#TMNT raph x reader

[dancingdonatello]

I just read that Jealous 2012 Leo fic…. can we get one of 2012 Raph🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

2012 raph x reader

God, here you were again. Talking and talking about all these guys you knew, flirted with, crushed on, hated, whatever.

Here he was in, in your bed with you, and you were still talking about other people. What a joke. He out out a long suffering sigh as you complained about yet another hot guy not taking the hints you threw at him and not kissing you.

Wait. No, you were complains about one who didn’t kiss you. He rolled his eyes to himself. He could never keep up.

“I mean, he kissed all shy too. Is it too much to ask for a man to just grab you?!” You fell back into your pillows, pouting at the ceiling. “They’re all too gentle.”

Another flare of jealously. Didn’t you realize it? How stupid you were being? He thought you were supposed to be the smart one of the two of you.

“He was buff, at least.” You sighed out, more to yourself than to him.

“As buff as me?” He grumbled, finally speaking for the first time in ages. You glanced over, surprised.

Your eyes raked over his form, pausing purposely at his shoulders and biceps. Yeah. He knew his assets. He unconsciously flexed and you looked away. “No.” You rolled away from him. “But that’s not fair.”

“Sure.” He inched a little closer. “Bet I’m a better kisser than all of ‘em. Whoever ya kissed.”

“You haven’t even kissed anyone before!” You gave him an incredulous look, turning back around. You blinked a little at the sudden closeness between the two of you.

He shrugged. “Can’t be too hard. All ya ever do is complain ‘bout ‘em.”

You swallowed, audibly. You were so obvious at times. He grabbed your chin, yanking your face closer to his.

“Ya want this or not?” He squeezed your jaw and your eyes widened. You nodded eagerly—as much as you could with his iron grip.

For what he lacked in experience, he hoped to make up with his insistence to learn. Whenever it seemed like he did something wrong, he made sure to fix it. He kissed you hard, a secret dark part of him hoping to make your lips swell and bruise. Wouldn’t that be a sight.

He pulled away, smirking at how you melted into your bed and stared at him with starstruck eyes.

“Now stop kissin’ other guys.”

[stellaspectral]

Now reposted over on AO3! ❤️

rottmnt raph deserves more love so my request is a rottmnt raphael x female reader! raph and reader are friends but she is much closer to donnie thanks to their love for books and videogames and the fact that she is pretty smart. they are always playfully teasing each other and almost always together just the two of them and raph is starting to get jealous even though he doesn’t understand why. leo is the one who notices it and he confronts raph and tells him that he has an obvious crush on reader and he should try to get closer to her or even ask her out instead of seething in silence and ruining the vibes in the room. but since leo knows that raph is both still in denial and a chicken when it comes to feelings, and that he most likely will not follow his advices, he decides to take the situation in his own hands. leo goes to donnie and pester him with questions about the reader and their relationship until donnie gives up and tells leo that the reader has had the biggest crush on raph since the first time that they met and honestly he is quite tired of hearing her lust and simp after him without doing nothing about it. so they start planning a way to force raph and reader to be alone and create the right atmosphere for them to confess to each other. they succeed and raph ends up kissing her and asking her on a first date! thank you so much, i love the way you write!

ps: i read all the chapters of sun killer and omg i can’t wait for the next one, i love the story so much! you also have amazing music taste period.

A/N: Firstly, I agree; Rise Raph definitely deserves more love! 🩷 Second, thank you so much for the lovely compliments! They mean a lot to me 😊

I hope you enjoy this story, anon! 🫶

Mission Accomplished (fluff)

❤️ ROTTMNT Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Fluff, very mild angst, jealous Raph, mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, meddling brothers, matchmaking shenanigans, first kiss. All characters are aged-up.

Colorful explosions detonate across the screen as you focus on your current mission of utterly annihilating your purple-clad opponent.

“Ha! Your timing is slipping, Don Tron,” you yell, sidestepping his attack. A grin splits your face as you input a complex chain of moves, ready to press your advantage with your ultimate combo. “Get ready to get wrecked!”

Your character, Azure Striker, unleashes her move. Jagged bolts of blue lightning fill the screen, culminating in a massive eruption graphic centered squarely on Donnie’s avatar, Techno-Titan. The triumphant fanfare blares from the speakers as Azure Striker poses before there’s a slow-motion replay of Techno-Titan getting absolutely demolished.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. “Oooh, that felt good,” you crow, glancing over at Donnie.

He lets out a long, drawn-out sigh as his fingers finally release their death grip on the controller. “Seriously? The infinite lightning juggle again?” His voice is a mixture of exasperation and grudging respect.

“Face it—you zigged when you should have zagged,” you counter. “So predictable.”

“Predictable? I baited you into that corner! You just got lucky with the input read.”

“Luck is just preparation meeting opportunity, my friend,” you say sagely, navigating the victory screen prompts. The scoreboard pops up, showing your decisive win streak for the evening. “And I am always prepared to strike.”

Donnie snorts, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Azure ‘Prepared’ Striker. That just means my glorious comeback will be even more satisfying.” He goes back to the character select screen and highlights Techno-Titan’s purple icon. “Best two out of three?”

Your grin widens as you select Azure Striker without hesitation. “You’re on. But don’t cry when lightning strikes twice.”

He lets out a groan at your pun as the game loads the neon-drenched cyberpunk arena where the two of you will have yet another match. As the ‘READY?’ prompt appears, you prepare to make good on your taunt by beating him for the fourth time in a row in Cosmic Combat Chaos VII.

You’re so engrossed in the playful back-and-forth, the comfortable rhythm you and Donnie fall into when spending time together, that you don’t notice the presence lingering on the other side of the communal area of the lair.

But Raph notices. He always does when you and Donnie are like this. Which, lately, seems to be all the time.

He stands there, arms cross tightly over his plastron. He watches your easy laughter, the way you bump Donnie’s shoulder when you finally win the round, the way Donnie just rolls his eyes fondly. How you lean conspiratorially towards him to point out a flaw in his defense strategy. Watches Donnie respond with a technical explanation that somehow makes you laugh again.

A low growl rumbles in Raph’s chest, something tight and uncomfortable twisting in his gut. He doesn’t get it. Why does this bother him so much? You’re his friend too, right? So why does watching you hang out with Donnie, just Donnie, make his fists clench? Why does it feel like someone has shoved a hot needle into his ribs, a feeling of being on the outside, looking in—

—even though he’s standing right here.

Why does it feel like … like he’s missing out on something important? He doesn’t understand the possessive spike that jabs at him when Donnie makes you genuinely laugh, or the hollow feeling when you get deep into a conversation about some book Raph’s never even heard of. He just knows he doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the feeling as he pads towards the dojo, needing to hit something. A lot. And hard. To let the familiar impact against the punching bag drown out the confusing static in his head.

A bit later, Leo finds him there. He leans casually against the doorframe, that signature smirk already in place. “Whoa there, big guy,” he drawls. “What’s got your shell in a twist? Or should I say, who?”

Raph freezes mid-swing, the momentum dying. He slowly turns, his face already flushed, brow furrowed. “What are you even talkin’ about, Leo? Nothin’s got my shell twisted. Just workin’ out some energy.”

Leo pushes off the frame, strolling into the training area. “Riiight. ‘Energy.’ The kind that mysteriously flares up every time she and Donnie do their nerd thing?” He stops a few feet from Raph. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“I am NOT jealous!” Raph explodes, the words coming out louder and harsher than intended. He gestures emphatically with a fist. “She’s my friend! Donnie’s my brother! Why would I be jealous?” But even as he says it, the lie feels thin and brittle.

“Okay, fine, you’re not jealous,” Leo concedes with exaggerated patience. “You just glower and radiate doom whenever she’s within five feet of Donnie. Totally normal friend behavior.” He waits a beat. “Seriously, Raph. You like her. A lot. Why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to her? Ask her out? Anything besides standing nearby looking like you wanna punch a hole through the space-time continuum?”

Raph freezes. Ask you out? The thought sends a jolt of panic through him. What would he even say? What if you laughed? What if you said no? What if you only saw him as the big, dumb muscle? It’s safer this way.

Even if ‘this way’ involves feeling miserable whenever you’re near Donnie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, finally turning away from the punching bag, refusing to meet Leo’s gaze. He brushes past his brother. “Just drop it.”

Leo watches him, the smirk finally fading into something resembling exasperation mixed with pity. “Suit yourself, hermano. But stewing in it isn’t helping anyone, least of all you.” He watches Raph leave and thinks, considering what to do next. Then, a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes, an idea forming. “If you won’t fix this … guess I’ll have to.”

Leo finds Donnie in his lab, soldering something intricate. You’d headed off to the convenience store to grab more snacks earlier, promising to bring Donnie back something that wasn’t pure sugar.

“Donnie! Dee! Donatello!” Leo slides dramatically into the lab. “We need to have a little chat.”

Donnie sighs, not looking up from his project. “If this is about re-calibrating the toaster to achieve optimal crispiness levels again, the answer is no.”

Leo huffs and flops onto one of the lab’s rolling chairs, spinning once before stopping himself with a foot on the floor. “Nope, this is way juicier. It’s about you. And our guest. Specifically, your thing with her.”

Donnie finally glances up, brows knitting. “Thing? What thing? We play games. We talk. She appreciates my intellectual discourse—unlike some people.”

Leo points a finger, grinning. “Exactly! You like her.”

Donnie immediately fumbles the soldering tool, barely catching it before it hits the floor. “What?! No—I mean—I respect her. She’s cool. Smart. Sharp sense of humor. But that doesn’t mean I like her, like her. And even if I had feelings, she’s not exactly … available.”

Leo tilts his head. “What makes you think that?”

Donnie pushes his goggles up, setting the soldering tool down with deliberate care. “It’s obvious even to me she likes Raph.”

“Wait,” Leo says, grinning. “She likes him back?!”

“Likes him back?” Donnie repeats, before pinching the bridge of nose. “I’ve known for weeks. Probably longer.” He exhales slowly. “I have received detailed analyzes of his musculature during training sessions. I have endured exhaustive hypothetical scenarios regarding potential romantic encounters. Listened to her sigh dreamily over his protective instincts more times than I can count. They are both infuriatingly inert.”

A slow, positively wicked grin spreads across Leo’s face. Oh, this is perfect. Raph likes you. Donnie says you like Raph. This whole situation is a tangled mess of oblivious pining. “Maybe what this situation needs is a little … catalyst. A nudge. To get things moving.”

Donnie narrows his eyes at his twin. “Nardo, what are you plotting?”

Leo leans forward, conspiratorially lowering his voice even though they’re alone in the lab. “Operation: Get the Big Guy the Girl! Or Operation: Stop Raph From Moping Around Like A Sad Puppy.” He shrugs. “Title’s a work in progress.”

Donnie pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Meddling in complex interpersonal emotional dynamics is statistically likely to result in catastrophic failure. Variables include Raph’s emotional density, her potential reaction to perceived manipulation, and the inherent awkwardness of forced proximity …”

“Pfft, details!” Leo waves a dismissive hand. “Look, they both like each other. You said it yourself! They’re just … stuck. We just need to create the perfect storm.”

“Perfect storm?” Donnie raises a skeptical brow. “You intend to manufacture meteorological phenomena to facilitate romantic confessions?”

“No, Donnie, a metaphorical perfect storm,” Leo clarifies, rolling his eyes. “The perfect setting. The perfect mood. Just the two of them. No distractions.” He pointedly looks around the lab, then back at Donnie. “Meaning us.”

Donnie taps a finger against his chin, the gears visibly turning. “Eliminate external stimuli … Isolate the subjects … Create a controlled environment conducive to emotional vulnerability …” A slow, calculating smile touches his lips, mirroring Leo’s mischievous one. “The hypothesis is sound.”

“Yes! See? You get it!” Leo pumps a fist. “So, what’s the plan? Fake mission? Accidental lockdown?”

“Overly complicated,” Donnie muses. “Subtlety is key. We need a scenario that feels natural yet provides ample opportunity for unguarded conversation. Perhaps a rooftop observation task?”

Leo snaps his fingers. “Ooh, I like it! Romantic city lights, feeling of seclusion. Very prime confession real estate.”

“Precisely,” Donnie agrees. “We can fabricate some low-level reconnaissance. Or—”

You return to the lair, bag filled with snacks in one hand, a drink in the other. You glance around, not seeing Donnie in the communal area anymore. So you head towards the lab, seeing the lights on and hearing voices coming from inside.

Leo leaves just as you make it to the entrance, giving you a friendly wave before he disappears elsewhere in the lair. “Okay, brought the goods!” you announce cheerfully as you enter. “Got your weird seaweed chips, and look, they had that ridiculously sour candy Raph likes!” You put the bag on a relatively clear spot on one of Donnie’s workbenches. “What were you guys chatting about?”

Donnie startles slightly, whipping his head around to face you. His eyes dart momentarily towards the doorway where Leo just vanished before settling back on you. “Ah! Yes! Snacks! Excellent procurement,” he says, maybe a little too loudly, focusing intently on the bag you placed down. He picks up the seaweed chips. “And Leo? Oh, just … the usual.” He waves a hand dismissively, already turning back to his workbench, busying himself by organizing wires that didn’t seem to need tidying.

You raise an eyebrow slightly but decide not to press further as you grab the brightly colored package from the bag. The cartoon mascot on the front looks like it’s imploding from sourness. You figured you’d track Raph down and give him his candy early. Just as you’re about to ask Donnie where he is, Leo reappears back in the lab doorway, this time with Mikey trailing behind him.

“Change of plans! Me and Miguel are heading topside. Got a lead on some weird energy fluctuations down by the docks. Sounds … electrifying.” He winks, clearly proud of his pun.

Mikey nods vigorously. “And dangerous.”

Leo slings an arm around Mikey’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, it sounds like it needs a specialist’s touch. You know, scanners, tricorders, fancy gizmos. Your department.”

Donnie sighs dramatically, though you don’t know this is all part of a plan the twins concocted. “Seriously? Energy fluctuations? Must I be dragged away from my work for every errant power surge?” He glances at his console, then back at Leo. “Fine. But if this turns out to be faulty wiring in a streetlamp again, you owe me seventeen uninterrupted hours of lab time.”

“Deal!” Leo says quickly, already herding Donnie towards the door.

“Aw, man,” you pipe up, slumping slightly. “But tonight was supposed to be movie night.” The initial excitement of your gaming victory and snack run fades, replaced by a wave of disappointment. The five of you hanging out, watching cheesy movies, was something you’d been looking forward to all day.

Leo pauses, offering a sympathetic (and slightly smug, though you don’t catch it) look. “Sorry, chica. Duty calls! Raincheck?”

Mikey adds, “We’ll be back super-fast! Probably.”

Donnie gives you a quick, almost apologetic glance before being pulled away, Leo practically shoving him out of the lab.

“Okay. Well, uh, be careful, guys,” you call out as they leave.

You’re then left in the sudden quiet. Disappointment about movie night still lingers. But then—it hits you. Donnie’s gone. Leo’s gone. Mikey’s gone. Which leaves … Your eyes widen as you look over at the bag of sour candy still sitting on Donnie’s workbench.

Just you. And Raph.

For movie night.

Suddenly, the disappointment evaporates. A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, a warmth spreading through your chest, your mind racing. Just you and Raph? Watching a movie? Alone? Would he even want to? Okay, you tell yourself. This could work. This could be … nice. Really nice, actually.

Grabbing the sour candy and your own snacks, you practically bounce out of the lab, your mission suddenly shifting from ‘shared movie night’ to ‘potential low-key hang-out with the giant turtle who makes your heart do stupid backflips’.

Now, where’s Raph?

You find Raph exactly where you expect him—in the dojo. But he’s not training. Rather, he’s sitting cross-legged against the wall, looking somewhere between zoned out and brooding. He doesn’t notice you at first.

So you do what anyone in your situation would: lob the sour candy at his chest.

It hits him with a soft thwack, bouncing and landing in his lap. He startles, looking up. Then his expression shifts from confusion to surprise to something softer—warmer—when he sees it’s you.

“I, uh, brought back up.” You hold up your own snacks, trying to sound casual, even though your pulse is anything but. “Movie night’s still on. Kind of. The others bailed, so I guess it’s just us.”

His eyes flick from the candy in his lap to your hopeful expression, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. And then—

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little rougher than usual. “Just us?”

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. “If you’re not too busy being a broody lone wolf or whatever.”

He huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, standing up slowly. “Nah. Was just … thinkin’. But, uh—yeah. Movie night sounds good.”

The awkward air that follows is heavy, but not in a bad way. You walk side-by-side back to the communal area. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re trying not to overthink every step, every breath, every glance you might catch from him in your peripheral vision.

You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart’s beating.

You flop onto the couch first, placing the snacks and your drink on the coffee table. Raph hesitates just a moment before sitting beside you. Not close enough to touch, but not far, either. Just close enough that you feel it. Since you got the movie ready earlier, you turn on the projector and lean back into the cushions as the screen flickers to life.

It’s the movie the five of you were supposed to watch together. Something cheesy and action-packed, full of bad one-liners and over-the-top explosions. But now, it’s just you and Raph. And he’s so aware of you next to him.

And you’re so aware of him trying not to look at you too much.

During the movie, your knees bump once—then again—and neither of you moves away. And about halfway through, Raph speaks. Almost too quietly to hear over the explosions on the screen.

“… I’m glad it’s just us.”

You look at him, your breath catching. “Yeah?”

He nods, eyes fixed on the screen like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “I mean, I like when we all hang out. But tonight … this is nice.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you lean just a little closer, emboldened. “Yeah. It is.”

Another pause.

Then he finally looks at you—really looks at you—and says, voice low and uncertain, “Hey, can I tell you somethin’ kinda dumb?”

You smile. “I don’t think anything you say could be dumb.”

He grunts softly, like he doesn’t believe that, but he takes a breath, anyway. “I like you. A lot.” He pauses. “I’ve been tryin’ to say it for so long, but … but I didn’t wanna mess up what we already got.”

You blink, the warmth in your chest exploding into something bright and golden. “For the record … I like you too. A lot.”

His eyes widen, and for a split second, he looks like he just short-circuited. And then he smiles. This soft, genuine, Raph smile—like you just handed him the universe. You lean your head gently against his shoulder, and he shifts slightly to lean into you, cautious but firm, as if afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

On the screen, there’s another explosion.

But the real fireworks come when Raph, his heart thundering a rhythm against his plastron that you can almost feel, finally turns fully towards you. The flashing colors from the movie screen dance across his features, but all you can focus on are his eyes. Intense, vulnerable, and searching yours.

He lifts a hand, big and calloused, and gently—so gently—tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles brush your cheek, and the touch sends a delightful shiver racing down your spine. “So,” he starts, his voice huskier now, “is this for real?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice for a moment, a radiant, joyful smile spreading across your face. Words feel inadequate for the soaring feeling in your chest.

That silent confirmation seems to be all the encouragement he needs. He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. You don’t want to.

You meet him halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as your worlds tilt, colliding in the best possible way. His lips meet yours, hesitant at first. You lean into him, a soft sigh escaping you. The kiss deepens, slow and sweet and full of all the things you’ve both been too scared to say.

When you finally break apart, both a little breathless, he rests his forehead against yours. A wide, almost disbelieving grin stretches across his face, and his eyes remain closed as if he is savoring the moment. “Wow,” he breathes out, the single word laden with emotion.

You giggle. “Wow is right.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes again, his own shining. “So, uh,” he clears his throat, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, making him look so endearing. He scratches the back of his neck, that classic Raph gesture when he’s nervous but pushing through. “Since … since this is, y’know, real and all … I was wonderin’ if maybe … you’d wanna go on a date? With me? Like an actual one. Just us?”

The words are out, a hopeful, slightly clumsy tumble, and you can’t stop the beaming smile that spreads across your face. “A date?” you echo softly, your voice laced with playful surprise. “With the mighty Raphael Hamato? Are you sure you can handle it?”

His blush deepens, but he grins. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that.”

“In that case,” you say, your voice full of warmth and certainty, “I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

His grin widens even more, if it’s even possible. “Awesome!” he exclaims, then visibly reigns himself in a little, though the excitement is still clear on his face. “I, uh … I’ll think of somewhere good for us to go.”

You snuggle back against his side, feeling his arm coil around you, pulling you closer this time. The movie continues to play, the hero spouting another terrible one-liner, but neither of you is really watching anymore. Eventually, the overly dramatic finale comes and goes.

“Next time,” Raph says, “I’m pickin’ the movie. Somethin’ with fewer explosions and more reasons to cuddle.”

You smirk. “Deal.”

Again, the two of you kiss. And somewhere, not too far away, a trio of turtle brothers high-five in the shadows.

Mission very much accomplished.

[hotheadedhero]

Preoccupied (18+)

AN: Is Bay Raph constantly on my mind? Yes. Should you be on his mind constantly? DAMN STRAIGHT! I need not say more 😘

(NOTE: I had to delete the last post and reupload because for some reason it wasn't coming up on Tumblr under any of the tags. If the world doesn't need my smut just tell me now 😭)

Raphael x Reader

All characters are aged up

Warnings: NSFW, smutty content, 18+, MDNI, swears (though that's probably the least of your concerns in a fic like this), dirty thoughts, bordering on obsessive, masturbation, angsty because, damn it, I can't help myself, this got weirdly biblical for some reason, idk how to tag nsfw content, an insomniac trying to grammar, my first official smut so apologies if it stinks :'D

You’re a damned distraction, and Raphael doesn’t know what to do about it. He isn’t without his distractions. In fact, he’s classically known to get torn up in his head over things, especially when there’s an injustice thickly rooted in whatever nameless problem ails him. You, on the other hand, agitate him in ways he wishes not to be true. You’re everywhere he goes, just not physically, like a phantom limb - a subjugator who has conquered his very being. 

Many times, over and over, he has tried to categorise you, label you, so he can file you away and forget; anything in an attempt to get you out of his mind, as abnormally pragmatic as it is for him to go such a route. Are you a friend? Best friend? Something more? He bristles at the thought. ‘More’ is dangerous. ‘More’ is a bridge he’s not sure he wants to cross because of how deep this goes, how dark it is.

He catches himself thinking about you at the most inopportune moments. When he’s supposed to be strategising with his brothers, he’s replaying a conversation with you in his head, dissecting your words, searching for hidden meanings. He sees you in the flickering neon lights of the city, a fleeting silhouette blending into the urban tapestry of this concrete jungle. When he’s meant to be watching a game, he’s picturing your hands intertwined with his, your voice fluttering out his name, your body…

You’re not just a distraction, you’re a disruption, and the universe is hellbent on finding ways to toy with his teetering lucidity.

Grumbled curses and wet footsteps can be heard long before you’re seen, but silent curiosities would have been better left when you eventually appear in the lair. Three of the four brothers find themselves around you, each snickering at the pressed spring that is your body. Your crossed arms only tighten further into themselves, lips pulling in between your teeth at their lack of sympathy, but then you remember, they are boys.

Leo is the first to compose himself, matching your exaggerated stance with a raised grin. “You’re not looking very weather-appropriate.”

“I was up until about five minutes ago.” Your hands wipe away at your scrunched-up face. “One moment, sun.” You fling them down, the water hitting the ground with an offensive slap. “The next, a bunch of angry clouds piss on me.”

Laughing semi-heartedly, you loosely gesture at yourself, but dilated pupils behind red cloth have been trained on you the moment you walked in. Head-to-toe, you’re soaked: your clothes stick to you in a way that feels intrusive, accentuating every curve and contour he's learned to admire from a distance, only daring to steal glimpses when you’re not looking. The damp fabric clings to you like a lifeline, his of which is fleeting, and it just highlights your shape, each detail so clear, too clear. It shatters the fragile walls he’s fought to keep intact, a crude violation of the mental boundaries he's desperately trying to maintain. Raphael can’t stand it, and he loathes how the rain has matted your baby hairs to your forehead, a small, insignificant feature compared to the rest, and yet it leaves you looking the most exposed.

In the hazy realm of conversation woven between you and his brothers, he drifts, utterly unaware now. He thinks he catches a flash of Donnie hurrying away, yet the essence of it all slips through his fingers like mist. His form is anchored to this corner, while his thoughts wander far beyond the grasp of the present moment. He wants to lick the rain off your cheek and whisper unspoken secrets he never knew he could keep, what he’s been aching to do to you for so long. He can almost picture how you would taste against his tongue, how soft your skin would be compared to his calloused touch.

As his gaze drops out of focus, you inch closer, lowering to a crawl. Staring up through your lashes, you stop on your knees in front of him, eyes glazed with his deliverance and his destruction all at the same time. He can practically see everything from this angle, each wet crease of material grasping closely onto your body, impersonating one of those marble statues that seem impossible to make by hand. Your damp palms press into his thighs to hoist yourself up, the cold doing little to cool him, doing the opposite, in fact - warm puffs of air feathering against his starved face. His breath shortens, but he does nothing. This should stop; he can’t find it in himself to press that big red button, but this needs to stop. As you close in on him, lips ghost over his own with expectant sighs mixing between each other, and then-

The towel draped over your shoulders is the fire blanket to his perverse absorption; he’s pulled back into reality, where he is, but it doesn’t completely snuff out the embers. His eyes have had a taste of you now, a sample of the meal that he hungers so hopelessly for. You glance around, your gaze lingering on Raph for a fraction of a second before panning away, and he jolts, like a live wire has been threaded through his veins. In that second, he thinks you know, he thinks you’ve caught a glimpse into his vulgar mind, and he expects you to run off, but you don’t. Instead, you pull the towel closer and laugh at something Mikey says, the short spit of eye contact already falling from your awareness whilst it nails into his with a hammer.

Raphael’s fists clench under the table, knuckles paling beneath the wraps. You have no idea. He's thankful for that but it almost pisses him off that you have no clue just how much you invade his everything. He doesn’t quite know when this all started, but he hopes to God it has an end because he’s not sure how much longer he can handle it.

There's a deep shame that comes with these daydreams, an itch that burns within the lowest parts of his belly every time his mind so much as wanders. Unfortunately, the image of you, any image of you, scorches him worse than that guilt, which is why he can't resist those long nights of rutting against his pillow, endless scenarios flicking behind his eyes like a roll of film that goes on forever. There were many reasons that he was thankful for finally getting his own room, more so now than ever. It doesn’t matter what you do, he finds himself in the same place by the end of each day. There’d be the occasional brush of arms, a weightless touch that would burden his skin with gooseflesh, or moments when he’d manage to make you laugh, and the sound itself would drive a tremble through his shell. He thought this was an innocuous crush to begin with, all signs pointed that way, and then it happened.

Shit.

He remembers how this all started now.

It was one of those instances when you didn’t want to go home, too tired after a particularly harrowing shift at work. You had gotten a decent amount of TLC at the lair, but arguably too good, as you found yourself drooping on the couch. The boys would have happily escorted you back home, even volunteering to carry your sluggish form if that’s what it meant, to which you threw out some languidly-humoured remark about them trying to kick you out. Not even. Not ever.

“Take my bed,” Raph had offered without a second thought.

The proposition felt harmless at the time, and his intentions were so. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on the worn mound of springs and pillows that had endured the weight of four mutant behemoths for so many years. He could take it for the night, no big deal. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and truthfully, he was more than willing to sacrifice his comfort for yours. He hadn't even considered the implications of you sleeping in his bed, nor did he think of the consequences: this seed of yearning that would be planted that night to bloom and blossom into the twisted, prickly vine that now chokes his thoughts.

You, bless your oblivious heart, had accepted readily, a tired smile gracing your lips. "As long as you’re sure, Raph. I don't want to put you out."

"Positive," he'd confirmed, a little too quickly perhaps, and then retreated to grab a blanket and pillow.

That night, he barely slept. The couch was uncomfortable, sure, but there was something else: something that nagged at him. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it. His first thought was the lack of activity from the day, barely any thugs had tried their hand at disturbing the peace, or whatever peaceful looks like for the streets of New York. Chances are, he was just restless from how many skulls he didn’t crack. Maybe not. At the time, he was stumped for an explanation, and that only secured his inability to suspend consciousness.

Before long, the early morning had arisen, and you along with it. Raphael’s failure to nod off meant he caught your freshly woken self tiptoeing out of his room. He made no effort to greet you, playing into the idea that he was genuinely asleep as you thought him to be, some parts convinced that he might have been. You slid through the lair with a swan-like equanimity he didn’t want to disturb; each clip of your shoes against the floor calculated and measured to soften the blow of your steps. He probably would have woken up were he soundly snoozing, but the attempt was still appreciated. Raphael never regarded himself as the type to silently observe, to pick up on the little details with such ease, but he had found that he was a little more introspective about these things since you’d been around.

Once you had disappeared completely, he rose from his “slumber” and slipped into his room. He figured he’d be able to get at least a couple of hours' sleep under his belt. He was very wrong about this, however. Upon entering his room, he quickly realised that sleep would be much harder to come by now. The lacklustre day had left him restless, that’s what he kept telling himself at the time, but that wasn’t the real reason. The real reason was the apparitional warmth of your presence on his bed, and if he tried really hard, he’d almost be able to perfectly emulate your body lying in his company. Moreover, it was the lingering scent, faint as it was, that had truly undone him - sweet, undeniably yours, intoxicating. Slowly, he had descended atop the mattress on his side, his cheek brushing against the pillow that you had previously lain on. He could picture you in his place, as you had just been minutes before, curled up in his blankets, comfortable in his space.

He inhaled deeply, committing the fragrance to memory. Succumbing to this was crossing a precarious line. He thinks he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. A thick rope had taken hold of him without his knowledge, narrowing its taught breach the more he let himself surrender. As he took another heavy breath in, his hand crept down to the beating, almost painful throb that had somehow alluded him until that moment.

This was wrong. Perverted. He was taking advantage, in a way, of your trust, of the virtuous act of offering you comfort when you needed it. You wouldn’t want this. You wouldn’t want him thinking of you this way. And yet, he just could not stop. The essence of you clung to his sheets, whispering promises he had no right to entertain.

A groan escaped his throat, muffled by the pillow he was now pushing into his face, practically suffocating himself in the hints of you that were lingering deep within it. He imagined you hearing him, recoiling in disgust, the trust in your eyes replaced with disappointment, with something akin to fear. The thought was a sharp, painful stab, but still, it wasn't enough to halt his sudden fit of impure mania. He was too far gone, caught in the undertow of his appetite.

He came quickly, shame immediately washing over him in a freezing wave. The pleasure was fleeting, unsatisfying, tainted by the knowledge of his transgression. He lay there, panting, the scent of you now heavy and cloying, no longer intoxicating but strangling. He wanted to scrub himself clean, to erase the moment, to rewind and never offer his bed in the first place.

In his post-nut clarity, it hits him, the disgrace of it all: how badly he wants you, how desperate he is to feel the weight of your body on his, how much he needs every plush piece of skin to become tainted under his hands.

The days that followed were torture; worse than torture if there’s a word for it. He knew he had to avoid you, at least for a while. There was no way he could bear to face you, to see the innocent trust in your eyes. He needed time to process, figure out how to reconcile the image he had of himself with the reality of his actions, but any moment of closure would be met with opposition. Annoyingly, small things: a hair clip in the dojo, a book on the kitchen counter, a faint smudge of lip gloss on a discarded coffee cup. In your absence, these tiny objects served as landmines to his crime, a reminder of what he had done and what he couldn’t have.

Instances in which you were present to share the same air as him, however, were worse, and they still are. If you’re reading, he’s watching the curve of your neck. When he hears you laugh, he hears a calling that simply doesn’t exist. He may catch you licking your lips when they dry, an inattentive habit that makes him envious of your tongue. Each one of these details slots into a catalogue, stored away in the private chambers of his mind to be revised during those lonely nights.

Even his epiphany about stepping back and admiring from afar has been contaminated. Productive revelations have been spoiled and replaced with this thing he doesn’t know how to name. That act of defiling a space you occupied had undeniably tarnished any interaction with you, and in doing so, he had tarnished himself.

He’s a terrible person. People don’t have thoughts like this about their friends. Or, if they do, they’d at least stand a better chance of enacting these thoughts. He should just exonerate himself from you entirely, retreat to the shadows as he has always been taught to. The temptation itself almost makes him laugh. That would imply he has the will strong enough to remove himself from your life, a will he no longer possesses now that you’re in his.

Why can’t it be so easy?

That morning that started this all, something inside him had irrevocably broken. A dam had burst, unleashing a torrential wave of depravity he never knew existed within him. Before that, he’d just thought of you as someone who occasionally wracked his nerves in confusing ways if the circumstances were right. Now? You are everything: his obsession, his undoing, his most profound and concealed secret.

If only this were a simple crush, he could settle for that. It would come with its own problems, he knows, but he could at least sustain it with more prudence; deal with it.

He remembers a time, before you, when his nights were his own, when he could lay his head down after a job well done and bid the day farewell. His skin twitches if he tries to keep any urge at bay, fever lurches behind his eyes any time they close, and if by some miracle he can find his way to sleep without giving in, you all but manage to torment his dreams, too. Vivid, explicit, and utterly mortifying. He’ll wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and worst of all, with morning wood just to add more to this mess for atrocities' sake. He really shouldn’t be thinking about you in this way. You’re a friend, that’s the operative word he strains to keep in mind, but his body, his innate calling, doesn’t care about propriety.

It’s especially bad when he wishes he could practise his older brother’s restraint and condition himself to keep you out of his head. Leonardo’s calm, almost serene detachment is a lifestyle away from his turbulent fixations. Leo, the picture of divine patience, can seemingly shut off any unwanted thought with the flick of a wrist, whilst Raphael is a wildfire, and you the kindling. It’s not as though the routine tactics of his brother would serve him aid in this situation, anyway. Meditation has never done him any good, and it’d only give you the space to tangle yourself up in his imagination again. Instead, he buries himself in his workouts. He tries to sweat it out, tire himself to the point of mindless exhaustion, but the sweat itself stings, and the ache in his muscles is a feeble attempt to dull the sharper ache in his shell.

When he isn’t riddled with pliable what-ifs and maybes, when there is a moment that these lascivious infections decide to leave him be, he has the camera peering down at himself. How long can he actually keep this up? How long will it be before he cracks, before he says or does something he’ll live to regret, regret more than what he’s already done in the dark corners no one dares tread? He’s a ticking time bomb, and you, naively unaware, are holding the detonator.

One way or another, you’re in everything he does, absentminded things like fiddling with his sai; the touch of cool steel against his palms imitates the delicate curve of what he imagines your jawline to feel like. Even the harsh rasp of his father’s voice during sparring matches can't silence the whisper of your name, a prohibited prayer that lingers in his ears. He can't keep you out of his head. He hates it, this constant, burning awareness of you – a forbidden fruit he longs to taste but knows he can't. The self-disgust, the guilt, the painful longing; all of it is a cruel torment, a self-inflicted wound he can't seem to staunch.

He wants to scream, especially on these restless nights, to shatter the silence and break free from the invisible bonds that chain him to this impossible, unbearable infatuation. Yet, all he can do is lie there, a prisoner of his desires, and you visit him once again, not as the friend he knows, the one who laughs easily and quips back with no effort, but as a vision of his indecency. Your smile is a siren's call, eyes a bottomless reservoir of promise. You say things he can only ever dream of hearing from your lips.

This is a fantasy he’s played out innumerable times, but each rerun feels like the first.

You lie back, sprawled across his bed like a fallen angel. Is he your rescuer, or the bastard who shot you down just so he could have you? He can fool himself into thinking this is a mutual salvation, but his jealousy of the stars will have you dragged into the pit with him, where he can savour your divine spirit all to himself. You would never willingly step away from heaven’s light to meet him, of course you wouldn’t, but at least he can pretend, even for a short while, that he has somehow convinced you to fall into this madness with him. He can delude himself that he isn’t quite so alone, and so he follows the illusion of you and takes, moving like a man possessed, lacking dignity, lacking regard.

He stops fighting these premonitions now. He thinks that if he wholeheartedly appeases this greed, abandons all virtue to the fever dream that paints you as his willing partner, that he’ll be set free. He lets the imagined warmth of your skin banish the cold reality of his isolation. He allows the phantom scent of your hair to fill his airless room, drowning voluntarily so that he can fall to the ocean’s depths where he may finally find peace.

This dance with delirium, sometimes culminating for hours, eventually has to conclude, however. Your mirage blurs into nothing the closer he gets to the end, hoping with a crossed jaw that this will be the last time he sullies your good name inside his fist.

It never is.

No matter how many times he relieves himself to your notion, it never alleviates the want, the need, the dependency that’s been conceived on this idea of having you. It only makes it worse. His stomach empties more each time, and his head bloats with new possibilities just to mock him. Every instance in which he falls victim to his imagination, he staggers closer to Hell, and Earth’s core will burn him alive long before he ever admits to the degeneracy of his vestige’s mind. This false impression of reality is much sweeter, bitter in its aftertastes, but easier, a dark bubble without complication, without an outward looking in to tell him how wrong this is.

You’re a damned distraction, and at the cost of his sanity, Raphael can’t find it in himself to do anything about it.

This is kind of an idea I coined off of @moxfirefly (called Obsesión on AO3) when I realised the similarities halfway into writing, so go read that!! It's a good one yo 🙏

[chadobi]

Lonely Together

Bayverse Raphael x Reader

The Lair was buzzing with life tonight or at least, Raphael’s version of “buzzing,” which meant Mikey was yelling about pizza toppings, Donnie was arguing with himself over a glitch in his latest gadget, and Leo was being, well, Leo. In the middle of it all, like always, you were there. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, arms loosely draped over your knees, watching the chaos unfold with that same tired smile you always wore.

Raph noticed it more than he cared to admit.

You were around a lot. Practically every night for the past few months, even when nothing exciting was going on. You’d sneak down to the Lair through April’s shop with a casual “Hey,” act like part of the furniture, and never ask for anything in return. No expectations, no drama. Just quiet company. That should’ve made sense to him, considering how private you were, but something about your presence always made him… wonder.

Why were you here so often?

Why weren’t you with friends? Family? Someone?

Raphael wasn’t exactly the king of social intuition, but he wasn’t blind either.

So tonight, when the pizza boxes started emptying and the volume in the Lair lowered to a comfortable hum, he found himself watching you again from across the room, elbow braced on the kitchen counter, half a slice of pepperoni pizza forgotten in his hand.

You were just sitting there with your eyes slightly unfocused, your gaze somewhere in the soft flicker of the TV, a mug of lukewarm tea cupped between your palms.

And that same tired smile.

Raph didn’t know what made him move, but he did. Quiet steps, bare feet against tile. No one noticed they were too busy arguing about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

He sank onto the couch beside you, letting out a grunt as he got comfortable.

You blinked and turned toward him slowly, as if startled from some far-off thought.

“Oh. Hey,” you murmured, smiling again.

Raph tilted his head. “You ever don’t say that when you see me?”

You snorted. “Well, I don’t usually have a lot of time to think of clever greetings when a six-foot mutant turtle just appears beside me.”

“Touché,” he muttered with a smirk.

A short silence fell between you, comfortable, if a little tentative. You looked down at your mug. Raph watched your fingers as they played with the rim.

He cleared his throat. “So uh… you ever hang out anywhere else but here?”

You looked up, surprised. “What?”

He shrugged. “Just… noticed you’re always around lately.”

“Oh.” You looked back down. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

There was something in your tone that didn’t sit right with him.

“Not that I mind,” he added quickly. “S’just… you got friends or somethin’? People your age usually do, right?”

You laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh he liked hearing from you. It was short. Dry. Almost bitter.

“I used to,” you said quietly.

That wasn’t the answer he expected.

“…Used to?”

You shifted in your seat and stared at the TV for a few seconds before sighing. “Yeah. I had this group of friends. We were super close. Like… sisters.”

He didn’t interrupt, just watched your profile as you talked.

“We did everything together. Sleepovers, birthdays, vacations. They were my whole world.” You let out a short exhale. “Then stuff started to change. I didn’t even notice it at first. One of them would ‘forget’ to invite me to something. Another would borrow my clothes and never return them. Little digs, you know? At first, I thought I was being sensitive.”

Raph frowned. “You weren’t.”

You smiled faintly, not looking at him. “Eventually, they just… dropped me. Like I was nothing. After years of being ‘sisters.’ I asked why. They said I was too ‘emotional,’ too ‘needy,’ that I made everything about me. But I wasn’t, Raph. I swear I wasn’t.”

Your voice cracked slightly, and he stiffened beside you.

You took a shaky breath and forced a smile. “So, yeah. I’m around here a lot because this is the one place I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells. With you guys… it’s different.”

Raphael didn’t answer right away.

He felt a strange twist in his gut. Not anger — not exactly. But something deeper. Something bitter and ancient and all-too-familiar.

“…They sound like assholes,” he said eventually.

You let out a surprised laugh, genuine this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “they kind of were.”

Another pause. This one stretched a little longer. The sound of Mikey singing badly in the background filled the space between you.

Then, Raph shifted. His voice dropped.

“I get it, y’know.”

You turned to him.

“Get what?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Feelin’ like that. Like… you’re too much. Or not enough. Or both, somehow.”

There was something raw in his voice now. Something that made your breath hitch a little.

“I mean,” he continued, staring down at his own hands, “look at me. I’m literally built different. Too big, too angry, too much muscle, not enough brain.” He chuckled dryly. “People always act like I’m supposed to be the ‘tough one,’ but… I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I’m the most breakable one. Just… in different ways.”

You watched him in silence, heart tugging hard in your chest.

He shifted again, slower this time.

“When I get mad, people leave. When I don’t talk, people assume I’m fine. When I do talk, they think I’m scary.” His jaw tensed. “Ain’t really much middle ground.”

You set your mug down gently and turned fully toward him. The light from the TV caught on the edge of his shell, outlining him in silver.

“Raph,” you said softly, “you’re not too much.”

He blinked. Slowly looked up at you.

“And you’re not scary. You’re protective. You feel deeply. And that’s not a flaw. It’s… rare.”

He didn’t say anything, but something in his shoulders loosened.

You smiled gently. “I think that’s why I like being around you. With you, I don’t have to pretend.”

Raph swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Me too.”

The air between you suddenly felt warmer. Closer.

You looked at each other for a long time. Something passed unspoken. Not quite romantic, not quite platonic. Just something real.

Raph let out a soft grunt. “Y’know… bein’ alone sucks.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really does.”

“…But bein’ lonely with someone else?” He looked at you with something vulnerable in his eyes. “That don’t suck so much.”

You felt your throat tighten, but you smiled anyway.

“No,” you whispered. “No, it really doesn’t.”

There was a moment of stillness, like the world around you had gone quiet, like you and Raph were the only two people in it. You both sat there, neither moving, neither speaking and yet, something between you shifted permanently in that space.

The silence wasn’t lonely anymore.

Raph glanced at you again, almost shyly.

“You uh… wanna stay a bit longer?”

You nudged your shoulder into his gently.

“I was already planning on it.”

⸻

You were curled up beside him on the couch. Mikey had long since passed out on the floor, and Donnie had retreated to his lab. Even Leo had disappeared to his room with a book and a sigh of peace.

But you and Raph remained.

The TV flickered silently now, muted, casting soft shadows across the Lair.

You were half-asleep, your head resting lightly against Raph’s shoulder, his arm stretched along the back of the couch like a quiet guard.

For once, he didn’t feel like too much.

And for once, you didn’t feel like not enough.

And together, just like that the loneliness began to fade.

Not because it was fixed.

But because you weren’t carrying it alone anymore.

————-

Hey there! I hope you’re all doing well! The topic of this one-shot is quite heavy, but I wanted to talk about it.

I was a bit inspired by events from my own life, because I’ve needed to pour my emotions into writing for a while now.

If you’re feeling lonely, remember that no matter what, you’re not alone in this.

Someone who truly deserves you will come into your life eventually 🩷

Enjoy reading!

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Random Headcanons (18+)

Bayverse!Raphael x reader

A/N: Hehehe, it’s Raph time. Here ya go❤️

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Manhandling, rough sex, mention of dirty talk, mentioning of brain numbing sex, loud sex, size kink.

Let’s get the obvious out the way - this man LOVES to manhandle you! It’s just so easy for him and takes so little energy from him, and all your reactions was worth it for him. This man does not tell you what position he wants you to get in, he puts up in that position. He will grab you by an arm and a leg, before turning you over from the missionary to doggy style.

And with a guy that likes to man handle, it is quite obvious that he also likes to do it rough. If there was one thing Raph loved while the two of you were having sex, was ramming into you at a high and brutal speed, with a hand around your neck, and his hand striking down on your butt cheeks, turning them red with a big three fingered handprint. The thought of it was enough to get the man rilled up.

Raph wasn’t much of a moaner, but that did not mean that he wasn’t loud. Goodness, Raph is loud. He groans, growls and has the deepest churrs. And he loooooved to dirty talk. The more lewd the better. And when you matched his energy - truly matching his freak - you pushed him to a whole other level, almost rendering you unable to speak or think as he worked his sexual magic on you.

It had happened several times before, that Raph turned you into a drooling mess, with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, after several orgasms in a row. And that was just how you and Raph liked your sex life. Extremely hot and heavy, giving all of your emotions and frustrations a way to go, while also providing each other extreme amounts of pleasure.

Raph himself was somewhat loud, but he really enjoyed making you very loud. There was just something about the way you would moan for him, that made him go absolutely crazy, wanting more. One was to get you to moan loudly, but if Raph made you scream out of pure pleasure, he considered it an absolute win. And though it wasn’t the goal, Raph couldn’t help but feel prude if the two of you somehow managed to wake up half the lair.

Now, there’s many things you knew about Raph. You knew about his kinks for the rough stuff, and you knew about how he found you acting innocent and helpless under his large frame too tempting to leave alone. But you also had a faint idea that he loved how much smaller you were than him. It was not something Raph had ever told you directly, but it was pretty obvious. Raph was definitely larger than you, with him being a super sized mutant turtle and all, and he definitely seemed to be getting a kick out of it when you were having sex. And luckily for him, you did as well, finding the size difference more than just a little exciting.

[oozedninjas]

Fucking after they thought they lost you.

WARNINGS: NSFW | 18+ | thirtysomething ninja turtles | Drama? |

Leo holds you so tight it hurts. His thrusts are slow and sensual, sweet. Needy in a way that makes your heart ache. It's all soft moans, ragged breaths, and soft kisses ghosting your neck. Don't ever scare him like that again. Don't freakin' dare to leave. You belong here, warm and safe under him.

Raph kisses you as his very life hangs on your breath. Relentlessly bucking his hips, making sure to reach every sweet spot inside that pretty cunt until you're begging him to let you come. He will, so fuking good you'll be a mess when he's done with you, But first, you have to promise never to be that reckless again.

Donatello: What are the odds of a human surviving that? Little to zero, according to his calculations. Yet, here you are. And he’s learned something valuable: his heart is no longer only an internal organ. It's right here, in every breath you take, in the softness of your skin, in the beautiful way you squirm as he keeps abusing your clit. Fuck, he's never going through this again. He'll do better at keeping you safe.

Mikey: The tip of his cock kisses the softest part inside you as he keeps your legs wide open, rubbing his lower half over your clit as he moves. It feels so fucking good you don't care if you're drooling. Mikey bites your shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as he focuses on the warmth of your walls sucking him deeper, needier—

"I'm close- "

"I know, I can feel it. Let go, angel— come for me,"

All the worries are drowned right there. You're here. You're his, you'll never be at such a risk again, it's a promise.

[theturtlelovers]

Raph is the kind of turtle who tenderly brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and kissing your temple, all while he's pistoning into you with such intensity that your cries of pleasure are unavoidable.

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Sloppy | Raphael

okay so this wasn’t a request but i’ve been MIA for a while and i haven’t really had the opportunity to write much over the past few months so this is really just writing practice (forgive me if it's subpar, i'm rusty)

also, if you've requested something, i promise that i'm working on it so please be patient!

made with bayverse in mind!!

warnings: NSFW, first thing i’ve properly written in months so be kind people, swearing, afab reader — mentions of pussy etc., oral sex (f!receiving), raph is a little feral and mean i feel… everyone is 18+!!, not proofread so lemme know if you notice any glaring errors

summary: raph eats your pussy; he’s greedy and sloppy (it’s perfect)

word count: 651 (short and not sweet)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

raph eats pussy like a man possessed. he’s sloppy and loud about it, spit and slick all over his face as he spreads your legs as wide as possible and then even wider. your hips ache from the stretch, and you can already tell you’ll be sore tomorrow, but all you can do is whine and moan, hands covering your heated face in a futile effort to silence yourself.

you can’t even grind down against him like this because the bastard has one arm casually slung over your stomach, his huge palm pressing down just so, enough to make you whimper. you can feel him grinning meanly against your thigh with each failed arch of your spine, nipping your flesh in cruel, teasing bites that are sure to leave purple marks, before he continues to lap at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“raph,” you wheeze desperately, whimpers getting stuck in your throat as he practically growls against you. the sound is dark and agonised, and you can’t help but gasp as he pushes a thick digit inside you. “raph, raph, raph—”

he tongues your clit and crooks his finger, and you can no longer breathe, hands now clenched into bedsheets and thighs shaking with every sloppy touch. “that’s it,” he rumbles, the vibrations only making you tremble more. “that’s it, give it to me.”

your moans fill the room in perfect harmony with the filthy squelch of your pussy as raph fucks you with his calloused finger. it’s already too much, but you think you might pass out when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks like he’s trying to reap your soul. “oh my god—”

you’re whining so loud, choked, and so, so needy, but you can’t find it within you to feel shame even as a distant part of your brain acknowledges that you won’t be able to look his brothers in the eye for a good week after this.

white eclipses your vision when you come, falling headfirst over that precipice that you’ve been teetering on for god knows how long. you fall silent when you do, mouth parted and back finally arching as raph lets your body take exactly what it needs; he lets you grind your hips down, mouth still fixed over your clit as your thighs clamp down around his skull.

he’s mumbling something dirty and full of sacrilege when you finish, his words a wicked churr that tips you into oversensitivity, and you whine weakly when he keeps moving his finger inside you, letting it drag against your slick walls with a slightly sadistic delight.

he chuckles when you slap his forearm weakly, but he acquiesces and slowly pulls back, groaning to himself when he sees just how soaked his hand is. “such a good girl,” he murmurs, looking right at you when he tastes you on his finger. he groans again at the flavour as if he hasn’t been buried in your pussy for the best part of the last hour.

“you’re terrible,” you tell him, voice wrecked, when he finally releases his finger from his mouth.

his smirk is shameless and greedy. “oh, i know.” his warm palms rest against your wet thighs, parting them again with ease. your hipbones twinge, and you gasp as he drags you closer to him, nestling between your legs like he belongs there (he does). “and we’re nowhere near done.”

his eyes are dark and leering, gluttonous and greedy, never full of you but always full of sin, and you swallow thickly as his lips twist into a ravenous snarl, nostrils flaring as you somehow grow even wetter, slick trickling down your already soaked thigh at the unadulterated lechery above you.

by the time you're done, several hours and several orgasms later, you know you won’t be able to look his brothers in the eye for at least a month.

[ihaznoclue]

Imagine being sick and so you take a 'quick' nap at the lair, while the boys are out on patrol and they never realised that you slept over at the lair, then all they spot is you sleeping on the couch, cuddled up in Raph's knitted blanket and a plushie that Mikey gave you on your birthday, meanwhile Leo is making you tea when you wake up and Donnie is checking up on your heart rate just in case

-A<3

[blueberri-blu]

Change Ꮚ◑Ꮚ

[2012]Raph x gn!reader

Prompt 12:"You changed me for the better" "I never thought you needed changing"

Ꮚ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑ᏊᏊ◑Ꮚ

Leo and Raph had fought again

This fight was really similar to one they had about 5 years ago, when they were still 15

| You and Raph were friends at the time, both of you still oblivious to your true feelings

Leo had told them to retreat, that there was no need to fight

But that's exactly what Raph wanted to do

So Raph stayed, and fought the foot soldiers

While Leo was busy just trying to get his brothers out and back home alive

You were staying in the lair, waiting for them so you could start your movie marathon

But when Leo burst into the lair, immediately heading to the dojo, with Donnie and Mikey trailing behind neevously

You knew just from the way Leo entered that he and Raph had fought again

You kept looking for your friend, but he never came

That's when Donnie rolled his eyes and said "He stayed back to fight off the foot. He just needed something to take his anger issues out on"

Mikey seems to be the only one that was actually scared for Raph

So, you stayed in the living room, waiting for Raph to come home

You ended up falling asleep, but once Raph came back, and saw you on the floor sleeping, he felt bad

You waited all this time, just for him? Knowing he'd probably come back angry

In that moment, he knew, he just had to ask you out |

You're brought back to the present by Raph coming into his room

"Hey big guy, you ok?"

"yea just... I just wish Leo would understand" "I know Raph, but think of it from Leo's side, he needs to take care of all of you, as Leader, it's his responsibility to keep all of you alive and well" "Yeah, I guess you're right... I'll apologize later, but I just need more y'know? I need to be out, fighting" " I get it, maybe we could ask Donnie to make you a robot sparring partner" " yea, maybe"

He nuzzles into your neck while holding you "and what were you doing?" "Just thinking" "'bout?" "When you asked me out" "oh... Yea" he smiled softly "You changed me for the better" you laughed and said "I never thought you needed changing" he smiled, and you two just held each other <3

[dancingdonatello]

Raph X reader who went on vacation for a few weeks and finally came back and he’s all over them

I LOVE YOUR FICS OMFG😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

2012 raph x reader

“Seriously, Raph, I need to go to the bathroom. Let me up.”

“Nah.” He hitched a leg over you, putting more weight onto you. You grunted, pushing at his chest in annoyance.

“Raphie.”

You should’ve never agreed to cuddle with him, but you didn’t know that he would do this to you. He held you tighter as you squirmed and ignored your angry scowl. He opened an eye and was unaffected by your glare.

“Please…” you whined, dropping the angry face. He sighed and let go of you. You jumped out of the bed and raced to your bathroom.

You noticed the footsteps following you and were vaguely unsurprised to open the door to see him waiting for you out in the hallway.

“Are you serious?” You asked just as he picked you up. You rolled your eyes as he carried you back to your bed and threw you onto the mattress. He climbed in after you and threw an arm over your stomach and nuzzled his face into your neck. “I wasn’t even gone that long! Am I not allowed to go on vacation anymore?”

“Who said this had anything to do with that?” He stubbornly muttered into your skin. His grip on you tightened.

“It’s pretty obvious.” You sighed, melting into his hold.

[stellaspectral]

I have two requests, both with the Bayverse turtles. This is the second one:

Raphael x Female Reader.

Fluff. Lots of Fluff. With some introspection too maybe? Extrovert Grumpy (Raph) x Introvert Sunshine (Reader).

I was thinking of something that would focus on their blooming relationship but seen through the eyes of Leo, Donnie, and Mikey. Or just one of them of your choice if this request gets too long. It's the first time they've seen Raph act so soft, sweet, and calm and awkward around someone and they'll definitely have a lot of thoughts going on in their heads about it. And maybe a lot of teasing too ;). Thank you so much in advance if you decide to write it!

A/N: Hello, anon! To be honest, I wasn’t sure whose POV of Raph and the reader’s relationship to write in. But it seems I ended up gravitating towards Leo the most. Though the other two still have commentary, of course.

Enjoy! 💖

Drawn to You (fluff)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Fluff, soft/awkward Raph, implied crush/pining, brotherly teasing. All characters are aged-up.

You’re curled up on the couch in the lair, nestled deep into the cushions, sketchbook open on your lap. The paper is smooth under your pencil as you draw one of the graffiti markings on the wall opposite you. You add a final flourish to the spray-painted tag you’ve replicated, tilting your head to admire your work.

Suddenly, the lair’s entrance tunnel echoes with boisterous sounds. Footsteps herald the return of the turtles from whatever topside excursion they were on. You instinctively snuggle a little tighter into the couch, a cheerful smile tugging at your lips.

The first one who enters is Leo, already mid-sentence, gesturing emphatically. “… and I told you the grappling hook wouldn’t hold on that gargoyle, Donnie, but did you listen? Nooo.”

Donnie follows, looking mildly exasperated. “My calculations indicated a 93.9% structural integrity probability. Clearly, the masonry was older than I initially thought.”

Mikey comes in last, practically vibrating. “Dude, did you see that flip Leo almost didn’t stick? Epic fail waiting to happen, bro!”

Last comes Raph. He enters more quietly than usual, rubbing the back of his thick neck, his usual post-patrol scowl firmly in place. His eyes scan the lair, likely checking if Splinter is meditating nearby. Then they land on you.

And something shifts.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible if you didn’t know him. But from the entryway, where his brothers have paused their bickering to shed their gear, the change is glaringly obvious.

Leo stops mid-gesticulation, his eyes widening slightly. He nudges Donnie, who adjusts his glasses purely out of habit, and raises a questioning brow ridge. Mikey just freezes, his usual bouncy energy stilling as he watches.

Raph’s shoulders, typically tense and ready for action, visibly relax. The deep V of his scowl softens, not quite disappearing, but smoothing out into something almost … hesitant. He takes a step towards the living area, then another, his heavy footfalls strangely muted on the floor. He seems to be actively trying not to stomp.

He stops a few feet away from the couch, his enormous frame suddenly looking a little awkward in the open space. He clears his throat, a low rumble that’s much softer than his usual volume. “Hey,” he says, his voice rough but lacking its typical edge. “You, uh, good?”

You look up, beaming at him. The brightness of your smile seems to physically hit him; he blinks, shifting his weight. “Hey, Raph! Yeah, I’m great. Just drawing.” You hold up your sketchbook. “How was the patrol?”

“Uh, fine. Usual.” He glances towards the graffiti you were drawing, then back at your face. There’s a flicker of something warm in his eyes, a stark contrast to the ‘ready-to-rumble’ look he usually sports. “Looks good.” He takes another step closer, peering over your shoulder, but careful not to crowd you. There’s an uncharacteristic gentleness in his proximity.

Meanwhile, by the entrance, a quiet conversation is happening.

“Dude, look at him,” Mikey whispers, pointing with a slight nod of his head. “He’s doing ‘the thing’ again.”

“Define ‘the thing’,” Donnie begins. “His heightened state of peripheral awareness when she’s present? His decreased vocalizations? The slight, almost imperceptible softening of his default scowl?”

“All of it, brainiac!” Mikey whisper-shouts. “He looks like a big, shy puppy trying to ask for pets without barking too loud.”

Leo, leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watches with a more measured expression. He’s noticed it too, of course. How could he not? Raphael, his brother who communicates primarily through grunts, glares, and the occasional explosive outburst, becomes … subdued around you. Gentle. It’s baffling.

And, Leo has to admit, a little heartwarming.

Donnie pushes his glasses up again. “Fascinating. Physiologically, his respiration rate appears elevated, but his aggressive posturing shows a significant reduction. Perhaps a neurochemical response triggered by proximity to a preferred individual?”

“Or maybe,” Mikey stage-whispers, leaning closer to his brothers, “he liiiikes her!”

Back by the couch, Raph shifts again, his gaze locked on the sketchbook page. He points at a specific detail in your drawing. “You got the … the little flicky bit there just right. The way the paint kinda dripped.” He clears his throat again. “How’d you get so good at this?”

“Years of practice,” you say, offering him another warm smile. “Want to see the others I did?”

His head snaps up, eyes wide for a fraction of a second, that warmth flickering more brightly. “Uh … yeah. Sure. If you wanna show me.” He moves closer but doesn’t sit. His gaze drifts from the sketchbook back to your face, lingering for just a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Across the room, hidden partially by the archway leading to the dojo, the espionage continued.

“See? SEE?” Mikey whispers. “He’s leaning! Like, actually leaning in to look at her drawings! Raph never leans! He looms. Or glares.”

Donnie analyzes the scene. “Observation: Raphael’s typical personal space boundary appears significantly reduced in relation to her. Approximately 45 centimeters closer than his baseline average with non-familial individuals. Also, note the lack of fidgeting typically associated with his impatience. Instead, he exhibits micro-shifts indicative of … social anxiety? Or perhaps, contentment?”

“It’s called being smitten, Donnie,” Leo supplies, pushing off the wall. Casually, he saunters closer to you and Raph, ostensibly to put away his katanas. But truthfully, he’s only positioning himself for a better view.

“Never thought I’d see the day Raph looked like he was afraid of scaring someone just by breathing too hard,” Donnie murmurs.

“He asked how she got good at drawing,” Mikey adds, eyes wide with dramatic effect. “He usually just grunts and says ‘cool’ if he likes something. He used words. Multiple words! In a question!”

Back at the couch, you’re flipping through the pages of your sketchbook. Raph remains standing, his large hands clasped loosely behind his back, a pose that looks strangely formal and uncertain on his powerful frame. He’s genuinely looking at each sketch, his brow furrowed in concentration, not anger.

“This one’s the mural down by the old noodle shop,” you explain, pointing to a vibrant, detailed reproduction. “And this is that little stencil someone keeps putting on the mailboxes near the park …”

“Yeah … know that one,” Raph mumbles, his gaze flicking up to meet yours for a second before darting back to the page. That warmth is definitely there, a banked fire behind his usual tough-guy facade. “You … uh … you really capture the … the feel of ‘em.”

“He’s complimenting her artistic interpretation,” Donnie murmurs, sounding genuinely astonished. “The probability of Raph using such nuanced appreciation is statistically infinitesimal under normal circumstances. This deviation is remarkable.”

“Translation: Raph’s got it BAD!” Mikey giggles, barely containing himself.

It’s Leo’s cue. He finishes securing his swords and wanders over to the couch area, stretching nonchalantly. “Hey, Raph,” he calls out, his voice deliberately casual but loud enough to carry. “Everything alright? You look a little flushed. Feeling okay?”

Raph visibly tenses. His head snaps towards Leo, the soft expression vanishing, replaced by a familiar annoyed glare. “I’m fine, Leo. Just … lookin’ at sketches.” The last part comes out defensive.

“Oh yeah?” Leo stops near the armrest, peering over Raph’s shoulder, mimicking his earlier pose but with deliberate exaggeration. “Whatcha got there? Wow, Raph’s right, these are amazing! You really captured the … spray-e-ness.” He gives Raph a pointed look.

You smile up at Leo. “Thank you.”

Raph shifts uncomfortably, caught between your presence and his brother’s obvious teasing. He shoots Leo a warning look that clearly reads, ‘Don’t push it’.

Mikey, never one to miss an opportunity, comes over. “Ooh, lemme see! Wowzers! Raph, you never told us she was this talented! Usually, you just grunt about stuff.” He grins cheekily. “Guess some things make you wanna use your words, huh?”

A faint reddish tinge creeps up Raph’s neck. “Shut it, Mikey.”

Finally, Donnie approaches. “Indeed. Raph’s verbal communication frequency increases by approximately 35% in her presence, correlating with a decrease in aggressive posturing by nearly 50%. Fascinating psycho-social dynamics are at play.”

“Donnie!” Raph snaps, turning fully towards his brothers now, creating a partial shield between them and you. It’s a protective gesture as much as a defensive one. “Can’t you go … I dunno … invent somethin’ or annoy Splinter?”

“Aw, but Raph,” Mikey whines playfully, leaning around him to beam at you, “we just wanna hang out! Like you’re hanging out! Looking at pretty drawings.” His gaze flicks meaningfully between you and Raph.

You look between the brothers, catching the teasing undercurrent and noticing Raph’s struggle to maintain his composure. A small, amused smile tugs at your mouth. You reach out tentatively and pat Raph’s arm, feeling the muscle beneath twitch slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Raph,” you assure softly. “I don’t mind showing them.” You look back at your sketchbook. “Maybe you guys could even give me ideas for what to draw next?”

The effect on Raph is instantaneous. His glare softens again as he looks down at you, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. The slight flush on his neck deepens, and the anger has dissipated, replaced by that familiar, flustered awkwardness. He clears his throat again. “Uh … yeah. S-sure. If … if you want.”

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey exchange looks. Whiplash. One gentle touch, a few soft words from you, and Volcano Raphael is dormant once more.

Leo can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Oh yeah; this was definitely unfamiliar territory. And watching Raph navigate it, with all the grace of a tank trying to tiptoe through a minefield, was going to be endlessly entertaining. Regardless, he steers Donnie and Mikey away to give you and Raph some space.

“Did you see that?” Mikey whispers dramatically, eyes sparkling. “Poof! Grumpy gone!”

Raph lets out a breath as his brothers retreat towards the kitchen, their voices fading but their knowing glances still palpable. He visibly deflates, the tension leaving his body in a rush, but he remains standing.

“So,” you prompt gently, tapping your pencil against the sketchbook. “Ideas?”

He glances around the lair, eyes snagging on a training dummy, then the weapons rack, before finally landing back on your sketchbook. “Maybe … maybe you could draw … you know that bit of wall near the docks? The one where the bricks are all busted up and kinda looks like a face if you squint?”

You tilt your head, picturing it. “Oh, yeah! With the really deep cracks running through it? I know the one.”

“Yeah. That.” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “It’s kinda cool. Looks tough. Like it’s been through stuff.” He seems pleased with his own description, though his gaze flicks nervously towards the kitchen, checking if his brothers overheard.

From the kitchen doorway, Mikey leans out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Ooh, busted bricks! How romantic, Raph! Maybe she can draw a little heart graffiti next to it?”

Raph whirls around, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Mikey! I swear—”

“Easy, you two,” Leo’s voice drifts from deeper within the kitchen.

Raph clenches his fists, his neck flushing that familiar red again. But then he catches your eye. You’re watching him, not with fear, but with a patient, amused expression. He forces himself to take another deep breath, turning back towards you. The growl subsides, though his jaw remains tight.

“Ignore them,” you say, offering a reassuring smile. “I like that idea. The texture of those old bricks would be interesting to capture.” You flip to a fresh page in your sketchbook, wanting to get Raph involved. “Show me again where the cracks look like a face?”

His anger drains away almost comically fast. He steps closer, bending at the waist to peer at your blank page. He hesitates, then lifts a finger, hovering it just above the paper, careful not to touch. “Okay, so … the big crack goes down here, like this …” He traces the shape in the air above the page. “And there’s these smaller bits that kinda … yeah, like eyes. And the busted bit at the bottom looks like a grumpy mouth.”

He’s leaning closer now, his usual intimidating presence softened by his focused explanation. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the faint scent of the city night still clinging to his gear. He’s completely absorbed in describing the broken wall, his voice losing some of its earlier hesitation.

“Grumpy mouth, huh?” you muse, sketching lightly based on his description. “Sounds appropriate.”

He glances up, meeting your eyes directly for a solid second. The warmth there flares, intense and unguarded, before he quickly looks back down at the sketchbook. “Yeah. Guess so.”

You continue sketching, adding details as he describes them. He stays close, watching the image appear on the page. A few more details he points out include a loose wire hanging nearby, and a specific pattern of moss. He’s surprisingly observant.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, the others continue their own observation at a lower volume.

“He’s practically an art historian now,” Mikey says, his voice full of suppressed laughter. “Describing moss patterns! Who knew Raph noticed moss?”

“Or maybe,” Leo murmurs, leaning beside Donnie, arms still crossed, “he just actually wants to talk to her.” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to break the weirdly calm bubble that seems to have formed around the couch.

You finish the rough sketch of the brick wall face, holding it up. “Like this?”

Raph leans in again. He’s closer now, close enough that you could probably count the scars on his face if you wanted to. “Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, almost a rumble. “Looks good.” He doesn’t pull back immediately this time, his gaze lingering on the drawing, then flicking up to meet yours again.

But then he seems to realize how close he is and moves back half a step, a faint pinkness rising on his cheeks this time.

“They almost touched noses!” Mikey whisper-squeals from the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Proximity threshold breached and self-corrected,” Donnie observes.

Leo just shakes his head, a wry smile touching his lips. Donnie could analyze the shell off a turtle, but even he couldn’t miss the obvious: Raph is head over heels.

You flip to another blank page. “Any other cool spots you think would make good sketches?”

Raph hesitates, glancing around the lair again as if searching for inspiration that isn’t potentially embarrassing. His gaze falls upon the worn-out punching bag in his room. “Maybe the bag?” he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Got a lot of … history.”

It’s a simple object, beat-up and functional, but the way he suggests it feels oddly personal, like he’s offering a small piece of himself.

Leo watches you and Raph. You’re smiling, considering the punching bag with genuine interest. Raph looks at you as you watch the bag, his expression a strange mix of hopeful and apprehensive. The usual storm cloud that follows Raph seems to have dissipated, replaced by this uncertain, almost sunny humidity. It’s weird.

Good weird, mostly, Leo thinks.

Donnie and Mikey look at Leo expectantly, waiting for the punchline. The teasing remark. But Leo looks past them, back towards the couch. Raph sees him, his shoulders tensing again as he braces for the usual barrage. He glances from Leo, back to you, then to Leo with a silent plea in his eyes.

And, for once, Leo listens. He sees the vulnerability there, the raw awkwardness that his brother tries so hard to hide behind muscle and scowls. He’s navigating something new, something that doesn’t involve fists or threats, and he’s doing it clumsily. But he’s doing it.

Leo catches his eyes from across the room. He gives Raph the smallest, almost imperceptible nod that says, I see you. It’s alright. Then Leo turns to his other brothers, lowering his voice. “Alright. Squad, you’re dismissed.”

Mikey opens his mouth to protest, probably armed with a dozen heart-related puns.

“Now,” Leo orders, cutting him off with a look that says I mean it. “Let the big guy breathe. Go sort your gear or something.”

Donnie raises a brow but nods slowly, seemingly accepting the logic of allowing the current social experiment to proceed without further variables. Mikey pouts but follows Donnie, muttering something about ‘mood killers’ and ‘romantic potential.’ Leo leans back against the counter, crossing his arms.

You’re sketching the punching bag, asking Raph about a specific tear near the top. He’s answering, his voice still low, leaning in again, pointing with that same hesitant finger. He looks … quiet. Focused. Almost peaceful.

It’s a side of Raph Leo rarely sees. The fighter, the hothead—that’s the Raph they all know. But this Raph, the one who describes moss patterns and gets flustered by a smile, is new. For Leo, it’s actually kind of nice to see his younger brother soften, even just for a little while.

Perhaps Raph wasn’t just doing ‘the thing,’ as Mikey put it. Maybe he was just being Raphael.

And maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

[averagechuckfan]

Bayverse donnie being in heat and whining to their s/o that he wants cuddles

(I'm really busy, sorry, this one is incredibly short)

Warning → soft (?)

(all mf here are +18 don't start saying shit in the comments)

Since you two became a couple he informed you about this times of the year were he can get ... a bit funny .

So this time that happened so suddenly... You two were sitting, chilling in his lab as he worked on a new invention, his left leg started moving up and down from time to time, like if he was just trying to get more comfortable in his chair, little did you know that he was just trying to calm the hard tent inside his cargo pants. He didn't want to bother you when you're busy reading a book he gave you last week, a book about turtle anatomy since you have a lot of questions but he didn't have the time to answer right now.

He couldn't help it thou, he stood up and rushed towards you, you almost shit yourself and turned your head to face him "what was that?" It took you some time to figure out why he was whining desperately, pulling at your shirt while he was on his knees "cuddles" was the only word you could catch from his babbling. "You want cuddles?" He simply nodded slowly, hiding his snout in the crock of your neck.

Being in this position for to long might hurt him so you thought about moving to his bedroom.You couldn't help but smile, he looks desperate for some love, the poor boy is always overworking himself in the lab, he surely needs some rest "let's go to bed" you whispered softly.

After the two of you find the nicest position to cuddle you start to draw patterns in his shell while he was shaking a bit, if his shell is that sensitive when he was in heat?... What else could be sensitive on him right now?....

Important ↓

I'm so sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted, I've been having a lot of work lately and having my brain so busy with adult shit can make the way I write horrible!!! If you want me to do a part 2 of this one and continue the story let me know in the comments ↓ or you can always send a request for part two (hope i could explain myself here)

[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.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Helloooo ive comeback to give requests :v im sorry if i feel annoying. Can i get the rottmnt turtles reacting to their s/o wearing a bikini? Alsooo thank u in advanced 😅🥰

Their Reaction To Seeing You Wearing A Bikini For The First Time (Fluff/Suggestive)

Rise!Turtles x reader

A/N: I actually think that our boys are happy that you requested that one😂 Here ya go💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: A little suggestive in some areas, but nothing wild.

Raphael:

Raphael's reaction would be immediate and intense, his heart skipping a beat as he lays eyes on you in the bikini. He would be unable to tear his gaze away, his eyes roaming over every curve and contour with a mixture of awe and desire.

Raphael might find himself momentarily speechless, his usually sharp tongue failing him as he struggles to find the right words to express his admiration.

Once he regains his composure, he would offer you a smoldering look, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your beauty. Raphael might approach you with confident strides, his demeanor radiating a potent mix of attraction and affection.

He would likely pull you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you possessively as he presses a heated kiss to your lips, unable to resist the urge to show you just how much you affect him.

Raph would compliment you, no doubt about it. His compliments would be straightforward and sincere, his rough voice husky with emotion as he tells you how stunning you look in the bikini.

He might suggest moving to a more secluded spot, wanting to have you all to himself as he indulges in his desire to be close to you. Raphael would revel in the opportunity to spend time with you, whether it's lounging in the sun, going for a swim, or simply basking in each other's company.

He might suggest engaging in some playful water activities together, like a splash fight or daring you to dive off the diving board, enjoying the chance to spend time with you in a relaxed and carefree setting.

Throughout the day, he would steal glances at you whenever he thinks you're not looking, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of adoration and possessiveness, happy that you were his.

Leonardo:

Upon seeing you in the bikini, his first instinct would be to discreetly take a moment to appreciate your beauty, his gaze softening with affection as he admires your confidence and allure.

Leonardo would initially feel a rush of warmth and affection seeing you in a bikini, admiring your confidence and beauty. He might momentarily feel a bit flustered or unsure of how to react in the first few seconds, but he quickly composes himself, offering you a charming smile and compliments, putting on his famous smile.

Leo will find it hard to keep his eyes off you, but he will make an effort to focus on spending quality time together, whether it's swimming, sunbathing, or just relaxing side by side. But Leo being Leo, meant that he of course will find a way to make flirtatious comments.

He might suggest engaging in some activities together, that somehow will end up with the two of you making physical contact, hopefully making your interactions more and more heated, ending with you and him finding a secluded place you could enjoy yourselves.

Throughout the day, Leonardo would make an effort to show his affection for you through small gestures and thoughtful actions, wanting to make sure you feel cherished and appreciated.

He will steal glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, his gaze filled with admiration and affection as he marvels at the beauty of the person he loves. But if you were looking, he would not look away. Instead he would hold your gaze, before smiling flirtatiously at you, moving closer and plant another kiss on your lips, reminding you of what the two of you had been doing just a few moments ago.

He WILL look for a second chance to get that bikini off of you, mark my words.

Donatello:

Donatello would probably react with a mix of awe and admiration, appreciating both your physical appearance and your confidence. He might find himself momentarily speechless, his analytical mind momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of you in a bikini.

Donnie would likely express his admiration through compliments, perhaps commenting on how stunning you look or how the color of the bikini complements your features.

He might also suggest taking some photos together, not just because he wants to capture the moment but also because he genuinely enjoys documenting memories with you.

Donatello's gaze would linger on you at any given moment, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a mixture of fascination and desire. He would want to make sure you feel comfortable and respected, so he would likely approach you with a gentle smile and a somewhat shy demeanor.

Donnie will like to spend time together, a little further away from his brothers, engaging in calm activities that both you and him would find comforting, disappearing into your own little world.

Donatello would make an effort to show his affection for you through small gestures and thoughtful actions, wanting to make sure you feel cherished and appreciated, just like you made him feel around you.

He might occasionally steal glances at you, his gaze filled with admiration and affection as he marvels at the beauty of the person he loves. He tends to focus his gaze on small areas of your body, getting lost in his own thoughts as he would admire you, before pulling you close for yet another kiss.

Donnie will be more than happy to engage in some intimate activities, but not before you let him know that you want it. He doesn't really start those interactions that often, but he will happily partake when you start them.

Michelangelo:

Michelangelo would react with unabashed enthusiasm and excitement, his face moving with the large expressions he was known for, and his eyes lighting up, doubling in size at the sight of you in a bikini.

He might let out exaggerated expressions before rushing over to you with a big grin. You never thought you would hear a guy yell “oh me gosh!”, at the sight of you in a bikini.

Mikey would be all about having fun and making the most of the moment together. He might even try to show off a bit, doing some flashy moves or tricks to impress you, but it's all in good fun and with the intention of making you smile and laugh.

Michelangelo's energy would be infectious, his excitement palpable as he showers you with compliments and playful teasing. He might give you an exaggerated wolf whistle or a playful wink, unable to contain his enthusiasm as he expresses his admiration for you.

If you were on a beach, Mikey would do anything with you, from building sandcastles, playing beach volley or sunbathe together. Were you in a pool or the sewers, he would ask you to share a floatie with him, giving him a playful excuse to be close to you.

Mikey would be constantly by your side, his arm draped around your shoulders as he peppers you with affectionate nicknames and playful banter, along with small kisses all over your face. He would even tickle you, unable to keep his hands off of you.

And as the day comes to an end, Mikey would pull you close for a tight hug, his enthusiasm undiminished as he expresses his love and gratitude, grateful for every moment he gets to spend with you.

And after a full day of having fun in the water, he would make sure to continue the fun and laughter he had shared with you, in the comfort of your bedroom.

[oozedninjas]

2012 boys having their first time? They don't usually let out much "turtely" noises so...

poor boys, it feels so good they can't stop churring 🥺

This is the first time I see the word "churring" I hope to be writing it right? I looked it up but Google said it's some sort of squeaky sound? God, I hope I did it right, tell me if it's wrong and I'll change it lol

Warnings: NSFW / MDNI / 18+ / turtle noises / first time together but not V card loss bc I wanted this to be short pls don't kill me T.T / 2012 / guys are mid to late 20's / breeding kink / oral sex

Leo tries to suppress the sound. Gritting his teeth, controlling his breathing, but holy shit. It's so tight inside you, soft and hot. You're taking him in so well that his mind spirals to the place of only instincts. Yet, he manages to hold them back. It's the first time you've been together, you're not used to it. You'll judge him, think it's weird. He can't let-

"Fuck, yes! Right there, you're so good," your voice trembles, breath staggered.

The sound of your voice, or maybe the way your legs laced around him, forcing his thrust, sent him over the edge. Every strangled sound mingled with his ragged breaths. He didn't care anymore, or so he thought, until your praise washed over him.

Raph started tenderly. "Tell me if it hurts," he said. "I'll stop." And he did. He followed your pace and until now he had done nothing but make you come so hard your toes curled. Yet, the skin on your neck and shoulder throbbed from his constant biting.

"Wait, no more… please. That hurts," you managed. Voice weak and quivering.

Raph groaned against your neck, jaw clenching. He sucked on your flesh every time he felt the stupid churring building in the back of his throat, he never meant to hurt you.

"Sorry, babe- I'll go easier on you," he said as his breath mixed with that pitiful sound.

"What was that?"

Damn. You surely thought it was weird, disgusting, misfitting. He could make you come again, maybe then-

"I want to hear it again," you pleaded, clenching around his cock in your attempt to pull him closer. "Raph please, it was so hot,"

He downright moaned at that. Fuck, anything for you.

The rhythmic pounding of his hips against yours intensified, the sound echoing in your core. A stolen glance downward sent a jolt through you. His erection pistoned into you, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

Donatello seized your mouth, his kiss a whirlwind of heat and urgency. A strangled groan escaped his lips as he chased his peak. He could feel the churring creeping at the back of his throat like a threat to ruin everything.

"I want to feel you coming inside me," you gasped, lips brushing his. "come for me baby, with me-"

Your orgasm burned through you as you felt his cum spread within. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as he held you close, his touch a damp heat against your skin. A tremor vibrated through him, a low rumble threatening to erupt. Then, the telltale churring sound, weak and smooth, filled the air.

"What's that?" you panted, snuggling him.

"I'll explain later," he mumbled, voice husky with exhaustion as the soft sound spilled through, filling the air.

"Hmm, it's calming. I love it," you said, kissing his cheeks. "Can you keep making it?"

Fuck yes, he can. For as long as you desire.

Mikey kept his pace steady as he circled his tongue, thick and hot, over your clit. Rough palms bracketed your hips down, trapping you close. A delicious heat bloomed in your core.

"Wait, I don't- I don't want to come yet," you breathed, trying to move off and failing just as he pushed his tongue inside you. You gasped.

Mikey moaned, drinking you out. His cock throbbed, aching, dying to be engulfed in your hot, wet hole. Fuck, the anticipation of your pussy clenching on him had Mikey on the verge of coming. But that could be for another day, one where you were so addicted to the way he makes you come that you wouldn't care for silly churring sounds.

"Babe, I want you to feel good too," you managed to mutter, barely.

Shit, he loved the drunk-like sound of your voice. "No, this is fine. Let me show you the stars,"

You ground over his face, allowing. Mikey thrust his hips up, attempting to relieve some tension. His dick twitched, needy. A choked sob, laced with a desperate raspy churr, erupted from his throat.

You gripped the side of his head in return, clenching your cunt around his tongue like you liked it. That thought unleashed every little sound he was repressing. Your moaning grew louder as you came long and hard over his mouth.

"That sound you made," you began, evening your breath, "I want to hear it right in my ear when you fuck me."

Fuck, marry him, would you?