#tmnt bay raph

[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!

[fluffytriceratops]

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 [𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞]

notes: raph reacting to y/n pulling him in for a kiss by his belt. last one~! asjfdgidhkgbnsalkgnadkbnla'dnvb;oadbnladkbf- that's how i feel. :D 

click here to read leo's ver.

click here to read donnie's ver.

click here to read mikey's ver.

warnings: mature language, nsfw mentions/sexual themes.

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1

(if you wish to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to lemme know and i'll happily tag you!)

i love you all sm! have a lovely day/night! i'm sending you the very many virtual hugs!! <33

---

- he would be stunned at first. not expecting the move.

- his hands would immediately grab for your waist, pulling you even closer against him as if it was second nature. which to him, it was.

- you could feel his lips quirk up in a smirk during the kiss.

- his grip would tighten, fingers digging into you a bit.

- when you'd pull away, you would copy his smirk with one of your own. then you'd wink as you slipped from his grasp and moved to walk away.

- he would blink himself out of his trance and grab your waist, growling in your ear.

- "careful there, y/n..." he'd start, lowering himself so his face was inches away from yours. "that's how babies are made." he would finish, nipping at your ear.

- "don't be daft, raphael.." you'd whisper, looking up at him from under your lashes.

- your hands find themselves around his neck and you twist his mask tails between your fingers. "take me to the bedroom and i'll show you how babies are really made."

- you don't have to tell him twice.

- you barely get the chance to finish your sentence before raph throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

- he's just glad his family is out, because after all the pleasurable noises he's able to slip out of you, his family would be scarred for sure.

- then again, you were so loud, calling his name like that, he was sure they'd be able to hear you all the way from april's.

- he wouldn't complain though, not for a damn second. he loved every single moment of it.

- every time you lolled your head back.

- every time you gripped the sheets or clawed at his skin.

- every single fucking sound that escaped your perfect lips.

- the way your back would arch.

- the vulgar cursing that fell out of that pretty mouth of yours.

- the way your legs would squeeze around him.

- he wanted it all.

- and he sure as hell got it.

- not that you would complain either. you loved it just as much.

- sometimes, you loved it even more.

- the two of you would end up showering together, which would result in steamy shower sex.

- by the end of the whole ordeal, you highly doubted you'd be able to walk at all the next day.

- but you weren't worried, cuz raph assured you he'd take good care of you.

- and he always did.

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Human bay raph in my redesign clothes

Click for unfuzziness

[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 🙏

[shootingstarsue]

[yorshie]

sees your requests open and slides in like a penguin on ice 🧊

possibly showing off a new swimsuit in front of the turtles in hopes it gets Raph's attention because every other hint you've dropped has gone wayyyy over his head (...or so you assume) 👀

showers you in love and sparkles!!! ✨️💕🫂

Kkkkkeeeeeiiiiisssshhhhhhaaaaaaa. *clings to you like a wet noodle*

I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my requests and gasped when I saw your name. >:3. I gladly shower in the love and sparkles, and hope you forgive me for the amount of silent pining I’m about to shove down everyone’s throat. lol.

Bay Raph x fem reader (I think the only gendered terms are two pieces bathing suit but idk does that count in 2025? Question mark? Idk I’m tired)

SFW

Ok. Breathe. You can do this.

The mid-morning sun cut through the lacy curtains and across the tiny vanity surrounding the sink. The bathroom you were holed up in was better suited for the sixties, with the chair rail topped with faded, flowered wallpaper and the worn floor that couldn’t quite hide the handmade nails driven in to hold the boards in place. You knew plans had been made and then discarded over and over concerning updating it, but no one could quite agree on how to update it, and hardly anyone came up to use the little bathroom cooped up at the end of the hallway to be reminded about it.

Which was precisely why you were holed up in it now. Even though the door hadn’t locked for years, it was the safest place to hype yourself up.

You were failing miserably.

“You got this,” You told your reflection for what felt like the hundredth time, gaze flicking down below your chin before resolutely jerking back up to your face.

A second ruled by your thundering heartbeat, before you gave in. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

It’s just a bathing suit. You reasoned with yourself. Just a bathing suit, modest even for two piece standards if you were being honest but…

God, it….. it was so red.

The exact same shade of red as Raph’s bandana.

You’d hunted for that exact shade of color, of course. You practically had it tattooed to the back of your eyelids, had lost countless hours imagining what the feel of that bandana would be like under your fingers if you were only brave enough to reach out.

You’d contemplated it, once, when leaning against the back of the couch while bantering with Raphael. Had thought about just… reaching out, twirling the nearest loop of fabric about your fingers and wrist like it was something commonplace, something you were allowed to do-

But your bravery had deserted you the moment Raph had looked over his shoulder at you, eyes crinkled soft in silent laughter, relaxed and carefree in the conversation. Something you had thought impossible when you had first met him.

You couldn’t have handled it if that soft look had disappeared, if the armored walls he had slowly lowered during the time you’d known him snapped back into place.

You stared at the red bathing suit again, tugging on it gently in the hopes it might cover up more perceived flaws, like it might answer your unspoken questions, like it might give insight on whether or not this would work.

None of the other things you’d chanced to show Raph how you’d felt had worked, after all.

You wanted… You just wanted to show him…

You let out a pained, warbling curse, head dropping to rest in your hands as you contemplated sneaking back to the room you were sharing with April and pretending you were too sick to go downstairs.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, a muffled voice quickly to follow. “Hey, princess, ready to go?”

You startled, badly, tripping on the worn, warm rug laid out in front of the claw footed tub and having to catch yourself to keep from going completely ass over tea kettle into the cold porcelain.

It hurt, no matter what, slipping on the rim and sliding into the hollow, swim suit bottom riding up painfully on the descent.

Raph called your name out in question while you internally panicked, staring at the door while dread coiled oily and dark beneath your sternum.

”I’m- fine!” You called back, wincing internally when your voice cracked in a lie between the two words.

Evidently Raph heard the tell as well. “uh, huh. Yeah, sure. Try that again, peaches. You good?” There came a testing rattle of the doorknob, and your heart leapt. “You didn’t fall, right?”

“Don’t-“ you struggled to get back on your feet, hands and hip slipping on the tub with a loud squeak when your skin stuck to the cold surface. “Don’t open the door!”

The testing jiggle of the doorknob stopped, and you could feel the stare Raph was leveling at the door through his pointed silence. “You did fall.”

Accusing. You flinched at the sound, stumbling towards the door and leaning both hands against it like that might succeed in keeping him out if he decided otherwise.

“I promise I’m fine!” You hurriedly looked around for your T-shirt, anything, a towel for god’s sake, to wrap yourself in. A helpful thought flitted through your mind that you had left your clothes on your borrowed bed to avoid the exact scenario of trying to hide the bathing suit, and your head thunked against the door in internal shame.

Raph shifted on the other side, feet scuffing slightly. You could hear the sound of stiff fabric rubbing against scales, and realized he must have been on his way out to the pond when he came to check on you, the stiff sound of swim shorts unmistakable.

“Ok…. Well, I got a towel for ya, if you want it, so you don’t have to sit on the grass when we’re done swimming. You ready to go?” It was a lot, you knew, for him to give up the line of questioning. It made the answer you were about to give him sour all the more.

You gripped the door knob tight, your other hand clenching tight enough to drive your nails into your skin as you waffled. “I- I don’t think I can.”

A pointed silence. Then: “What? Why?”

It was your turn to shift, weighing each word. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Raph turned that over for a moment in silence, before you heard another rustle of cloth. “Here- open up.”

You gripped the doorknob tighter, parroting him in words and tone without meaning to. “What? Why?”

“S’ my shirt,” The door opened despite you clinging to it, just a smidge, just enough for him to wedge the article of clothing through the crack. “You can cover up with it, so you can still have fun.”

You took the shirt automatically, staring at it like it was a foreign thing while Raph shut the door once more with a soft click.

It was worn, likely years old, the seams frayed and a number of small holes dotting along the neckline. It would likely swallow you whole, take several rubber bands to hold to your frame, but…

It was red. A more muted color than your bathing suit, but-

You swallowed, hard, setting the shirt on the sink and laying a hand on it for comfort, before steeling your spine.

You heard Raph take a preemptive step when you turned the knob, backing up out of the way, but your eyes were fixed somewhere on his midriff as you stepped out into the hallway next to him.

”You…” His words trailed off, sounding a bit higher pitched than you were used to, and you chanced a look up at his face.

Green eyed wide, he stared at you, gaze tracking down over your torso before he seemed to remember himself and his eyes snapped back to your face. The finer scales around his beak and cheeks mottled, turning a more muted color, as blood rushed to his face. “You -ah, s’… nice-”

He snapped a hand up to his face like that might stop the train crash of words leaving his mouth, and you felt the first warm ember creep alive in your chest, that oily feeling lessening.

Silence, for a long moment, as you both considered each other. Sunlight streamed through the far window across the opened space beyond the bannister, backlighting the side of Raph’s shell and his face a golden color. Somewhere below, you could hear Donnie humming a song.

“I… liked the color.” You told him softly, finally, wrapping one arm around yourself and leaning against the door jam, breaking the stand off.

Raph made a low noise, muffled, behind the meat of his hand, and your gaze dropped in time to see his other fist clench tight before tracking back up the scutes covering his chest.

”You good?” You asked him with that same, quiet voice, feeling that beat of self consciousness grow the longer he stayed silent. Chancing another glance up at him, you found a deep look settling over his face, thoughts flashing like rapid fire hits as microexpressions twisted the features around his fist with an alarming rate.

’Yeah,” he finally breathed, hand dropping to clench at his side with the other. “Yea, m’fine. You uh- you ready, then?”

He still had that slightly hunted look, barely stepping to the side as you nodded slowly and moved past. Your elbow grazed the hard plating of his plastron as you stepped past him, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

Goosebumps erupted down your spine as you felt him move to shadow your steps down the hall, but when you turned to look over your shoulder his gaze wasn’t on you, that still rather thoughtful scrunch between his eyes. “Your shirt?” You reminded him, gesturing back down the hall.

Narrowed green gaze considered you for a moment, not looking back towards the still lit bathroom. They tracked down your form for a moment, and you felt that kernel of warmth once more.

”Leave it… unless you need it?” The second part was intoned like a revelation, half turning like he’d go back for it.

Your hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. ‘No,” You squeezed, and felt the muscle ripple in response. ‘I don’t.”

[dysfunctional-doodle]

I have been uh kinda busy as always and so I have a few sketches/wips that I’m just gonna throw on here. The first one is from a comic im working on, and the other is for an anon who wanted me to draw the other half of the bay boys in my style (sorry leo, you were never completed even a little)

I hate drawing the bayverse turtles stop making me draw them dammit

-> Commissions || My Kofi <-

[donniesgirlie]

Rando #2

Don't mind me-

I'm just thinking of Raph bench pressing his pretty little girlfriend. (The man is a mutant turtle - you're gonna be little to him)

It starts as a joke. Raph off-handedly mentioned that he needs some bigger weights. You, knowing that he means weight-wise but taking the opportunity to make a mediocre joke, mumble out a "then lift me," only to find yourself in that very position as he "refuses to back down from a challenge". Aka, he sees an opportunity to impress you (like it's hard) and will be damned if he doesn't take it.

You briefly remember his order to keep yourself locked and stiff but are mostly focused on the nearly effortless flex of his arms as he lowers you, controlling your descent before easily lifting you back up.

Again and again, he reps you, and again and again, you fail to fight back the wetness growing in your panties. The occasional huff and groan he lets out not helping in any capacity.

You know that he smells it. His nostrils flare each time a fresh wave of arousal pulses from you, and each time, his smirk becomes more and more of a shit-eating grin.

When he finally has mercy on you and sets you as upright as your wobbly legs will allow, he hands find themselves glued to your hips. His eyes track yours as they watch the muscles of his bicep twitch and pulse.

"What's gotcha so worked up, Princess?"

[omegabenaeart]

ADHD KICKED IN, GOT A NEW HYPERFIXATION TO BOTHER YOU GUYS WITH

Tutant

Meenage

Neetle

Teetles

Bonus Donnie under the cut 👍

This motherfucker cannot see without his glasses

[httpvomitello]

Headcanons - Donnie

Romance with Male Reader - ROTTMNT

After birth - Bayverse!Donnie

Fashion Designer, Baby! - TMNT 2012

Headcanons - TMNT

#PizzaHater - ROTTMNT

Murder in the building - Bayverse

What Are We? - Bayverse

Mood Swings - ROTTMNT

The Pain Of Betrayal - Bayverse

Mama's Boy - Bayverse (platonic)

Meeting The Dads - Bayverse

Positive - Bayverse

Dear Sister - Bayverse (platonic)

Hide and Seek - ROTTMNT

I'm Human! - Bayverse

She's Crazy But She's Mine - ROTTMNT

This Turtle Is Evil - ROTTMNT

Fun Time! - ROTTMNT

Feathered Love - ROTTMNT

So what? She's cute! - ROTTMNT

Nightcrawler!S/O - TMNT 2012

Stimming Out of Excitement - ROTTMNT

Watching Girl, Interrupted with a Fem!Reader - ROTTMNT

Pastry Shop - ROTTMNT

Duet Partner - Bayverse

Cute Shyness - ROTTMNT

Keeping You On Your Toes - Bayverse (Platonic)

Rest On My Shoulder - ROTTMNT

Half-Mutant Fire Elemental Bunny - TMNT 2012

A New Family - Bayverse (Platonic)

[nightwatcherraph]

[artzzyb00-27]

{❤️Thundershock❤️}

Normally, sleep in the lair would be peaceful. A thriving time for the boys and reader to enjoy the mundane silence away from the hectic nights. Patrol had ended 2 hours ago, and during the first one a thunder storm had stared. While that would cause panic, Donnie had a system that redirected any extra water away from their homes as to not get flooded.

While getting ready for bed, reader had been finished first and locked herself away in her personal room away from the boys. She was living there permanently after her apartment got wrecked in the invasion. She had met the boys during a late patrol night and they decided to help her out. In return of her not freaking out when first seeing them.

After a few months of living with them she began to feel safer than she did when she had her apartment. For multiple reasons of course. For one the secludedness of the lair and two, the boys were protective of their friends and family. Especially Raph. So she didn't have to worry about someone hurting her when she leaves to work and comes back.

Tonight was different, this was a different kind of danger and unsettlement. The kind that doesn't go away when your in a safe place. The thunder storm with occasional lightning strikes, had triggered her memories of when the Kraang had attacked. It didn't help that there was a possibility of them coming back. Scatterings of their technology were left behind and people began tampering with them.

So when at 4 in the morning, reader screamed in response to a louder bang in the sky, Raph jumped awake and quickly ran to his friend. For some reason he was the light sleeper of the family. Even Splinter couldn't be forced awake. While rushing into the room he accidentally slammed the door opened causing the girl to jump again.

By this point she was in heavy tears trying to calm down. Raph took a moment and looked around. No one attacked her that's for sure. Looking at her closely now he realized how bad she was crying. Paying attention at the noise above the sewer roof, rumbling from high up accord.

"What are you doing here?" she asked full paying attention to the red-clad turtle just 10 feet away from her. He got closer and sat down next to her.

"Heard ya scream. Didn't want you to get kidnapped." he replied while rubbing her back slowly. She leaned into it and fell into a trance of calm. After a while he gently scooped her up and sat on her bed with her between his legs.

After about 20 minutes of his thumb rubbing against her arm, he fell asleep too. Churring in content emotions and a peaceful rest.

The next morning they awoke to the brothers, more specifically Mikey and Donnie, taking pictures of the two cuddle buddies on the queen size bed with grey sheets and comforters. Raph was the first to awaken with a very displeased expression apparent on his green face.

"Wake up love birds! Sun's here!" Mikey gloated as he ran away with an albums worth of pictures. Donnie just chortled and walked away while closing the door. Huffing in annoyance of his siblings, Raph looked down at the sleeping girl. How she hadn't woken up with his brothers ruckus, was beyond him.

She shifted and cuddled closer into his carapace and breathed out with relaxation. He sunk into the mattress and pulled her closer. Thinking back to a few hours ago, he hoped she had slept better than what she could have if he hadn't woke up. It was a good thing she lived with them, otherwise it could have been a hell morning.

After another 5 minutes, reader stirred and sat up rubbing her eyes and yawned. Raph just watched her while glancing at the door. When she noticed she was between his thighs, her face turned red.

"Sorry, thanks for coming when you did." Raph shrugged his shoulders and picked her up putting her on his left. He grazed his thumb over her cheek and cupped the back of her head. He pulled her forward and down, then placing a kiss on the top of her head. He got off the bed and stretched, turning to her and just smiled.

Leaving the room after closing the door he began freaking out internally. Leo, who was sitting on the couch skimming through the channels on the television April and Casey had brought them, had noticed and smiled.

"Good to know you weren't having sex while Mikey's here." a pillow was thrown at his face and he laughed it off leaving on a channel that had this animated witch show Mikey liked.

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Halloween Parade

A gift for @avery73

Click for unfuzziness

[luckycharms1701]

💙 He wakes up slowly.

This is a surprise. Normally there is sleeping and then there is awakening, nothing in between. He lingers in the middle, confused but also… content.

It feels like meditating, he thinks, and without thought Leo’s breath slips into that familiar pattern. He allows his awareness to spread out.

Almost immediately he finds you. You are sprawled across his plastron, one arm flung across his waist and the other under your head over his heart. The softest snores are coming out of your mouth.

He has to remind himself to breathe, to slip back into his meditative state. It is harder than he thinks it should be.

At one point that had been a very sore subject for him, the way you disturbed his calm without even thinking about it. Now, though. Now he understands that some emotions are too strong to be fully curbed, that love is meant to disturb as often as it calms.

Now, he curves slightly into you even as he continues to meditate, breathing in your scent. There. That's the source of his contentment. You are the source of his contentment.

He meditates for some time, reflecting on you and on love. The highs and the lows, the agonies and the ecstasies. His quiet contemplation is interrupted by you, causing a smile to cross his face at the irony.

You nuzzle into his plastron slightly as you slowly start to wake. He opens his eyes and looks down to find that you've turned your head and opened your own eyes, a sleepy smile on your face.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb gently across your lips, cupping your cheek. You turn into his palm, giving it a small kiss as you stretch.

"Good morning princess," he whispers, and you mumble back as you curl farther into him.

His heart is full as the two of you prepare to begin your day together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

[shootingstarsue]

[mushroomgrenade]

Okay, Bayverse up!! Now just the 07s left to post

You can download them on my Kofi too!

Or grab them as stickers!

Oh yes btw please please please look y'all I have a tmnt tarot project too-