#mikey 2016

[kusari-san]

[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.

[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

[hotheadedhero]

*peeks in here*

*walks away to check if you do bayverse*

*return*

The bay bois getting an s/o who will occasionally will randomly be cuddling and then... *Affectionate bite* then letting go and telling them they love them.

AN: As an affectionate biter myself, I gotcha babes ;)

Affectionate Biting

Bay Turtles x Reader

Warnings: very mildly suggestive, an insomniac trying to grammar <3

Leonardo

The first time you oh-so casually bit him and smiled afterwards as if it was nothing had him going for a spin. Confused is the prominent word to describe how he was feeling at the time. The action was just so unprompted. He couldn't figure out why you felt the need to do something like that, nor how it could be seen as an act of love.

He's learnt over time that it's an unavoidable urge for you. There's nothing you can do about it. You just have to bite him for whatever reason you deem necessary. Leo is all too aware of this by now and may or may not use it to his advantage.

"For every hour we're out tonight, I'll give you a free bite. No questions asked, okay?"

These are terms you can comply with. He knows how much you miss him when he's gone, so setting up this ultimatum is an effective way of letting him go on patrol more easily.

Raphael

Being with you has involved its fair share of revelations and discoveries. There's at least a handful of things he's become savvy to whilst being with you but the random biting is one of the more bizarre ones.

Actions speak louder than words and they always mean the most to him but biting? What's up with that? Humans are weird. That's the conclusion he's come to. Even now in this very moment, you've taken a hold of his wrist whilst curled up in bed together.

"What are you, a cat or something? Quit it."

Of course, he's only joking. It's just so he can see your tongue poke out and your nose scrunch up in the cute way he likes. Even if he did seriously mean for you to stop, he doubts you would. You live by your own rules when it comes to these things. And, sure, you can bite him if you like. Just as long as you expect to get bitten back.

Donatello

It may catch him by surprise from time to time but only because you do it in the most random of situations. Whilst he's working away and you're sitting in his lap, you'll just latch onto the closest part of him you can access. He might jump if he's in the zone but it's never an issue.

Regardless of it being a problem or not, you've had your own curiosities about why you have such a primal impulse to chomp down on your boyfriend. Luckily, Donnie being as knowledgeable as ever has the answers.

"... the desire to pseudo-bite or squeeze anything we find extremely cute is actually a neurochemical reaction. 'Cute aggression' isn't motivated by vicious intent. Instead, scientists think-"

He halts on his words, blinks out of his matter-of-fact mode, and gazes down at you. All the while, you have his forearm locked between your teeth. Your attempt to smile coyly against his skin is adorable, and he smiles back before continuing his explanation.

Michelangelo

He won't ask any questions. In all honesty, he loves it. Although, there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding the first couple of times you went to take a nip at him. Let's just say he thought you were trying to get him in the mood. Can't blame a guy for assuming his lover is a little freaky in the sheets.

Having such a strong force overcome you is something he understands, though. It's like him when it comes to pulling a fast one over his brothers. You can bite him whenever you want to if that's what you feel you need to do. Even if you turned into a zombie, he'd still let you.

"And then we could be like, zombie lovers roaming the streets together."

Mikey holds his arms out, hands dangling as he playfully groans like the undead. You aren't entirely sure how the conversation developed like that but it's cute nonetheless. Hey, he's just being honest. He loves you that much.

[mushroomgrenade]

Nobody asked but Im delivering.

I dusted off my red bubble and uploaded almost 100 new designs for you turtle people. Grab them here!

And as a reminder, sticker sheets are always still available, grab them here!

⭐Please help reblog! Theyre super helpful and I appreciate it!⭐

[mishka-o]

Just two chill guys :]🧡

[leavethisbluetheneighbourhood]

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Me in kindergarten:

Me in uni rn:

[luv4arinn]

Bayverse!Mikey Headcanons, but once again, I try to psychoanalyze everything.

Pairing: Mikey x female reader

Warning: Mentions of ADHD, mentions of sexual assault/rape, slight emotional dependency, slight NSFW

Dating Mikey is a special case.

Canonically, he has ADHD. His mind is a constant whirlwind of ideas, movement, impulses, and words. But when it comes to you… God. He does everything in his power to focus. To center all his attention on every word you say, every gesture you make, every little expression that flickers across your face.

Because even though his brain is always racing, even though his energy seems endless, there’s one certainty that keeps him grounded: you.

And Mikey… Mikey is flirty.

It’s not that he tries to be—it’s just who he is. It’s in his blood, in the way he moves, in the way compliments slip from his lips so naturally, it’s like he doesn’t even think before saying them. He proved it in the first movie when he saw April and blurted out that thing about his shell being tight. So no, he’s not the type to keep quiet when he likes someone. Not at all.

Mikey will make sure you know.

And not in a subtle way.

He’ll tell you with over-the-top words, with lines that sound straight out of a bad rom-com but, coming from him, somehow feel genuine and even adorable. He’ll tell you with cheesy nicknames, with grins so wide they could light up the room, with eyes that sparkle like you’re the moon itself, illuminating his entire world.

And he’s expressive. God, he’s so expressive.

He has no filter. If he thinks you look amazing, he’ll say it. If he finds something you did adorable, he’ll mention it. If he’s hopelessly in love with you, he’ll make sure the entire world knows.

Mikey doesn’t love in silence.

He loves loudly, with excited shouts and sudden hugs, with happy jumps and improvised dances right in the middle of the lair. He loves with every fiber of his being—fearlessly, unapologetically.

And if that means that sometimes his love is too intense, that sometimes it’s a hurricane of words, laughter, and exaggerated gestures… well.

That’s only because he can’t help it. Because you’re his girl. And he’ll never let you forget it.

And if he ever hears that yes slip from your lips… brace yourself.

Love him the way he loves the world, please. This man has so much love to give. I truly believe he’s incredibly affectionate deep down. But he knows you, and he’s learning to control himself. Still, sometimes… sometimes, all that sweetness slips through the cracks.

Because he loves you the way he loves the world.

He loves you the way he loves music.

He loves you the way he loves skateboarding.

Too much sweetness? Eh. I hope you have a taste for sugar.

Mikey is an outpouring of love in its purest form.

He’s a man who feels too much, who lives too much, who loves too much. But when you enter his life, everything he thought he knew about love suddenly isn’t enough anymore.

And if he ever hears a yes from you—if you ever confirm that you love him just as much as he loves you…

Brace yourself.

Because this man falls apart. He melts like ice cream under the summer sun. His heart bursts into a thousand colors, like fireworks lighting up the New Year’s sky. He hugs you, lifts you off the ground, spins you around, laughs, yells, probably runs off to tell his brothers, then rushes back just to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Please, love him the way he loves the world.

Because Mikey has so much love to give—more than his own body can contain. And yes, deep down, he’s overwhelmingly affectionate, though he tries to hold back. Not because he minds being that way, but because he knows you. Because he’s learning to manage his intensity, to not overwhelm you with everything he feels all at once.

But sometimes… oh, sometimes he just can’t help it.

Because he loves you the way he loves music—with passion, with energy, with every cell in his body vibrating in sync with his own rhythm.

He loves you the way he loves skateboarding—with the thrill of speed, with the adrenaline of knowing that every moment with you is a new trick to master, a new challenge that excites him.

Too much sweetness? Eh… you’d better have a sweet tooth. Because this man is a never-ending sugar factory.

And beyond all that, Mikey is an artist.

An underappreciated artist, yes, but an artist nonetheless.

There are probably walls in hidden corners of the sewers covered in his mark, in designs that tell his story. He may not say it out loud, but every stroke, every explosion of color, is a piece of his soul imprinted on concrete.

And if you share his love for body art? God.

If you love the idea of tattoos, or if it’s your first time and you decide you want him to be the one to do it… Mikey is going to lose his mind. He’ll squeal with excitement, hug you, and before you even realize it, he’ll already be showing you sketches, ideas, and designs he probably drew long before you ever even brought up the topic.

Because deep down, all Mikey wants is to leave his mark on the world.

And if you ever let him leave his mark on you…

Well.

That will only be another sign that his love is eternal.

Being with Mikey is like being on cloud nine.

Because he’s always on cloud nine.

He’s a dreamer, a free spirit, someone who would rather see life through rose-colored glasses than face the harshness of reality. His mind is always drifting between ideas, jokes, and melodies only he seems to hear.

But don’t let his carefree nature fool you.

Mikey isn’t stupid. Not even close.

In fact, he’s extremely smart. A genius in his own right. But unlike Donnie, who channels his intellect into science and technology, or Leo, who applies it to strategy, Mikey just… doesn’t see the need to prove it all the time.

Because being smart also means knowing when to relax.

Sometimes he seems easygoing, like nothing can truly affect him. But when it comes to you… when it comes to protecting you…

Everything changes.

Because Mikey is protective. Extremely protective.

He knows where he stands.

He knows he lives in a world where people like him shouldn’t exist. Where villains lurk in every shadowed corner of the city, where darkness hides dangers most people don’t even realize are there.

Because every time he goes out on patrol, he sees firsthand just how cruel the world can be.

And it’s not his fault that he’d rather stay in the clouds than face that reality.

But then, there’s you.

You are his anchor. His connection to the real world.

Because when things get bad, when the city feels darker than usual, when reality weighs too heavy on his shoulders…

You are the one who reminds him why he keeps fighting.

Why he keeps patrolling.

Because every time he faces danger, it’s not just out of duty. It’s not just because he’s a hero.

It’s because he wants to make this world—this city—a better place. For you.

And on the nights when he comes back to the lair after seeing the worst the city has to offer—the fights, the crimes, the people suffering—he stays up, restless.

And he asks Donnie.

“Why is there so much bad in the streets, bro?”

For once, his voice is serious. His gaze, shadowed.

Because, even if he doesn’t always show it, deep down, he’s still a kid who wants to believe the world can be good. That people can be better.

And until that happens…

He’ll keep fighting.

For the city.

For his family.

For you.

But on nights like this…

On nights like this, reality seeps through the cracks of his optimism.

And it drowns him.

Knock, knock, knock.

At first, his persistence doesn’t surprise you. Mikey always knocks on your window with energy, his impatience buzzing in every tap.

But this time, it’s different.

There’s something in the rhythm, in the desperation of his knuckles against the glass.

Something that sends a chill down your spine.

When you rush to open it, you barely have time to react before he pulls you into his arms.

And Mikey has always been physical, always been drawn to touch.

But this isn’t his usual enthusiastic hug.

This one is desperate.

He holds you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear between his arms. He’s trembling. His breathing is erratic, his chest rising and falling too fast, and when he rests his head against your chest, you realize just how hard his heart is pounding.

He’s trying to hear yours.

He’s trying to make sure you’re still alive.

And when he lifts his head, when his blue eyes finally meet yours, you see something in them you rarely ever see.

Fear.

Real fear.

Not the kind he fakes when watching a horror movie just so he can pull you close and laugh. Not the playful fear when Raph threatens to smack him upside the head.

No.

This is deeper.

“Mikey… what happened?” you ask, your own voice shaking slightly.

He doesn’t answer right away.

His lips part, but nothing comes out. He just swallows hard and closes his eyes, as if trying to erase what he saw. As if trying to convince himself it wasn’t real.

But it was.

And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, unusually serious.

“A patrol…” he starts, but his voice breaks. He runs a shaky hand over his face, inhaling unsteadily before trying again.

“We were on the rooftops. I… I was messing with Raph. You know, the usual.”

He tries to smile, but he can’t.

“And then I heard it.”

A lump forms in his throat.

“A scream.”

Your body tenses.

Mikey bites his lip.

“I jumped to the next building. I looked around. And then…”

He pauses.

Clenching his fists.

Clenching his jaw.

Because he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to relive it.

But he has to let it out.

“She had your hair,” he whispers.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“And my mind…” he grimaces. “My mind played tricks on me. I saw…”

He doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t need to.

Because his eyes, his broken expression, tell you everything you need to know.

For a second, in the darkness of the night, in that filthy alleyway… Mikey saw you in her place.

And it felt like his world was ending.

His hands tighten around you, as if—now that he’s here, now that he can see you, touch you—he needs to convince himself that you’re safe.

That you’re real.

“Mikey…” you whisper, gently running your hand over his shell, trying to soothe him.

But he just buries his face into the curve of your neck.

Because he knows that, yes, you’re safe now.

But he also knows how cruel the world can be.

Mikey feels too much.

He’s a storm of emotions trapped inside a shell that’s too small to contain them all.

And right now, those emotions are spilling over.

Because the thought of losing you, the mere possibility that something could take you away from him, is consuming him.

He would feel… betrayed.

Because the world gave him something so beautiful, so bright, so perfect—you. And then what? Would it just rip you away without a second thought?

No.

He wouldn’t let it.

So he buries his head in your hair and takes a deep breath.

Your scent soothes him.

And terrifies him all at once.

Calm, because you’re still here. Because when he wraps his arms around you, you can feel how strong his hold is—like he’s trying to fuse you to him, like simply letting go could make you disappear.

And terrifying, because… what if one day, he couldn’t protect you?

His mouth finds the exposed skin of your neck, and he lets out a shaky sigh. Kisses—soft at first. Slow. As if each one were a silent plea. As if every brush of his lips against your skin was an unspoken promise that he would never let anything happen to you.

And then… everything feels hot.

Too hot.

Need consumes him all at once, like a fire burning through everything in its path. His hand grips your waist too tightly, like he needs to make sure you’re real.

And suddenly, there’s too much clothing.

You feel it too.

But Mikey has never been impatient.

Not with you.

He likes to take his time, to savor every moment, every reaction, every little gasp when his fingers explore your skin. He loves the anticipation, the way your breath quickens as his lips leave a trail of kisses down your abdomen.

Down to your hips.

Down to the soft skin of your inner thighs.

His fingers grip your flesh, holding you in place, and his warm breath brushes against the most sensitive part of your body.

He devours you with the same passion with which he loves the world.

With the same devotion he pours into music, into his art, into the adrenaline of skateboarding.

And tonight…

Tonight, it’s even more intense.

Because he needs to remind himself that you’re still here.

That you’re still in his hands.

Mikey is touch and sweetness.

His fingers trace your skin like he’s sketching in his notebook, like every caress is a precise brushstroke on his favorite masterpiece.

It’s him who slides the fabric of your shirt down your shoulders, who unclasps your bra with an ease that proves he’s done this far too many times.

But he doesn’t rush.

Because he wants to savor every second.

His mouth finds your collarbone first, leaving kisses that are barely there. A whisper of contact that keeps you on edge, that makes your breathing heavier before you even realize it.

And when his lips reach your shoulder blades, when his tongue barely grazes the curve of your back, a sigh escapes your lips.

Mikey pauses.

He takes a second to close his eyes and take it all in.

Your sound.

Your reaction.

The way your body shivers beneath his touch.

And when he opens his eyes again, his chest swells with pride.

He’s got you.

He’s got you right here, in his hands, melting like clay molded by his touch.

His arm curls around your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you toward the bed with the same ease with which he’d take your hand at any other time of the day.

He lays you down gently. With devotion.

And before leaning over you, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Softly.

Tenderly.

Because Mikey isn’t just passion and desire.

He’s love.

He’s devotion.

And it’s him who finds your neck again, who bites your skin with the same intensity with which he savors every moment by your side.

He feels it when you arch your back, when you cling to him instinctively.

He feels it when you become completely his.

And then he moves lower.

His warm breath glides over your skin.

His lips carve a slow, maddening path downward.

And in the midst of it all—between the kisses and the breathless sighs—his voice slips into your ear.

Muttering the most ridiculously cheesy lines he can think of.

Because if there’s something he loves more than this moment, it’s making you laugh.

And when you snort in amusement, when your laughter bubbles from your chest like the sweetest melody, Mikey knows there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

Than right here.

With you.

[kusari-san]

[stellaspectral]

Bay!Turts Find Out You’re Pregnant

💚 Bayverse Turtles/AFAB Reader 💚

A/N: I thought it was time I start posting some headcanons outside of requests. So for this, I’ll be writing mini-scenarios for each turtle. Enjoy! 😊

CWs: Mostly fluff, pregnancy, pregnancy reveal scenarios/announcements, medical content (drawing blood, needles, discussion of biology), and anxiety/fear. All characters are aged-up.

LEO

Normally, the quiet of the dojo brings comfort. But today, it feels like a heavy weight pressing in on you. Leo kneels in the center of the room, back straight, eyes closed in meditation. You hold the small plastic stick in your hand, the two pink lines on it an undeniable truth.

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Leo?”

His eyes snap open, instantly alert. He doesn’t move from his position, but his entire focus is on you. You can see the concern etching lines around his eyes as he takes in your pale face and trembling hands. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, unable to form the words. You simply walk forward and kneel in front of him, placing the positive pregnancy test on the mat between you. He looks down at it—and for a long, terrifying moment, he is perfectly still.

His face is an unreadable mask of stone. Your heart plummets. You fear you’ve broken something, that this is a complication he can’t strategize his way out of, a burden he doesn’t want. Then, he lifts his gaze from the test to your face.

His expression softens, the hard lines melting away to reveal a profound awe mixed with a flicker of fear. Not fear of you, or of the baby, but fear for you both.

“Are you … are you okay?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You nod, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down your cheek.

Carefully, Leo reaches out to gently cup your jaw, using his thumb to brush the tear away. He closes his eyes for a second, as if centering himself against a wave of overwhelming emotion. He opens them again, his eyes filled with fierce, unwavering resolve.

Then he pulls you into his arms, holding you securely against him. He holds you as if you are the most precious, fragile thing in the world. And to him, you are. “I will keep you safe,” he murmurs into your hair. “Both of you. I swear it.”

He finally pulls back, though his hands remain on your shoulders, grounding you, his leader-mind already working. “First,” he says, his voice steady, “we need to tell Splinter. He needs to know.” He looks you in the eye, seeking your agreement. When you nod, a fraction of tension leaves his body. “Then, my brothers. We’re a team. They need to be part of this. They’ll help protect you.”

He leads you from the dojo, his hand never leaving the small of your back. It’s a subtle but constant reminder: I am here. I am with you.

As you walk towards Splinter’s room, he speaks in a low tone, already forming plans. “Donnie will need to monitor your health. I’ll have him set up a medical station. We’ll need to reinforce the lair’s security. We’ll need more supplies. Also, a safe room, just in case …”

He stops before the door to his father’s room and turns to you, cupping your face in his hands. “I know this is a lot,” he says, his gaze searching yours. “But you are not in this alone. You will never be alone again. This baby … this family … it’s my new mission. My most important one.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, and leads you to Splinter’s room. Your future father-in-law sits on a meditation mat with a cup of steaming tea in front of him. He opens his eyes, his gaze knowing and kind, as if he were already expecting you.

“My son,” he greets.

Leo bows his head respectfully. “Master Splinter,” he begins, his voice formal. “We’ve come to you with news of great importance. Our family … is about to grow.”

He looks at you. You step forward, your heart pounding, as Leo places a steadying hand on your shoulder. Splinter’s whiskers twitch. He looks from his son’s face to yours, a slow smile spreading across his features.

“Ah,” he says, the single word conveying acceptance and deep, paternal joy. “This is wonderful news. A new branch on our family tree.” He gestures for you to sit. “You have brought great happiness to this house. And you, Leonardo,” he says, turning to his son, “have found a purpose beyond that of a warrior. You are going to be a father. It is a title that carries more weight than any weapon.”

Later, Leo calls a formal meeting in the dojo. Raph, Donnie, and Mikey file in. You stand beside him, his arm securely around you.

“Our mission parameters have changed,” Leo starts, his voice leaving no room for jokes. “Our top priority, above all else, is the safety of our family.” He places his hand on your stomach. “We’re going to have a child.”

The reaction is a wave of stunned silence, followed by a chorus of overlapping questions and exclamations. Leo holds up a hand, calling for order.

“Donnie, I want you running full-time medical surveillance. You are in charge of their health. Raph, you and I will re-evaluate security. Mikey … you’re on morale.” He looks at each of his brothers. “This is not a game. This is our future. We protect it together.”

In the weeks that follow, the lair subtly transforms. Your life becomes a carefully managed operation. Leo tries not to crowd you, but his presence is constant and watchful.

One evening, you find him in the living room, not watching TV, but surrounded by a stack of books: What to Expect When You’re Expecting, The Partner’s Guide to Pregnancy, Holistic Nutrition for Fetal Development.

He looks up as you enter. “Good timing,” he says, his tone serious, as if beginning a mission briefing. “I’ve cross-referenced three sources. Starting tomorrow, we’re increasing your intake of folic acid and iron. I’ve made a list. Donnie approved it.” He slides it across the table.

You smile, picking it up. “You don’t have to do all this, Leo.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies, his blue eyes unwavering. “This is my responsibility now.” He closes the book he was reading, gets up, and comes over to you. He gently places a hand on your stomach, his thumb stroking back and forth.

“I can’t fight this for you,” he says, his voice low and laced with a vulnerability he rarely shows. “I can’t take the discomfort or the risks. All I can do is prepare. All I can do is be ready for anything.” He leans down and presses his forehead against yours. “So let me. Please. Let me do what I’m good at, so you can do what only you can.”

The first time you get morning sickness, Leo is there in an instant.

You’re kneeling in front of the toilet, and you feel his large, cool hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles. He doesn’t say a word, just holds your hair back and waits with you until the wave passes. When you’re done, he hands you a damp cloth for your face and a glass of water.

“Donnie said ginger can help,” he says. “I’ll go get some.”

Later, you find him in the dojo.

But he’s not training. Instead, he’s sitting on the floor, painstakingly attempting to knit with a pair of thick needles and bright blue yarn. He’s clumsy with the delicate task, and he fumbles the stitches repeatedly, a frown of intense concentration on his face.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him. “What are you doing?” you ask softly.

He looks up, a bit startled. “It’s … for the baby,” he admits, holding up the misshapen lump of yarn. “I read that creating something for them helps with paternal bonding. I thought … a blanket.” He looks down at the tangled mess in his hands with a sigh of frustration. “It’s more difficult than wielding dual katanas.”

You walk over and sit beside him. You take the needles from his hands and show him how to loop the yarn, guiding his larger fingers with your own. He watches, focusing intently on your impromptu lesson.

Leo is not just a leader or a warrior. He is a man preparing to build a family—one awkward and perfectly loving stitch at a time.

RAPH

Raph is working out his aggression, his massive shoulders and arms slick with sweat as he pummels the worn leather of his punching bag. You stand by the doorway, the test clutched in your fist. You’ve been trying to find the right words for an hour, but there are none.

“Raph,” you say, your voice coming out meeker than you intended.

He grunts in response, not stopping his assault on the bag. “What’s up?”

“Can you … stop for a second?”

With a last punch, he stills. He turns to you, panting, and wipes his brow with the back of his wrist. “I’m kinda busy right now. What do you need?” His tone is gruff, impatient, and your courage almost fails you.

So, before you lose your nerve, you open your hand and show him the test.

He squints, his eyes trying to make out the object. Stepping closer, his gaze falls on the two pink lines. He freezes, his whole body going rigid. A storm brews behind his green eyes: confusion, shock, and something that looks like anger.

“You’re kidding me,” he growls. He turns away from you, running a hand over his head. “How? How could we be so stupid?”

His words are a punch to the gut. But you know him; his anger is often a shield for his fear. He paces for a moment, then slams his fist into the wall beside him. Then, he leans his forehead against it, shaking slightly.

“Raph,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “It’s not … you’re not mad at me, are you?”

He turns around slowly, and the anger is gone—and in its place there is a raw terror. His eyes are wide and glossy with unshed tears. In two long strides, he’s in front of you, dropping to his knees. He gently, hesitantly, places his hand on your stomach.

“Mad at you? No,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. He rests his head against your abdomen, a shudder wracking his body. “I’m terrified. How am I supposed to protect a kid in this world? How am I supposed to be a dad?” He looks up at you, his tough-guy facade completely shattered. “I’m gonna screw it up.”

You run your fingers over his head, your own tears falling. “No, you won’t.”

He shakes his head, then a new look crosses his face: determination. The fear is still there, but it’s now forged into a protective fire. He gets to his feet, pulling you into a hug.

“No one,” he says, his voice a fierce vow against your ear. “No one is ever going to hurt you. Or this baby. Ever.”

He finally pulls you away from his plastron, holding you at arm’s length. His eyes, still wide with a mix of fear and wonder, scan you from head to toe as if checking for injuries.

“You okay? You need to sit down?” he asks. Before you can answer, he’s guiding you over to an old armchair he keeps in the corner. “Don’t lift anything heavy,” he instructs, pointing a thick finger at you. “Don’t even lift anything medium. Or light. Just … let me get things for you.”

He paces again. He looks around, his eyes landing seemingly on every object, as if he’s assessing each individual threat level. “We gotta baby-proof the whole damn lair.”

He kneels in front of you again, placing his hand gently on your knee. He looks so big and powerful, yet so vulnerable. “I don’t know the first thing about being a dad,” he admits, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m probably gonna be terrible at it. But I swear, I will break anyone or anything that even thinks about hurting you.”

Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He stays on his knees for another moment before pushing himself to his feet, a man possessed by a new, singular focus. He looks around his room and now sees only a deathtrap.

“This ain’t gonna work,” he grumbles, stalking over to his dresser. He starts sweeping things into a box with loud crashing sounds. “Too many sharp edges.”

“Raph, it’s okay,” you say, standing up. “The baby isn’t coming tomorrow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he growls, not looking at you. “Gotta start now.” He’s not angry anymore; he’s channeling his fear into protective action.

The loud noise draws his brothers’ attention. Leo appears in the doorway, frowning. “Raph, what are you doing?”

Raph looks at him, his face set in a mask of determination. “Stay back. You’re tracking sewer filth all over the place.”

“What are you talking about?” Donnie asks, peering around Leo.

Raph gestures with his head toward you. “They’re pregnant. And none of you clumsy morons are getting near them until I’ve sanitized this whole sewer.”

Leo’s eyes widen in understanding as Donnie’s jaw drops. Mikey, peeking from the back, lets out a gasp of delight. Raph ignores them all, turning his attention back to cleaning up his room.

“And you,” he says, pointing at you again, his voice suddenly softer. “Go sit on the couch. Where it’s soft.”

Raph has taken his ‘baby-proofing’ mission to an extreme.

Soft foam padding is zip-tied to every sharp corner of every table in the lair. A bright yellow safety gate—clearly stolen from a construction site—now blocks the entrance to the dojo. Any object smaller than a pizza box has been deemed a ‘choking hazard’ and secured in a locked footlocker.

“Seriously, dude? You padded the remote?” Mikey complains, holding up the foam-covered device.

“It’s got sharp corners!” Raph barks back, not looking up from what he’s occupied with in the kitchen. It’s a disaster. He’s trying to make you and the baby a nutrient-rich smoothie. But the blender’s powerful setting could pulverize concrete, and questionably colored sludge is splattered across the kitchen wall.

He gives up with a frustrated growl, shoving a bowl of dry cereal at you instead. “Here. It’s safe.”

Later that night, when the lair is quiet, he finds you on the couch. He sits on the floor beside you, not saying a word. After a long moment, he hesitantly leans over and rests his head against your stomach.

“What are you doing, Raph?” you ask.

“Listenin’,” he mumbles into your shirt. “Just … checkin’ on the little guy. Or gal. Makin’ sure everything’s okay in there.” He stays like that for a long time, listening for a heartbeat he knows he can’t hear yet, guarding the most fragile thing he has ever loved.

Your first real craving hits you like a freight train at two in the morning.

You wake up with a desperate, all-consuming need for pickles and strawberry ice cream. You pad into the kitchen to find Raph asleep in the armchair he’s dragged into the living room. The creaking fridge door wakes him instantly, despite your trying to be quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes snapping open. “You hurt?”

“No,” you mumble, embarrassed. “I just … really need pickles.”

He stares at you for a second, then he’s on his feet. “Pickles. Got it.”

He rummages through the fridge and produces a jar. Then he watches as you scoop a huge spoonful of ice cream into a bowl. Before he can say a word, you drop three pickle spears right on top of it. His face scrunches up in disgust.

“You’re … gonna eat that?”

You take a huge bite, and a wave of pure bliss washes over you. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say with your mouth full.

Raph watches you, his expression a mixture of revulsion and utter fascination. He shakes his head, but a crooked smile spreads across his face. “You’re weird,” he says, his voice full of affection.

He sits across from you at the table, just watching you eat your monstrous creation. He doesn’t understand it, not even a little bit. But you needed it.

And for Raph right now, that’s all that matters.

DONNIE

You find Donnie exactly where you expect him to be: in his lab. He’s muttering to himself as he’s soldering some new device he’s come up with for the team for missions, his custom-made goggles down while he works.

“Donnie?”

“Hm? One second. This has been giving me some anomalous readings on recent tests, and I need to make sure it’s ready for …” He trails off as he turns and sees the look on your face. He immediately puts the iron down. “What’s wrong? You’re exhibiting signs of acute emotional distress. Heart rate elevated, pupils dilated … are you ill?”

You offer a weak smile. “Something like that.” You walk over and place the pregnancy test on his workbench.

He picks it up, his analytical gaze scanning the object. “A home pregnancy test. It’s indicating a positive result.” He looks from the test to you, a frown of concentration on his face. “Fascinating. The statistical probability of successful inter-species conception between a human and a—”

“Donnie,” you cut him off gently. “It’s real.”

He pushes his goggles up to his forehead. “Data requires verification,” he says, but his voice is a little shaky as he gestures to one of his chairs. “If you’ll permit me? A simple blood test will confirm the presence of human chorionic gonadotropin.”

You sit, allowing him to draw a small vial of blood. He moves with practiced ease, but you notice a slight tremor in his hands. He puts the sample into his centrifuge, his eyes glued to the monitor as lines of data scroll past. Then, a graph appears on the main screen with a bright, clear spike.

Confirmation.

Donnie stares at it, his mouth agape. The brilliant scientist is gone, replaced by a wide-eyed turtle completely overwhelmed by the reality of the data he cannot deny. Still, an uncontainable smile spreads across his face. And it’s the happiest you have ever seen him.

“It’s … it’s true,” he breathes, looking at you with pure wonder. “It’s a biological miracle! The genetic implications are astounding! We’ll have to monitor your health constantly. I can build a nursery with a self-regulating atmosphere! And a mobile that projects the constellations! And I’ll need to develop hypoallergenic diaper cream!”

He’s rambling, grabbing a tablet and already sketching out plans, his initial shock transforming into joyous, frantic preparation. Then he looks at you, his eyes shining. “We’re having a baby. Scientifically, this is the most amazing thing that has ever happened.”

His joyful rambling doesn’t stop; it snowballs.

He pulls you over to his main console, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “Look, look!” he says, pointing to a screen filled with complex biological diagrams. “Based on your hormonal levels, you’re approximately six weeks along. The embryo is developing its primary neural pathways! It’s … perfect.”

He says the word ‘perfect’ with a kind of reverence you’ve only ever heard him use for a perfectly executed thermodynamic cycle or an impeccably synthesized chemical compound. He brings up another window, already titled ‘Project Progeny: Developmental Plan.’ It’s a color-coded timeline with projected milestones, nutritional requirements, and even a list of potential educational stimuli.

“I can synthesize a prenatal vitamin with a 100% bioavailability rating,” he continues, typing furiously with one hand. “We’ll need to do regular ultrasounds. I can modify my medical scanner to produce holographic 4D images that will allow us to watch the baby grow in real time!”

The sheer joy radiating from him is almost overwhelming.

He stops typing and turns to you, his excitement softening. He gently takes your hand and places it on the monitor, over a glowing diagram of something no bigger than a poppy seed. “Our baby,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he covers your hand with his own. “Our beautiful, impossible, statistically miraculous baby.”

Drawn by the commotion, his brothers arrive.

“Donnie, what broke now?” Raph asks, walking in with Leo and Mikey behind him.

“On the contrary!” Donnie exclaims with a grin so wide it looks almost manic. “Gentlemen, observe!”

With a flourish, he projects the holographic 4D image into the center of the room. A tiny, glowing, tadpole-like shape floats in the air, a minuscule light pulsing within it.

“What is that, a space blob?” Mikey asks, poking a finger through the hologram.

“That,” Donnie says, his voice brimming with pride as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, “is my child.”

His brothers stand in dumbfounded silence. Raph squints at the image, then at you, his expression unreadable. Mikey’s jaw hangs open.

Leo takes a step forward, his leader-facade melting away into astonishment. “Donnie … is this real?”

“The data is unequivocal!” Donnie beams. He pulls up the ‘Project Progeny’ timeline on another screen. “According to my projections, the gestational period should be approximately forty weeks, though inter-species variables may apply. I’ve already outlined a complete nutritional regimen. For instance, pizza will now require a topping of steamed, iron-rich spinach and a strict reduction in high-sodium pepperoni.”

Mikey lets out a horrified gasp. “No pepperoni? Dude, that’s child abuse!”

Donnie just smiles, his focus entirely on you. He gently places his hand over yours on your stomach, his scientific mind completely captivated by the one miracle he could never have invented. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Your life is now governed by data.

The first thing Donnie did was craft a sleek silver bracelet for you to wear. It’s not jewelry; it’s a non-invasive biometric monitoring device. It tracks your heart rate, blood pressure, sleep cycles, and nutritional intake, feeding a constant stream of information to his main server.

You find him in his lab, staring intently at a series of brightly colored charts on his monitor. “Excellent!” he declares as you approach. “Your blood oxygen levels are optimal, and your caloric absorption is up by 12.3% since we implemented the new dietary protocols.”

He sounds more like a proud scientist than a partner, but then he turns his chair to face you, and his expression softens. The inventor recedes, and the loving father-to-be takes his place.

“I know this is a lot,” he says, gesturing to the screens of data that represent you. “The monitoring, the supplements, the constant questions. It’s just … my mind needs problems to solve. And this is the most wonderful, complex, beautiful problem I have ever encountered.”

He wheels his chair closer and gently takes your hand, his thumb stroking the bracelet he made. “But I know this isn’t just data.” He places his other hand on your stomach, his touch reverent. “This is a person. Our person.” He looks up at you, his intelligent hazel eyes full of profound love. “And I want to ensure both of you are safe and well.”

You’re in the lab, watching Donnie calibrate a new sensor. He’s explaining the intricacies of it when you suddenly feel it: a tiny, unmistakable flutter deep inside you. You gasp and press your hand to your abdomen.

Donnie stops mid-sentence. “What is it? My readings are all stable.”

“No, it isn’t me,” you say, your eyes wide with wonder. “The baby. I think … I think they just moved.”

His composure shatters. His eyes go wide, and he scrambles out of his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet. He kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over your stomach, afraid to touch. “For real? The first instance of fetal quickening?” His voice is a breathless mix of clinical terminology and awe.

“Put your hand here,” you say, guiding his hand to the spot.

You both wait in silence, barely breathing, his intense gaze fixed on your stomach. For a long minute, there’s nothing. Then, you both feel it: a tiny, distinct tap against his palm.

Donnie lets out a choked sound. He looks up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “Hello,” he whispers to your stomach, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m your father.” He rests his forehead against you, his glasses pressing into your shirt. “And I already think you are the most brilliant discovery in the history of the world.”

MIKEY

In the lair’s living room, Mikey is button-mashing his way through a fighting game. You sit beside him, a small gift-wrapped box in your lap. Your heart thunders against your ribs as you wait for him to finish his match.

He whoops as ‘PLAYER 1 WINS’ flashes across the screen, and he looks at you, grinning. “Did you see that finishing move?!”

“It was amazing, Mikey,” you say, smiling. “I, uh, have something for you.”

His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “For me? Awesome!” He takes the box from you and rips the wrapping paper off with zero patience, tossing it aside. He lifts the lid and pulls out the contents: a single, tiny baby bootie, small enough to fit on his finger.

He stares at it with a look of complete confusion on his face before slipping it onto his thumb. “Aww, it’s like a little sock for my thumb! Is this a new kind of controller cozy? It’s super cute, but what’s it for?”

You take a deep breath. “Read the card at the bottom of the box.”

He fumbles for the small card and reads it aloud. “‘Get ready for a player three, dude.’” He looks from the card to the bootie on his thumb, then to your face, his brow furrowing. The cogs are turning. Slowly. Then his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“Wait. A … a player three?” he whispers, his voice filled with disbelief.

You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying. To your relief, his face breaks out into the biggest, most joyful smile you have ever witnessed.

A loud, ecstatic “WHOA!” erupts from him. In one fluid movement, he scoops you up off the couch, spinning you around in a hug that lifts you off your feet before he remembers to be gentle and sets you down carefully.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the lair. Tears are streaming down his face, mixing with his laughter. “A baby! Our baby! DUDE! This is the best thing ever! We’re gonna have a kid! I’m gonna teach them how to skateboard and make the perfect pizza, and we’ll have a family game night every night!”

He drops to his knees in front of you and presses his ear to your stomach. “Hello in there! It’s your dad! Get ready for the most fun you’re ever gonna have!” He looks up at you, his face a perfect picture of pure happiness and love. “We’re gonna be a family.”

He doesn’t let go of you, instead keeping you in a gentle, warm hug as he beams down at your stomach. “A baby! A real-life baby!” He laughs, a joyful sound that bounces off the walls. Suddenly, he lets go, his eyes wide with a new sense of urgency. “We gotta tell everyone!”

Before you can even protest or suggest a calmer approach, he’s on his feet. “LEO! RAPH! DONNIE! GET IN HERE! IT’S AN EMERGENCY! A SUPER-AWESOME, NON-DANGEROUS EMERGENCY!”

You hear the telltale sounds of his brothers scrambling, expecting an attack.

Leo slides into the room first, katanas drawn. Raph is right behind him, sais in hand, followed by Donnie, holding a wrench like a weapon. They freeze when they see you, safe on the couch, while Mikey is bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’s about to explode.

“What is it, Mikey? Are we under attack?” Leo demands, scanning the room.

Mikey just points at you, his grin wider than you’ve ever seen it. “Even better! We’re having a baby!”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Leo’s swords lower slightly. Raph’s jaw goes slack while Donnie drops his wrench with a loud clatter.

Mikey runs back to your side, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs in a hug. He looks up at you, his bright blue eyes shining with happy tears. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he whispers, as if just now truly understanding the words. “I’m gonna be the funnest dad in the universe.”

Raph breaks the stunned silence in the room. “You knocked them up?!” he blurts out, half-accusatory, half-impressed.

Mikey rises to his feet. “Isn’t it the best news ever?!” He looks at his brothers, expecting them to join his celebration.

Leo sheathes his swords, the tension draining out of him, replaced by a slow smile. “Mikey … congratulations.”

Donnie is already in motion, grabbing a scanner from his belt. “Fascinating. I’ll need to run a full diagnostic.”

Mikey waves him off. “Later! Now is for celebrating!” He turns to you, his excitement a tangible force in the room. “We gotta think of names! What about Casey if it’s a boy? Or April if it’s a girl? Ooh! Or what about—”

He rambles off a bunch of names, then grabs his boombox and turns it on. He dances around the living room, pulling you up to join him, though his movements are now much gentler and more careful. He spins you softly, his hands holding yours as if they were made of glass.

He stops dancing and pulls you into another hug, resting his chin on your head. His brothers watch, their initial shock eventually giving way to shared happiness.

“I’m gonna build the coolest crib,” he whispers into your hair, his voice suddenly serious beneath the fun. “And I’ll be there for you. For everything. I promise.” He pulls back, his eyes sparkling with love and laughter. “Our little one is gonna have the best life. I’ll make sure of it.”

Since the initial news, Mikey’s excitement has not dimmed.

In fact, he’s found several creative outlets. The corner of the living room that was once a chaotic pile of video games and comic books is now officially the ‘Baby Zone.’ He has started on a mural, the base coat a cheerful, sunny yellow. He’s already sketched out a design featuring four turtle tots learning to skateboard on a rainbow.

He insists on sharing everything with his future child. When he eats a slice of pizza, he holds it near your belly first. “You gotta get used to the good stuff early!” When he watches his favorite cartoons, he turns up the volume so “the baby can hear the theme song.”

This afternoon, he’s sitting with his legs crossed, holding a pair of headphones to your stomach. The muffled, energetic beat of his favorite band leaks out.

“Mikey, are you sure that’s good for them?” you ask with a laugh.

“Totally!” he says with absolute certainty. “It’s about rhythm! And energy!” He removes the headphones and grins, tapping your stomach gently with his finger. “You hear that? That’s your dad’s favorite band. You’re gonna love ‘em.”

He looks up at you, and for a moment, the playful joking fades from his eyes, replaced by a surprising seriousness. “I wanna be their first friend,” he says quietly.He leans forward and talks to your belly again, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, get ready for fun. Your dad’s got it all planned out.”

Later, Mikey is reading to the baby. He’s sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, holding a colorful comic book up to your belly. He’s doing all the voices, his tone rising and falling dramatically with the action on the page.

“… and then, with a mighty KABOOM, the hero saved the city! The end!” he finishes. He sets the book down and pats your stomach gently. “Wasn’t that awesome? That’s what we do. We’re the good guys.”

He leans his head against you, getting comfortable. “You know,” he says, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “My brothers … Your uncles. They’re all gonna teach you cool stuff. Leo will teach you how to be a leader. Donnie will teach you how to be a genius. Raph will teach you how to be strong.” He pauses, and for a moment, a flicker of insecurity crosses his face.

“Me? I’m gonna teach you how to be happy,” he says softly. “I’ll teach you how to laugh when things are scary, and how to find the fun in everything. I’ll teach you it’s okay to be silly and dance and do whatever your heart wants.”

He looks up at you, his eyes earnest and full of a love so pure it takes your breath away.

“That’s my job. I’m gonna be the fun dad.” He grins, his usual sunny confidence returning. “And we’re gonna be the best team ever. You, me, and our little half-shell hero.”

[dysfunctional-doodle]

B Team, Bayverse Edition!

-> Commissions || My Kofi || Tip Jar :) <-

-> Fanfic Commissions! <-

Yes, it’s very rough and messy and ugh. I am very sorry about throwing out this after ages without posting, I just am very busy with work stuff as you can probably tell lol. This was stitched together over a month in a few minute breaks at a time so yeah it’s uh…a sketch.

[chadobi]

“Just Another Night in the Lab”

Bayverse Donatello x Reader

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

———————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻

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

And that’s when it hit him.

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

And God, he loved you for it.

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

He looked over again.

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

And he was so gone

“Y/N?” he said quietly.

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

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

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

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

His hand lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Your eyes met.

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

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

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

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

Your smile softened. “Me too, Donnie.”

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

Because in that one small, quiet moment —

You knew.

And so did he.

[ihaznoclue]

May I request a bayverse Tmnt Fluff

Maybe with Raph, Mikey and Leo

Where the find reader sleeping on the couch as they waited for them to return from patrol, causing them to feel bad because they told them they couldn't come on patrol as it was dangerous so they stay with them until they wake up or that they fall asleep with them

┌─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───┐

Pairings -> Raph, Mikey, Leo x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> They feel bad after saying that you couldn't come with them on patrol and they spot you asleep on the couch

Genre -> Fluff

└─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───┘

RAPHAEL

The air was still thick with the remain of night's Patrol and the fight of the foot clan Raph have came back from. He's been out there for a while now and his mind has always been sharp and focused while lurking the street to make people safe. It kept him going, the thrill of fighting crime.

The mission had been a little bit tougher than he has expected but eventually him and his brothers got the job done.

Even his fists were sore from the punching he has thrown but nothing could be prepared him for the guilt that has now hit him while he made his way back to the lair.

Going down the ladder as he landed on the ground, shaking his arms to fight the feeling off of him.

He remember telling you to stay behind as he thought it was safer for you to stay at the lair where nothing will happen to you. He knew the streets were quite dangerous at night and a lot of crime happens. He did hate seeing the face you made when he told you that but it was for the best.

But now as soon as he entered the main area where the 'living room' and the kitchen, he felt something, something felt wrong to him.

It was slightly dim as some candles were lit as master splinter like, but his heart immediately sank, there you were curled up on the couch, you wrapped in a blanket as you slept away.

Your expression was peaceful, he knew that you waited for him but not this long.

He didn't want to make you wait up on him like this, he did tell you stay behind but here you were, sleeping on the couch for how long you waited for him to return.

"Damn it.. You actually waited for me haven't you?"

He sighed as he was now in front of you, crouching down to get a better look of you, he felt guilty and selfish

His eyes softened as he got a look of your peaceful face resting, he lifted his hand to brush away some hair, careful to not disturb your peace.

"I didn't want you to worry, I just wanted you to be safe. But.. I never wanted you to feel like this.."

Raph then sighed again as he stood up ready to carry you back to his bed, it would be more comfy then the couch

He tucked his arms under you as he slowly and carefully lifted you up from the couch, you shifted a little and then became to nuzzle into him and his warmth

This caused him to freeze a bit as he thought he woken you up but then continued to go to his room

"Sleep well"

MICHELANGELO

Mikey tucked his nunchucks away as he made his way through the sewers, climbing down the ladder and softly made a landing

He was exhausted from tonight's patrol but he still had a little bit of hype in his body, His brothers have already gone to their rooms to rewind and rest.

Mikey's thought couldn't keep wondering back to the thought of you and him telling you to stay back for safety.

Now he stood in the main area of the lair as he looked around, the quiet made the lair look dead, then something immediately caught the corner of his eyes as he spotted someone sleeping on the couch.

It was you

You were on the couch, sleeping peaceful with a blanket wrapped around you, he felt terrible that you waited for him to return from tonight's patrol

He didn't think you would wait for him

He slowly kneeled in front of you as he sighed in worry

"Aww, Angelcakes you waited for me?"

Then he then lowered himself even more to sit on the ground as he got a good look of you, his gaze never leaving your face. The thought of him telling you that it wasn't safe made him think that he forcefully to make you stay, and that didn't sit right with him

He knew you were there to always help him and his brother and now you were here, trusting him to come back safely

"I should've snuck you with me.."

He then reached out as he petted your head a bit, his fingers lingered softly on your skin for a slight moment. He couldn't help but smile when you leaned in on his touch.

His heart melted at that

Now he sat there for a little bit more until he thinks it was time to go to sleep himself since he was exhausted

But he debated if he should wake you up and go to his room with him or maybe he could just sleep here with you until morning

"I'm gonna stay.. I can't be bothered"

Mikey then stood up as he picked you up carefully then back down and laid you on top of him, he then sighed in relief as you didn't wake up

Now he started to fall asleep himself, having a hand on your back, staying with you and he knew you'll wake up to see him back

LEONARDO

The sound of leo's footsteps echoed through the sewers as he finally made it back to the lair

The weight of night's Patrol was still clinging onto him like a koala, never leaving the tree

It was a tough one as he went out alone for his training, he knew everyone would be asleep by now, he was eager to get some rest himself

He started to wonder over to his room but heard soft breathing form the couch, thinking it was one of his brother but noticed they always snored in their sleep

So he went to take a look and there you were, sleeping on the couch curled up with no blanket on you

How could you sleep in the cold like this?

He remember telling you to go home and that he needed to go to patrol himself as for his training

But he didn't think you would stay here to wait for him

Now he felt guilty for making you wait for so long

"I told you to go home.. geez you really are stubborn, blossom.."

He watched the way your chest went up and down from your slow and deep breathing, your body was clearly shaking form the slight touch of coldness

Leo couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you by pushing you away when all you wanted was you to be there for him

He then leaned down from the top of the couch as he brushed some hair away from your face that made your face scrunch up a bit

He softly smiled at that, he still felt the warmth from your skin, he now needed to get you back to his bed and keep you warm

He walked around the couch to grabbed you and lift you up carefully to not wake you up from your peaceful slumper

Finally he made it to his room as he placed you down gently and wrap you with his blue blanket

He then petted your head softly and then went to sleep himself

-A<3

[rabbiturtletunnel]

I got motivated again

[oozedninjas]

Spring fleeting

A/N: Fucking rude of me not to have fed my pretty girlies in this much while. In compensation, I offer you: a mating season special!!! You can shoot in a prompt and I'll turn it into a short smut ;) ily!!

Warnings: 18+ / MDNI / Smut / NSFW / edging, orgasm denial, dom!turtles, oral sex / General verses / Mutant guys are 25-29 y/o and they're suffering from spring heat!

Leo doesn't want to breathe because if he does he might get carried away by your scent. He watches from a safe distance never leaving sight of your neck and shoulders. Fuck, he wants to bite them, suck on them, lick a stripe over your pulse line that would cut your breath sharply. Shit, he wants you to hold from the upper end of his shell, begging. Before he registers he's calling your name. Let him lure you elsewhere, yeah?

Raph loves fucking you stupid. Your eyes closed and gaped mouth have him on the verge of coming. Words scarcely coherent enough to moan for more. He's balls deep in you, aching to fill you up once more. But Raph edges himself, just for the bliss of numbing everything away with each crashing orgasm. 

He trembles inside you, cum dripping from your abused cunt as he thrusts. Fuck you love him, you're crazy about him, and he just grins, amused at your stupid failed attempts to communicate it.

Donatello's knowledge of each sensitive part in your body borders on mean when he uses it like this. From your neck to your back, to your lower half. He's held you still for what feels like ages, nibbling, marking, and kissing the bruise after. But none of what he's done equals the cruel way he's sucking your clit: just enough to make your back arch, but never quite granting release. 

Begging wouldn't suffice, it wasn't about that. It was about him showing you how fucking good he could make you feel if you let him, how hard you could come just by his expert tongue. And shit, who are you kidding? You fucking adore it.

Mikey loves how hot you look riding his cock. He's got the best of views! Everything in you is perfect. He reaches up, palming every bit of skin he can get his hands on, squeezing, pinching, scratching. He loves it when his touch makes you weak enough to lose the rhythm, seemingly tumbling over his plastron, finally giving out. 

He's softer when he's had enough, and brings your mouth to his gently, big hands covering your back, pushing you down to his chest before he thrusts up. He reaches that sweet spot so easily like this, and your clit rubs so deliciously over the lower part of his plastron. Come on, don't hold back, you don't gotta do nothing, just relax.