#y:2014

[10yearsofdnp]

December 31, 2014: Game master Phil has entered the chat! 🔗💷🎉

[pinkboaclub]

Coachella

Summary: You and your friend group go to Coachella, when your very flirtatious friend, Harry, gets a little too touchy, and you get a little too horny, you decide to stop by your tent to blow off some steam.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, exhibition, casual sex, Harry is kind of a sleaze, not proofread

You and your friend group trudged through the sweltering desert heat, the Coachella crowd was vibrant with life, a sea of colorful clothes dancing to the rhythm of the musicians that had just started to play. The air had an intense scent of sunscreen and weed.

You had chosen an outfit carefully, a very short pink skirt that barely covered your ass with every step. Above it, you wore a crop top that hugged your body tightly, with a glitter scattered across your chest and hair.

Your friend, Harry, couldn't help but stare at you, his eyes tracing the lines of your body as it swayed in the crowd. You had noticed his flirty behavior before, the way a smirk would immediately land on his face when you walked into a room, and lingering glances that followed your every move.

But, he had done that with everyone. You had seen that smirk on his face when other women walked by, the way he would look other girls up and down like he would you. So you never gave him the time of day. You brushed off all of his advances as just another cheeky remark.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Harry's flirty comments grew more frequent, his eyes locked on the bare skin of your legs that your skirt exposed. He leaned in closer, shouting over the music, "You look amazing in that skirt, you know that, right?" His breath was warm against your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him. "It's just a skirt, Harry," you yelled back, though you couldn't deny the thrill that shot through you when his eyes lingered on your thighs. "There's plenty of other girls wearing them here, why don't you go compliment them?"

But Harry wasn't easily deterred. He stepped closer, his hand grazing your bare skin as he leaned in to be heard over the pounding bass. "Just thought I’d let you know." he said, his voice low and filled with a hunger you hadn't noticed before.

You turned to face him, your arms folded across your chest as the crowd surged around you. "How many girls have you said that to tonight?" you shot back, your voice tinged with skepticism. Harry chuckled, you couldn't tell whether that was a conformation or a denial.

Truth was, it had been a while since you'd slept with anyone. You had been busy with work, and the last guy you had been with was...less than satisfactory. Though you normally wouldn't give it a second thought, tonight, the thought of Harry's hands on you, his mouth, sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked back at him as you swayed to the music performance you were watching. He looked down at you and gave you a slight smile and an eyebrow raise. You kept shifting, almost uncomfortable in your skin as the thought overtook your brain. His hands going up your skirt, then up your shirt, fucking you relentlessly. Maybe just one night with him wouldn't hurt.

Turning around, you leaned in and whispered into Harry's ear, "You're not so bad yourself, you know." It was cheeky and flirty, a playful smile playing on your lips. You felt his body stiffen in surprise before his hand found your lower back, pulling you closer, your hips now swaying in sync with his. The tension between you grew palpable, the music seeming to pulse with every beat of your racing heart.

Your mind wandered to your hotel room…though you wouldn’t be seeing it for another three days. Your friend group had splurged on Coachella camping passes, instead of long drives back to a hotel you’d be camping out in the desert. But...you can still have sex in a tent...and surely there wouldn't be that many at the campsite while there were performances...

Turning back to Harry, you leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I'm not really into the next few performers. Are you willing to miss some?...Go back to the tents for a bit?" You knew exactly what you were implying, and from the way Harry's eyes darkened, he knew too. He nodded eagerly and took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

"I'm going to my tent for a bit, to drink some water and cool off." You whispered in one of your girlfriends ears before walking through the crowd of people with Harry, still hand in hand.

The journey through the festival grounds to the camping area felt like forever, people would look at you two, you wondered if they knew what you were doing. Harry walked closely behind you, one hand in yours, his other hand on your lower back as you led him through the maze of tents. You could feel his breath against the back of your neck, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine.

As the music faded, you felt your excitement grow, as did Harry's, his touches and kisses to your neck. You decided to get him a little more excited...lifting the hem of your skirt just enough to show a hint of your lacy underwear, and let it drop before he could get a good look. Harry's eyes went wide, and his grip on your hand tightened.

You turned around and looked at him with a mischievous smile, "What?" you asked, playing coy. Harry laughed and shook his head, his walking pace now becoming quicker.

Once you reached the tent, you didn't bother with the zipper, you practically ripped it open and pulled Harry inside. Harry's hands were everywhere, on your thighs, your waist, your breasts, as you kissed him deeply, your sloppily tongues dancing together.

The tent was hot, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. Harry's jeans were tight, his erection pressing against you. You could feel him growing harder with each passing second as you were grinding yourself against him.

Your kisses grew more desperate, your hands reaching down to stroke him through his pants. He groaned into your mouth, his hands cupping your ass, pushing you closer. "What made you change your mind? Couldn't resist me any longer?" Harry asked as he pulled away from your lips.

You chuckled at the clear display of his massive ego. "Oh yeah...definitely" you replied sarcastically, your breath hot against his cheek. Harry didn't need to hear another word. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for another deep kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

Breaking away from the kiss, you playfully pushed him down to the makeshift bed in the tent. The air was thick with desire as you straddled him, your skirt riding up even further, giving him a clear view of your barely-there underwear. You started to sway your hips to the rhythm of a distant stage, giving him a mini lap dance, your hands moving seductively over your own body, teasing him.

"Is this what you wanted?" you whispered, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Harry's breath hitched as you began to palm him through his pants, feeling the heat and hardness growing beneath your touch. His eyes were glued to your movements, watching as your hands danced closer to the bulge in his jeans.

The tent was dimly lit by the distant festival lights, casting a soft glow over your bodies as you began to rock your hips against his, teasing him with every grind. Harry's eyes were hooded with lust, his hands reaching up to grip your waist as he watched you move. You could feel his cock pulsing with every beat of the music that echoed through the fabric walls.

With a seductive smirk, you slithered down his body, your hands working at the button of his jeans as you went. You slid the zipper down with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing the prize you'd been eyeing. Harry's cock sprang free, thick and eager, straining towards you. You took him in your hand, feeling the weight and heat of him, and brought your mouth closer, letting out a soft moan that sent a tremor through his body.

Your eyes locked with his as you took him in your mouth, your tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of his skin. He was so hard, and the feel of him filling your mouth was intoxicating. You took him deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag just a little. Harry's eyes filled with surprise and pleasure, his hands gripping the sheets as you began to bob your head up and down, taking him in deeper each time.

You felt the warmth spread through your cheeks, the stretch in your jaw, as you deepthroated him, the sound of your gagging mixing with the festival's music.

Harry's grip on your hair tightened, his hips bucking up slightly as you worked him over. His moans grew louder, and you felt a thrill knowing that you were the one giving him this pleasure. You could feel his muscles tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bobbed your head up and down, taking him to the edge.

But you weren't done teasing him yet. You pulled back, letting him slip almost entirely out of your mouth before diving back in, taking him deep again. Each time you hit the back of your throat, you'd pull back just a bit, letting him feel the tightness of your throat before plunging back down. Harry's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making you wetter than ever.

The sound of your gagging grew louder, mingling with the distant music, as you worked his cock with vigor. You felt powerful, like you were the one in control here, despite being the one on your knees. His hips began to thrust upward, meeting your mouth, urging you to take more of him. You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through his body.

"Fuck, I need you to fuck me," you breathed out, your voice hoarse from the effort. Harry's eyes blazed with desire as he reached into the back pocket of his tight-fitting jeans, pulling out his wallet. "Of course you carry one around," you murmured, a hint of amusement in your voice. He chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. You took the condom from his hand.

With a seductive smile, you held the foil packet between your teeth and ripped it, sending a jolt of excitement through Harry's body. You took the condom from the packet and held it up, watching his eyes follow your every move. He swallowed hard as you reached for his cock, now glistening with your saliva.

Slowly, you rolled the condom down his length, savoring the feel of his skin under your fingertips. Harry's eyes never left yours, the anticipation building.

"Turn around," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. You complied eagerly, turning away from him to present your ass, your skirt hiked up to expose the lacy underwear that matched the bra you had been teasing him with all night. He took a moment to appreciate the view, his hand coming up to trace the curve of your cheek before smacking it lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

With a swift movement, Harry yanked your underwear down, the fabric catching on your thighs before dropping to the floor. "M'not going to let this pretty skirt go to waste." He said, letting you keep the garment on.

He positioned himself behind you, his cock nudging against your wet entrance as you balanced on your hands and knees. The anticipation was unbearable, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest as you waited for him to fill you up.

With one swift movement, Harry entered you, his cock sliding in deep, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. The feeling of his skin against yours was electric, and you couldn't help but push back into him, urging him deeper.

He took the hint, gripping your hips as he began to pound into you, the sound of your bodies slapping together mixed with your breath panting was the only thing you could hear.

Each thrust was deep and hard, his cock filling you up completely. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out his name, the sensation was overwhelming, like nothing you've ever felt before. The tent was bouncing slightly with each slam.

Looking back at Harry with a seductive gaze, you reached back with one hand to palm your own ass, giving him the full view of your body. His eyes widened at the sight, and he groaned, his strokes becoming more erratic. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure.

You felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock as he hit just the right spot. The friction was unbearable, and you could feel your body shaking with the effort to hold off. "I'm going to cum," you warned him, your voice a breathless whisper.

"Then do it," Harry urged, his own voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you scream."

With a fiery determination, you threw your head back and let go. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath. "Harry!" you screamed, your voice hoarse from the effort as your body convulsed around his cock. He didn't slow down, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you, pushing you through your climax.

Once the peak had passed, and your energy came back up, you turned back to him again, still on your hands and knees, your skirt now hiked up around your waist. Harry's eyes were dark with lust, his movements more urgent as he just watched you come down from your high. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmured, his own orgasm clearly on the horizon.

"I want to feel you cum on me," you whispered, turning around to face him, your cheek pressed against the rough fabric of the tent floor. Another smirk pulled at Harry's lips, the biggest one he had ever given you. "I want to be a mess, Harry. I want to wear your cum on my back."

The words sent a shockwave through Harry's body, his grip on your hips tightening. He thrust into you with renewed vigor, his eyes locked onto your face, watching as the pleasure built in your eyes. Each movement grew more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, yes," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "You're going to be so dirty for me."

With one hand still gripping the bed, you reached back with the other, running your fingers up his abs. The feel of his firm, sweaty skin beneath your fingertips was intoxicating. You traced the lines of his six-pack, feeling the muscles tense and flex with each of his thrusts. "You like that, don't you?" you whispered, your voice filled with a seductive edge. "I want your cum so bad, baby. Want you to paint my back."

He didn't reply, your words leaving him speechless. The only sound was the music outside, the occasional shout of a distant festival-goer, and the slap of your bodies coming together. His eyes were focused on yours, watching the lust and desire build in their depths.

With a final, powerful thrust, Harry pulled out, his cock glistening with your arousal. You felt the loss of his warmth and the sudden coolness of the desert air, making you shiver slightly. "Move your hair," he ordered, his voice thick with need. You complied, arching your back and pushing your hair to one side, exposing your bare skin to him.

You watched as he stroked himself, his hand moving rapidly up and down his length. The sight was mesmerizing, the way his hand moved with such precision, the way his forearm muscles flexed with each stroke. You bit your lip, unable to look away.

Without warning, Harry spurted, ropes of white-hot cum that landed on your bare back. You gasped as the warm liquid painted your skin, a thrill shooting through you that was almost as intense as your orgasm. He continued to cum, both of you watching, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he watched you become a canvas for his pleasure.

You felt a sense of satisfaction as he finished, his breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching the last droplets land on your skin. "Looks like your hard work of constant flirting paid off." You couldn't help but smirk, feeling a sense of power as you saw the desire still in his eyes.

Without missing a beat, you reached back with one hand, gathering a glob of his cum on your finger. You brought it to your mouth, the tangy taste of him hitting your taste buds. Harry's breath hitching as you licked your finger clean with a deliberate, almost theatrical flick of your tongue. "It's a good thing we're in a tent," you said with a smirk, "Otherwise, everyone would know what a slut I just was." You joked, referring to your loud screams (that everyone in a close radius definitely heard) before giving him a shirt to wipe the rest off your back.

You both lay there for a moment, panting, the sticky mess between your legs the only evidence of what had just occurred.

"Same time tomorrow?" Harry murmured against your neck, his voice low and teasing. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a little shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"If my legs can handle it," you replied, your voice thick with sarcasm. Harry chuckled, his breath warm against your skin as he kissed your neck. You both lay there in the tired, sticky mess.

You both knew that you couldn't stay in the tent forever, everyone would wonder where you were, though you definitely could.

tag list !

@mema10 @lizsogolden @harrrrystylesslut @tulips4harry @cloudyluun @dipmeinhoneyh @tchlamqtsgf @maudie-duan @gilwm @mads3502 @girlslovejahseh

[chadobi]

“Just Another Night in the Lab”

Bayverse Donatello x Reader

I’m little stressed because it’s my first post so i hope you will enjoy this! Lov u guys!

———————————————————

The soft hum of Donnie’s equipment buzzed in the background like a familiar lullaby. Screens flickered gently around the darkened corners of the lab, casting pools of pale blue light over scattered tools, schematics, half-built gadgets, and a lone cup of cold coffee.

You were sitting on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth rhythmically while typing something on your tablet — cross-referencing files Donnie had asked for. Your brow was furrowed, and your hair was slightly tousled from hours in the lair. You looked… normal. Comfortable. Like you belonged there.

Donnie glanced up from his microscope for what must’ve been the fifth time in three minutes.

He tried to be subtle about it, eyes flicking toward you, then quickly away when he caught himself staring again. His heart was doing that annoying stutter thing it had started doing around you lately — like it didn’t know how to beat properly when you were nearby

You didn’t notice. Or maybe you did. Either way, you didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” you asked softly, looking over. “Do you want me to sort these files alphabetically or by scan frequency?”

Donnie blinked. The question was simple, but it took a second longer than usual to register. He was distracted by how your voice always sounded a little softer in the lab — like it didn’t want to disturb the quiet magic of his world.

“Uh… scan frequency,” he said quickly. “Yeah. That makes more sense for the pattern we’re trying to isolate.”

You nodded and went right back to it, completely unaware that Donnie’s brain had short-circuited because your smile had lingered for half a second too long.

⸻

He returned to his microscope. Or at least pretended to. Every nerve in his body was suddenly tuned to you — your breath, your tiny sounds of concentration, the occasional tap of your stylus on glass. You weren’t even doing anything particularly special. Just helping. Just being here.

And that’s when it hit him.

You weren’t extraordinary in some loud, showy way. You didn’t try to impress him. You didn’t fawn over his inventions or stroke his ego. You simply showed up. Sat beside him. Helped when he needed it. Called him out when he got too lost in his own head. You gave your time freely — and not to the tech genius or the mutant, but to Donatello.

And God, he loved you for it.

The realization landed like a circuit overload — silent, undeniable, irreversible. His heart didn’t just flutter this time. It ached. In the best way.

He looked over again.

You had your legs crossed now, fingers flying across the screen. There was a little smudge of ink on your cheek from where you must’ve rubbed it earlier. You were mumbling something under your breath. A calculation, maybe.

And he was so gone

“Y/N?” he said quietly.

You looked up, tablet still in hand. “Yeah?”

His throat went dry. He had a million smart things to say and not a single one made it to his mouth. So instead, he took a breath, reached for a clean cloth, and walked toward you.

“There’s a mark,” he murmured, gently brushing the smudge from your cheek with the cloth.

You froze — just for a second — then relaxed under his touch. “Oh. Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

His hand lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Your eyes met.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the lab. The moment stretched — warm, fragile, perfect.

And then you smiled. That quiet, honest smile that had wrecked him from the very beginning.

“What?” you asked, teasingly. “Do I have another smudge?

“No,” he whispered. “I just… I’m glad you’re here.”

Your smile softened. “Me too, Donnie.”

He didn’t kiss you that night. He didn’t need to.

Because in that one small, quiet moment —

You knew.

And so did he.

[gael-garcia]

“My journey has been very free. I’ve been able to work in different parts of the world and on projects that don’t necessarily obey a typical journey of a person that wants to be famous or work in film. I want young actors to know you don’t have to follow a set line to have a career. Sometimes the line is drawn for actors from the English language. But in my case I can reinvent myself all the time.” — Gael García Bernal (Total Film, 07/2021)

Also: Uruguay (El ojo en la nuca, 2001), Sweden & Thailand (Mammoth 2010), Canada (Blindness 2008, Zoom 2015), Brazil (El pasado 2007, Zoom 2015), Serbia (Zalet), Germany (Herzog's Salt&Fire 2016), Cuba (Wasp Network, 2019), Dominican Republic (Old, 2021)

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

First Time (18+)

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

A/N: Damn, I think this is my longest one ever. Big time Donnie love!💜

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

Donatello is more than a little nervous about the thought of having sex with you, not trusting his own abilities, but with some reassurance and guidance from you, he rises to the occasion.

Warnings: A more angsty build up that I had planned, unprotected sex, Donnie having his first time with you💜

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

To say that Donatello was an amazing boyfriend, wasn’t enough to do him justice. He was fantastic! The sweetest and most genuine guy you had ever met. He was attentive and treated you well. Sure, he might be a mutant turtle that lived in the sewer, yet he was the best boyfriend you had ever had. Whether that spoke of your former poor taste in guys, or just the general low bar for human men you did not know. But you knew for a fact that Donatello was one of the best things that had ever happened in your life.

Donatello would say the exact same thing about you. You were not just the best thing that had ever happened to him, but a dream come true. Before meeting you, he had never actually believed that he would get to experience something so good. Just as he had accepted his fate as a lonely mutant turtle that would spend his days alone in hiding with his brothers, you came along and changed his life for good.

The friendship the two of you shared was just what you needed. You may not fully understand everything Donnie had going on inside his lab, but you listened nonetheless, finally giving a much needed ear to his thoughts and inventions. He in turn provided you with a safe space to go to, whenever your life became a little too much.

During those years of friendship you and Donnie grew close in ways none of you had experienced before. Not even his brothers could read him as well as you did, and you in turn had never thought that anyone would understand you as well as Donnie did. So therefore it was only expected that stronger feelings would blossom.

When you and Donnie started dating, it felt natural. Just like your first kiss. It just came naturally to the two of you. No grad gestures and no confusion. Both you and Donnie knew what it meant, and you were just happy to be with someone that understood you so well.

But if there was one thing that didn’t come as naturally to you and Donnie, it was sex. Actually, it didn’t come naturally to Donnie. You didn’t blame him. The poor guy had lived most of his life, convincing himself that sex would never be something he would get to experience. So when you and Donnie started dating and kissing, and the first thought of sex came up, Donnie started overthinking. You were a human that had had sexual experiences with other humans before, and he was a mutant turtle who had his hand as the closest thing to a former sexual partner.

It didn’t mean that Donatello didn’t want sex, because oh boy, did he want to! He was just nervous. Really nervous. It was almost nerve racking to believe that he could actually have sex, let alone with someone as beautiful as you. And you understood. You really did. You took the time to sit with him and talk it through, making sure he felt heard and comfortable, especially talking about a subject like that. What did he feel? What did he fear? What was he excited about?

Other than the general confusion and trauma that came from accepting your fate of loneliness, you learned that Donatello feared not the action of sex itself, but how he would act. More specifically, he was nervous and overthinking, because he did not know what to do. Where should he put his hands? What was he supposed to say? And the thought that haunted him the most; if he didn’t do good, would you leave him? All very valid fears for a mutant turtle, who did not even dare to dream of being with a human.

You took Donnie’s hands in yours and told him it was okay. He was allowed to be nervous and overthink, and he was allowed to not know what to do. You told him that you loved him, and you wouldn’t leave him if he didn’t make you feel good the first time, nor the time after that. Humans too would be nervous before their first time, and it was very normal not to be satisfied the first time.

And after that conversation, you and Donnie slowly started preparing for your first time together. With Donnie being a totally different species than you, he started preparing you for what you could expect. He told you where his cloaca was located and how it worked, along with other parts of the turtle anatomy you may or may not have known already. You in turn did the same. You told him where humans liked to be touched and answered his questions about human anatomy. And it calmed Donnie down. It calmed him down enough, to the point he dared to ask if he could touch your breast.

The make out session that came from that, was one unlike any you ever had had with Donatello. With his hands groping your breast, you were at a shock of naturally good your sweet tech boyfriend was at this. You had expected him to be more unsure, but you soon learned that when he had the confidence he could do anything. Making you moan against his lips while he played with your nipples, this guy did not know what talent he possessed.

This unlocked a new area of your relationship, that you and Donatello carefully explored. Make out sessions became more common, with hands exploring and building up the courage, going a little further each time, until one night Donnie told you he wanted to try.

“Are you sure?”, you asked. You were sitting in his room, you in his lap with your arms around his neck, still breathing heavily after the heated kiss the two of you had just shared. One of his hands was in the back of your neck, playing with your hair, while the other rested on your ass, squishing you through your pants.

“I’m sure”, Donnie answered, watching you through hooded eyes. The hand on the back of your neck crept to the side of your face, letting Donnie’s thumb glide across the corner of your mouth. “I really want to try”.

You nodded your head, biting your lip with a smile, before letting Donnie close the space between you once more. Your lips dancing together as your tongues slowly found each other, letting a small moan escape you, as you felt the vibrating churr being in Donnie’s chest. You had heard that sound quite a few times now, and each time you loved it more and more.

Your hands moved from Donnie’s neck, and down to the top of his plastron, enjoying the feeling of his vibrating chest through your fingers. You moved your lips to his chin, making your to his neck, feeling the hand on your ass pull you closer. Donnie’s breathing was heavy, his chest moving as he felt you work your lips around his neck.

Donnie’s hands found your waist, dipping under your shirt to feel the warmth of your smooth skin against his rough palms. You took this as a sign, removing your lips from Donnie’s neck to take off your shirt. This made Donnie move his hands to your breast, palming them through your bra as you reached back to unhook it. The breathy curse that left Donnie’s mouth once your bra was off, went straight to your core, making you clench around empty air. And Donnie could smell it. The scent of your arousal was strong, making him slightly dizzy.

Donnie nuzzled his head against your neck, pressing kisses against your skin like you had done to him, enjoying every sound that left your mouth and the feeling of your hands on his shoulders. His hands moved from your breast to your pants, where he tried to undo them, only to grow frustrated at the small buttons in his big fingers.

“Want me to take them off?”, you asked, gliding a hand up his neck.

“Please”, Donnie answered, bringing your hips close to him once more.

Donatello watched, with his head resting on your shoulder, through the valley between your breasts, as you undid your pants. Once you got them past your waits he helped you, sliding them off of your legs before throwing them somewhere in his room, leaving you in nothing but underwear on his lap.

“Shit”, he moaned, his heart raising once more as yet another wave of your arousal hit his nose, stronger than before. He hooked his thumbs into the straps of your underwear, his eyes finding yours to ask for permission. Breathless you nodded, lifting your hips to make it easy for him to pull your damp underwear down your legs.

The sight of you naked on Donnie’s lap was enough to make him moan. Your cheeks were already getting pink, and your pupils were just as blown out as his. The best way Donatello could describe the sight in front of him was; hot. So fucking hot.

He kneeled your hips, biting his lips before he asked; “Can I… Will you show me… Will you let me finger you?”

Once again, Donnie’s words went straight between your legs. The way he looked at you and the way he spoke. Needy and so ready to try. You loved every second of it.

“Of course you can”, you answered him, before bringing him in for another needy kiss. You took one of his hands in yours, guiding it down between your legs, helping one of his fingers glide through your folds, letting him feel the wetness that had built up. Donnie shivered, letting a whimper against your lips. You couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling from his lips, finding his reaction adorable.

“You feel that?”, you asked him, letting his finger glide through once more. Donnie nodded, letting out a small shuttering yes. “That’s all because of you, Donnie”. Your boyfriend cursed once more, his face showing frustration and absolute bliss.

You moved his thumb to your clit, guiding him on how to circle his finger around your small bundle of nerves.

“Like this?”, Donnie asked, watching your facial expression as he worked his fingers on you.

“Yes”, you breathed out, arching your back enjoying the feeling of his thick thumb on you. “Just like that, Donnie”.

Donatello bite his lip, watching your face closely, while remembering the things you had told him about the human body. How humans liked to be touched. How you liked to be touched. And with that thought in mind he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you close and still, while his index finger glided through your folds once more, before finding your entrance. He slowly pushed his finger in, sighing in delight at how tight you felt around his finger. You moaned, leaning your head back, happy that Donnie had wrapped his hand around to stabilize you.

“Fuck, Donnie”, you moaned, feeling how his finger went further in.

“Is it good?”, he asked, brows knotting together, biting his lips as he felt the familiar feeling from his cloaca, threatening to let dick drop.

“Yes, Donnie”, you moaned, your legs shaking against his. “Please, move them Donnie. Like this”. You held up your hand, showing your boyfriend how to move his fingers inside you. Donnie nodded, doing just as you showed him, moving his fingers in and out of you while his thumb rolled against your clit. You moaned, dropping your head against Donnie’s shoulder. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you move and shake against him, every moan from your mouth sounding like sweet music in his ears. He continued like this, feeling you tighten around his finger, your climax inching closer and closer until you came around his fingers with a loud moan.

When Donnie removed his fingers from your used cunt, he could not resist the urge to bring them to his mouth, sucking them off in front of you. The look in your eyes and the way you smelled told him everything he needed to know. You enjoyed it. All of it. He brought your lips back to his, your tongues finding each other. You moaned at the slight taste of you in his mouth.

Donnie pulled from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, listening to your heavy breathing, feeling it against his face. “Can I do it?”

“Do what, Donnie?”, you asked, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and biceps.

“Can I fuck you?”

You nodded, too stunned to speak. Once again, you had not expected Donatello to be so straight forward, having thought he would be way more shy.

Donnie took your lips in for another kiss while he slowly laid you down on your back. Once your back was flat against the mattress, he started moving his clothed crotch against you, moaning against your lips as he felt himself getting closer to his drop. You whimpered against his lip, almost begging him to take his pants off. Finally he sat up and undid his pants in full view of you. He pulled his pants off along with his boxers, before climbing back on top of you, feeling your legs close around him the best they could, bringing his cloaca to meet your wet center.

“Can I drop into you?”, Donnie asked, his lips ligering against yours, his hands moving from your hips, up your sides to your shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

“Yes, Donnie”, you moaned, buckling your hips against his, causing him to moan, feeling himself tipping on the edge before finally dropping down in front of your entrance. To his surprise, you were the one to move your hand down between the two of you, taking his cock in your hand moving it to your opening before pushing it in closely.

Donatello moaned, his head falling down beside yours, your cunt hugging him tightly as he sunk further in. You kissed the side of his face, whispering sweet nothing as he sunk in as far as he could. He stayed there for a moment, letting you and himself adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You were a tight fit for him, but he couldn’t deny it felt good.

“Donnie, please move”, you moaned, moving your hips under him. Donnie wrapped an arm under your shoulder so he could bring you even closer to you, resting his forehead against yours once more as he slowly began to move, moaning and cursing in delight over the feeling.

His thrusts started out slow and soft, until you told him it was okay to go harder and faster, to which Donnie obliged. He cursed, one of his hands grabbing on to the bedding beside your head, enjoying this knew feeling around his cock.

“Fuck”, he breathed into your ear, causing tingles to erupt in your stomach. “It feels good, (Y/N). Fucking good”.

Your hand found his face, stroking his cheek making him look you in the eye. The sigh was enough to make both of you shiver.

“Wanna go faster?”, you asked him. Donnie nodded, his lips slightly agasp. “Go as fast as you want to. Fuck me as fast as you want, Donnie”.

And that was all your boyfriend needed. Every trace of nervousness Donnie had showed you during your first conversation about sex disappeared, leaving behind what you could only describe as a feast for the eyes. Donnie was concentrated, his brows frowning, his pupils wide as his muscles flexed before he let loose against you. You gasped and moaned loud, grabbing onto Donnie’s shoulders as he thrusted faster and harder into you. He was rougher than you had thought he would be, but you found it to be a pleasant surprise.

But then Donnie did something you never saw coming for his first time. He took one of your legs, hooking it over his arm before thrust into you even deeper than before. This new angle caused you to arch your back in ecstasy, as he continuously hit the sweet spot inside of you. It didn’t take long like this, before you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach as you clung closer around Donnie.

“Donnie!”, you moaned out, your pitch higher than he ever had heard it before, making him growl in delight. “Donnie, I’m close!”

Donnie did not answer you. Instead he dipped his head down to your neck, where he started nipping at your skin, his hips working against you like a piston. He wanted you to cum around him, washing away every fear he ever had about not making you feel good. And you knew. You knew your boyfriend, and you knew what he was thinking. And as he started groaning and biting your earlobe, you couldn’t hold back anymore, almost screaming his name as you came for him once more.

Donnie moved both hands down to your hips, holding you still as he started chasing his own high, helping you ride out your own in the meantime. As he moaned louder and louder as he got close, his thrust became more and more erratic. Finally he came, pushing himself all the way into you as he shot out his white ropes, letting out a moan better than porn star you ever heard.

Once down from his high, Donnie pulled out of you, before slumping down next to you, sweaty and out of breath, his dick still out in the open.

He looked at you, his eyes tired yet full of love, making you feel warm in so many ways. “Was it good?”

“Are you crazy?”, you asked, smiling brighter than any stare Donnie had seen. “It was amazing, Donnie!”

Donnie chuckled, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close against his plastron, giving you a kiss before resting his forehead against yours once more, a smirk spreading on his pretty lips. “Does that mean you’re up for another around after a quick nap?”

[hotheadedhero]

Reach, Retry, and Requital

AN: Almost a year after its initial publishing date, we finally have a part two omg. Better late than never, ay? XD Now the boys can finally make up for their mistakes

Part 1

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Not much time had been wasted after talking to Splinter, springing into forthright action, the weight of those shared words settling into his chest. His father always had a way of cutting through the noise, of seeing the core of the matter with unsettling clarity. Leo knew what he had to do. He had to talk to you, truly talk, not just attempt to ambush you in the kitchen while you grabbed a quick snack, not just exchange polite pleasantries while you pass each other in short, fleeting beats. He needed to carve out a moment, a real moment, where he could lay bare his disarray and, of course, his regret.

Finding you was the first challenge. You were a ghost in the lair these days, flitting from room to room, always busy, always surrounded by others. It was like you were actively avoiding him, which, let's be honest, you were. He had figured that out long ago.

Finally, he finds you in the dojo, assisting Donnie with calibrating some new training equipment. The sight of you, focused and determined, sends a fresh wave of longing crashing over him. Despite the initial urge that had him barrelling in search of your person, he lingers in the doorway, watching you for a moment. The way the low light catches in your hair, how you laugh at something Donnie said. Small things - insignificant things - but they were yours, and he suddenly realised more just how much he missed them.

Donnie notices him first, offering a small, knowing smile before excusing himself with a mumbled, "Gotta check on Mikey's pizza-making experiment.” A lame, half-thought-out excuse, but the deliberateness of it isn’t missed by his brother. “Good luck, you two."

As he migrates from the dojo, Leo moves in just a couple paces. "Hey," he begins, trying to keep his voice casual, but the nervousness is palpable. "Can we talk?"

You stiffen slightly, your hands stilling on the control panel of the automated training dummy you had been working on. In all honesty, you’d like to go back to working on it and keep your mind away from the turtle who is awkwardly approaching you. Being dismissive of what he has to say, of him entirely, may be seen as calloused but the mere sight of him gets your system all up in a tizzy. All it does is remind you of the conversation that put this wedge between you in the first place.

You turn back to the project, a carefully neutral expression on your face. "About what, Leo?" The bluntness stings, and it’s a stark reminder of the distance that has grown between you two.

"About... us. About what happened..." He trails off, unsure how to articulate the jumbled mess of emotions swirling inside him.

You sigh, a sound that holds a strange mixture of weariness and resignation. "I thought we made our positions clear. You're a ninja, you have responsibilities. I understand that, and you made it abundantly clear how you feel about relationships. The last thing I want is to be a distraction."

A poor choice of words on his part. A remark by the very same brother who left, from a much prior altercation, rings in his head. Does he really know so little about feelings? The insensitivity of what comes out of his mouth before he can think about the ramifications? A hand smooths over his face as if trying to wipe away the idiocy and rid himself of his past discretion. This must have been how you felt, your side of the street. He thinks he knows why you’ve been so distant - understands why it had to come to such drastic measures in the first place.

"You already distract me." The words just kind of blurt out, quiet and raw.

And your expression softens, just a fraction, and he clings onto that flicker like some sacred wish. You try to battle the urge, but ultimately, you fall prey to it and crane your head back over to look at him. He’s still some distance away, not daring move until you give him some sign or reason to, and his stance tells you all you need to know. Yet, you can’t ignore the hurt. Your hurt. The hurt you’ve been feeling all this time.

"Leo," you say softly, "I care about you - I do - but I need to protect myself as well. I can't…” You take a heavy breath, reserving the tremble that tries to knock you down. “I can't be someone's second choice, someone's maybe-someday."

He finds that opportunity he had been looking for, steps closer, his gaze locked on yours. "You wouldn't be. Not anymore. I was wrong.” Another foot forward, still tentative in case it’s too close for your comfort. “Give me a chance to prove that I can be more than just a man of responsibility, that I can be the kind of person you deserve."

Silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, and Leonardo reckons that he could probably wave his katana around and feel some resistance were he to try. He can see the unrest in your eyes, a battle between caution and hope. Each tick of the clock is a deafening reminder of what’s at stake: his atypically loud mind, both of your feelings, a relationship altogether, even just trying to reclaim the old one.

Eventually, you speak, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I don't know. I just don't know."

It’s not a no, but it isn’t a yes either: a small glimmer of hope for the glass-half-full positioned individual, but he can’t say whether he’s on grounds for that junction or not. For now, perhaps he could take it. The middle of the seesaw, going in neither direction, having to wait for an affirmative. Either that or you’re just keeping him suspended in uncertainty before you deliver the final blow. He would probably deserve it.

Just when he thinks it might well and truly be too late to rectify his unjust, you speak again, “I’m not gonna regret this, am I?”

If it wasn’t for the soft curve of your lips pointed up in his direction, he’d be solely focused on the sombre tone of your question. A glimmer of hope. It was there after all. He isn’t completely out of the dog house but it’s a start, as good a start as any.

Matching your smile, he finally closes the gap between the two of you and kneels. “Not as much as I’ve regretted turning you down in the first place.”

Leo will be the first to admit it’s corny but sounding a little cheesy is worth it to hear the light snort it gets out of you. Playfully, you roll your eyes and lazily push him away. If not anything else, he’s just missed being this close to you without you feeling the need to bolt from his presence. It would take time, but he’ll prove to you, and himself, that he’s worthy of another chance. He has a lot of work to do, and he’ll do it. For you.

Raphael

Raph pushes past Casey, not saying another word, just twisting and launching himself into the night, the anger directed squarely at himself. The adrenaline is pumping now as he bulldozes his way towards your apartment, fuelled by a potent cocktail of guilt, self-loathing, and a fierce need to atone. If not for the chance to make something of these feelings, at the very least he needs to apologise for the way he acted.

The trek through the city feels longer than usual. Every shadow seems to mock him, every stray sound amplifies his dread. He vaults over rooftops, his movements driven by a desperate urgency until, finally, he reaches your place. He hesitates atop the building just opposite yours, his hands pressing into the ledge. He suddenly feels unsure of himself. What is he going to say? How can he possibly undo the damage he’s caused? He needs to think about this carefully if he wants to avoid blabbering like an incomprehensible idiot.

Whilst mulling it over, he spots your silhouette inside, cleaning up from dinner, if he has to guess. You’re busy with your idle tasks but he can see the tension radiating off of you in waves. Raph's heart clenches. Tense because of him, no doubt, and if Casey knows that he made you cry, it’s likely his brothers know too. That would explain their assistance in keeping you out of reach. If he can commemorate his family for anything, it’s for protecting you, even if it’s from him as much as that fact burns. You’re a beautiful spirit who gets along with most of anyone, and he had treated you like the very joke he thought you were playing on him. Thick-headed irony. He could berate himself with all the names under the sun, but that isn’t going to get him anywhere. He just needs to take that first step forward. Do something about it.

But despite being no stranger to making amends for his behaviour, this feels different. If he gets in a fight with one of his brothers, they always forgive each other eventually. That’s what families do, it’s part of the description, but this is you. Even if he lays out everything, will you forgive him so easily? Can he forgive himself?

The pacing comes to a halt, and he huffs quietly. It’s just like a bandaid - he needs to rip it off. He doesn’t want it to seem as though he’s ensnaring you in the comfort of your own home, somewhere you can’t escape from, but he also doesn’t know when or where he’ll get an opportunity alone without his brothers forming a protective barrier around you.

Raph jogs on the spot, smacks his face a couple times, does the few things he can think to do to psyche himself up before easing himself onto the fire escape and tapping on your window. The sound almost makes you jump, but you’re quick to open it up for him. He barely has a chance to lousily mumble your name when you hurriedly pull him in. Wrecked nerves and distancing aside, the last thing either of you needs is a neighbouring wanderer spotting a man-sized turtle hanging from your window.

The moment he’s inside, you shoot the blinds down and whip your attention towards him. “Raph, what are you doing here?”

Maybe it’s because you were so quick to pull him in, or the concern where he thought he’d be met with fear, but the breath in his lungs suddenly abandons him. The floor groans beneath his restless feet as he fidgets back and forth, although barely surpassing an inch with each movement. For a cold-blooded creature, he’s almost certain he’s working up a cold sweat, but he’s here now. There’s no point in drawing this out any longer than it has to.

“I came to apologise for what I said. How I acted.” The tense fingers at his sides clench further. “I didn’t know I made you cry, and I’m sorry. You didn’t- don’t deserve that. Not ever.”

This isn’t enough. It’ll likely never be enough at this rate. Each word out of his mouth doesn’t feel sincere, doesn’t make up for or even come close to truly demonstrating how sorry he is. Everything is solely meant but he knows he needs to knock down some more walls before you can see, genuinely see just how much he regrets himself. Your stare hones in on him expectantly, and his head rolls over his shoulders, trying to alleviate the knots in his neck.

"Truth is, I was scared. I thought there was no way you could actually feel that way about me. A freak." He winces at the words, hating how they sound out loud, but he misses the way your brows hood over your eyes, keeping his on the floor.

He takes a deep breath, the sensation barely lukewarm against his chest. Somehow, he feels smaller than you at this moment despite his hulking figure. All you can do is watch him, studying his posture, the lines etched into his face, the way his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Remorse warring with his stubborn pride; unequivocally contrite and vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen.

He hates how he dismissed your feelings, how he rejected your attempt at admitting yourself to him, how he ignored the pull of his own heart towards you for the sake of stupid self-preservation. If he had even given himself a glimmer of belief that you could feel some kind of way about him, neither of you would be in this mess. But he’s getting too caught up in the ‘whys’ when he should be focusing on the simple matter that what he did, what he said to you was completely unjustified.

"Look, you don't gotta forgive me. I ain't even expecting you to say nothing. Just know that I'm sorry I yelled and that if I could go back and do it again..."

His lips press shut to save himself from adding to this already sappy display, and it’s no wonder he hasn’t had anything back yet. You’re weighing something up - probably something big. He's just waiting for you to lash out, to fling back the fire he had so unceremoniously bestowed onto you. Befittingly, give him a taste of his own medicine. Instead, he hears your feet shift away from him, the sound strangely loud in the small space, followed by a quiet creak and some shuffling. When he risks a glance in your direction, you’re on your couch, a hand laid out on the neighbouring cushion.

"Here, let me tell you something.” You gesture for him and, warily, he sits beside you, the unsuspecting pillows gasping beneath his weight. “Don’t get me wrong, the yelling was a touch excessive,” you lightly laugh, downcast, “but I wasn't necessarily upset about that. I was upset because you didn't believe me. Raph, why in the world would I ever lie or joke about something like that?"

"You ain't bein' serious," he breathes out, marginally humoured, predominantly pained. "Look at me."

"I'm looking,” you retort quickly. “What's the problem, hm?"

He had a whole set ready, he swears, but the way you look at him instantly shuts him up. Never in all his years did he think that someone so beautiful could gaze upon him with such endearment, such adoration, though you’re mostly creased up with this stern glower. He doesn’t have an answer for you. All he can think to do is latch onto this thread and run with it.

"Does that mean… we can give this a shot then?" he asks quietly.

"On one condition," you barter, and the soft hand to his cheek almost makes him crumble.  "I know that head of yours works in funny ways, but I would never lie to you. Okay? Have faith in my word." 

Raph searches your face for any doubt, any sign that the dumb parts of his brain can possibly pick up to beat himself down again, and when he sees none, he slowly smiles. "I think I can do that."

You grin back only to get all pinched. “And one more thing.” You flick the space between his eyes and he blinks frantically from the sheer audacity alone. “Call yourself a freak again and I’ll have your head.”

He points a glare down at you, but it’s threatless. He can’t fight the tug on his lips with your scrunched face beaming up at him, nor does he want to with this fresh breath, this sense of a new start. There may be some rocky terrain to overcome, but just knowing that you see him for more than what he is on the outside is enough for him.

Donatello

Donatello spent the next several hours poring over Vern's advice, scribbling frantic notes on his datapad. Vern’s "field experience," as Donnie had so generously put it, seemed to revolve largely around retaining a smarmy bravado, casually nonchalant, half-attentive one-liners, pretending to be more confident than he is, and questionable fashion choices. He had suspected that this advice would be a mixed bag of dubious strategies, but there were still some surprisingly insightful points. He sifted through the static, disregarding about 90% of it, isolating the core principles: communication, understanding, and most importantly, acknowledging the other person's feelings. Easier said than done when he wasn't even sure what your feelings were.

The next few days were a blur of nervous energy and thorough planning. He felt like he was deciphering a complex algorithm, one where the variables were emotions and the output was… a date? He still wasn't entirely sure. He needed something subtle. Something that would resonate with you. Something him. He considered presenting you with a meticulously coded program designed to optimise your favourite hobby, but dismissed it as too nerdy, even for him. He then thought about building a miniature robot that would follow you around, showering you with compliments, but that bordered on creepy. None of these ideas seemed to feel right.

He was a disaster. A romantically inept, highly intelligent disaster. The truth is, he’s paralysed with fear of messing this up. He’s a genius when it comes to technology but the book of love is a series of intricate formulas he can’t seem to crack.

Days turned into a week, filled with agonising internal debates and discarded plans. He noticed you even less now, afraid that you'd see the turmoil in his eyes. He'd catch glimpses of you laughing with Mikey, strategising with Leo, or even helping Raph with his sai sharpening; each encounter a painful reminder of his own inaction.

Finally, he decided that the best course of action was to go with his gut. He was a scientist, after all. He'd treat this like an experiment: observe, analyse, and adjust his approach as needed. He started by paying closer attention to your interactions with the others: the way you'd patiently explain things to Mikey, the strategic insights you'd offer Leo, and the way you'd subtly tease Raph to ease his tension. He realised that you valued connection, humour, and intelligence. Armed with this admittedly very basic data, he devised a plan. A low-key, Donnie-esque plan.

One afternoon, you’re sitting at the main table of the kitchen, sketching something in your notebook alone, and he sees his chance. Taking a deep breath, he walks over, clutching a small, metallic object in his hand. His feet shuffle, suddenly forgetting all the carefully crafted lines he'd memorised.

"Hey," he greets, his voice a little higher than usual.

You look up, eyes clumsily shifting around before landing on him again. "Uh, hey, Donnie. Something I can help you with?"

He swallows, watchful of your uneasiness, but presses on nonetheless. "Actually, I wanted to show you something."

He holds out his hand, revealing a small, beautifully crafted origami crane, made entirely from thin wafers of aluminium, circuits and wires. A lot of his craftsmanship typically focuses on practicality and efficiency rather than aesthetic appeal but he knew he had to work on that for this particular occasion. If he were to say so himself, he’s rather proud of the outcome.

"Oh." Not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, and the perturbed cross of your brows only racks his nerves that much more. “You made this?”

He nods, cheeks flushing slightly. Whether it be from bashfulness or embarrassment, he can’t tell. “I was experimenting with conductive materials and, well, I thought you might appreciate it."

Considering how the last couple of months have been, you’re not entirely sure what you should say. A gift? Something that he made for you? He appears to be evasive of the true nature but you’re suspecting that he specifically made this with you in mind. It doesn’t do much to subside your confusion, but you can tell he’s hanging by a thin string for your reaction. Gradually, you take the crane, turning it over in your hands. It is rather pretty. You still can’t quite figure out why he’d do this but he may just threaten to split at the seams if you don’t say something more.

“It’s… beautiful.”

Donnie feels as though he can breathe again, encompassed by this wave of relief. "Thanks," he mumbles, looking down at his feet. "I also wanted to say, it's been weird without you around my corner lately." He rushes the words, tripping over his tongue. "I mean, I miss your visits."

You chuckle softly, sadly. "I miss them too. I just thought you were busy, and maybe... I was making you uncomfortable."

His head shoots up, baffled. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, you know-” You gulp, your positions suddenly shifting. “That time I... I was just rambling, wasn't I? It's fine. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Bothered me? What are you talking about?" he asks, brows furrowing behind his glasses.

He replays the last conversation in his head, cupping the base of his skull like he’s trying to physically reach for it, stop it from escaping him. The last time you were in his lab, what had happened? It goes over a couple more times until suddenly dropping on him like a ton of bricks; the awkwardness, the slight stutter in your tone, the inelegance in how you held yourself.

He had been completely oblivious.

"Wait, are you saying...? I didn't..." he stammers, face burning with mortification. "I had no idea."

He wants to disappear, to crawl into a hole and never emerge. How could he have been so dense? He completely misinterpreted the situation and, in doing so, has probably ruined everything.

"Donnie," you utter softly, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Really. It was probably my fault for being so vague. Besides," you continue with an upturned lip, "maybe it's good that you didn't get it. Now you have a chance to do this properly."

"Do... do what properly?"

You laugh, a light, airy sound that makes his stomach flip. "Ask me out, silly. If you want to, that is." You bite your lip, the apprehension evident in your eyes.

Donnie's mind races. Vern's advice, the meticulous notes, the carefully calculated plans - it all flies out the window. He had to of accounted for all the outcomes of this conversation he could possibly conceive but he hadn’t anticipated this. That being said, your encouraging smile gives him new strength and he knows that all he needs to do is be himself.

"Yes," he affirms, his voice finally steady. "I would really like that. To... to ask you out. Properly." He pauses, then adds with a shy smile, "Maybe we could analyse the properties of bioluminescent algae? Or just get pizza. Whatever you want."

With a scrunched grin, you giggle. “Both sound good.”

Rest assured, the algae and pizza had soon become forgotten prospects when you find yourself in Donnie’s little corner after so much time, and he may or may not have admitted to seeking advice from the last person you’d suspect to get this ball rolling. It gets a good set of laughs out of you. As far as dates go, it’s a nice way to get back on track and ultimately the first of many more to come.

Michelangelo

With April's blessing - if you could call it that - Mikey felt a lightness he hadn't realised he was missing. It wasn't just the weight of unrequited affection, but the weight of stifled curiosity, of ignoring a pull that had been steadily growing stronger. He still cared deeply for April, but it was a different kind of caring, a comfortable devotion that he now understood as friendship. However, there’s still a surge of tension meddled in with the determined certainty. He bounces on the balls of his feet, his orange mask tails flapping as he bounds to seek you out. He knows that waiting any longer will only amplify his anxiety. He needs to talk to you, explain himself, and, hopefully, salvage what he had so carelessly thrown away.

He starts by looking for you in your usual spots: not in the kitchen, no sign of you in the dojo, and you were definitely not by the TV. He even checks the garage on a whim, thinking you might be tinkering with one of Donatello's inventions. Nope. The only place he could assume you’d be is back home, but that’s a problem for two reasons: it’s daytime, and there’s no guarantee you’d even open the window for him were he to turn up. All he can do is wait until you next bless the lair with your presence, but Mikey hasn’t always been known for his patience. He tries to fill the time with various activities, whether that be fiddling with his drums, attempting to break the pinball machine’s high score again, flicking through various channels on the TV, and so on.

This barely kills an hour.

Suddenly, a thought strikes him and he jumps up from the couch, making a grab for his skateboard. Maybe he could roll between the main entrances in a subtle attempt to “accidentally” bump into you. That way he can guarantee having the space to talk alone. Perfect. He throws his board down and bursts out of the lair, the grimy air surprisingly refreshing. Even if he still has to wait for your arrival, he can at least practise some new moves in the process, though he wouldn’t be practising for long. He’s halfway down the primary sewer line when he spots you, and all of the planned one-liners just disappear.

Even in the dinge of underground New York, you look beautiful, the dust motes dancing in the air and catching the glint of the flashlight in your hand. He takes the leap upon seeing you, quite literally hopping off his board and jogging into the last traces of momentum. In your surprise, you tread a couple of steps back, and he consciously keeps a respectable distance. He remembers how close he used to sit, how easily he’d tease and nudge, and diffuses under the shot of guilt - the hurt in your eyes when he'd previously bumbled around April like a lovesick puppy. How could he have been so blind? So oblivious? He'd been so caught up in a childish crush that he'd completely disregarded the person who truly understood him, who always had his back, who would make him laugh until his sides ached. The person in front of him, now tentatively avoiding his gaze like a stranger. Crap, he was meant to say something. How long has he just been standing here staring at you? Too long, it would seem. Your head tilts with another uncomfortable glance at the floor, and you pivot to walk around him.

"Wait.” He spins on his heel, watches you stop, and it dawns on him just how incredibly awkward this is. "Uh, look, I messed up. Big time. I thought we could just go back to being friends, but I was wrong. I didn't realise how much what I said would hurt you. I was so caught up in- well… never mind. The point is, I hurt you and I'm really, really sorry."

You still make no effort to face him, but you speak, cool and even. "Apology accepted."

It wasn't the response he'd hoped for or even the response he envisioned. He'd expected anger, maybe a lecture, but this detached acceptance feels worse. It highlights the chasm he's created between you both.

"I know an apology isn't enough,” he pushes on. “I get it if you don't want to hang out with me anymore, or play games, or anything, but I miss you. I miss laughing with you and just... being around you." He pauses, gathering his courage. "And I realised something else too: I was so busy looking in one direction, I didn't see what was right in front of me. I didn't see… how amazing you are."

Shoulders hunching, you scoff. "Please, Mikey. Spare me the flattery. It's not going to change anything."

"It's not flattery!" he insists, his voice rising defensively. "I mean it. I really do. This is how I feel.” Mikey’s hand takes a helm on his board and he holds it to his plastron. "Seriously, I was an idiot and I'm hoping, maybe, just maybe, you can find it in your heart to give me another chance. Not as a friend-friend, unless that’s what you want, but as something more."

He holds his tongue from everything else that wants to sputter out, reduced to watching the back of your head and praying for a sign. Aside from the occasional drip or muted whir of cars above, there’s a low, rhythmic thrumming in his ears, growing louder, beating against the inside of his skull mercilessly. He swears his heart must have jumped into his throat. It sits on pause for a short moment when you finally look at him, your eyes searching, and he sees a flicker of something other than indifference: a spark of hope veiled by uncertainty.

"Mikey, this is... a lot to take in."

"I know," he replies sincerely. "I just need you to know how I feel. I'm not expecting you to say yes, or even forgive me right away. But please, can we at least try?" He reaches out, his hand hovering tentatively near yours, waiting for your permission to touch. "I know I don't deserve it, but I'm asking for a second chance. Please, just tell me what I can do to make things right."

His bright blue eyes plead for an understanding. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted something so badly in his life. Not like this, and the wait on your behalf only punctuates that for him. Your gaze wanders up, expression unreadable. The sparkle in your eyes is still there, but it’s flitting like a dying ember.

"It's not that easy, Mikey," you say softly. "You broke my heart, you know? And even if I wanted to go back to the way things were, I don't think I could. Not completely."

Mikey’s heart sinks. He's already ruined everything, hasn’t he? The thought is a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and deflated.

"But," you continue, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, "I also miss you, and I'm a sucker for a sincere apology, so I'm willing to try. But you have to understand, this won't be the same. Not for a while, anyway."

A lifting deliverance, so intense it almost brings him to his knees. "Anything. Anything you want. Just tell me."

You smile a genuine, beautiful smile that lights up the dim sewer tunnel. "Okay, I get automatic dibs on the last slice of pizza for the next month."

"Deal!” He grins, answering without hesitation. “Anything for you."

Mikey knows it will likely take a whole lot of scrubbing to rebuild what he had broken, but he’s ready. More than ready. He finally sees what he’s been missing, and he isn’t going to let it slip away a second time. The possibility of something more than friendship still flickers in the back of his mind, but for now, he’s content to start with the pizza.

[ihaznoclue]

Masterlist! - Bayverse TMNT

LEONARDO - LEO

"Do not say a word about this to anyone. If you do, we WILL find you."

⤑ I'll protect you from those nightmares - Fluff

⤑ Thank you for saving me - Fluff

⤑ Waiting for you - Fluff

⤑ Wrong way - Fluff

⤑ Possessive - Fluff

⤑ Jealous and Protective - Angst to Fluff

⤑ Sweet animal rescuer - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Fluff

⤑ Bandages and Pizza - Fluff

⤑ Special time together - Fluff

⤑ A gentle reminder - A little bit of Angst - Fluff

⤑ No more stress - Fluff

⤑ "Only if you want to" - Fluff

⤑ Confession - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Part 2 - Fluff

⤑ Now Official - Fluff

⤑ Realisation - Fluff

⤑ Family acceptance - Fluff

⤑ First date - Fluff

RAPHEAL - RAPH

"Thanks for the traffic update Donnie! You doing sports and weather next?!"

⤑ Nightmare comfort - Angst to Fluff

⤑ Waiting for you - Fluff

⤑ Jealous and Protective - Angst to Fluff

⤑ My big brother - Fluff

⤑ Sweet animal rescuer - Fluff

⤑ Let's get you started - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Fluff

⤑ Special time together - Fluff

⤑ Best friends always have each others backs - Fluff

⤑ "Looks like I win, Big Guy" - Fluff

⤑ Cuddle and the rain - Fluff

⤑ No more stress - Fluff

⤑ Confession - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Part 2 - Fluff

⤑ Workout - Fluff - A little bit suggestive

⤑ Mute little sibling - Fluff

DONATELLO - DONNIE

"We're training... sort of. As soon as the sun goes down, it's Turtle time!"

⤑ I'll protect you from those nightmares - Fluff

⤑ Nightmare comfort - Angst to Fluff

⤑ Thank you for saving me - Fluff

⤑ Wrong way - Fluff

⤑ Possessive - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Fluff

⤑ Bandages and Pizza - Fluff

⤑ Experimenting and Homework - Fluff

⤑ A gentle reminder - A little bit of Angst - Fluff

⤑ Cuddle and the rain - Fluff

⤑ "Only if you want to" - Fluff

⤑ Just making sure you are okay and safe - Part 2 - Fluff

⤑ Mute little sibling - Fluff

⤑ Family acceptance - Fluff

⤑ First date - Fluff

MICHELANGELO - MIKEY

"One question... so are you two like a thing?"

⤑ Thank you for saving me - Fluff

⤑ Waiting for you - Fluff

⤑ Wrong way - Fluff

⤑ His Hoodie - Fluff

⤑ Possessive - Fluff

⤑ My big brother - Fluff

⤑ Bandages and Pizza - Fluff

⤑ Special time together - Fluff

⤑ A gentle reminder - A little bit of Angst - Fluff

⤑ Cuddle and the rain - Fluff

⤑ First one to give me a orange crush gives me a kiss - Fluff

⤑ No more stress - Fluff

⤑ "Only if you want to" - Fluff

⤑ Family acceptance - Fluff

⤑ First date - Fluff

ALL -

Fear of losing you - Angst to Fluff?

Edge of the fight - Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

"Not Gross" - Angst to Fluff

You're perfect either way - Comfort Fluff, Suggestive

[acidinduceddaydreams]

Fort-night!

Pairings: bff kind of cgs! 1D x fem!reader. 2011-2013 sort of 1D vibes. Can you tell nostalgia is hitting me hard rn?

Synopsis: you are feeling uneasy and hurt. Lucky for you five boys want to light up your world like nobody else.

Warnings/ A/n: Liam is mentioned because it’s not 1D without him. I hope this made you all smile. God bless! ❤️🧸. Also did you see what I did with the title and synopsis haha I’m so funny okay bye now!

It had been one of those days where everything felt just a bit too much. Your energy was low, and even though you tried to shake off the heaviness, it lingered. By the time you curled up on the couch with a blanket, you’d decided the best plan was to stay quiet and hope no one noticed.

But the boys always noticed.

Harry was the first to sense something was off. He walked into the room with a bowl of strawberries in hand, humming softly to himself. When he saw you tucked into the corner of the couch, staring blankly at the TV, he immediately set the bowl down and knelt in front of you.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, his green eyes scanning your face. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Just tired.”

Harry tilted his head, concern flickering across his face. “Tired like you need sleep, or tired like you need cuddles and a distraction?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Maybe both.”

Harry reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Alright. We can fix that.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Louis burst into the room, carrying an armful of blankets. “Right,” he announced, his voice bright and full of purpose, “it’s officially a blanket fort night. No arguments allowed.”

You blinked, watching as Louis began draping blankets over the furniture, muttering to himself about structural integrity.

“Blanket fort night?” you asked quietly, looking up at Harry.

He grinned. “Only the best nights. Trust me, love, Lou’s got this down to a science.”

As if on cue, Niall wandered in, a bag of crisps tucked under his arm. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, nodding toward the chaos Louis was creating.

“It’s a masterpiece in progress,” Louis replied, tossing a pillow to Niall. “Now, help me. We need snacks, fairy lights, and at least five more blankets.”

Niall raised an eyebrow but grinned, setting the crisps on the coffee table before diving into the project.

Liam arrived next, balancing a tray of steaming mugs. “I thought hot chocolate might be in order,” he said, handing a mug to each of you. He crouched beside you, his gaze soft and kind. “You doing alright, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just… a bit off today.”

“Well, good thing you’ve got us,” Liam said warmly, patting your knee. “We’ll sort you out.”

By the time Zayn appeared with a stack of books and a flashlight, the fort was taking shape. Louis had transformed the living room into a cozy hideaway, complete with fairy lights strung along the edges and a pile of snacks in the middle.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you murmured as Zayn handed you a book.

Zayn gave you a small smile, sitting down beside you. “We want to. Besides, it’s been too long since our last fort night.”

Harry stood, offering you a hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you settled.”

He guided you into the fort, where pillows and blankets surrounded you in a cocoon of warmth. The boys followed, each finding their spot—Louis sprawled dramatically across the pillows, Niall rifling through the snacks, Liam adjusting the lights, and Zayn flipping through the books.

“Alright,” Louis declared, holding up a flashlight. “We start with ghost stories. It’s tradition.”

“No way,” Niall countered. “Let’s watch something funny. Y/N needs a good laugh.”

“Spooky stories first,” Louis insisted. “Fort rules.”

As they bickered, you couldn’t help but smile. Harry noticed, his lips curling into a grin as he nudged your side.

“There it is,” he said softly.

“There’s what?” you asked.

“That smile,” he replied, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’ve been missing it all day.”

Zayn started reading a ghost story in an exaggerated voice, and the boys took turns interrupting him with jokes and sound effects. You found yourself laughing more than you had in days, the warmth of their presence chasing away the lingering heaviness.

By the time the story ended, the snacks were half gone, and Niall had convinced everyone to put on a comedy movie. You leaned against Harry, his arm draped around you, as Louis threw popcorn at Zayn for stealing his pillow.

“You feeling better, love?” Harry whispered, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

You nodded, leaning into him. “A lot better. Thank you.”

“You never have to thank us,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re your boys. Taking care of you is the best part of our day.”

As the movie played and the boys continued their playful antics, you felt a warmth settle over you. Wrapped in their love and care, you knew one thing for sure—you were never alone.

[10yearsofdnp]

December 29, 2014: Oh Dan... if only his 2014 self could see what he's created in the past 10 years! 🥺📜

[mysunshinetemptress]

2014

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: Coming out,your first experience of jealousy

You can't pinpoint the moment you fell in love with Leah, you conclude that the feelings for your best friend's older sister have always been there just taking shape in different ways but now at the age of thirteen, you know you like Leah the same way Melia likes Chris because your heart beats faster every time you see her and your stomach feels like it drops and Ellie said that's how she feels about Tristan. 

You don't understand the importance of coming out to your family it happens one night at the dinner table as your older sisters talk about who they're going to marry you speak up from the end of the table "I'm going to marry Leah."

The clinking of forks against plates ceased. A stunned silence followed, thick enough to cut with a butter knife. You hadn't meant to blurt it out, but the conversation about future spouses, fueled by your two giggling older sisters, had gotten the better of you. Your cheeks burned hotter than the mashed potatoes swimming in gravy before you.

Melia was the first to recover. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Marry Leah, huh? How does Jacob feel about that!"

You stammered, "It's not like that! I just... I like Leah, the way you likes Chris and Ellie likes that Tristan boy." You blurted out Ellie's secret too, earning a glare from your other sister, but it didn't matter. The words were out.

The silence returned, this time a more thoughtful one. You stole a glance at your mum, who seemed to be studying you. You couldn't decipher the emotions swirling in her green eyes. your sisters, on the other hand, looked positively intrigued. Finally, your father cleared his throat, his voice kind.

"Honey, what do you mean by 'like Leah'?"

You took a deep breath. This was it. The moment you'd never prepared for. "It's... it's the same feeling you get when you really like someone. You get butterflies, your stomach does flips, and you just... want to be around them all the time." You blurted it all out, hoping they'd understand.

Your mother reached across the table and squeezed your hand. "And who makes you feel that way, sweetheart?"

You met her gaze, a mixture of fear and determination in your own eyes. "Leah."

The surprise lingered, but it was laced with a newfound understanding. Your father looked at your sisters, who finally met your gaze. A hint of a smile played on their lips.

"Well," your father said, his voice booming but gentle, "that's certainly something new. Leah, what do you say?"

All eyes are on you. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, but there was a flicker of hope in your chest. You'd confessed, and that was a victory in itself.

Your Mum took a deep breath. "Honestly? I had no idea you felt that way, Y/n," she admitted, her voice soft."Thirteen is a bit young to be talking about marriage, wouldn't you say?"

The night continues like normal and as the days, turn into weeks your sisters begin to ask about different girls you might have a crush on, yet your answer never changes "Leah." 

In the same year, you discover what love is and how Leah was the cause of it you also discover what heartbreak is and how Leah can also cause it.

You are kicking about the Williamson's back garden when you turn at the sound of Leah's laughter in the kitchen but your eyes catch her body pressed up against the counter a brunette boy leaning into her telling her things you can't hear but it must be funny with how loud she's laughing.

A jolt of jealousy shot through you like a lightning bolt. Laughter, the sound you associated with good times with Leah, now scratched at your heart. You couldn't hear what the brunette was saying, but the intimacy of their pose spoke volumes, that was how close Melia stood to Chris, Melia and Chris were dating now.

This was heartbreak, a new and unwelcome feeling. The butterflies in your stomach did a nosedive, replaced by a leaden weight. You wanted to turn and run, to hide in the familiar comfort of your room, but your feet felt glued to the spot.

Leah finally pulled away, a playful smile on her face as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The brunette reached out, tucking it behind her ear, a gesture that felt far too intimate for your liking.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Jacob, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding in the kitchen window. An unknown look passed between you, Jacob didn't know about your feelings for his older sister, he didn't need to when you didn't understand your own feelings towards the older girl, but there was a silent understanding of the unfamiliar pain in your chest.

"Who's that?" you managed to croak, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob shook his head. "Never seen him before. New neighbor maybe?"

You watched, a silent observer to your own life, as Leah and the boy continued talking. He leaned in again, this time whispering something in her ear that made her cheeks flush red. Her laugh echoed through the kitchen once more, but this time it sounded foreign to your ears.

Anger bubbled alongside the heartbreak. You didn't have the right to be mad, not really. You hadn't confessed your feelings,  you wouldn't, out of fear that Leah would find it weird and Leah hadn't done anything wrong. But the possessiveness that comes with a budding crush reared its ugly head.

Just then, Leah turned towards the window, her eyes locking with yours. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before a warm smile spread across it. You couldn't decipher what it meant, but it was enough to break the spell that held you captive.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. You might be heartbroken, but you wouldn't let it show. Not in front of Jacob, not in front of Leah.

"Race you to my house?" you challenged a playful grin back on your face.

Jacob's eyes widened. "You sure, Y/n?"

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice stronger than you felt. "Losers buy ice cream!"

With that, you took off towards your house, leaving a bewildered Jacob in your wake. You pumped your legs, the wind whipping through your hair, a desperate attempt to outrun the unfamiliar ache in your heart. You knew this was just the beginning. The beginning of navigating the messy, confusing world of crushes, heartbreak, and maybe, just maybe, someday, love with Leah.

That wouldn't be the first time you would have your heart broken by Leah, at the end of the year the brunette boy had been replaced by a brunette girl and for some strange reason this one hurts so much more, is it because it's a girl this time that Leah seems so enamoured with or is it their proximity on the couch during movie night, a night solely for you, Jacob and Leah only now theirs an intruder sitting in your seat. 

You spend the night staring at the pair as Leah wraps her arms around the girl pulling her closer, talking to her quietly.

As the end credits roll Jacob kicks your leg "Are you staying or you going home." You turn to look at the two older girls as Leah plays with the other girls' hair, you haven't cared to learn her name to caught up in the disgusting feelings you once again have "Yeah, can I stay." 

The resentment simmered beneath the surface like a forgotten pot on the stove. You mumbled goodnight to Leah and her friend, their intertwined forms a constant reminder of your own crush on the older girl. Back in Jacobs's room, tears welled in your eyes, blurring the image of Leah's smile in your mind. This year's heartbreak felt sharper, laced with a confusing pang of jealousy you hadn't experienced before.

Days bled into weeks, movie nights with Leah replaced by awkward silences as you tried to navigate the new dynamic. You plastered on a smile for Jacob, who shot you worried glances you pretended not to see. 

One day, while helping Jacob clean his room, you spotted a crumpled piece of paper tucked under his desk. Curiosity piqued, and you unfolded it. It was a drawing – of boxes that read tick here for yes and here for no. On top, a caption read: "Sarah I like you, will you go out with me."

A gasp escaped your lips. Jacob, the fearless, outspoken Jacob, had a crush too? Relief washed over you, warm and comforting. Maybe your feelings for Leah weren't so strange after all.

Mustering your courage, you approached Jacob after school. "Hey," you began hesitantly, "I saw that note in your room."

Jacobs's cheeks flushed crimson. "Oh! That? Uh, yeah, it's nothing."

You sat next to him on his bed. "Actually, it kind of is. You like Sarah, don't you?"

Jacob looked down at his shoes, kicking them against the wall. "Maybe. But it's stupid. What if she doesn't like me back?"

The memory of your own dinner table confession surfaced. Squeezing Jacobs's hand, you reassured him, "It's not stupid. You have to take a chance, I would if I could with Leah."

Jacob's eyes widened. "Wait, you like Leah?"

"Well, yeah," you confessed, the words tumbling out now that the dam had broken. "But it's complicated."

You poured out your heart, the confusion, the jealousy, the ever-present lump in your throat whenever Leah looked at her girlfriend. Jacob listened patiently, offering words of support and a shared secret that made the burden feel lighter.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Jacob confessed to Sarah, who, to your delight, reciprocated. You found solace in their budding relationship, a reminder that love, even unrequited, wasn't the end of the world. You started hanging out with the pair more, forging a deeper friendship built on shared experiences, both triumphant and heartbreaking.

One sunny afternoon, while practising your long kicks in the field behind your house, you stumbled upon Leah sitting by the wall, a familiar forlorn look on her face. Hesitantly, you approached. "Hey," you said softly.

Leah looked up, surprise flickering across her eyes before morphing into a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n. What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, sitting down beside her. "Just, practising."

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the gurgling of the leaves. Finally, Leah spoke, her voice low. "We haven't hung out much lately."

You admitted, "Things have been... different."

Leah sighed. "Yeah, I know. I miss our movie nights."

"Me too," you confessed, then blurted out before you could overthink it, "Maybe we could have one again, just you and me?"

A flicker of hope ignited in Leah's eyes. "Really? But what about Jacob...?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay. He has a date with Sarah."

Leah's smile mirrored yours. "Yeah, they do."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, you and Leah settled in for a movie night, not quite the same as before, but different in a way that held a promise of something new. The ache in your heart had dulled, replaced by a quiet understanding and a newfound appreciation for the complexities of friendship, love, and the messy, beautiful journey of growing up. 

You could deal with the heartbreak that came with Leah if that meant you might get to love her fully eventually.

[istayuplate]

jaranie szlugów zamiast obżerania sie.

chyba nie chcesz być ulana co?

[chadobi]

“Control”

Bayverse Leo x reader

Slow burn | tension | unspoken love

Hi guys! If you want me to write you something that’s on your mind just text me! Oh and i have this one shot in drafts like for 6 months! Soo i hope you will like that🤍

——————

The dojo was quiet.

The only sounds were your breaths—soft, controlled—and the padded thumps of your bare feet as you tried, for the fifth time, to copy Leonardo’s stance.

“You’re still leading too much with your right side,” Leo said gently, stepping behind you again. “It leaves your ribs exposed.”

“I’m trying,” you mumbled, planting your foot harder into the mat.

“I know,” he replied, and you could hear the warmth in his voice.

Then came the light pressure of his hand—fingers grazing your ribs to guide you, the other on your shoulder to tilt you back slightly.

Every time he touched you, it was careful. Like he thought you’d break. Like he was afraid he might.

You didn’t move for a moment. Just stood there, trying to breathe steadily while your heart kicked in your chest.

“There,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter. “That’s better.”

You nodded but didn’t speak. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, the absence of him suddenly noticeable like cold air rushing in where heat used to be.

————-

Training with Leo had become a routine—a ritual, almost. Late nights in the dojo after everyone else had gone to bed. Just you, him, and the low buzz of energy between you that neither of you addressed.

It started off simple. You’d asked him to teach you how to defend yourself—nothing serious, just enough to hold your own. He’d agreed without hesitation, but now, weeks later, it was clear: this was about more than fighting.

It was time. Connection. That quiet closeness only built through repetition and shared space.

You stepped into your stance again and exhaled. “Okay. Let’s try it one more time.”

Leo nodded, moving into position across from you. His movements were always fluid—controlled, strong, beautiful. You hated how often you caught yourself staring.

He came at you slow this time, giving you the chance to counter. You blocked, pivoted, then tried to sweep his leg. He dodged it effortlessly, catching your wrist and twisting you toward him to stop your momentum.

You stumbled forward.

Straight into his chest.

Your hands instinctively landed against the edge of his plastron as his arm came around you to steady your back. For a second—just a heartbeat—you stayed there, face turned slightly into his shoulder, breathing hard.

He was warm. Solid. Close enough to count the tiny scars on his skin.

Then-slowly-you looked up at him.

And he was already looking at you.

Neither of you moved.

The world outside the dojo didn’t exist. Just his eyes, locked on yours, with something in them so intense it made your stomach twist. Something tender. Something terrifying.

Your lips parted—like maybe you’d say it. Maybe this was the moment.

But you didn’t.

And neither did he.

Instead, Leo blinked and gently let go, stepping back, his arms falling to his sides like the moment hadn’t just happened.

“You’re improving,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

You nodded once, trying to catch your breath. “Thanks. That… felt better.”

He looked down briefly, adjusting the strap on his arm, then nodded too. “We’ll stop here for tonight.”

You grabbed your water bottle, trying to hide the way your hands trembled just slightly. “Same time tomorrow?”

He gave you a soft smile. “I’ll be here.”

You offered a half-smile back before heading to the exit.

And as you walked away, you didn’t look back.

Because you knew if you did, he’d be watching you.

And maybe—just maybe—he’d be wishing, like you were, that one of you had been brave enough to say it.

[daddy-long-legssss]

[x]

[monsoonsosoon]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ he is next level fine ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

[meowkunas]

it would be nice to sit somewhere quiet with you

pairing: wriothesley x reader

summary: wriothesley is getting used to having you in his life (fluff)

word count: 1.9k+

a/n: i just assumed he lives in the fortress of meropide + he has a voiceline about how his handcuffs are built differently and can't be unlocked by any old master key, which prompted this ! i love him sm and i want to treat him so kindly

"What's this?"

The question leaves your lips before Wriothesley has completely let go of the small, metallic item in his fist. It's rare for him to invite you out for lunch, especially when it's an offer to meet you in the heart of Fontaine's main city. His invitation arrived at your desk in the form of a handwritten note, stating the time and place.

It's where you find yourself sitting opposite him now -- in a small cafe within a hidden corner of the city. A mostly empty area, but serving a delicious choice of tea and sweets. His words, not yours.

A beat of silence passes between the two of you.

It's broken when you gasp in surprise, cupping the key with one of your hands and dropping it onto the other hand as though expecting it to disappear between your motions. "Oh, I didn't realise this was a special occasion."

"It's so you don't always have to ask when you come down to visit me." He explains plainly, as though his actions haven't caused a complete rewiring in your brain of what you can expect from Wriothesley. He brings out his own room key to compare with yours.

A look of delight crosses your face when you see that they look completely identical. Clearing his throat, he drops his key back into his pocket, leaning his chin onto the palm of his hand. If he lets down his guard anymore, he's certain he'll blush at the adorable way you're acting right now. An odd, panicked thud hits within his chest when he realises you're not even looking at him, too busy gazing down at the key he's given you fondly. His nervousness changes to a pleasant warmth when you look up at him with a smile on your face.

"Thank you."

Wriothesley shrugs, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a nonchalant motion. "If it's for you..." The words trail off quietly as a different train of thought crosses his mind. "I'm glad you liked it." He says instead.

In the fourth months since then, you've visited him exactly six times and stayed over once. Although he's starting to think that it doesn't count, considering you left before he'd woken up. Not that he can recall the note that you left behind for him clearly in his mind. Not that he's counting your visits or memorising your excuses for coming this far his way. And he's definitely not got an eye out for you, knowing when you step into the Fortress of Meropide and the times of your exits.

So, as he stands, eyeing the dark and empty room which should hold you in some corner but doesn't seem to, he gets a little panicky. He knows you entered the Fortress of Meropide a little over an hour ago, although he hasn't kept track of your whereabouts since then. It takes a second for the panicked flutter in his heart to register as worry. But it's rendered him slightly useless. All he's doing is staring at the mattress covered in the soft sheets you'd brought with you on one of your visits in a stupid way.

There's a click from the bathroom door and he just manages to get a glimpse of your silhouette before you've barrelled into his chest. Wriothesley lets out a sigh of relief, letting his hands tangle into your hair. The bathroom, of course.

He hadn't even thought to check whether there was a light peeking out from underneath the door of the bathroom.

"Hi." You mumble, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing lightly. Screw his dislike of surprises apparently. "Did I scare you?"

The subtle teasing tone in your voice has the corners of his lips twitching.

"Obviously." He replies. "Who doesn't turn on the light when they enter the room in complete darkness? Even if they're going to the bathroom to shower first." He interrupts you as he notices you open your mouth to retort back to his question. Without waiting another moment, his hand slides from your hair to your cheeks, using a thumb to stroke your skin gently. His other hand reaches to flick on the light switch, revealing your flushed cheeks from the warm shower.

"I missed you." You say quietly.

He returns your sappiness with a roll of his eyes and a grin. "Can't even go without me for a couple of days, huh?"

"Mhm." You twirl a piece of your hair around your finger in thought. His eyes catch the motion, deciding whether to intertwine his free hand with yours. "When did you get the body wash I liked?"

Without answering, he buries his head into the crook of your neck and breathes deeply. It's warm. You feel yourself squirm at the ticklish sensation, only relaxing once his hand comes up to the back of your neck and massages it. An image sprouts in your mind of a hand holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck and you laugh.

It's always been like this; feeling a little like a give-and-take, except he keeps giving and so do you. A mumbled 'what?' brushes over your shoulder. Something seems to bloom in his chest when he notices you've left things behind in his room again. You don't apologise for it anymore. He wonders exactly when that happened.

Maybe somewhere between the third and fourth time you came over just to sit on his bed with him.

"Nothing." You pull away from the hug to look him over. His hair is tousled a bit more than it usually is, as though he ran all the way here from one side of the fortress to the other. A smile threatens to spread over your face and you bite your lip to stop it from appearing.

Wriothesley raises an eyebrow. You look all warm and cozy after your shower, and he honestly just wants to bundle you up and fall asleep with you in his arms. As though you can see the thought crossing his mind, you untangle yourself from his arms immediately, flopping back onto the bed with your arms spread wide.

Your eyes are closed lazily and you let out a contented sigh. "Ahh, it's so nice that I can curl up in bed since I'm all showered and clean."

Wriothesley gives a throaty laugh at the sight of you. His hands rest on his hips now as he rakes his eyes over your form. "Fine, fine. Want to help?"

You shoot up in bed instantly, eyes wide. "Yes."

"C'mon! Let me see how many layers you're actually wearing."

"Don't dissect me like some kind of insect--"

Wriothesley isn't stopping any of your movements though. Maybe he had something a little more dirty in mind when he made the offer, but it seemed that all you wanted to do was undress him and curl back into bed. He can live with that.

The cape comes off his shoulders first, and surprisingly, it's heavy. A quiet settles over the both of you once you actually move to undress him, and you can feel his eyes scanning your every move. Every movement of your hands against his bare skin or every notice of your intense gaze at his layers of clothing sends a jolt of electricity through him.

It's difficult to tell what he's thinking when he gets like this. You fold his cape neatly in half and place it to the side. You'll start a pile, you decide. As you get to work on pulling off his tie, you realise too late that he'll probably want to hang it up.

Your eyes don't leave his exposed collarbones as you toss his tie over to the side. A guilty feeling weighs you down, and you look up at him, only to find him still watching you with a curious look on his face.

"What? You're pretty," You state, only slightly embarrassed that you've been caught. Before he can retort with anything, you give him a kiss just above his collarbone. Wriothesley takes in a visible sharp breath, and you feel like you've won something. The waistcoat slides off his arms with ease as he lets you nudge him wherever you want.

It's self-consciousness instead of guilt that creeps up onto your next as he still doesn't say a word, merely watching your movements with an intense gaze. You feel a heat burn across your cheeks. You don't even realise you're clenching your fists until one of his hands envelops yours and swipes a thumb over your knuckles.

"You wear so many layers." You're throwing the waistcoat to the side now, shaky hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"It's cold down here." He pauses, tilting his head to think. "And it looks professional."

You snort. "Mm, yes, your loose tie is very professional."

"It adds personality and it makes me look good."

"Not going to argue with that last part." You mumble as your fingers fiddle with his shirt buttons clumsily. Finally, you’re able to get everything off, leaving him shirtless. It’s easier to see his breathing this way. It’s mesmerising. You brush over the scars on his chest absentmindedly. The way his even breathing stutters as you do so brings you back to focus on what you're doing. “Ah, sorry.” 

Before you can move away, he grabs your wrist, holding your splayed, apologetic hand in place. “It’s okay.” His voice is softer when he says that, almost shy. When he’s sure you’re not going to stop touching him, he lets go of your wrist. There are scars accumulated over years of fights and whatever else he hasn’t told you yet. Using just one finger, you trace the outline of a few of them on his chest and his stomach. The whole time, he keeps his breathing even, watching the thoughtful look on your face. As you slowly drop your hand back to your side, he asks a lingering question in his mind. “Can I touch you?” 

“I just showered.” You pout, shoulders slumping slightly at his suggestion. 

“Nothing else, I promise.” 

Wriothesley takes his time. His hand nudges at the top of your loose, bedtime shirt until he can kiss you on your shoulder. Soft pecks trail up to your jawline and his hand tilts your head slightly so he can bite you gently. A tentative hand travels up to the bare skin under your shirt and squeezes the side of your waist. When you don’t object, he pulls the shirt off of you, returning to wrap his arms around you as soon as he does and pulling you close to him. Another kiss, on your cheek this time. Again, on the corner of your lips. And the last one, a yearning press of his lips against yours as his hand strokes your jaw. 

He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “Just one more minute like this, and then I will be getting into the shower.” 

It’s warm in bed next to you. He’s curled up behind you, still placing kisses against your neck and brushing your hair aside as you squirm in his hold. With his arm slung over your waist, there’s not very much you can do. Maybe he’s addicted to kissing your skin. 

“I think I want to follow you around tomorrow.” You suggest hesitantly. There’s a small moment where you think he might actually say no to you, but he just nods and goes back to kissing your neck, brushing his lips down to your shoulder. 

“It’s pretty boring though. All paperwork and other things that I probably should be doing but I’ll ignore for a bit. Until I can't."

You’ve known him a bit too long, you realise. There’s a distinct lilt to his voice that tells you he’s smiling as he’s saying it, even though he’s got you facing the other way so that you can’t see him. 

“Don’t care.” A sigh leaves your lips as he gives you one more long kiss against your shoulder before pulling away. “I want to hang out with you.” 

You thread your fingers with the hand wrapped around your midriff, fiddling with them as you drift off to sleep. Wriothesley watches the silhouette of you breathing before deciding to leave you be and pull you closer to him instead. 

I think I’m afraid of losing you, he thinks. But maybe it’s still a bit too early to tell you that. 

[xxstrawrberryxx]

y/n ready to start what they think is another regular day, but they meet that one edgy bad boy of their small town who smokes, has tattoos and rides a badass motorcycle, making y/n's life turn upside down

(shit's the most accurate description of my outfit)