getting here had been...eventful.

But it wasn’t just the flu that troubled these people. He could sense the weight in her voice, the unease just beneath the surface.

"Too many dead, sir," she murmured after a pause. "First the epidemic, and now all these terrible murders."

Jonathan stiffened slightly. So it wasn't just some drunk's delusions, there was some truth to it.

"Murders?"

Sabrina nodded grimly, voice lowering as if speaking the words aloud might summon something worse.

"Bodies found in the streets every morning. Drained of blood, it's just horrible."

His fingers curled slightly on the counter. Drained of blood.

"Some say the Sewer Dog is back."

Jonathan met her gaze, searching for any trace of doubt. There was none—only fear.

"The Sewer Dog? What is that?"

"No one knows," she admitted. "People have always disappeared around these parts. The ancients say it's the Sewer Dog coming out to feed. But now he's killing in the streets."

Jonathan let the words settle, his mind racing. A local legend? Or something else entirely?

He needed to learn more. And he had a feeling someone knew something.

"I'll leave you to your work then. Thank you."

Suppose there was only one more person to talk to. He approached the man behind the counter—this must be Tom.

"My God, sir! You look like Jonah's whale just spat you out of hell! Can I get you a drink?"

Drinking was certainly the last thing on his mind right now.

"No...No, I'm not thirsty."

"Well, grab a chair and get some rest. This is going to be another long night." Tom said with a resigned sigh.

"Why is it going to be another long night?"

"You must be new around here. Don't you know about the murders?"

Finally, his 'acquaintance' from earlier seemed sure that Tom knew a lot of what went on around here and about the sorts of people that came in here—he has to know something, surely.

"Tell me about these murders."

"Every morning for the last few weeks, bodies have been found, and those poor sods didn't die of the flu."

He seems so sure it's homicide, even with the daily growing Influenza death rate.

"Do the authorities have any leads on a suspect?"

"Nah. Even before the outbreak, coppers never came around here, we're on our own. People die in these parts all the time and no one cares."

Jonathan could tell it was probably time to stop pushing the topic, especially if they all could already tell he wasn't from the area—as everyone he's met tonight has graciously pointed out. He didn’t need any more people wanting to see him lying in the streets tonight.

"So, you're open all night?"

"Yep, figured people might need a place to rest in these dark times."

"Aren't you scared?"

"Scared? Of what? All the bad shit happens out on the foggy streets, and I never go outside." Tom let out a slight laugh. A way of lightening the mood, perhaps.

Jonathan couldn't tell if Tom's dismissiveness of danger was due to foolishness or bravery.

"Have you seen anyone else come through here tonight?"

"It's been quiet tonight. The only other person I've seen went straight up to his room. Thought it was quite rude, actually."

"You mean he's still here?" He would've come straight to Tom if he'd knew that.

"Well, yes. He paid for the entire week." Tom paused for a moment, probably wondering if it was wise to tell Jonathan.

"He rented the room a few days ago and he didn't say when he'd leave."

"Who is this man? What does he look like?"

"Like a gentleman, I guess? Well dressed and quite polite."

"A professor or something fancy like that, always writing and reading notes."

"I need to meet this man. I have questions."

"Just climb the stairs and knock on the first door. I heard him open his window so I guess he's still awake...And sir?

No funny business, you hear me? This is a respectable establishment."

Jonathan wasn't quite sure how to take that. But he gave a nod regardless.

"Thank you. Goodbye."

Jonathan could hear a man talking before he was even half way up the stairs. This mystery individual wasn't discreet clearly.

The words became clearer to him as he crept closer to the door.

"This is no place for you. Priwen has several patrols roaming the area."

"They do not pursue me." A woman's voice?

A lot more faint than the man's.

"But, they are looking for vampires and they are most efficient!"

"They'll not relent until the killer has been identified."

"I have a common objective, but I require more time-"

"Shh! I think someone is eavesdropping."

"Are you certain?"

If the man is surprised, he hides it fairly well.

"You might as well come in, whoever you are."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Jonathan willed himself to open the door. He needed to speak to this man, even if he was in the presence of a lady. A lady, Tom hadn't mentioned going upstairs with this man.

But, as Jonathan opened the door, it was almost as if he was bolted to the floor, as he was accosted with a bright light, in the shape of a crucifix.

"Slowly, vampire! Who are you?"

"I-I mean you no harm." It was a struggle to get the words out.

"Sayeth the vampire. Present yourself."

The man kept Jonathan at a distance, slowly making his way to one side of the room, as Jonathan continued being blinded.

"I need a word, with anyone."

As the man took a seat at the desk, and put the blasted crucifix down, it felt like Jonathan had been released from near drowning. He took deep breaths, as if he needed too, and gasped and let out what sounded like a wheeze. It was almost human.

"Well, that's something I can do for you"

Jonathan almost resented how chipper the man sounded saying that, after that whole debacle.

The man gestured to the chair in front, which Jonathan took.

"And who might you be?"

"I'm not sure I know anymore?" And Jonathan hated that answer, but he couldn't think of another one. For it was true regardless, what was he now?

"Might I at least learn the reason of your presence?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Sir, you have entered my room in the middle of the night, pale as a corpse and shaking like a tree. So please, indulge me."

"Someone—something—is molesting people. In fact, killing them. Biting them."

"The calling card of a vampire, like you..."

The tone in which that was said seemed to grate on Jonathan’s already frayed nerves.

"I've been hunted down in the streets and attacked. I'm a victim here to."

The man seemed taken aback.

"I, I believe you."

Jonathan wasn't sure he believed that.

"Then if you are not a vampire, who or what are you?"

"Dr Edgar Swansea of the Brotherhood of Saint Paul. I'm preforming an independent investigation here in an attempt to understand precisely what is going on."

"What have you uncovered concerning the murders?"

"It started a few nights ago. Rumours of violent murders."

"The docks have always been, shall we say somewhat unsavoury, but this is different."

"How different?"

"A vampire is at work here. Famished. Reckless. It must be brought to ground and quickly."

At least they could agree on that.

But, the voice he heard before coming in here was still bothering him. Who was this man hiding?

"I heard another voice, that of a woman. Who were you talking to?"

"Ridiculous! I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Something tells me not to trust you."

"Then the feeling is mutual."

At least he's honest.

"And what exactly is this Brotherhood?"

"Sir, if the name is not familiar to you, then we shall discuss it another time."

"Then help me find the culprit!"

"I may, if you'll first tell me why you opened this door?"

"There was a trail throughout the docks, the scent of blood from a recent victim. It led here."

Jonathan thought it best to not mention his scandalous 'escort'.

"You thought I was you aggressor. That explains a great deal. We're both chasing the same shadow."

"A shadow. Indeed. Yet, I heard his voice in my head. There was a moment I believed I was mad."

That moment had yet to pass.

Edgar studied his face for a moment, his folded hands tensing for a moment, his nails lightly scratching the desk. And when he spoke next, his voice was solemn.

"You should let me handle this affair. You have no idea what you're up against."

"No! I will find the monster. He's mine."

"How will you do any better than I? But then let me ask you this: what are your intentions if you find the killer?"

What would he do? Slay it? Demand answers? Pity it?

"I, I don't know yet."

"Hmm. Then I can only wish you good hunting and pray we shall meet again."

"Quite." And with that note, Jonathan quickly departed the room. Feeling the eyes of this Edgar Swansea, following him the entire way intill the door closed behind him.

'If Swansea is not my attacker. It means somebody else came here tonight. Someone must know something'

Sabrina, the barmaid, was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Not that it made much of an improvement—more like an idle task to keep her hands busy than any genuine attempt at actual cleaning. She had to have seen whoever was here previously, and chosen to not say.

She quickly stood when he approached.

"Evening, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I have a few questions for you." Her shoulders stiffened even more at that, but with a sigh, she relented.

"Well, if you must."

"I spoke to Dr Swansea. He's not the man I'm looking for. Now, I want the truth."

"The truth? What do you mean?"

"I suspect that someone else was here tonight—and I don't think Tom wants to tell me about it."

"I'm just the barmaid here, okay? If Tom says you're the only visitor we've had, then you're the only visitor we've had."

"I can see your apprehension, Miss. Tell me what's really going on."

"It's Will...William Bishop. He came in earlier tonight and he-" She paused, considering her words.

"Well, I thought he was going to clock someone."

"Why are you so afraid?" Surely she'd be use to drunken disorder as a barmaid?

Her face twisted in disgust.

"I mean his skin—his hands. I scrubbed every glass and chair he touched. God, I hope he's not contagious."

"What happened?"

"He was dead drunk, as usual. But my God, his eyes...his face. He must've caught something awful. He shouted and cried. It was terrible."

"Tell me about this William Bishop. Generally."

"William was a sailor—worked at the canning factory before he lost that job. A nice bloke, really. He's never been violent—'til tonight."

"Why keep it a secret? Why not tell me about it?" Might've saved him an awkward encounter with a certain frustrating gentleman.

"Tom's nothing if not loyal. When William lost his job, he offered him one here. They use to be good mates, but recently, well, Will started to get very aggressive."

"I see. Thank you for your candour. I'll be sure to talk to Tom."

Tom had clearly noticed Jonathan speaking with Sabrina. As he approached, Tom set down the glass he was cleaning and looked up.

"Welcome back. Did you find what you were after?"

"I can't say I have. Are you sure no one else came into your bar before my arrival?"

"Hey, I told you—you were the only other stranger I've had."

"I know your friend William Bishop was here earlier tonight."

Tom's expression hardened, as he'd been caught.

"Fine. Will came by tonight. But he's not my friend anymore."

"Why lie to me, then, if he's not your friend?"

"I didn't lie! I said you were my only unannounced customer and that's the truth."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Nah. Like most drunks, he's all bark and no bite. He can barely stand up most of the time."

"How was he tonight? Was he different?"

"Sicker than usual, perhaps. He whined and mumbled about how mean people were to him, and how he wanted to talk to me outside, then he left after I refused."

"I need to find him. It's a matter of urgency. Do you know where he is?"

"Suppose you could try his boat. It's up by the North pier, he sleeps there when he's too drunk to get home."

"Please describe him to me."

"What do you expect? He's a tall, sick, bastard with a bad rash and torn old clothes? William use to be strong, now he's a mess."

"Thank you, Tom."

"If you see him... tell him I don’t want to see him round here until he sorts himself out, yeah?"

The name lingered as he stepped away from the bar once more.

William Bishop. North Pier.

The North Pier wasn’t far, but something told him this wouldn’t be simple. Nothing had recently. Not with that hunger still gnawing at him. Not with the blood still calling.

He was hunting answers, not just a man, and he was unsure if he'd like the outcome of either.

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Not proof read so my apologies for any mistakes.

I'll try to not take months to write Chp 7, Ik this is like really slow paced but thank you to anyone who's actually reading this series, I appreciate it.

Hope this was decent!