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The Artist And The Flame

Story Prompt: “But First, Splinter…”

Bayverse Raphael x Fem!Reader

🧺 Prompt: @thelaundrybitch's August 2025 Monthly Prompt: “But First, Splinter”: Reader meets Splinter first. Thanks to your relationship with him, the turtles have a lot of respect for Reader. Unfortunately, it doesn't help with the possible relationship with Reader’s Turtle of choice (Raph in this case).

💌 Author’s Note: This story marks my third month writing for Laundry’s TMNT prompts, and I’ve got to say, I look forward to them every single time! There’s something so fun about leaning into these moments, exploring the brothers’ different dynamics, and finding the heart at the center of their chaos. Thank you, Laundry, for the inspiration and for keeping this little corner of creativity alive. 🥰

~Pinkie 🍒

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✍🏻🔥Summary: When Splinter found you as a lost, hurting teen, the lair became a safe haven you never expected. Years later, you’re grown into her own, still tethered to the Hamato family, still hiding your heart behind sketchbook pages filled with the one Turtle you can’t let herself want. But on a summer night under the city lights, the tension finally breaks, and what begins as a confrontation turns into something neither of them can deny.

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

“The Artist And The Flame”

The city swallowed you whole the night you ran.

It was all cold breath and neon shadows, the rumble of trains far beneath the street, the stink of exhaust clinging to your clothes. You kept walking anyway, sketchbook hugged to your chest like armor, your legs carrying you past corners you’d never dared cross before. Home wasn’t home… not anymore, not ever again.

Hours later, you found yourself at the mouth of a forgotten subway access, a gaping dark throat at the edge of the concrete. No one would follow you down here. The world above didn’t even remember this place existed. You crawled inside, knees shaking, sneakers scraping over damp stone until you reached a half-dry ledge above the trickling water.

The silence was deafening.

Your fingers shook as you pulled your pencil free. Better to draw than to think. The sketchbook flipped open to a blank page, its spine creaking like an old door. You drew jagged lines, dark shapes, a doorway, bars across a window, a shadow of a man’s face twisted in rage. Your hand moved faster, digging into the paper until graphite dust smeared across your palm.

The air shifted.

You froze.

A sound behind you, quiet, deliberate. Not the scuttle of a rat, not the drip of water. Too… heavy. Much too aware.

“Your hands,” a voice said from the shadows, smooth and deep, “they speak before you do.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. The pencil tumbled from your hand as you whipped around.

He stepped into the faint spill of light from the tunnel’s mouth. A giant rat. Tall, cloaked in tattered fabric, eyes gleaming like lanterns in the dark. You pressed yourself back against the wall, breath tearing out of your throat.

He raised a hand, palm outward. Not a threat, but a greeting.

“Peace, child,” he murmured. His voice was calm, but carried weight, a presence that filled the space. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Your whole body shook. You couldn’t make your mouth work.

His gaze fell to your sketchbook lying open on the ground. He bent, slow and careful, picking it up as though it were a fragile treasure. He studied the page, whiskers twitching.

“There is great pain here,” he said softly. “But also… truth.” His eyes lifted back to you. “You draw what others cannot see.”

Your throat burned. Words scraped out, barely audible: “Stay back.”

He nodded once, obediently, and set the sketchbook gently on the ground between you both. He didn’t step closer.

“I know what it is,” he continued, “to feel lost. To seek silence where the world will not find you.” His ears tilted, listening. “You are cold. You are hungry… come. I offer shelter. Safety. A warm meal.”

You shook your head violently. “I don’t know you.”

A flicker of sadness passed across his face. “No. You do not.” Then, simply, “But I know you.” He gestured faintly toward the sketchbook. “This is your voice. And it pleads for kindness.”

The tunnel water trickled, the only sound between you.

He didn’t move again, didn’t push. He simply waited.

And against all your instincts, against every warning in your blood, something in his stillness felt… safe. Like no one had ever looked at you without expecting something in return.

You reached down, clutching your sketchbook to your chest. His offer lingered in the stale air, food, warmth, shelter. A chance not to be alone.

Your stomach growled, betraying you.

His whiskers twitched in a smile. “Come, little artist,” he said gently. “You need not walk this path alone.”

The walk through the tunnels was a blur of dripping pipes and echoing footsteps, your sketchbook clutched like a lifeline. Splinter moved ahead of you, his cloak brushing damp stone, every so often glancing back with a nod to reassure you he hadn’t forgotten you were trailing behind.

Then, the tunnel widened into a cavern of light and sound.

It was a hidden world, mismatched furniture, the glow of old television screens, the hum of machinery stitched together with wires and scrap. And them.

Four figures shifted in the space, tall and unmistakably not human. Green skin, shells, masks of different colors. They froze when they saw you.

“Father,” the one in blue said sharply, hand already twitching toward the hilt of his twin swords. His voice was clipped, defensive. “Who is this?”

“She’s human,” the orange-masked one blurted, eyes wide. “Like… a real human-human. Whoa.”

The tallest one with a purple mask and tech strapped to his arm tilted his head, gaze narrowing in wary calculation.

And the red-masked one… he didn’t say a word, but you felt his stare like a weight pressing down. Arms folded, jaw tight, suspicious, and dangerous.

Splinter stepped aside so you stood fully in their sight. Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“This is our guest,” Splinter said firmly, calm but unyielding. “She is under my protection.”

The air bristled with unspoken questions. None of them looked happy about it.

With a rumbling churr low in his chest, nostrils flaring slightly as he catches your scent.

The one in red moved first. Not toward you, he stepped between you and his brothers, his bulk blocking their view. His shoulders were tense, his three-fingered hands flexing at his sides.

"Back down," he growled, and his voice was rough, Brooklyn thick in every syllable. "She ain't a threat."

Leo, blue mask, the leader as you later learned, didn’t relax. "Raph, we don’t know who she is."

"Scared," Raph shot back, not taking his eyes off you. "That’s what she is." His nostrils flared again, and something in his expression shifted. Smelling fear, smelling sweat, smelling something else underneath.

Mikey, orange, and youngest by all appearances, bounced on his heels. "Dude, she’s hot... Like, human-hot. Because-"

Donnie, in purple, slapped a hand over Mikey’s mouth. "Not helping, Mikey."

Raph ignored them. He took a slow step forward, his shell creaking faintly as he moved. His eyes, green, sharp, predatory, locked onto yours.

"You got a name, sweetheart?"

The way he said it wasn’t gentle. It was a challenge. A dare.

He knew. Knew you were running. Knew you were broken. Knew you’d crawled into the dark just to get away.

And he didn’t care.

Your fingers tightened around your sketchbook.

"Y-yes," you whispered, giving him your name.

Raph’s mouth curled. Not a smile exactly, more like a baring of teeth.

He repeated it, rolling the name in his mouth like he was tasting it. "Welcome to the freak show."

Time in the lair didn’t pass the same way it did aboveground. No clocks on the wall, no windows to mark the rise and fall of the sun. Just the rhythm of the boys.

It became your rhythm, too.

Mikey was the easiest to fall into step with. He was a whirlwind of laughter and endless chatter, tugging you toward the stove, proudly handing you jars of questionable spices, insisting he could make “gourmet cuisine” out of leftover pizza toppings. Somehow, you ended up being the one chopping vegetables while he narrated his own imaginary cooking show.

“Slice, dice, and BAM! Chef Mikey and his beautiful assistant-”

“I’m not your assistant.”

“Two chef kitchen then!” he corrected with a grin, bowing with exaggerated flourish.

Donnie was… quieter. Less flashy. But he had a way of pulling you into his world without realizing it. One moment you were leaning over his shoulder watching a cartoon marathon, the next you were halfway through explaining why you liked the backgrounds more than the characters, only to find he’d sketched up a working prototype of your “art critique into tech critique” ramble. You became his sounding board, his unofficial crash test dummy, the person he trusted to sit in silence while wires sparked and machines hummed around him.

Leo was harder. Formal, precise, always watching. He invited you into training once, wooden bokken in hand, his movements fluid and sharp. Yours? Clumsy at best. You stumbled, you winced, you groaned at bruises, and he just nodded, offering correction after correction, his patience infuriating. “Focus. Breathe. Again.” You wanted to throw the wooden sword at his head more than once.

And then there was Raph.

You didn’t spar with him. You argued with him.

It always started the same way, his low muttering from the corner, the scrape of weights against concrete, the way his silence sucked the air out of the room. You couldn’t stand it.

“Would it kill you to talk about your feelings like a normal person?”

“Would it kill you to mind your business?”

The shouting matches always ended the same, too, Mikey watching like it was pay-per-view, Donnie rolling his eyes, Leo snapping at both of you to knock it off before you woke Splinter. And Raph… He’d storm off, shoulders tight, shell rigid, every footstep echoing with barely contained fury.

But later, always later, you’d find yourself sketching. Strong lines, heavy shadows, a figure hunched beneath the weight of something you couldn’t name.

And though you’d never admit your fascination, you thought about him all the time.

The lair's dim lighting flickered as you sat curled up on the old couch, sketchbook balanced on your knees. Your pencil moved in quick, agitated strokes, dark lines forming the familiar curve of a shell, the hulking shoulders, the permanent scowl.

"Tch."

You startled, nearly dropping your sketchpad as Raph's shadow fell over you. He stood there, arms crossed, his red mask slightly askew like he'd been tugging at it. His nostrils flared as he took in the drawing, his expression unreadable.

"You draw me a lot," he rumbled. Not a question. A statement. A fact.

Your fingers tightened around the pencil. "I draw everything a lot."

Raph snorted, unimpressed. He didn’t move away. Instead, he dropped onto the couch beside you, the old springs groaning under his weight. Close. Too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint musk of sweat and leather from his gear.

"Bullshit," he muttered. His voice was low, rough. "You draw me."

You swallowed. "So what if I do?"

Raph leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "So, I wanna know why."

Your pulse kicked up. He wasn’t just asking about the art. He was asking about you. About the way your eyes lingered when he trained, the way your breath caught when he got too close.

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t answer, not honestly. Not with his eyes locked on yours, sharp and searching, like he was trying to peel back every wall you’d ever built.

So you deflected.

“I draw everything I can’t figure out,” you said quickly, shoving your sketchbook shut. “And you’re… complicated. That’s all.”

His expression flickered, the tiniest shift, disappointment, quick and raw before he shuttered it. He leaned back, the couch springs whining as if protesting the sudden distance.

“Complicated, huh,” he muttered, looking away. His jaw worked, teeth grinding behind the curve of his mouth. Then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it, “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

You wanted to take it back, to soften it, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you just clutched your sketchbook tighter.

Raph pushed to his feet, shoulders rolling as if to shake off something heavier than muscle strain. He tugged his mask straighter, the motion sharp, practiced.

“Don’t lose sleep over it,” he said, voice back to its usual rough edge. He didn’t look at you as he turned toward the shadows of the lair. “Ain’t worth it.”

But the way his steps slowed before the darkness swallowed him told you he didn’t want to leave your side anymore than you wanted him to go.

Years passed.

The lair aged with you. Posters yellowed, couches sagged further, Mikey’s “culinary experiments” got marginally safer, and Donnie’s tech clutter somehow grew into whole ecosystems of blinking lights and buzzing wires.

And you weren’t the scared teenage girl who’d stumbled in clutching a sketchbook like a shield anymore. You were part of it now. Family.

Splinter treated you as one of his own. The brothers never questioned your place at the table, in the training room, on movie nights. You had a room, a voice, a stake in this strange, hidden life.

But the sketches never stopped.

And neither did the way your eyes tracked Raph when he wasn’t looking.

The night it changed was quiet. No Foot Clan ambush, no mutant attack, no crisis to pull you all together in adrenaline-fueled chaos. Just the hum of the lair, the distant clatter of Mikey’s latest attempt at cooking, Donnie’s muttered curses at a malfunctioning gadget, Leo’s rhythmic katas in the dojo.

And Raph.

He found you in the dim glow of the projector, curled up in the same old spot where you’d sketched him years ago. His shadow stretched long over you before he dropped onto the couch with a grunt, close enough that his knee brushed yours.

You didn’t look up.

Neither did he.

The silence between you wasn’t the usual tension, the unspoken arguments, the weight of things neither of you could say. It was... different.

Then, without a word, he reached over and plucked the sketchbook from your lap.

You stiffened.

Raph flipped through the pages, slow, deliberate. Most sketches of him, training, scowling, sleeping, fighting, were there. Years of stolen moments, of careful lines, of wanting hidden in graphite.

His jaw worked.

Then he shut the book with a snap and tossed it aside.

Your breath caught as he turned to you, his green eyes sharp in the dim light.

"Enough drawin’," he growled.

Your pulse hammered. His face was so close now, shadows sharpening the cut of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils. For once, there was no mask between you, just raw want, barely leashed, written all over him.

You opened your mouth, to argue, to confess, to something, but the words tangled in your throat.

Then suddenly, “Yo, you guys seen my-” Mikey’s voice shattered the silence, his head popping into the doorway like a golden retriever with a surfboard. He froze mid-stride, eyes flicking between the two of you on the couch, your sketchbook discarded like evidence. His grin spread slow, dangerous. “...Ohhh. OHHH. Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

Raph shot up so fast the couch springs squealed in protest. “Beat it, Mikey.” His voice was low, a snarl, but his neck burned crimson.

Mikey made a show of backing away, hands up like he was defusing a bomb. “Heyyy, no judgment! You two carry on with your-” he waggled his brow ridges “-art appreciation time.”

Raph took a threatening step forward. Mikey bolted, laughter echoing down the hall.

Silence fell again, but the spell was broken. Raph muttered something sharp under his breath and stormed out, the sound of his retreating footsteps like a drumbeat against your ribs.

You sat frozen, picking up your sketchbook, it was still warm where his hands had touched it.

The lair smelled faintly of burnt cheese and popcorn butter, a surefire sign Michelangelo was in his element. You were sprawled across the couch, sketchbook tossed aside for once, belly sore from laughing as Mikey clutched a bowl of mutant-sized nachos like it was the crown jewels.

“Okay, okay, but picture this,” Mikey said, voice already breaking into giggles. “We swap all of Donnie’s tool labels with ones from, like…a makeup kit. Wrench? Boom. Eyelash curler. Multimeter? Blush compact.”

You nearly choked on your soda. “He’d murder us.”

“That’s why it’s genius.” He kicked his feet up, eyes sparkling. “Partners in crime, babycakes. If we’re going down, we’re going down legendary.”

Your laughter echoed through the lair, bouncing off the stone walls until Splinter’s voice cut through like a gong, “Quiet down in there!”

Both of you froze, wide-eyed, then immediately dissolved into muffled giggles, shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sound.

Mikey leaned closer, his voice dropping into a sing-song whisper. “Y’know, you laugh like that every time Big Red walks by, too.”

You swatted his arm with a pillow. “Shut up.”

But Mikey’s grin only widened, sharp as a cat who’d just spotted cream. “You stare at him like he’s the Mona Lisa of muscles.” “Bullshit, stopppp!” You swatted at him wildly while he laughed and ducked your hits.

The pillow fight was in full swing when the couch suddenly dipped under a heavy weight. You froze mid-swing, pillow raised, as Raph dropped down beside you with a grunt. His thigh pressed against yours, warm and solid, his scent, leather, sweat, something uniquely him, filling your space.

Mikey’s grin turned downright wicked.

"Ohhh, Raphie," he crooned, wiggling his fingers. "You here to defend your lady’s honor?"

Raph’s jaw clenched. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t move away. Just snatched the pillow from your hands in one smooth motion and whapped Mikey square in the face with enough force to send him tumbling backward off the couch.

"Defendin’ my peace and quiet," he growled.

Mikey popped back up, rubbing his snout, utterly undeterred. "Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you’re blushing."

Raph’s fingers flexed around the pillow. You could practically see the vein in his temple throb.

Mikey waggled his brow ridges again like he was about to add something truly damning, but the murderous set of Raph’s shoulders convinced him otherwise. With a yelp, he bolted, pillow clutched like a shield, his laughter echoing down the tunnels.

You risked a glance at Raph, but he still wasn’t looking at you. His arms folded across his chest, muscles coiled tight, the stubborn line of his mouth daring you to say something.

You didn’t.

Instead, you gathered your sketchbook and slipped off the couch, the air between you thick enough to choke on.

It was safer in Donnie’s lab.

The glow of his monitors washed everything in cool blues and greens, the steady hum of machinery instantly grounding. Donnie barely looked up as you came in, though you caught the small, distracted smile tugging at his mouth.

“Good timing,” he said, shoving a half-finished schematic toward you. “I can’t decide if this arm joint looks more like a hinge or a bad Picasso knockoff. Thoughts?”

You perched on the edge of his worktable, sketchbook opening almost on instinct. Lines flowed, softening the angles, refining the design into something more fluid, more human. Donnie leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied your pencil strokes.

“That,” he murmured, pointing at the curve you’d added. “That’s it.”

The two of you fell into your usual rhythm, him explaining mechanics in rapid bursts, you translating them into shapes and sketches, the conversation weaving between science and art until it blurred into laughter and shared jokes. Hours could vanish like that, the glow of neon and graphite dust painting their own little world.

Neither of you noticed the figure in the doorway.

Raph’s shadow loomed large against the wall, his gaze locked on the easy closeness between you and Donnie. He didn’t step inside. Didn’t make a sound. Just watched, jaw tight, before melting back into the dark.

The next time you saw Raph, he was in the gym, bare-chested, sweat glistening on his green skin as he pounded his fists into a heavy bag. Each strike sent the chains rattling, the force of his blows making the whole rig shudder. His muscles coiled and flexed with every movement, his breathing harsh and controlled.

You lingered in the doorway, sketchbook tucked under your arm, watching the way his body moved… powerful, relentless, beautiful in its raw intensity.

Then, without warning, he stopped mid-swing.

"You gonna stand there starin’ all day," he growled, not turning around, "or you gonna say somethin’?"

Your breath caught.

Raph finally turned, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his eyes locked onto yours. There was something different in his gaze now, not just suspicion, not just frustration, but something hotter, hungrier.

"You draw Donnie like you draw me?" he asked, voice low.

The question caught you off guard.

"...What?" you asked, your brows drawing together.

Your throat tightened, the sketchbook clutched against your ribs like a shield. “Raph, it’s not-”

But he cut you off, stepping closer, sweat still dripping down his skin, the heat radiating off him in waves.

“You sit in his lab for hours, laughin’ at his jokes, leanin’ in close…” His lip curled, frustration lacing every word. “You draw him like you draw me? Like I ain’t even-”

“Raph-”

He closed the distance, so fast you gasped. The heavy bag swayed behind him from the force of his last hit, the chain creaking as if echoing the tension between you.

He braced one hand against the wall beside your head, caging you in, his breath ragged, eyes burning down into yours. “Just answer me.”

The sketchbook slipped a little in your grip. “No. I don’t.”

Something flickered across his face, relief, disbelief, maybe both, but it twisted almost instantly into stubborn anger, as if he couldn’t afford to believe you.

“Funny,” he muttered, his voice dropping lower. “Sure looked like it to me.”

“Raph, it’s not like that with Donnie,” you said, words rushing out, desperate for him to hear them. “He’s… my best friend. That’s all.”

He didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in closer, his shadow swallowing you whole, his voice a gravelly rasp.

“Best friend, huh? Then what’s it like with me?”

The question hit harder than any punch he’d thrown at the bag. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The air was thick with sweat, with heat, with the dangerous possibility of whatever was simmering between you.

For one heartbeat, you thought he’d close the gap. Thought he’d claim the answer with his mouth instead of waiting for you to speak.

But the door slammed open, Donnie’s voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Raph, seriously? The sensors are reading-” He stopped short, eyes flicking between the two of you pressed against the wall. His brow arched, suspicion dawning. “Am I… interrupting something?”

Raph jerked back like he’d been burned, fists curling tight at his sides. “Nothin’,” he snapped, shouldering past Donnie without another word.

Donnie blinked, then glanced at you, concern etched in the lines of his face. “Uh… you okay?”

You hugged the sketchbook tighter, heart still thundering.

“Yeah,” you lied. “I’m fine.”

But your pulse told a different story.

Leo’s approach with you was different from Mikey’s easy laughter and pranks. He saw the quiet way you studied your surroundings, how you noticed details others skimmed past, and he met you there, in focus, in discipline.

One evening, when the others were scattered in their own corners of the lair, he invited you into the dojo. No jokes, no distractions, just the two of you and the steady hum of stillness that hung in the air.

“Your hands know lines and form,” he said, offering you a bokken, his voice steady but patient. “Try using that same eye here. Movement can be an art too.”

The training that followed was less about sparring and more about rhythm. He corrected your stance with the same care he might handle one of his swords, guiding you to see the balance in each motion, the flow rather than the fight.

Between strikes and counters, your conversations drifted toward philosophy. He spoke of harmony, of keeping the self centered amid chaos. You answered in the language of art, how every brushstroke carried intention, every mistake could be reshaped into meaning.

For Leo, it wasn’t attraction that sparked in those hours with you, it was respect. A recognition that you weren’t just surviving in their world, but shaping yourself inside it.

The tension between you and Raph didn’t fade… it simmered.

Every glance lingered a second too long. Every accidental brush of hands sent sparks up your spine. Every argument ended with him storming off, only to reappear later like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Then came the night of the storm.

Rain hammered the city above, leaking through the cracks in the lair’s ceiling in thin, persistent streams. The others had retreated to their rooms, but you stayed curled up in the common area, sketchbook open, the sound of water hitting metal lulling you into a rare calm.

That’s when Raph found you.

He didn’t announce himself. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching you from the doorway like he’d been doing it for hours.

"You’re up late," he muttered.

You didn’t look up. "So are you."

Silence. Then, the creak of the couch as he dropped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours.

The sketch in front of you wasn’t of him this time, it was the lair, the way the rain made everything look softer, blurred at the edges.

Raph studied it for a long moment before speaking again.

"You ever think about leavin’ us?"

The question caught you off guard. Your pencil stilled.

"...No," you admitted. "Not anymore."

He exhaled, rough, like he’d been holding his breath. "Good."

Then, before you could react, his hand, rough, calloused, warm, covered yours, stopping your pencil mid-stroke.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

Raph’s thumb traced the curve of your knuckles, slow, deliberate. His voice dropped to a deep murmur. “So…”

His thumb lingered, tracing over your knuckles like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. The storm outside filled the silence, steady and relentless, but between you and Raph it was a different kind of storm entirely, the kind that built and built with nowhere to go.

Then he cleared his throat, rough, like the sound alone was enough to break the spell. He pulled his hand back, flexing it like it had betrayed him.

“…C’mon,” he muttered, eyes fixed on your sketch. “If you’re gonna stick around, you can’t just sit there drawin’ us all day.”

You tilted your head at him, wary. “Oh yeah? What do you suggest?”

His mouth curled in something caught between a smirk and a challenge. “Tomorrow. Spar with me.”

The words hit like a thrown gauntlet.

Your heart skipped, part excitement, part dread. Sparring with Raph wasn’t a game. It was fire, muscle, and heat, more dangerous than anything your pencil could capture.

You nodded anyway. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

His answering grin felt unguarded. Not teasing, just hopeful.

The next day, true to his word, Raph was waiting in the dojo, arms crossed, sai glinting at his hips.

“You’re late,” he said, though you were right on time.

What followed wasn’t training like Leo’s steady patience, it was a test. Every feint, every shove, every low growl in your ear as he pushed you harder than maybe he should’ve. He wanted to see where you’d break, if you’d break.

But you didn’t.

Each time you hit the mat, you got back up, sketchbook images of his form burned into your mind, the sharp line of his jaw when he smirked, the restless coil of his stance, the way he rolled his shoulders like he could fight the whole world and still demand more.

Later, back in your corner with your sketchbook, those lines spilled out in secret. Raph leaning against his sai. Raph’s fists wrapped and scarred. Raph looking at you like you were a challenge he wanted to lose to.

You told yourself they were just studies, just practice.

But your trembling hand betrayed the truth.

The sketches piled up. Books and books of him, his hands, his scowl, the way his plastron flexed when he stretched. You told yourself it was just practice, just capturing the movement, the anatomy. But the truth was in the way your pencil lingered too long on the curve of his mouth, the way your fingers smudged the graphite like you could touch him through the paper.

Then one night, you woke to the sound of footsteps outside your door.

Not the usual shuffle of Mikey sneaking to the kitchen, not Donnie’s muttered calculations as he paced. These were heavier. Deliberate.

You knew who it was before the door creaked open.

Raph stood there, backlit by the dim glow of the lair’s emergency lights, his silhouette massive in the doorway. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched you, his breathing slow, controlled.

Your pulse hammered in your throat.

Then, in three strides, he was at your bedside, his weight dipping the mattress as he sat. His scent, leather, sweat, something wild and him, filled the space between you.

"You draw us all the time," he said, voice rough with something you couldn’t name. "But you never show me."

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. "I-"

He reached out, slow, giving you time to pull away. When you didn’t, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your lip. His skin was calloused, warm, real in a way the sketches could never be.

"Show me," he murmured.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the corner of your sketchbook. The images spilled from pages like a confession you weren’t ready to voice. His green eyes, sharp and intense in the low light, pinned you in place, waiting.

"I-"

A soft creak, then the sound of movement across the hall.

“Hey… Everything okay in here?”

Donnie’s voice, calm, even, cutting through the charged air like a blade. The door swung fully open before you could react, his eyes sweeping the room with measured concern.

Raph snapped upright, hand still resting against your cheek, eyes darting from you to Donnie. “What the hell?” he growled.

Donnie blinked, slow and steady. “I… I just wanted to check-”

“Check your own room,” Raph barked, spinning to face the doorway, nostrils flaring. “Ain’t nobody else barging in! No goddamn privacy around here!”

He didn’t wait for an answer. With a frustrated grunt, he stormed past Donnie, slamming the door behind him. The force rattled the frames on your nightstand, and you flinched at the echo.

Donnie gave you a cautious look, a raised brow, clearly seeing more than you wanted him to, before retreating with a soft, “I’ll leave you to… your work.”

Your hands shook, sketchbook clutched against your chest. That had gone… badly.

You sank back against the pillows, heart hammering. Raph’s storming exit left more than a physical gap, the air felt charged, and heavy with misunderstanding.

And then came the subtle, quiet observations you could feel but not always see.

Across the lair, things didn’t go unnoticed. Mikey, of course, watches from the shadows.

Leo’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, a small, knowing smile tucked beneath his calm exterior. Donnie didn’t say a word, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, as if he understood the chaos you were trying to navigate. Splinter watched with quiet patience, whiskers twitching, the air around him steady and grounding despite the storm of emotions whirling elsewhere. Raph, however, was gone. Withdrawn. Distant. Muted anger simmered in every growl, every snap at Mikey’s teasing later, every clenched jaw when he thought you weren’t looking.

And in his mind, you’d already chosen Donnie. Genius boy, all brains and circuits, having it all while Raph was left seething on the sidelines.

The lair, usually a place of warmth and laughter, suddenly felt like a minefield, one wrong glance at the wrong time, one misread signal, and someone would explode.

The next few days were… quiet, in a tense way. Not silent, exactly, Mikey’s incessant chatter, Leo’s measured discipline, and Donnie’s quiet muttering over schematics continued, but there was a weight that pressed against you every time Raph passed. The way he kept his distance, the hard line of his jaw, the shadow in his eyes… it hurt more than you’d like to admit.

One evening, you were planning to head into the gym, planning to practice forms, when a low, frustrated growl carried across the mats. You froze, recognizing it immediately.

Raph.

He was pounding the heavy bag, fists striking with ferocious precision, each blow punctuated with a curse muttered under his breath.

“Damn it… always him… genius boy’s got it all… every damn time…”

Your chest tightened. The words stabbed you even more than a misdirected sai ever could. You didn’t move. You just stood there, sketchbook pressed to your chest, hearing him rail at himself, at life, at you, at everything, and feeling helpless.

You wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that he wasn’t less, that he wasn’t losing. But the gap between him and you wasn’t just physical, it was tangled in pride, misunderstanding, and things neither of you dared to say aloud.

Instead, you let your feelings pour out elsewhere.

Back in your studio corner, lights low, the lair humming softly around you, you spread out a blank canvas. Acrylics. Brushes. Everything you had.

And you painted him.

Not just his face, not just the rough angles of his shell or the intense glare of his eyes. You painted his essence. The fire coiled in his muscles, the shadow that lingered in his moods, the longing he didn’t dare show, the restless energy that refused to be tamed. Each stroke was deliberate, every color a word you couldn’t say, every blend a confession.

You worked late into the night, the brush following the rhythm of your heart, until the canvas was alive with him, raw, vibrant, untouchable, and achingly close.

When you finally stepped back, your palms sore, your chest tight, the image of Raph stared back at you, fire and shadow and longing all in one frame.

You didn’t need to say it aloud. The painting did.

And yet, even with the brush in your hand, the gap between confession and reality remained, Raph still out there, brooding, unaware, his pride keeping him from hearing your silent plea.

The next morning, you returned to the studio, half-dreading and half-anticipating what might happen if someone stumbled across your work. But you didn’t expect Splinter.

He was standing quietly in the doorway, whiskers twitching, hands folded behind his back, the soft glow of early light catching the lines of his face. He didn’t startle you with words. He just watched.

You froze mid-stroke, brush hovering over the canvas. Your heart thudded like a war drum in your chest.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his eyes lingering over the painting. Not the lines, not the colors, him. The fire and shadow and longing you had poured into every stroke.

“You paint not only what you see,” he said, voice low, calm, steady, “but what you feel. I cannot help but notice, this is not Donatello’s likeness… this is Raphael’s soul.”

Your fingers tightened around the brush. Heat rose to your cheeks. “I… I didn’t… he… it’s just-”

Splinter crouched slightly, his gaze softening without losing its weight. “Love is not a burden, child. It is a truth. It does not demand perfection, nor secrecy. You are allowed… to stop hiding.”

Something in you shivered at the gentleness of it, at the way he wasn’t scolding, wasn’t shaming. He was giving you permission. Encouragement. A nudge toward honesty that you’d feared for so long.

You swallowed hard, nodding, heart still hammering. That night, the canvas leaned against the wall, a silent testament, your secret no longer hidden… though the subject of it still hadn’t seen it.

Later, when the city lights flickered over the rooftops, you found him. Raph, perched at the edge like a coiled spring, the wind tangling his bandana, eyes dark, jaw tight.

“You’re out late,” you called softly, careful not to startle him.

“Figured you’d be sketchin’ someone else,” he muttered, voice low and guarded. “Genius boy? Your best friend? Probably laughing at his own jokes, thinking he’s got it all.”

Your chest constricted, frustration and longing warring inside you. “Raph… you’ve got it all wrong.”

He turned to face you fully, stormy green eyes flashing. “No. I know. I see it every time you sit in that lab. You want him. You’ve always wanted him.”

“Raph, stop,” you said, your voice sharp but shaking. “Stop pretending. You think it’s him? It’s never been him!”

The silence hit like a thunderclap. The air between you crackled, tension coiling tight enough to snap.

Then, you finally let it out, voice raw and trembling. “It’s always been you. Only you. It’s you I’ve drawn, Raph. Every sketch, every stroke, every time I’ve tried to capture something I couldn’t say aloud, it’s always you.”

His eyes widened for the briefest second. The fire, the shadow, the frustration, all of it faltered, just slightly, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth between you.

“Me?” he rasped, disbelief, wonder, something softer peeking through the anger.

“Yes, you,” you whispered, stepping closer, letting your heart show in every movement. “It’s always been you.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The city hummed below, indifferent to the storm of your own making above. Then the taut line of his body loosened, the heat of his gaze shifting from challenge to longing, to… something finally vulnerable.

And in the space between confession and action, the fire finally cracked.

The city lights blurred behind him as he closed the distance in one long stride, his hands, those rough, battle-worn hands, cradling your face like you were something precious. He leaned down, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and uneven.

"Say it again," he murmured, voice thick.

You didn't hesitate. "You. Only you."

A shudder ran through him. Then his mouth crashed into yours, hot and desperate, his fingers tangling in your hair like he was afraid you'd vanish if he let go. The kiss was fire and need and years of pent-up longing, his body pressing you back against the rooftop ledge, his low growl vibrating against your lips.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned. "Damn right it's me," he muttered, voice rough with possession. "Ain't nobody else."

His thumb brushed your swollen lower lip, possessive, reverent. Then he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, like he was memorizing the taste of you. The city stretched endlessly below, but up here, with his hands on your skin and his heartbeat against yours, nothing else existed.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, his smile was pure, unfiltered Raph… cocky, relieved, yours.

"Good," he rumbled, pressing his forehead to yours once more. "'Cause I ain't sharin'."

His hands slid from your face down to your shoulders, fingers curling tight enough to mark the skin, anchoring you to him as if letting go was unthinkable. The wind whipped around you, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

Raph’s lips found yours again, hard, demanding, teeth grazing, tugging at your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp. Every brush of his tongue, every press of his body against yours, was years of longing compressed into a single, burning moment.

You clutched at his arms, fingers digging into the ridges of his muscles, feeling him tense beneath your hands. The rough edge of him, the fire, was intoxicating, and yet there was a deliberate restraint, a control that told you he wouldn’t hurt you, even as he tested the limits of how much he could take and how much you could handle.

He groaned, deep in his chest, as your hands trailed down his sides, fingers brushing the curve of his shell, memorizing him as he did you. His hands roamed like they were claiming territory, but not recklessly, every touch had purpose, every grip a silent affirmation, a you’re mine, finally.

Your breaths mingled, ragged, uneven, and the city’s lights blurred into streaks behind you as he pressed closer, forehead to forehead, nose brushing, mouths still locked. His jaw flexed, teeth clenching and unclenching, and you could feel the restrained power coiled in him, the tension ready to snap, but only at the pace he allowed.

Then he pulled back just slightly, enough for you to meet his green eyes, dark and blazing. “You feel that?” he rasped, voice low, husky. “All that fire I been holdin’ in… for you?”

You shivered, heart hammering, and nodded, lips parting as if words might shatter the spell.

Raph leaned in again, slower this time, lips brushing yours with careful insistence, hands sliding under your jacket, thumbs tracing over skin before he could lose his nerve. The tension between you didn’t lessen, it thickened, heavy and urgent, a storm just on the edge of breaking.

His churr tickled the base of your neck, a low, vibrating promise, and you felt it everywhere. Your pulse raced, your fingers trembled, and still the night held you suspended between want and need, fire and restraint.

Every movement, every brush of teeth or lips, was deliberate, testing, exploring… possession without crossing the line. He wanted you, and he was proving it in every desperate, deliberate stroke of heat and hunger, while leaving just enough space to savor the anticipation.

You gasped softly, pressed closer, letting your hands trace the familiar ridges of his shell and the taut cords of his arms, and he growled again, low and rough, “Don’t you dare stop, not now…”

In that moment, high above the city, with the night alive and the wind clawing at your clothes, it was just the two of you… fire meeting shadow, possession and longing, holding back and breaking all at once.

His hands slid down to your waist, gripping hard as he lifted you effortlessly against him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. The rough texture of his plastron scraped deliciously against your thighs through the fabric of your pants as he pinned you against the rooftop's ventilation unit, the metal cool against your back.

A deep, rumbling churr vibrated from his chest as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Been dreamin' 'bout this," he growled against your skin, blunt teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. "About how you'd feel pressed up against me. How you'd taste."

His cock was already swollen beneath his pants, the thick outline of it straining against the fabric where your bodies met. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking friction.

One large hand slid up to cup your breast through your shirt, his thumb circling your nipple with just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch. "Fuck, you're so soft," he murmured, his voice rough with want. "But I know you can take me rough too, can'tcha?"

His other hand moved lower, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he ground himself between your legs. The thick ridge of his cock rubbed against you through the layers of clothing, drawing a needy whimper from your lips.

"That's it," he purred, the sound more predatory than soothing. "Let me hear you. Wanna know exactly what does it for you." His tongue licked a hot stripe up your neck before he captured your mouth again in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his hips continued their relentless rhythm.

The rooftop around you faded away, there was only Raph's heat, Raph's scent, Raph's overwhelming presence surrounding you completely. His muscles flexed beneath your hands as he held you effortlessly against him, his strength never faltering even as his breathing grew ragged.

"Gonna make you mine," he promised between kisses, his voice dark with possession. "Properly. Completely." His hands tightened on your body, pulling you even closer until you could feel every hard inch of him. "Ain't nobody else ever gonna touch you like this. Just me. Only me."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly, your fingers tangling in his mask tails.

Your grip on them pulled him down harder, lips crashing into yours again, all teeth and tongue, a kiss more like a battle than surrender. Raph growled low in his chest, the vibration thrumming through you, his hips grinding harder until you were gasping into his mouth.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, voice ragged, breaking the kiss only long enough to yank at your clothes. His hands weren’t gentle now, fingers tugging, shoving fabric aside like it was a barrier he’d been waiting years too long to tear through. Buttons popped, seams strained, and the cool air of the night hit your skin as he bared you to him, piece by frantic piece.

You barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on you again, teeth nipping at the swell of your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple through the thin fabric that was left. His hand squeezed the other, rough thumb dragging across the peak until you arched against him with a sharp gasp.

“Yeah,” he growled, lips brushing over your skin. “That sound right there, been drivin’ myself crazy wonderin’ what it’d take to get it outta you.”

Your pants followed next, shoved down your thighs with impatient hands, and he cursed when his fingers finally slipped under your underwear, finding you wet, ready, waiting. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide, a feral mix of awe and hunger flashing in that look.

“Fuck, baby… you’re drippin’ for me,” he rasped, thick fingers sliding through your slick folds, circling your clit just enough to make your breath hitch. “You wanted this. Don’t lie.”

Your only answer was the desperate roll of your hips, chasing his touch, and that was all it took for him to snap.

In a blur, his pants were shoved low enough to free him, his cock thick and heavy, flushed dark with need. The sheer size of him made your breath catch, every inch of him hard, straining, the blunt head already slick as he pressed against your entrance.

Raph’s hand slid to your throat, not choking, just holding, grounding you with his strength as his forehead pressed to yours. His voice was a gravelly promise against your lips.

“Gonna stretch you wide, sweetheart. Gonna fill you ‘til you can’t think of anyone but me.”

Then, with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you. The force of it stole your breath, your cry muffled against his mouth as he swallowed the sound, grinding in deeper until your walls clenched tight around him.

A guttural moan tore from his chest, his hips shuddering as he bottomed out, holding you pinned against the rooftop unit like you were the only thing tethering him to sanity. “Shit… tight… fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned, voice breaking, his hands clutching at you like he never wanted to let go.

He stayed there a moment, buried to the hilt, savoring the feel of you around him, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold back. Then his lips brushed yours again, softer this time but no less hungry.

“You good, baby?” he rasped, his thumb stroking your jaw even as his cock twitched deep inside you. “’Cause once I start… I ain’t stoppin’.”

His restraint lasted all of three seconds before his hips snapped forward again, drawing a ragged moan from your lips as he filled you completely. The stretch burned in the best way, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs.

"Fuck-" His voice was rough, strained, his forehead pressed to yours as he moved, his grip on your thighs tightening. "Knew you'd take me so good... knew you could handle it."

His pace was relentless, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the night air, his cock dragging against your walls with every deep, rolling thrust. You could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his breath hitched when you clenched around him, the possessive growl that rumbled in his chest when you moaned his name.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice dark, his fingers tightening on your hips. "Say my name like that… like I'm the only damn thing that matters."

"Raph-" You gasped, arching against him as his thumb found your clit again, circling just right, the pressure building until your vision blurred at the edges.

"That's it," he growled, his thrusts turning sharper, deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every snap of his hips. "Come on, baby, let me feel it… let me feel you cum."

The command in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body tightening around him as pleasure coiled tight. One more rough grind of his hips, one more flick of his thumb, and you shattered, your back arching off the rooftop unit as your orgasm crashed over you in waves.

Raph swore, his rhythm faltering as your walls clenched around him, milking him, his own release hitting him hard. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his groan muffled against your neck as he spilled hot and thick, his hips jerking through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city below. Then, slowly, Raph lifted his head, his green eyes heavy-lidded, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion and smugness. “Ain’t nobody else ever gonna touch you like that,” Raph grinned, still pressed deep inside you, his chest rising and falling like he’d just gone ten rounds with the Foot.

You let out a shaky laugh, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of your face. “Cocky much?” you whispered, your voice hoarse but playful.

“Cocky?” he huffed, leaning back enough to give you that smug, lopsided grin that made your stomach flip. “Sweetheart, I just rocked your whole damn world. You should be thankin’ me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved despite yourself. “Don’t flatter yourself, hotshot. Maybe I just… let you win.”

That made him bark out a laugh, low and incredulous. “Let me? Baby, you were screamin’ my name so loud the whole city probably knows who you belong to now.” His thumb brushed lazily over your cheek, gentler than his words, his eyes softening even as his smirk stayed put.

You bit your lip, tilting your head. “Oh, so I ‘belong’ to you now, huh?”

“Damn right,” he shot back, but his voice dropped, husky and serious underneath the bravado. “Been yours for a long time, sweetheart. Just finally got the chance to prove it.”

Your laugh softened into something breathless, almost disbelieving, and you leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss to his mouth. He sighed into it, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.

When you pulled back, your lips still brushing his, you whispered, “Guess I can admit you were… pretty good.”

“Pretty good?!” He looked personally offended, his mouth falling open as if you’d just insulted his honor. “Baby, you came so hard I thought I broke somethin’ in you.”

You giggled, and he narrowed his eyes like he was plotting payback. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Always,” you teased, tracing a finger down the line of his plastron. “Besides, somebody’s gotta keep your ego in check.”

He shook his head, but the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. He dipped forward, nuzzling against your temple, his voice softening again. “I don’t care if you clown me, as long as you stay right here.”

Your chest tightened, the heat of him, the honesty bleeding through the cockiness, wrapping around you as surely as his arms did. For the first time in forever, the tension wasn’t fire ready to ignite, it was warmth, steady and consuming.

When you both started laughing again, breathless, sweaty, tangled up on a rooftop above the city, it felt like the whole world had cracked open just to give you this moment.

His laughter rumbled through you, deep and warm, his arms tightening around your waist as he pressed his forehead to yours. The city lights blurred behind him, but you didn’t care, not when his breath was still uneven, not when his hands traced slow, possessive lines down your back like he was memorizing every inch of you.

"You're stayin' with me," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "Ain't no way I'm lettin' you go after that." His smile was smug, but his fingers were gentle as they brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You're stuck with me now, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, but your grin gave you away. "Oh no, whatever will I do?" you teased, tracing the edge of his shell with your fingertips, relishing the way his breath deepened at the touch.

Raph growled, nipping at your lower lip in playful retaliation. "Keep pushin' me, and I'll remind you exactly what you'll be doin'," he warned, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that sent heat straight between your legs.

You shivered, but before you could retort, his lips were on yours again, slow and deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he was savoring the taste of you. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping tight as he pulled you flush against him, his cock already hardening again where it pressed against your stomach.

"Round two?" you gasped against his mouth, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he ground against you.

Raph chuckled, the sound dark and promising. "Sweetheart," he murmured, nipping at your jaw, "we're just gettin' started."

By the time you and Raph finally made it back to the lair, your hair was a mess, your clothes were rumpled, and your face still carried the glow of what had happened on that rooftop. Raph looked no better, lips swollen, neck blotched with faint marks, his bandana tails clinging damply to his skin.

You were both trying to look casual. You were both failing miserably.

The second you stepped into the common room, Mikey’s head popped up from the couch like a meerkat. His eyes widened, then he let out a long, piercing wolf-whistle that echoed off the tiled walls. “Wooo! Looks like somebody had a good night!”

Raph growled immediately, his arm tightening around your waist. “Shut it, Mikey.”

From across the room, Donnie didn’t even look up from his screens, just smiled, tapping a few keys like he’d been expecting this outcome all along. “Took you long enough.”

Leo, sitting cross-legged with a book in hand, shook his head with a quiet grin. “I’m just relieved you didn’t break the rooftop.”

Raph’s scowl deepened, a low rumble of a curse slipping out under his breath. But before he could fire back, a soft clink of porcelain cut through the noise.

Splinter, seated in his usual spot, lifted his teacup to his lips, eyes twinkling with that maddeningly serene patience. “At last,” he said gently, like he’d been watching this story unfold from the very beginning. “Harmony.”

Your cheeks burned hotter than they had all night, but you didn’t pull away. Raph’s big hand found yours, fingers intertwining, holding tight as he squared his shoulders at the room.

For once, he didn’t storm off. He didn’t snap. He just stood there with you, a wall of muscle and stubborn pride at your side, his growl more like a warning to anyone who might think to push further.

This time, you weren’t hiding. This time, you stood together.

The moment stretched, thick with tension and unspoken challenges. Mikey opened his mouth again, clearly ready to launch into another round of teasing, but Raph cut him off with a glare that could melt steel.

"One more word," he growled, fingers flexing around yours possessively, "and I'm throwin' you into a damn dumpster."

Mikey's grin didn't waver, but he mimed zipping his lips shut, flopping back onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, fine. But I better get to plan the wedding."

Raph's eye twitched. "There ain't gonna be a-"

You squeezed his hand, cutting him off with a quiet laugh. "Let it go, tough guy."

His jaw worked, but after a moment, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "...Whatever."

Donnie finally looked up from his screens, adjusting his goggles with a smirk. "Statistically speaking, Mikey planning anything is a disaster waiting to happen. But I do have a betting pool to settle."

Leo groaned, rubbing his temples. "You bet on them?"

"Obviously."

Raph looked like he was seriously considering murder.

Splinter, ever the picture of calm, simply took another sip of tea, whiskers twitching in amusement. "My sons," he mused, voice dry, "such supportive siblings."

You bit your lip, fighting a laugh as Raph muttered something under his breath that was definitely not family-friendly.

But then his thumb brushed over your knuckles, rough but deliberate, and when you glanced up, his scowl had softened just enough to let you see the warmth underneath.

Splinter’s words lingered in the quiet, sinking deep. You felt Raph’s arm flex, his grip settling firmer at your waist, like he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, pull you away again.

“C’mon,” he muttered low, only for you. The rumble of his voice vibrated against your cheek where you rested against his plastron. “Let’s get outta the spotlight.”

No one tried to stop you as he steered you down the hall, your footsteps falling in sync with his. For once, all the noise faded, just you, him, and the steady, grounding weight of his hand guiding you home.

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milykins · 5 days ago

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🍆🌽 and 🍟 for Mr. Jehannet and Basillo who have plagued my bed mind for WEEKS

Love you and your ocs babes <3

-your tagging buddy

OMG this is hella long, I'm so sorry 😅

💛Jehannet💛

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

This boy LOVES affection. All kinds. He's been 'missing' for almost 20 years and was living a life of solitude since he was 17. So he's a bit touch-starved.

But now? He craves physical touch. Sit in his lap, let him nuzzle your hair. He likes to get his nose real close to your neck and just breathe you in.

His hands will always remain respectful since you're his bff (for now, wink wink) but boyfriend needs his cuddles.

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

He craves it. He needs it. And he needs the emotional connection in order to give and receive physical affection. For him it goes hand in hand.

His favorite act of affection is actually laughter - so I guess that would fall under emotional. If he can make you laugh, he's on top of the world. If you can make him laugh? Oh honey, you'll have his heart forever.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

J has absolutely no shame. There's no such thing as guilty for him. He'll readily admit to all of his interesting likes.

But if you're really looking for one, he'll tell you that he had Leo replicate your lotion, so he could use it after his showers because you smell so pretty. He's sick of smelling dudes all day.

What he won't tell you is that he uses you as his love interest when writing his stories. He likes to romance the shit out of you in his stories. And first kiss scenarios with you are his kryptonite.

Basilio

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

Listen. This man is a bit of a hard ass. It's gonna take a small miracle to get him to be affectionate. But once you do, he's going to treat you like royalty, and protect you at all costs. Safety is his love language.

But man does enjoy some physical affection. He just won't initiate it.

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

He secretly loves affection. It's a bit weird for him at first though because he's gone so long without affection with a connection... If you know what I mean.

His favorite form of affection is actually quality time, so again emotional. He enjoys engaging in activities you both enjoy. He's a ceramist and has a shop out in the back of his cottage. He loves to bring you out there and help you build figurines and pottery, sit and paint them with you, and then fire the items up in the kiln.

Also, please know that Basilio is a trained assassin. He was built to be an absolute weapon. You need to have a really strong bond and deep connection in order to receive true affection from him.

But he's not above one night stands or acquaintances with benefits.

And while he may appear like a stone cold killer 24/7, the man actually has a heart of gold and is dying for someone to break down that wall. He's a romantic at heart.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

"Assassins don't have guilty pleasures."

But also, he's a fucking liar.

He secretly reads and edits all of J's stories and fanfics.

And loves every second of it.

That means he also knows about J's secret little crush on you thanks to J always having the same love interest in his stories LOL

Thanks for the ask!!! That was a lot of fun!

Feel free to ask more 😘💖

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milykins · 9 days ago

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The Rise Boys' love languages

In honor of the Open the Floodgates movement, I give to you something I've been sitting on for a few months. Hope you all enjoy! I'm going off of The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman for the curious.

Raphael Hamato

Giving:

Gift Giving: While he's not against hoarding mountains of plush toys, he's also not against sharing them should he deem the person asking for them a better fit. Just like he's not against the idea of passing hours somewhere looking for something for his partner. Expect thoughtful, even surprisingly dainty gifts if you're into them. New book series you're into or want to get into and can't afford it just yet? Expect the first or next book right at your door. He might not necessarily know what he wants for himself, but he knows what he wants for you.

Quality Time: As the former leader of the Mad Dogs and eldest child, Raph is more than aware of just how much listening and considering his teammates means, and you can bet that transfers to his future partner. You need to vent, talk about something that's bugging you at work, or share your excitement about an upcoming project? He might not necessarily stop what he's doing — whether or not he does will depend entirely on the gravity of the situation and what he's doing — but he will listen. His brothers try to bug him? No, no, no. You take priority. And while he's definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed, he will try to help you as best he can.

Receiving

Words of Affirmation: Considering how the entirety of the Hamato family was raised, this one is obvious. Compliments, especially genuine ones, will get him both smiling and maybe a little shy to start with since he's not used to them. Expect him to deflect a little, saying that one of his brothers helped or something along those lines in the beginning, but stay the cap and he will eventually accept your compliment and, who knows, maybe fish for them, just a little.

Physical Touch: Raph is an alligator snapping turtle. He is enormous. Gigantic. He isn't small in any sense of the term. He is six feet tall at fifteen and Leo grew up to be freaking massive at forty all while being mostly trained for agility. Imagine Raph, the tank, reaching his maximum size. He's already extremely self-conscious of it; what would being the size of a literal tank do to him? Reaching for him, touching him doesn't mean you see him. He's hard to miss. It means trust. It means he doesn't scare you or that, even if he does, just a little, you know he won't hurt you. It won't take much, either. Take his hand or touch his arm and you will send this boy soaring through the sky.

Leonardo Hamato

Giving:

Quality Time: Second oldest and current leader of the Ninja Turtles, Leo understands the importance of his time as he saw most of it shrink into nothing when he started taking his responsibilities as leader. As such, every second he can afford to spare with his partner, he will. Expect texts, dates, and late-night conversations. You and him have time? Movie or game night. Something's bugging you and you need an ear or tympanum to listen to your struggles? He's your guy.

Physical Touch: Before I start this one, I want you to look at the receiving section. I want you to notice that physical touch is in here twice. And that is exceedingly important for Leo. As much as he talks, as much as he boasts, and as much as he'll tell you exactly what you need to hear, if you want to know what this turtle wants, don't listen to his words, listen to his body language. You and he can have entire conversations with nothing said at all if you learn how to read him, with the two biggest being him reaching for your shoulder or your hand. The shoulder? "Let me handle this" or "I got you". The hand? "We'll make it through this together" or "I'm happy being with you."

Receiving

Words of Affirmation: Again, Hamato. Praise and compliments are rare and will find their mark easily. Hell, he'll even aggrandize the first few to make it easier for you. However, be really careful with him and him only. Compliment him too much or without substance and without proving your honesty, and you're going to be causing more harm than good. With what Leo has had to do to get by, he knows how easy it is to lie to get what you want.

Physical Touch: I believe that I said that Leo could have entire conversations without saying a word? I meant it. Your touch, to him specifically, means more than anything else in the world. It's going to take a while for you to get the nuance of it, but, once you catch it, you'll have a very happy and protective slider on your hands. If you play your cards right, expect him to get chirpy and cuddly along with the message that holds. He trusts you. He knows that you understand him. That means that, in your arms, he has no one else to be but himself.

Donatello Hamato

Giving:

Gift Giving: I would honestly say that, in Donnie's case, this goes hand in hand with the following entry. However, I made the call to separate these, so… here goes. Gift giving. You need something? Ask Donnie. If he can't find it, he will freaking build it for you. So be careful what you say around him. If you complain about anything and he's within range of hearing, don't be surprised if you find some kind of answer at your door within the next twenty-four hours.

Acts of Service: And if it's not that simple, expect the beginning of a fix instead. Doesn't matter if Donnie has to involve his family, he will get this done or his name isn't Hamato Donatello, genius extraordinaire. He won't waste time on words or complain, he will just get it done. You're trusting him with something important, and you're important to him, so it's now priority.

Receiving

Words of Affirmation: Do you want to hear a wrench clattering to the ground? See him absolutely speechless and unsure? Compliment him. Enjoy his work. Say he's doing incredible while knowing what you're praising him over. Again, I feel like this one goes hand in hand with the second, because while I can guarantee that his brain will malfunction and you will be left with a very quiet turtle at first…

Quality Time: The second he opens his mouth, certainly if it's for something he's made, he will absolutely gush over his work and explain the work that went behind it. So you better be ready and have some time on you 'cause you're going to be there a while. Because while I'm sure he'd become a bit more self-aware as time goes on, there is not stopping the information dumps.

Michelangelo Hamato

Giving:

Words of Affirmation: The most emotionally intelligent of the brothers, Mikey noticed pretty early that his brothers needed support and comfort, and, wanting to make sure that his family was alright, took his place as the heart of it. No matter who you are, expect compliments about at least your appearance and, as he knows you better, about everything and anything you feel proud about. Hell, even the stuff that you feel insecure about might become a target if he feels it worthy of compliments. And he won't stop until you accept it.

Quality Time: As anyone will tell you, being part of the Hamatos is a time-consuming affair. None of them have much time to spare between patrol and missions. This is why, despite his struggle with attention, Mikey will go out of his way to spend time with those whom he figures need it the most. He can and will spend hours painting and listening to your ramblings and show that he listens by peppering in comments and questions. If you need his advice? Doctor Feelings will gladly give it. But if all you want is quiet company, then he's there for you.

Receiving

Physical Touch: Extremely touch-prone that you'd think one of his main ways of giving affection is touch, Mikey prefers receiving than giving here. His hugs are definitely a way to tell you that he cares, but leaning in and making sure he's okay will get you more out of the box turtle than his hugs ever will. Scratch his carapace, let him enjoy a moment of quiet on your terms, and you will have a very happy turtle on your hands.

Quality Time: I originally had Words of Affirmation here, but I realized that there's something that's a little bit more important to Mikey than being told he's amazing, certainly when it will lead to bouts of compliments back and forth. Making time for him. Mikey sees his brothers being busy all the time. He knows extremely well how much a second of their time is worth. So every instant is precious. Every moment is magical. Sit down with him, listen to him rant, or simply be quiet and enjoy the silence or the churring if you take the time to add Physical Touch to it. All in all, be attentive. He'll be so happy if you are.

Taglist:

@silverwatergalaxy @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @thelaundrybitch @luckycharms1701 @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @the-cauldron-witch @redsrooftopprincess @iridescentflamingo @ninnosaurus

@milykins @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @truffle-reblogs @adebauchedsloth

@raphsmuneca @theanonymousninja247 @leosgirl82 @heretoreadcirca1980s

#absolutely perfect #i agree with these headcanons #all of the points make sense #Raph's oh my goodness #so sweet #thank you for this analysis!#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #Raphael Hamato headcanon #Leonardo Hamato Headcanon #Donatello Hamato Headcanon #Michelangelo Hamato Headcanon #not my writing

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milykins · 9 days ago

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Silly drawing that sort of has a backstory, but was also just for fun. It is tied in to the Prohibition AU a few of us have been goofing around in (@milykins wrote for it!). I also discovered Halftone brushes. I still don’t have the patience to color things how I’d like to. Also including the silly original sketch.

#aaaaaa #I don't care about the logistics #I love these two #the plot demanded they tango #Mutant Prohibition AU #bayverse donnie #Bayverse Donnie x OC #this is amazing #I love writing these two

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milykins · 9 days ago

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My fic, Dog Days of Summer, made it to 10,000 hits today! Then @the-cauldron-witch asked me what I was going to do to celebrate, and I hadn’t thought that far, so here’s a doodle of my favorite pairing. Raph + Daisy forever.

I mean, sure, it’s a Donnie x OC story…but Raph and cute puppy.

#it deserves all the praise!#all the hits!#I love these two #they're so adorable #Raph looks like such a sweetheart #congratulations!#tmnt dog days of summer #bayverse raph #OTP #Raph and Daisy

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milykins · 11 days ago

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"Feral" Epilogue

Here we are, the final chapter, everything is finally resolved. I think this has to be one of my most favourite things that I've ever written. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you all for reading and for the likes and reblogs!

The court date arrived. You bravely entered that courtroom with no-nonsense April O’Neil by your side. You mostly kept your gaze forward but caught the side-eye of your ex-husband, glaring daggers at you.

Just as you suspected, he had his lawyer employ every dirty trick in the book to pin whatever he could on you while he sat there looking smug.

April, like the silent firecracker she was, patiently waited her turn to speak. She gently patted your hand when she felt you tense. Hearing someone accuse you of terrible things in a courtroom was a tough pill to swallow.

The judge finally declared it was time for your rebuttal, and April was more than ready to tear into your ex with all the evidence you had gathered, striking back against all of their points like a viper in a smart one-piece pantsuit.

It was impressive, to say the least. April owned that courtroom, much to your ex’s dismay. You owed it to her skills as a journalist; she knew how to get to the truth, speaking with confidence and strength. She gave you a little wink after finishing her piece, then it was time to wait. Your ex looked absolutely livid.

During the brief recess, April had briefly stepped away to use the washroom. Like the unpleasant piece of trash he was, your ex took the opportunity to tell you how pointless this was, and if you’d just listened to him initially, he wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths. Still, he was blaming you for everything.

Keeping your back straight, you told him in not-so-complicated terms that his accusations were bullshit and you were done. He tried again to heckle you, but April returned, scaring him off with nothing more than a look.

Silence settled over the courtroom as the Judge announced his ruling. Your heart was pounding, but your expression remained a mask of calm.

You were flooded with relief when the judge ruled in your favour, gasping happily as April hugged you. No charges would be laid against you, and your divorce from your ex would be finalized. You were finally free of him.

You watched your ex throw down his papers and shove his chair back violently while yelling obscenities at the judge as his lawyer desperately tried to de-escalate things. He was making a complete spectacle of himself, telling the judge he’d made a mistake and that you were a thieving, lying, horrible woman. It was like watching a toddler who wasn’t getting his way. He was so outspoken that security had to forcibly escort him out of the courtroom. As he struggled, he shot a murderous glare in your direction, declaring that this was not over.

You unconsciously gripped April’s hand as she shot a look right back at him. ‘Pathetic,’ she’d called him and told you not to worry, he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

There was a celebration at the cottage that night. Casey brought steaks and a barbecue for you, and April had brought some salads. As the grill master he was, Casey cooked the steaks to perfection, and the entire meal was mouth-wateringly delicious. Raph, on the other hand, had been hard at work constructing something out of wood. He told you it was a surprise.

Although you were thankful for Casey and April, you felt relieved when it was just you and Raph again. He’d taken to staying at the cottage now, embracing a life of domesticity with you. You were more than happy to live together and share the daily chores that kept everything running smoothly.

You both had everything you could ever want, well, almost anything. You really missed eggs; they were hard to come by, living in the mountains, especially during the winter months. You did have love, companionship, and a partner who would move heaven and earth for you.

Unbeknownst to you, that was precisely what he did on a calm morning in April. After a late night of worshipping your body, he was letting you sleep while quietly puttering around the house with a cup of coffee. He paused at the sound of car tires rolling over gravel in the driveway. Placing the cup down, he immediately became alert, checking who it was through the curtains.

A man had pulled up, walking with purpose to the door. Raph knew who it was without question. Your piece-of-shit ex had returned to make trouble for you, and it was going to end today.

Raph was throwing open the door before the man even had a chance to knock. Instead, he stumbled back in surprise, shock and horror written on his face as he took in the mountain of a turtleman before him.

“What the—who the fuck, what the hell are you?!”

Calmly crossing his arms, Raph fixed a cold, calculated gaze on the intruder. “I’m gonna be your worst fucking nightmare if you think you’re gonna try to harass her.” He was quietly seething as he took a few steps down the stairs of the porch.

Your ex was tripping over himself trying to back away from the behemoth on the warpath toward him. “Get the fuck away, I don’t want any trouble!”

“Ya shoulda thought of that before ya drove all the way out here.” He was still advancing on him, fists clenched because how dare he? He fucking dares to come out here and try to destroy your peace? “Listen well, asshole, cuz I ain’t gonna repeat this, if you ever come out here again, or go anywhere near her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

To further emphasize his point, he threw a punch just inches from his face, causing your ex to emit a high-pitched scream and wet himself.

“Don’t kill me!” He was scrambling to unlock the door, now whimpering as Raph punched the window, cracking it.

“That’ll be your fucking head! Get the fuck outta here!” He was beyond done with this asshat, who finally got the door open to his car before peeling out of the driveway, never to be seen or heard from again.

He took a minute to calm down before returning to check on you. You were up, hair adorably mussed, still in that half-conscious, sleepy state he loved seeing you in.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Raph whispered while dropping a kiss on your head and hugging you close.

“Was someone at the door?” You murmured against the softness of his plaid shirt.

“Nah, just some folks who lost their way.”

You nodded, resting your head against him a bit longer. “Thanks for letting me sleep in.”

“’Course, baby, ya hungry? I got breakfast.”

He would later tell you what really happened and smiled when you told him you were ready to haul ass and give your ex a piece of your mind. He was so proud of the confident woman you’d become, but told you not to worry about it; if your ex knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t be back.

-----

It was about a month later when he finally revealed what he’d been working on. He’d taken to wearing an old straw hat, plaid button-down shirts, and jeans lately, and the look was definitely working for you.

His surprise was a handcrafted chicken coop and a pen for ducks with a small in-ground pond. The ducks and chickens had already been purchased, and he had already named some of them. They were still babies and followed him sweetly around the yard with little chirps and quacks. Some of them also approached you curiously as well.

Your heart melted. “Looks like we’re going to be parents.”

He laughed softly, pointing to one of the ducks. “That one’s Duck Vader,” he continued, pointing to each duck. “Duck Norris and this one…” he picked it up and placed it in your arms. “Is Quackie Chan.”

You snorted with laughter at his choice of names while carefully holding the baby duck in your arms. “Did you name them all?”

“Nah, not the chicks, thought you’d wanna.”

“Let me think…” You rubbed the duck’s fuzzy little head as you tried to come up with some good chicken names. “Okay, how about Henrietta, Mabel, Prudence and… Mother Clucker.” You laughed.

He laughed too, planting a kiss on your lips. “Perfect, I love ‘em.”

You sat in the grass with your new feathery children and Raph beside you. It was a perfect spring day, with the sun shining and a gentle breeze blowing. The striking mountain range made an ideal backdrop to this already picturesque scene. Leaning your head against Raph, you let out a contented sigh.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

If someone had told you a year ago that buying a cottage in the Adirondack Mountains would be the best decision you’d ever make, you’d think they were crazy, yet here you are, happier than you ever could have imagined.

You found each other, through darkness and pain, coming out the other side into a place of love and acceptance. Forever in each other’s arms, just as it should be.

Everything was falling into place.

The End

Taglist:

@thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch

@thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon

@scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie @jenuinelycurious

@chadobi

#mnt #bayverse mnt #adult mutant ninja turtles #aged up characters #bayverse raphael x reader #the grand conclusion #kicking ass in the courtroom #April is a badass #raph in flannel and jeans #and a straw hat #cute ducks and chickens #sweet domestic moments #happy ending for our characters #my writing #milykins

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milykins · 11 days ago

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"Feral" Chapter 5

Raph finally reveals his past and Raph and Reader give themselves to each other fully and completely.

Story summary:

What if Raph was living as a hermit in the woods due to a heartbreaking event from his past? What if you moved to a remote cabin, also looking to escape something difficult that happened in your own past?

This is a romance between Bayverse Raphael and a curvy female reader, both in their late 30s early 40s. Minors DNI! I hope you enjoy!

TW: Please heed the tags at the end of the chapter. Angst and talk of violence, and this chapter does contain sexual content. HEA guaranteed.

You awoke to the delicious smell of meat and eggs cooking as you stretched your stiff limbs. The previous night was filled with hot kisses and soft touches until you both felt too tired to continue. You were in Raph's embrace as you fell asleep, safely nestled in his arms. You felt like you could breathe again. Nothing could hurt you as long as he was here.

A letter was sitting next to you on the side table, and upon seeing it, you felt a small flicker of fear.

“Found that on your doorstep. Thought it looked important. You don’t gotta open it till you’re ready. Eat first.” Raph placed a plate loaded with two eggs and a few slices of bacon into your hands, watching you take a deep breath.

“Thanks, I’ll look at it after.” You ate quietly, your mind filled with questions. No doubt that letter was something your ex had compiled to hurt you.

Raph sat beside you, his energy providing a quiet strength you were grateful for.

The letter contained a summons for a court appearance, and there was a list of charges against you. Your heart sank. It would never stop. Your ex was a powerful man, able to hire the best lawyers to get what he wanted.

Wordlessly, you handed the letter to Raph, who took his time reading it before swearing softly. “Did April give you her card?”

“Yeah… but what can she—?”

He was already up, throwing on his clothes and handing you yours. “We’re gonna call her, they ain’t gonna get away with this.”

The dishes were cleaned, and the two of you headed back through the woods. Raph held your hand, guiding you along before giving it a gentle squeeze, pausing you for a moment.

Silently, he pointed, drawing your gaze to the breathtaking sight of a mother deer with her recently born fawn. After living here for nearly a year, you were entirely grateful for moments like this that still managed to take your breath away.

Back at the cottage, things progressed swiftly, and soon both April and her husband, Casey, had arrived, ready and willing to come to your defense.

April seemed to be a woman of many talents. Law and small claims court cases were of special interest to her. She gathered any and all evidence you had about your ex-husband and worked tirelessly to create a solid defense against him.

Your court date was soon, just enough time for April to gather everything you needed. When everything was said and done, she told you she’d handle everything and be your representative. You were so grateful you nearly cried.

“I may not be able to kick ass in the streets, but you can be sure that I will enter that courtroom with guns blazing.” She was pretty confident you’d win the court case, no matter what your ex tried to throw at you.

“Thank you all for everything.”

“Anything for family.” Casey had pointed out, smiling kindly at you. Your heart soared immensely as you saw Raph nod his head in agreement. Finally, you had some heavy-hitters in your corner, and the situation didn’t look so hopeless anymore.

As Casey and April prepared to leave, you caught a glimpse of the two deep in discussion with Raph near their car. It was something you knew had nothing to do with your case. Raph’s expression was tight, and April looked concerned before hugging him goodbye. Instead of heading back to his den, Raph stayed behind, ensuring your safety in case anyone returned.

You fell into a sort of quiet domesticity so naturally that it felt as though you had lived together long before this. Raph, though large and imposing, moved through your space with care—an elegance you hadn’t realized he possessed. He cooked for you, tidied up, and slipped his arms around you from behind while you were doing the dishes.

You were drawn to his touch like a live wire, hands stilling, the chore momentarily forgotten as you felt him kiss the back of your neck.

This is how it was supposed to feel. The steady pooling of heat in your belly, the drawn-out breath of air from his touch on your belly, moving just enough to brush the underside of your breasts.

With wet hands, you reached for his forearms, leaning back against his chest, a silent invitation for him to continue. A slight growl, more animalistic than playful, invaded your senses as you felt his large hands completely envelope your breasts.

“Leave ‘em…” he husked, kissing your neck again, trailing more along your collarbone to your cheek.

Turning in his arms, you clutched his shirt, bringing your lips to his in a deep kiss, one that he returned with equal fervour. You felt him lift you, sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you as if you weighed nothing. That type of strength was both awe-inspiring and a little frightening. Not that you were scared of him, but others should be.

You tangled your hands in the tails of his mask, kissing him with soft moans of approval as he entered your room. Placing you down, he began removing his worn t-shirt, pausing for a second with it halfway off his body.

“D’ya want this?” he asked, suddenly fearful of your answer, as ridiculous as that was, because you very much did.

“I do, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” To prove your point, you removed your own shirt, slipping your silken bra straps down your arms.

His chest was bare half a second later as he knelt in front of you. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he stopped you, his expression serious with all that he’d left unsaid. “I’ve wanted this too, fuck, ever since I got ya outta the cold that day, but there’s something I gotta tell you, I ain’t fully human, it’s not gonna look normal.” He breathed shakily, almost afraid to continue. “And that’s not all, ya told me about your past… mine… it ain’t pretty, I’ve done some pretty bad shit… moved out here as a way to deal with it all… but you need to know before we go any further.”

You knew it had to be something serious, but as far as you were concerned, you didn’t care. You were certain you were in love with him. “Then tell me,” you whispered, cradling his face in your hands. “We all have scars, whatever you did, I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“You might see me differently, like the monster I am,” he murmured as your hands found his shoulders. “The Foot Clan set a trap, bombed us, all my brothers died ‘cept me; there was no way they could’ve survived. I saw ’em...” he took another shaky breath. “I lost it completely, bringin’ the fire back to them in a rage. I was so angry, I barely remember it. I... practically no one was left alive after. It was a lot of people. Even ones who probably had nothin’ to do with it.” He turned away in shame, afraid to see your expression. “Casey and April were the ones… they got me outta there. We buried my brothers, and then after a while, I left. I tried to stay, but everything was a constant reminder that they were gone. Eventually, I ended up here. That’s it, that’s everything.”

It was definitely a lot to take in, and knowing he had killed that many people was a hard pill to swallow. You were quiet for a long moment before speaking. “April told me the Foot Clan were evil, right? They were the ones terrorizing the city. Their leader murdered your brothers and never would have stopped chasing you and trying to hunt you down too. You did what you had to do, Raph. No, it’s not pretty, but it was necessary, and you can’t define yourself by your past actions. You were avenging your brothers and ridding the city from that evil. I know for a fact you have a good heart. You wouldn’t have saved me and given me all those gifts otherwise.”

You rubbed his head gently, bringing his gaze back to yours. “And if I’m being honest, I had the same thoughts about my ex-husband, but I ran instead.”

He exhaled softly in relief, wrapping his arms around you as you pulled his head to rest against your chest. It was a cathartic moment for both of you, healing from past trauma, accepting each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and recognizing both the good and the bad.

“You’re not a monster, Raph…” You kissed his head with a whispered confession. “I love you.”

The admission had him lifting you fully onto the bed and capturing your lips in record time. “I love you, too, so fucking much.” His kisses left you feeling breathless, hungry for more. Nothing was holding either of you back from giving yourselves fully and entirely to each other.

Shyly, you tried to reach around to remove your bra, but again he stopped you. “Lemme do it, I wanna be the one to see you.” Nodding, you lifted yourself up on your forearms just enough for him to do the unclasping, sliding the garment off before tossing it away.

“Beautiful. Most gorgeous tits I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, gently caressing each one with care. He couldn’t help but admire you, the soft swell of your breasts, creamy, smooth skin with dusky pink nipples in the center. “What else are you hiding here?” his hands were on your waistband, fingers following the curves of your body. You shivered, finally finding your voice.

“Why don’t you take a look?” You had to lift your hips for him to slide everything down and off. Now entirely bare for him, you laughed nervously as he swore.

Running his hand up your thigh, he spoke with a tender yet rough voice. “So fucking beautiful… can’t wait to taste your skin, find all the ways you like bein’ touched.”

You were flushed pink listening to him talk like that. With your limited number of past sexual partners, not one had used that kind of talk or looked at you the way he did. You felt as if you were a very precious gift, knowing that no matter what happened, he would treat your body with respect and wreck you in the absolute best possible way. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and you were slick between your legs.

“Please.” You whispered, and Raph was kissing you again, tugging you close while brushing his thumb along the tops of your breasts. You shuddered with pleasure.

Cupping one, he gave it an experimental squeeze, playing your nipples into hard little peaks while you gasped.

“Fuck…”

He chuckled deeply, “Sweetheart, I’m just gettin’ started.”

Pushing the other breast up, he captured that nipple and sucked, flicking his tongue around with practiced ease.

You arched your back in surprise. “Ohh!”

He was relentless, moving lower and parting your thighs gently before diving in for a taste. You were shaking, quivering with your legs resting on his shoulders while he made love to you with his lips and his tongue.

“C’mon, beautiful… lemme hear how good you feel.”

In the past, you often struggled to reach your release with a partner performing oral on you. It was either not long enough or the method was off, doing nothing for you. It was another thing your ex had teased you about and also found frustrating, which did nothing to boost your confidence in the matter. His attempts at oral were half-hearted at best, only doing it long enough to get what he wanted.

Raph’s technique, on the other hand, was mind-blowing, making you feel incredibly good. Still, you worried that maybe you wouldn’t be able to do it with him either.

“I… I don’t know if I can…”

He paused again, ready to allay your fears. “Relax, sweetheart, I ain’t in any hurry, just let yourself feel, I got you.”

With his tongue dancing on your clit, and one of his fingers deep inside, you were struck with the sudden realization. No one had ever touched you like this, a stark reminder that Raph was certainly not your ex.

Panting and whimpering, you felt his tongue searching, looking for the spot to make you scream. You gasped again with a cry, giving him the confirmation he needed. Over and over again, he flicked his tongue. He knew you were close, you were clenching around his fingers, He needed to do it just a little more…

“Ah, fuck… fuck, I’m gonna…”

Overwhelmed with pleasure, you cried out in surprise. The rush of pleasure was intense, drawn out by him until you couldn’t handle it any longer.

“That’s my girl.” He wiped your essence from his face before kissing you. “Knew you could.” He was back on his knees, undoing his belt and sliding his pants down to finally give you an idea of what was still yet to come.

He hadn’t lied about his anatomy. It was a very non-human length that was revealed to you when he dropped his pants. He had a tail, you presumed that was usually straight, but in the heat of his arousal, had curled under between his legs, presenting his impressive manhood.

It was deep purple in colour, fading into a rosy shade of pink at the tip.

His cock had a slight downward curve to it and a very flared head, almost like a flower. In the bottom center of his flat glans, a pointed ring of raised flesh protruded, surrounded by the fleshy flared edge that circled up into a pair of points at the top. On the back of the flare, a bulge of flesh made the alien-looking cock even more intimidating.

“I know… It’s a lot, but I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He was nervous, baring himself like this. Nothing about this man was small, this being no exception. You had to be honest with yourself. You were slightly concerned that it might not fit.

You swallowed, running your hand along his unique length, feeling it twitch a little. “We are going to have to go slow.”

“I know, ya ain’t the first.” He did look apologetic with that admittance. “I know what to do, and I’m gonna make ya feel good.”

He knew how to be gentle; being the largest of his brothers, he was very aware of his size and strength. You were quite the opposite, all curves, with a little round belly, soft and sweet, and he would take great care in making you feel as incredible as you deserved.

Lying down next to you, he kissed you slowly while his hand slipped down to your center once more. “D’ya trust me?”

Your answer was a resounding yes. Even though you were nervous, you trusted this man with your life and knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. “I trust you, Raph.”

You felt his finger and thumb gently breach your entrance while he continued speaking low. “It’ll fit, I promise, just gotta ready you for it.”

It didn't take much to realize he was stretching you, gently, carefully, while laying some pressure on your inner walls. His other hand was busy too, providing added stimulation to your clit, another measure to open you even more to him.

When the time came for him to make his entrance, you were nearly begging for his cock. You were so ready to be filled, the need nearly overpowering any lingering nervousness. Raph was speaking to you every step of the way, warning you about the stretch and the burn, giving you time to adjust.

You sucked in a breath, the unique head like nothing you had ever felt. He had folded it in slightly to ease things along. You felt it hug your inner walls before it opened up inside of you. The rest of his length followed, stopping when you could take no more of him. It would’ve been impossible to take his entire length. Still, it was enough to make him shudder, using every curse word known to man as he bottomed out inside of you.

“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good… You okay?” he asked, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Breathless, you nodded, your gaze wide with wonder. “No pain, it feels… you feel, incredible…”

He relaxed slightly, leaning to plant a kiss on your lips before deepening it slightly. “When I’m finished with you, you’re gonna be screamin’ my name.”

Fuck, that was hot. You shivered a little, pulling him down for more hot kisses as he gripped your thigh, hiking it up.

The first push of his hips had you gasping. It was as if his cock was made to hit every inch of you perfectly, and he knew exactly what to do with it.

At first, his thrusts were slow. Deep and soul-healing as your pleasure grew steadily. You wanted this, to be treasured, loved, taken care of, and yet, you knew he was capable of so much more. You needed that. It was as if a feral part of you had been unleashed that you had been entirely unaware of.

Clutching his arms, you gasped. “Raph…! Can you…? Go harder?”

The grin he gave you was absolutely sinful as he hiked up your other thigh. “Can I go harder? Baby, I can fuck you as hard as you like, as much as you can take, ya just gotta tell me if anything hurts and I’ll ease up.”

You nodded, wanting everything he had to give. “Do it. I need this… need you…”

He dipped his head to kiss you slowly before his powerful hips snapped into something life-changing. A harder rhythm, one that was sure to make you see stars and cause soreness in the morning.

He knew exactly just how much of his cock you could take, and your sounds of pleasure became louder, your body was beginning to tremble. He grunted softly, close to unravelling himself but determined to have you find your release first. He could feel you clenching, tightening, breathing faster. His thumb found your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure.

“C’mon pretty girl… want you to cum all over my cock… you’re so beautiful like this, so fucking beautiful…”

Crying out his name, you did see stars in an explosion of pleasure that nearly took your breath away.

“That’s it, cum just for me, you’re fucking incredible.” His movements never wavered until you were just at the end of your high. Raph had sworn deeply, his hips stuttering a little before he, too, joined you in pleasure with a deep groan.

He pulled out a moment later as you both lay side-by-side, catching your breath. You were stunned by the amount of euphoria you felt. “Holy shit… that was…”

“Yeah… can’t find… right word for it.” Raph turned and gathered you close, kissing you reverently.

At a complete loss for words, you just laughed between kisses as a sudden thought entered your mind.

“I made you a cake.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “What kind?”

“Chocolate, it’s in the fridge.”

“Then what are we waitin’ for? Wait right here.”

With a kiss on your forehead, he went to fetch the dessert, giving you a moment to recover. That was how the two of you ended up eating cake straight from the pan with forks, laughing and talking well into the night.

I-love-yous were exchanged as you curled into his embrace to sleep.

The realtor could suck it, you didn’t just befriend the ‘monster’—you loved him with everything you had. No matter what the future held, you’d face it together.

Last Chapter - Final Chapter

Taglist

@thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch

@thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon

@scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie @jenuinelycurious

@chadobi

#mnt #bayverse mnt #adult mutant ninja turtles #aged up characters #bayverse raphael x reader #this chapter has the smut #nsfw #tmnt x reader smut #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #healing from past trauma #soft romance #monster romance #raph is living in the woods #you are living in the mountains in a cabin #my writing #milykins

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milykins · 11 days ago

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"Feral" Chapter 4

Chapter four: we're getting into the good stuff now, and April makes an appearance!

Story summary:

This is a romance between Bayverse Raphael and a curvy female reader, both in their late 30s early 40s. Minors DNI! I hope you enjoy!

TW: Please heed the tags at the end of the chapter. Angst will be present in some instances, and there will be sexual content in the next chapter. HEA guaranteed.

Heart pounding, you carefully approached the door, reaching for the gun as you cracked it open slightly. A pretty, red-haired woman with a smattering of freckles across her face was standing there holding a few bags. She was beaming when you opened the door and immediately introduced herself as April O’Neil. Your earlier apprehension was wiped out of existence, replaced by shock and awe when she added that she knew Raphael, that he was family to her and her husband.

Finally, a glimpse into his past. You hurriedly invited her in, and soon the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting over tea. She explained that he usually visited her and her husband, Casey, twice a year for a month at a time. When asked about what happened to the brothers, April did explain the long-standing feud between them and another clan, that the brothers sadly lost their lives in that battle and that Raph was the only survivor.

Although you were thankful to finally get some clarity on what happened, you noticed that April was deliberately withholding certain details you still had questions about. Why was Raph the only one left alive? If this Shredder guy with a huge clan was as dangerous as April described, shouldn’t some of them have survived? You knew better than to question April directly, so instead, you thanked her for the explanation.

April responded by taking your hand in both of hers. “No, thank you. I’ve known Raphael for a long time, and this past visit was the first time in five years that I’ve seen him smile, and it was when he was telling us all about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in this new bit of information. “He’s saved my life twice now, I’m really thankful to have him as a friend.”

She had a knowing look as she nodded, releasing your hand to sip her tea again. “He’s happier than he’s been in years. Casey and I have definitely seen a change in him. That’s why I had to come up here to meet you. I apologize if I startled you, I tend to do that to people.”

You were quick to reassure her that you were fine with the unexpected visit. “Oh, no, no! I was just surprised, it’s just that I’m not used to having a lot of visitors here.” None to be exact, and you didn’t want to confess you had been afraid. That there was a specific person you hoped would never find you.

“I can see that,” April replied softly. Her expression was one of motherly concern as she carefully worded her following comment. “I have a feeling you and Raph have more in common than you think.” She withdrew a card from her purse and slid it over. “If you’re ever in trouble, please don’t hesitate to call. Any friend of Raph’s is a friend of mine, and my husband and I will come out here ready to kick ass if anyone bothers you.”

Even though you’d just met this woman, you trusted her completely. You could tell that April O’Neil was both a valuable ally and an important friend to have. She brought you a bag of non-perishables and a few fresh items that you would have had a hard time getting your hands on. She also brought some freshly cooked meals that you could freeze and enjoy later. You were amazed by her kindness, thanking her sincerely and hugging her tightly.

You visited for a while longer, just chatting about whatever came to mind before it was time for her to leave. You gave your well-wishes to Raph, and April had one more bit of advice to impart to you before she left.

“Be patient with him, I know he’s a little rough around the edges, well, rougher in these recent years… but you’ll soon come to realize he’s got the biggest heart and once he’s decided you’re important to him, he will never let you down.”

Thanking her once again for her kind words, you waved her off and settled in to enjoy one of the meals she brought. April was an excellent cook, you decided, and you needed to learn all of her secrets.

-----

You were nearing the end of the four weeks and felt quite excited to see Raph again. You’d baked him a cake that sat safely in the fridge until it was ready to eat. April had been a wealth of information, and you’d learned that chocolate was his favourite. You were eager to show him all the progress you’d made around the house, too. Your vegetable garden was thriving, and you had planted a few berry bushes as well.

You were seriously considering telling him everything when he came back, regardless of whether he was ready to reveal the truth about his past. You cared deeply for him and realized that you were no longer afraid to give your heart to someone else.

A sharp rapping at your front door brought you back to reality. It wasn’t April, and as the knocking grew more persistent, you knew it couldn’t be Raph either. It was a man calling your name through the door, claiming to be a lawyer and saying your husband just wanted to talk to you.

All reasoning and logic vanished as you panicked. Instead of grabbing the gun like Raph told you, you bolted out the back door, running as fast as you could into the woods. You heard a few startled shouts, but you did not slow down. You knew they had little chance of catching you in these woods. They didn’t know them like you did. Your only goal was to reach Raph’s cave, and you headed straight for it. The clouds darkened angrily above, rumbling with thunder and flashing lightning. Why did you always get stuck in a storm? No matter what, you didn’t stop, even as the rain poured down. Relief flooded through you when you saw the cave entrance nearby. You hurried inside, taking a second to breathe, as your heart thundered in your chest. Cautiously, you listened for footsteps to see if you were followed. Raph wasn’t home yet.

The cave was dark, the only light coming from the well-hidden entrance. Unless you knew where to look, you’d walk right by it and never know. After hearing nothing for a painfully extended period of time, you finally allowed yourself to relax a little. Outside, the storm raged, and you decided to build a small fire to stay warm.

You were far from calm, on edge with every sound you heard. Your vision blurred with tears as you realized your home, everything you’d built and worked for, had been compromised. He’d finally found you. You were going to have to run again, and that meant leaving Raph, the one you’d been ready to give your heart to.

That was how he found you, sobbing quietly in front of his hearth. The storm delayed his arrival, and he checked the cottage, growing increasingly worried when you weren’t there and seeing a letter at the door. Pocketing it, he began the long trek home, pushing his motorbike through the wet forest and getting completely soaked.

You jerked your head up at the sound of his arrival, fear evident on your features as your heart rate spiked.

“Whoa, it’s okay… it’s just me.” Raph spoke gently, wheeling the bike in before resting it on its kickstand.

“Raph…?” You were on your feet in an instant, your feet carrying you over to him of their own accord, it seemed, before you threw your arms around him with a soft whimper.

He hugged you close, his embrace, though wet, was protective and warm. He became increasingly concerned when he felt you shaking. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Your voice was trembling too, as you tried to explain. “He found me… he knows where I live… I didn’t know what to do, so I ran all the way here.”

You felt one of his large hands rubbing up and down your back as he waited for you to calm down a bit. “Okay, it’s alright, let’s… get you out of these wet clothes and ya can explain everything.”

You took a shaky breath as you nodded, soon finding yourself in a dry, well-worn T-shirt of his, while he was once again in his basketball shorts. He stoked the fire to heat water for tea and brought the mug over to where you sat, wrapped in the furs on his bed.

You took a sip as he moved in beside you, patiently waiting until you were ready to talk.

It all came pouring out of you, the whole sad tale. “I had everything that most people dream of having. A nice house, loving husband, a baby on the way…”

You could see a flicker of surprise in his gaze, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s the little things, right? That people tell you to watch out for, but I didn’t notice it until it was too late. First, it was making sure he had access to my phone whenever he wanted, then it was restricting my visits with friends. He made me feel guilty every time I did anything for myself and even asked me to quit my job, especially after I got pregnant. He insisted that we’d be fine on his income alone and that my only responsibility would be to raise our baby. In the end, I did quit, and things got even worse.”

You wiped your tears before continuing. “Everything came to a head when I lost the baby. The doctor told me it was a spontaneous miscarriage due to stress, but my husband blamed me, saying it was my fault for going out when he told me to stay home. I felt like a prisoner in that house and just wanted to go out and get some groceries.” Something soft was pushed into your hand, and you realized it was a handkerchief. You dabbed your eyes, giving him a small smile as you took a deep breath before continuing.

“I… believed him. I was broken one, a failure for not being able to do this one simple task. He wanted to get me pregnant again right away, but I told him no, that I needed time to grieve. A few months later, I discovered he was cheating on me.”

Raph, though, had remained quiet until now, unconsciously clenching his fists, a low growl emitting from his chest.

“When I confronted him and asked for a divorce, he… he hit me and told me never to suggest such a thing, that it was my fault for withholding sex that caused him to cheat. He threatened me again, telling me I wasn’t allowed to leave or else… but I did anyway. When he was away on a business trip, I emptied my half of the money from our joint bank account, packed a bag, took my car and left. I stayed in hotels for a bit before finding this cabin and put in an offer. You know the rest… but it’s over now, because he knows I’m here.” Softly sobbing, you brought the handkerchief to your eyes again and felt him slowly lifting the cup from your hands to place it on the table beside you.

He gently pulled you into his embrace, rubbing your back. You buried your face into his chest, which rumbled as he spoke. “Hey… none of that was your fault, ya hear me? You were a victim, and if he ever comes back, even within ten miles of this place, I’ll kick his ass myself. There ain’t no way you’re running from him again.” He lowered his tone, quieter, softer as he laid his confession on top of everything else he’d said. “Ain’t no way anyone’s taking away what’s mine.”

Slowly, you looked up at him, your tear-stained face wide with shock. “What’s… yours?” Heart thumping in your chest, you waited, hoping it meant what you thought it meant.

His gaze never wavered, his deep, gold-green eyes locked onto you entirely. “Yeah, mine, and no girl of mine is gonna be chased away like some fucking animal. You’re gonna stand your ground, and I’m gonna help you.”

You could kiss him. Completely throwing caution to the wind, you went for it. The gentle press of your lips against his felt indescribable, like a dozen fireworks exploding inside you. His grip on you tightened, and the press of his mouth grew firmer, more insistent. You responded by gripping his shoulders, finally releasing everything you’d been holding inside.

There was a soft growl on his part, his large hands moving over your curves while his tongue demanded entrance. He tasted like cinnamon gum, spicy and delicious as you opened yourself to him. You were acutely aware that he was lying you back against the furs, his large body encompassing yours protectively.

He was kissing away all of your fears, chasing those stormy thoughts with kindness and understanding. He was making you feel whole again, one kiss at a time.

Last Chapter - Next Chapter

Taglist:

@thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch

@thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon

@scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie @jenuinelycurious

@chadobi

#mnt #bayverse mnt #adult mutant ninja turtles #aged up characters #bayverse raphael x reader #eventual smut #in the next chapter in fact #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #healing from past trauma #soft romance #monster romance #raph is living in the woods #you are living in the mountains in a cabin #my writing #milykins

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milykins · 11 days ago

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"Feral" Chapter 3

Chapter three: Our Reader and Raph grow steadily closer with each passing day.

Story summary:

This is a romance between Bayverse Raphael and a curvy female reader, both in their late 30s early 40s. Minors DNI! I hope you enjoy!

TW: Please heed the tags at the end of the chapter. Angst will be present in some instances, and there will be sexual content in future chapters. HEA guaranteed.

You both lay side-by-side, facing each other in his rustic wooden bed, piled with furs, quietly watching one another. You chose to keep your shirt on but not your bra, and took your pants off for comfort as well. Raph wore a very old pair of basketball shorts, slipping in beside you almost nervously, trying to give you space out of respect.

As it was well into the night, his cave was dark, illuminated only by the flickering flames of his hearth. You could still make out the shape of his face and the shine of those intense eyes of his.

“So…” you began. “You haven’t been back to the city since?”

“I go back twice a year, but I thought living out here would be best for now.” He still wasn’t ready to reveal everything to you. He would’ve taken the title of ‘monster’ from anyone without a shit, the word already like a brand on his entire being. You were different, never seeing him as a dangerous creature or something to be afraid of. You should be in his view. He felt he had nothing good to offer you and feared you’d run if you knew the truth about him. In that moment, however, he wanted you safe in his bed where he could watch over you and keep you safe. “You thinkin’ the same, movin’ out here?”

“Yeah… something like that.” You weren’t sure either if you were truly ready to delve into your past. The last thing you wanted was for him to look at you as if you were broken, to pity you. You didn’t want that. You wanted him to see you as you were in the moment — strong, independent, capable of taking care of yourself, and not haunted by scars from your past. “I love it here.”

“It’s pretty incredible. When spring comes, I’ll show you this waterfall I found.” There was a promise in those green/gold eyes of his. It made your heart bloom with hope as he continued. “I’ll make sure you get through the winter first.”

“Thanks, Raph.” You were tired, catching his name in a yawn that brought tears to your eyes. You needed to wipe them away quickly before chuckling softly. “I appreciate it,”

He gave your hand a gentle pat, a small gesture, but you could feel how much he cared for you. “It’s nothin’, sleep if you’re tired.”

You nodded, your eyes growing heavy, as you yawned once more. “Good night. Thanks for saving me.”

You heard him whisper, “Anytime,” as you drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, he was already rustling up breakfast for you while the sun shone brightly into the cave entrance. He presented you with dried fruit and some strips of deer jerky. Again, it tasted delicious, and you were grateful when he showed you a safe place to relieve yourself as well.

Once the two of you were bundled up and ready, you began the trek back to your cottage. He was closer than you realized and you tried your best to memorize the path in case you found yourself in need of his help.

You were really looking forward to taking a shower and getting into some clean clothes. Once home, Raph headed straight to work, shovelling your front walk and collecting cut logs from your woodshed. You knew he was strong, but it was humbling to watch how easily he worked, chopping and stacking the wood so you’d have a good supply to last for a while. He didn’t want you foraging in the woods until winter was over.

He gently insisted on checking your food stores, and you promised him you’d be alright, that once the roads were cleared, you would buy more supplies. He was satisfied with that but mentioned he’d hunt for you just in case. You thanked him and, without thinking, threw your arms around his solid frame in a hug.

For a moment, he was as frozen as an icicle. You were just about to let go when his brain finally kicked in, and he wrapped his big arms around you in return. You pressed your face into his jacket, delighting in the woodsy scent of him once more.

Before he left, you asked him to wait right there for a moment. Disappearing into the cottage briefly, you returned with a bundle of colourful yarn skeins and several sizes of knitting needles.

His expression was initially unreadable as he quietly accepted the gift. Then you saw it — a genuine smile that lit up his entire face. You couldn’t help but smile as well, relishing in the fact that you’ve made him so happy.

“For your projects and as thanks for saving my life.”

“Thanks, I really mean that. Thank you.” He held everything to his chest as if it were very precious to him indeed. “First project will be for you.”

Smiling just as broadly, you nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

A few days later, you found a book wrapped in plastic on your back porch. It was a weathered copy of ‘The Forager’s Handbook’, a handy collection of edible plants and recipes. You couldn’t wait to take it to the forest in the springtime. Looking out at the woods, you thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

The nights seemed a little less lonely after that.

-----

Winter, though relentless and unforgiving at times, had to end eventually. The spring thaw, combined with the warm sunshine, felt like a balm to your soul. You were in the woods, happily foraging with your fancy new book of plants. You had just slipped some fiddlehead ferns into your deerskin pouch when the sound of a gunshot made you freeze. That couldn’t be Raph, he didn’t hunt with guns. Who was in your woods?

Raucous laughter and the sound of footsteps running through the woods caught your attention, revealing the source of the ones disturbing your peace. A couple of young guys were talking and laughing as they ran recklessly with shotguns in hand. They were close enough that you could hear their conversation, and it made your blood boil.

“C’mon, I know there’s a bear den round here, it’s the best time to catch ‘em, they’re too dopey to know what’s going on, easy kill.”

“They’re fucking stupid anyway, just like that ‘monster’ everyone keeps talking about.”

Oh no, not in your watch. Ignoring the fact that these two were armed, you stomped over to them while yelling. “Hey!”

They stopped, glancing over in confusion as you tramped through the woods towards them. “Who’s this crazy lady?”

Now, you weren’t exactly a ‘Karen,’ but this time you couldn’t let things slide. “This is private property, you need to leave.”

“Yeah, right, no one lives here, crazy lady, mind your own business.” One of them scoffed.

“I do, and I have it on good authority that bear hunting is illegal. So be on your way. Hurry before the ‘monster’ gets you.” You held your hands up as if they were clawed, doing your best monster impression for these two idiots who did not look amused.

“Yeah? Who’s gonna make us, you? Looks like you’re all alone here.” They were advancing a little on you now, and you were acutely aware of them lifting their guns.

Maintaining your demeanour, you stood your ground, speaking bravely. “Oh, I’m never alone, he’s here, and he happens to be a friend of mine.”

One of them scoffed again. “You really are crazy. You know what we do with crazy?”

His partner cocked his gun. “We put it out of its misery.”

Shit, shit, shit, Raph, if you’re there, I could really use an assist!

“Put those down, you don’t want to do something you’ll regret. He’s going to be furious.” You managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, but a cold wave of fear washed over you as one of them raised their gun.

Everything happened very quickly then. A silver streak of metal struck the gun, knocking it from his hand, and a second one pinned him against a tree.

You gasped. The two men started panicking, with one futilely trying to free his friend, but the weapon was too deeply embedded in the wood.

“The fuck?! What the fuck did you do?!” He scrambled for his gun, waving it frantically. “Who’s out there?! Show yourself!”

You’d never felt so relieved in your life when your hero in leather stepped out from the trees. “Heard you idiots were out here lookin’ for a monster, well here I am, assholes, boo!”

Their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as the one finally wrenched the weapon free. They emitted embarrassingly high-pitched screams when Raph began walking toward them, growling deeply. He threw a few rocks at them with pinpoint accuracy as they hightailed it out of there. “And stay the fuck out!”

You were just watching in amazement as Raph calmly went to retrieve the two projectiles, they some three-pronged weapon that he slipped back into his belt before throwing the still-working, but abandoned gun over his shoulder. “You okay? Ya shouldn’ta done that, they were armed and you weren’t.”

You shrank a little, shame creeping over you like an unwelcome guest in your mind. “I know… I’m sorry, I just snapped… I didn’t think they—”

You were pulled into his embrace without a second thought. How did he get over to you so quickly?

“Ya gotta be more careful… seriously, what if I wasn’t here?” He sounded more concerned than angry, and you melted into the hug, bringing your hands around to grip his coat. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, inhaling his scent and drawing comfort from it, unaware that he was doing the same. “I promise to be more careful.”

He drew back with a nod, exhaling softly. “I heard the gunshots and I was about to kick those little shits outta the woods myself.” He tapped the gun on his shoulder and caught your gaze. “I’m gonna show you how to use this for next time.”

You’d never handled a gun before, but perhaps he had a point in teaching you how to defend yourself.

“Okay,” you agreed easily. “Also, thank you for the book.” You opened the pouch to show him what you found, and he nodded in approval. He stayed with you long enough to get you back home, showing you a few more plants along the way.

Over the next few days, he followed through on his offer to teach you how to shoot. You were quite unsteady at first, the weapon feeling too heavy and frightening in your hands, but with his gentle encouragement, your confidence grew. After a week, you were shooting at targets, hitting the mark more accurately with each passing day.

A few weeks later, he turned up again with a bundle under one arm and a box of ammo in his hand. Presenting both items to you, he said he’d be gone for a month.

“Gotta go pay my respects to my brothers and our dad.” He explained, softly.

“I understand, Raph, I’ll be fine here. You do what you gotta do.” You set the box aside and examined the other package, turning it over in your hands curiously.

“Told ya you’d get the first project, took me a while, but it’s done.” He was shyly waiting for your reaction as you opened it to reveal a gorgeous knit blanket. He’d blended the colours together in strips to create a perfectly sized throw to drape over your couch.

You found yourself at a loss for words, your throat tight with emotion. “Raph… this is beautiful…”

“It may be spring, but the nights still get pretty cold here.” He smiled, warmed by your reaction and how you gathered up the blanket against your chest.

“I’ll think of you.”

Still a man of few words, he gave you a quiet nod in return. “I’ll see ya in about four weeks, take care of yourself, alright? Put the gun near the door and make sure it’s loaded.”

“I will.” You promised. “Safe travels, Raph.”

Then he was gone. You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, rubbing your cheek against the softness while taking in the scent of him still clinging to it.

Four weeks was a long time. You’d grown accustomed to seeing him, and it felt strange to know you would no longer feel his presence for an extended period of time.

You had plenty to keep yourself busy with. Spring meant it was time to restart your garden. Weeding, planting seeds, and tending to your property took up a good chunk of your time. The roads were cleared once again, and it was time to restock your pantry.

You could almost keep your mind off of him, almost, but you had to admit you were deeply missing him.

Those traitorous thoughts of him holding you close and kissing your neck had morphed into something more. It was enough to keep you up at night longing for them to come true.

Between your work and thoughts of him, you let yourself get carried away by a beautiful fantasy. One that was about to be shattered with a knock at the door.

Last Chapter - Next Chapter

Taglist

@thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch

@thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon

@scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie @jenuinelycurious

@chadobi

#mnt #bayverse mnt #adult mutant ninja turtles #aged up characters #bayverse raphael x reader #eventual smut #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #soft romance #monster romance #raph is living in the woods #you are living in the mountains in a cabin #my writing #milykins

20 notes · View notes

milykins · 11 days ago

Text

"Feral" Chapter 2

Second chapter in this story, there will be five altogether and one epilogue. Everything is finished and chapters will be posted accordingly. We get into some heavier topics in this chapter as Raph opens up more to the reader about his past.

Story summary:

This is a romance between Bayverse Raphael and a curvy female reader, both in their late 30s early 40s. Minors DNI! I hope you enjoy!

TW: Please heed the tags at the end of the chapter. Angst in this chapter and sexual content in future chapters. HEA guaranteed.

Now that you were both on a first-name basis, it felt more like talking to another person than the mysterious creature he’d seemed to be. He appeared a bit bashful, turning away and fixing his intense gaze on the fire again. “It’s nothin’, I find stuff in the woods sometimes, and you were all alone here, so I thought you’d like it. Never expected to get anything back.”

“That is usually how gift-giving works, Raph.” You kept your tone light as you sipped your beer, a small smile playing on your lips. “I was happy to.”

“Well, thanks, really appreciate the scarf, hat, and mittens and stuff. I woulda made my own, but I don’t have the things to do it with.” He glanced at you again, seeing your amazement as you processed this.

“You… knit?” You shouldn’t be so surprised; you’ve already established that there was no way he could have been raised in the woods. He came here willingly for some reason.

“Yeah, I learned when I was a kid. It was a good way to calm down if something was bothering me.” He suddenly felt this urge to tell you everything; no matter what you asked him, he’d answer.

“Where was that?” you asked, finally giving in to your curiosity. “The place you grew up?”

You could hear him exhale deeply, as if he was building up to something unbelievable. “NYC, grew up underground in the sewer and old subway systems with my three brothers and our dad.”

Without meaning to, you stared at him in amazement, speechless before rambling on with more questions. “There’s more of you? That’s incredible! You have three brothers?” The Adirondack Mountains, although still in New York State, were a fair distance from the famous city, and he seemed to be alone here.

“I had three brothers…” his reply was so soft you almost missed it, and it extinguished your excitement quicker than if you had thrown water on the fire right in front of you.

“Oh, Raph, I’m so sorry,” you whispered. It was becoming clearer now; maybe the reason he settled here was to escape the grief from losing his family. You knew that feeling all too well—carrying scars from your past, painful reminders of what could’ve been.

Another sigh, another sip of beer, and he shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

You decided not to pry any further on the subject, instead decidingchoosing to ask him about his background, —anything he’d been he was willing to tell you.share. He did explainexplained that his appearance was due to his mutation and shared a bit about his life in New York. You learned he was about forty years old and he’d had been living in the bushwilderness for at least five years. He knew martial arts, could knit, and do woodworking. He spoke a littlebriefly about his father, a well-respected, disciplined man who taught him and his brothers everything he knew. HeHis father had passed away from old age when Raph was about twenty-five. The only informationdetails you got about his brothers were their names and that they, too, were mutated turtles like him.

It felt good to talk to someone finally. Even though you didn’t mind the solitude, it was nice to have a conversation with a living, breathing person. Talking with Raph felt like the most natural thing in the world. You hoped he might not be so elusive now and might show himself more often.

The hour had grown late, and he had made himself comfortable with the spare pillow and blankets you had given him. Your head felt heavy, eyes slowly blinking as you grew sleepier, lying on the couch cushion. Raph threw a few more logs on the fire before glancing your way. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t go out. Ya can sleep if you’re tired.”

You nodded, almost asleep already as you murmured, “G’night, Raph.” The last thing you saw was the dark silhouette of his figure, reclining on his side and pulling the blanket up over himself.

In the morning, he was gone. The storm had passed, and true to his word, your fire was crackling merrily when you woke up. It was almost like a dream, yet when you peeked out the window, you could see his footprints retreating back into the woods. No doubt he had been planning to go home as soon as he could, unwilling to impose on you any longer than necessary. Still, you felt a pang of sadness, hoping he wouldn’t stay away if he needed help.

You felt grateful that you’d been given the special privilege of seeing him and actually speaking to him. You would dig out that stump and leave some food for him as soon as you could.

A few weeks later, another storm hit unexpectedly while you were in the woods foraging for wood. The snow grew thicker as you hurried to retrace your steps, but try as you might, you got lost, enveloped in a curtain of white. Trying not to panic, you decided to stay put, hoping it was just a squall you could wait out. Foolishly, you knew you couldn’t fight the cold forever, and soon you were shivering violently, trying to keep your fingers and toes from freezing. You wedged yourself between two trees, hoping to stave off the worst of the storm.

This wasn’t good. You were in trouble, exhaustion creeping in, which you knew wasn’t a good sign. Light was fading, and you feared you’d die out here, never to be found again.

You were wrong. Just when all hope seemed lost, you were unexpectedly scooped up into a firm embrace, the scent of leather, pine sap, and something unidentifiable hitting your senses as you were carried away. You were so cold that you could barely speak, fingers too frozen to even grip whoever saved you. He was almost running, moving swiftly to get you out of the cold and into a warmer place.

Raphael had you, quickly whisking you away to safety from the dangers of hypothermia. Once you recognized it was him, you lost consciousness, and the world went dark before reaching your destination.

-----

Something was tickling your nose. As things slowly came back into focus, you identified it as a type of fur. You were wrapped in furs, feeling glorious warmth seep into you as you sensed the softness all around. Wait, fur? You didn't own any furs. You weren’t at home. What had happened?

You felt a moment of panic as the memory of being lost in the snow returned to you, and you quickly wiggled your fingers and toes before exhaling a breath of relief. Everything was functioning properly. While doing this, you realized not everything was as it appeared. Your feet brushed against something smooth and slightly scaled, a leg? Someone had also wrapped an arm around your waist, tightening their hold a little as you began to shift, pulling you closer.

Instead of panicking, you were overwhelmed by the sudden realization that there was nothing to fear. Raph had saved you, and now he was doing his best to keep you warm. There was one more thing you’d failed to notice that caused a fair amount of embarrassment. You were only in your bra and underwear and pressed right up against the hard wall of his chest.

Instead of feeling an aversion to his touch, you sensed something else—a feeling you thought had been buried deep long ago. To your surprise, it was arousal. After all this time, you now felt the need for intimacy, and he was the one to make you feel that way. A soft snore behind you snapped you back to reality as you tried to make sense of everything.

What were you going to do about this? It couldn’t possibly work between you and him, could it? He wasn’t human, but in your experience, humans had let you down, promised you things and then ripped them away without warning. Then there was the obvious issue of whether or not Raph would feel the same. For all you knew, he was only doing what he had to do to save your life.

A soft growl and a careful nuzzling of his beak in your hair stirred more heat in your belly. Maybe it wasn’t just that; perhaps it was something more. The intimate nature of his touch made you slightly squeeze your thighs together. Oh no, not now!

He pressed a gentle kiss at the nape of your neck, still not fully aware of his actions. Before you could make a sound, either to stop him or to let him continue, you felt, rather than heard, him take a sharp breath, and that was it. All too quickly, he was releasing you and muttering softly under his breath before apologizing.

Shit, sorry… I was tryin’ to…” he was upright now, his hands clenched into fists like he was ashamed of himself and his actions. “You were nearly frozen, I needed to…” He was without his mask, giving you a perfect view of his face. Aside from that one distracting lip scar, he had a few others that you couldn’t help but feel curious about. You wanted to trace your fingers over all of his scars, but first, you needed to put the poor guy out of his misery.

Sitting up, holding the furs to your chest, you shook your head with a smile. “It’s okay, Raph, you saved me. If you hadn’t come along… God, I’m so stupid...” You buried your face in your hands, momentarily letting go of the blanket as you groaned.

He blinked and quickly went to retrieve your clothing, all warm and dry from the fire. Trying to look anywhere other than your breasts, he gently placed everything on your lap. “Hey… it’s alright. You were lucky I was out huntin’. These storms come outta nowhere sometimes. It’s only your first year here, you’ll get it.”

Looking up, you sniffled softly and hugged your shirt and pants to your chest for a moment. “Thank you…” You now had a chance to really observe your surroundings. It was a cave, likely hollowed out thousands of years ago and probably home to something else before Raph came along. He’d crafted a hearth into the cave wall with proper ventilation for cooking and warmth, and he'd collected items over the years to make it more comfortable. The mouth of the cave was sealed with an actual door with a window. You could see swirling snow just beyond, the storm still raging. Wood was piled from floor to ceiling near the hearth, and he’d even made a table and a few chairs. One corner was dedicated to wood carving, and you could see his latest project, a bird with its wings outstretched. He was cooking something, and you could see it was a chunk of meat roasting on a spit. It was enough to make your mouth water, making you realize how hungry you were.

“This is… incredible.” You said, finally.

“It ain’t much, but it’s home I guess.” He got up then, moving to the fire to check on his food. "If you’re hungry, I think this is ready.”

You got dressed quickly, your earlier feelings of arousal fading as you slipped your socks on to join him at the little makeshift table. “Thank you, I’m actually starving.”

He chuckled softly. You nearly missed it, but it warmed you all the same. “Sit tight, this’ll be the best thing you’ve ever tried.”

True to his word, the meat was delicious. Tender, juicy, and fall-off-the-bone good, he must’ve added his special blend of spices; either way, it had you asking for seconds. He told you it was deer, and he’d frozen it in the snow until he was ready to cook it.

After the meal, he gave you a quick tour. There were several tunnels branching out from the main living area. It was quite an impressive cave system, mainly used for storage. As you followed him, you caught the shape of what appeared to be a motorbike, draped in canvas. Of course, he wouldn’t have walked here.

He paused in a spot with stunning cave formations, stalactites, and stalagmites that formed hundreds of thousands of years ago. Holding the lantern up so you could see, he shared the story of when he first discovered them, just by exploring.

You were more than impressed, thanking him for showing you. The lantern light was soft and warm as you looked up at him. Your heart thudded in your chest as he leaned in a bit, giving you a perfect view of the small scar above his lip. You were more focused on that, as he told you that you were welcome. Oh, this was no mere crush. You had feelings for him. Shit, what were you going to do? Blushing slightly, you looked away, admiring everything again until he brought you back to the main area.

As the evening progressed, he explained that the storm was likely to pass by morning and that he would take you back to your cabin then. He told you to take the bed, and he would stay by the fire. At first, you protested, insisting there was enough room for both of you, but he still refused. Finally, upon noticing a deck of cards, you offered to play him for it. If you won, the two of you would share.

The game, funnily enough, was Crazy Eights. You admitted that you didn’t know many different card games, but he agreed without question. The game was tight, but in the end, you were the winner, cheering when you laid down your last card.

Raph shook his head, chuckling softly as he laid his hand down. “Fair’s fair. You’re making it real difficult for me to be a gentleman here.”

You gave him a sheepish smile and gestured towards the bed. “You first.”

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milykins · 12 days ago

Text

"Feral"

Hello, my dear readers. This is a multi-chaptered story I wrote based on a what-if prompt. What if Raph was living as a hermit in the woods due to a heartbreaking event from his past? What if you moved to a remote cabin, also looking to escape something difficult that happened in your own past? This is my take. It was a labour of love, I had a lot of help on the first chapter with @redsrooftopprincess, @the-cauldron-witch and @avery73, all contributing to it. Thank you, ladies!

This is a romance between Bayverse Raphael and a curvy female reader, both in their late 30s early 40s. Minors DNI! I hope you enjoy!

TW: Please heed the tags at the end of the chapter. Angst and sexual content in future chapters. HEA guaranteed.

Chapter 1

“Maybe I could be friends with him.”

The realtor gave you a strange look. He had reviewed your offer and took the time to explain the risks of buying the cottage. Considering that you were a single woman in your thirties, you weren’t swayed in the least.

Apparently, there was a 'monster' living in the woods. There had been enough sightings over the years to make it somewhat of an urban legend, and people were scared. You knew this was why no one had bought the place in so long and that it lay nestled in the woods a fair distance from human civilization. This suited you just fine; you needed this—to get away from it all. And if there really was a monster, hell, he was just going to have to get used to you.

With a resigned sigh, he accepted your offer, handing over the agreement for you to sign. A few strokes of the pen, and the place was yours. It was set in a truly picturesque location, with a mountainous backdrop, trees in the yard, and a small stream cutting through the back with dense woods beyond.

Moving in didn’t take long; you didn’t have much stuff—just your clothes and a few boxes of belongings. The cottage was small but cozy, with a combined kitchen and living area, one bedroom, a bathroom, and a beautiful wood-burning fireplace. It was enough space for one, possibly two, and quite modern as well, with electricity and solar panels on the roof.

For a month, everything was quiet as you settled in nicely. You enjoyed the peace and solitude that the property had to offer. You sketched birds and other small creatures that came close enough for you to see, and you started a small vegetable garden in some abandoned garden boxes. It was Springtime, and the perfect time for planting flowers as well.

You loved the way the sun crested over the mountains, painting them in peachy pinks and oranges on some mornings and the calm whispering wind in the evenings.

As time went on, you began to sense the presence of something or someone. You struggled to identify what it was. It felt unwelcoming, possibly angry or overprotective, like you were trespassing on something. The ‘monster’ you surmised. He knew you were there, but you couldn’t be bothered if he didn’t want you around. You carried on as usual, taking care of the property and showing him that you had respect for nature.

It seemed to be working. Over time, the presence, though it remained, became gentler and more comforting. One day, you found a blue jay feather, carefully placed on the stump you used to chop wood. After that, you started finding small things regularly, always in the same spot on your stump. Pretty stones, colourful bird feathers, and even a few artifacts like an arrowhead. Every time you discovered something, you carefully picked it up and gave thanks to the one living in the woods. You appreciated these little gifts, as they served as a reminder to you that you weren’t alone.

One day, you were checking the yard when you saw something dart away. It was him, a large, shadowy figure at the edge of the woods. Although you were cautious, you were curious to see if you could get any closer, but the moment you took a step, he was gone, vanishing into the woods once again. This time, he left you a tiny wood carving of a turtle on the stump.

From that day forward, you decided to start leaving him gifts in return. You began small, leaving him an apple one day and then, the next, a muffin you had baked, carefully sealed in a plastic container so no animals could get to it. In its place, you found a tiny geode, placed directly inside the container. You knew it had to be from him.

The stump became the designated spot for exchanging gifts, but you decided to make it a little more attractive. You heaved a flat stone from the nearby river to place on top. Balancing it perfectly so it couldn’t be easily flipped or knocked over, you left the offerings on the surface. A basket of apples, some stones you found wild near the river, a few vegetables from your garden, a small woven pouch of berries, and even some dried cured meats. You wanted to see which one he would take and enjoy the most. So far, meat has disappeared the quickest.

Every time, you’d find something in return, and the gifts became more elaborate and special. You now had a small collection of wooden animals, beautiful stones, and a mason jar full of feathers. After you gave away your little pouch for the berries, a few weeks later, you found a new one made from deerskin. Once, you discovered a pile of chopped wood, neatly stacked in your woodshed.

Sometimes you even caught a glimpse of him, and although you never exchanged a word or got within 60 feet of each other, you were never afraid. Quite the opposite, you felt safe with him nearby. He was kind and thoughtful, you knew this much.

The last thing you left for him was a handmade knitted scarf, a hat, and a set of mittens for Christmas. The weather had been steadily worsening with massive snowstorms approaching. You were safe and had plenty of supplies and firewood (thanks to him) to get through, but you were worried when there was no return gift, and the weather had become too dangerous to check.

On the second day of the storm, the power went out. You were fine, cozily sitting on your couch, bundled in blankets, watching the fire dance through the grate of your fireplace. The last thing you expected to hear was a very hesitant knock at the door.

You got up, using the flashlight on your phone to check outside. It was nightfall with snow, angrily blowing and swirling against your windows. A part of you really hoped it was him. That all your work actually meant something. Heading to the door, you took a look through the peephole, but it was dark—whoever was standing there was just a black blob to you. A BIG black blob. You took a deep breath and opened the door, angling the flashlight so it wouldn’t shine in his eyes. The first thing you noticed was your handiwork—the lovely variegated green you’d used to knit the textiles for him. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up.

Oh. My. Gosh.

He stood there, shoulders stooped, mittened hands clasped in front of him, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Hi,” he managed, awkwardly over the wind that was once again increasing in pitch and ferocity. He glanced over his shoulder toward where home would be, if the entrance to his cave system wasn’t buried under 30 feet of snow. “Uh…” Okay, so maybe he didn’t really think this part through. But you were nice, right? You gave him things. He gave you things. You were safe. Right?

He winced, turning away as another gust of wind hit him with a face full of ice shards. You shook off the shock quickly and beckoned him in. This is ridiculous, he needs help! “Come inside,” you all but ordered.

He does as he’s told. What is he going to say? No? He quietly stepped in as you pushed the door closed behind him, battling the storm for a moment before securing it shut.

“Thanks,” he muttered, removing his hat and scarf, and glancing around. The fireplace cast just enough light for you to see him clearly for the first time. He was definitely not human. Green scales and scars covered his skin, along with a red mask tied tightly over his eyes. These eyes, which at first seemed to dart around like a wild animal’s, quickly revealed themselves as clear and calculating, as if drawing a mental map of the cabin that he could see. They quickly find you again, flashing gold in the firelight, and you’re momentarily breathless. “Anytime,” you finally manage, “Are… you okay?”

That was a loaded fucking question. But just for the immediate future, he tried to find a simple answer: “I can’t… get home,” he finally said. “Would you mind, uh, if I just… borrow your shed until the storm’s over? I don’t need anything—"

“No!” you interrupted, appalled. “I mean, yes,” you could hardly be bothered with correct grammar right now. “I mean… you’re not staying in the shed.”

Helping him off with his wet things, you’d been surprised to hear him speak; you weren’t sure what you expected, but human speech was not one of the qualities you thought he'd possess. He was more human than you realized, and you felt a pang of sympathy for those who had called him a monster. This inhuman thing that would make off with their children in the night.

Now, it was he who looked surprised at your sudden invitation to stay with you rather than your shed. He looked as if he didn’t know what to think, quiet, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ya don’t gotta… do that.”

“No.” you said again, more firmly this time. “You’re not freezing out in my shed when I have food and a perfectly good fire going.” You’d made some stew earlier, just before the power had gone out, and it was still warm, sitting on the stove. With some gentle coaxing, you led him over to the small wooden table and served him the stew with a piece of buttered bread.

He ate quietly, carefully, with more politeness than you expected him to have. He knew how to use a spoon. This was not some feral creature who’d grown up in the woods. He wasn’t human, but he had been raised as one. Your mind was filled with questions. Where did he come from? How did he come to be here? A careful glance told you that the world hadn't been kind to him. Other than the hat, scarf, and mittens you’d knitted for him, everything he wore was weathered, frayed, and torn with age, like the red mask around his eyes. You were most curious about that, but you didn’t want to bombard him with questions while he was eating.

“You can take the couch. I’ll be alright in the bedroom.” Truthfully, you had been planning to take the couch at first, but you’d rather he take it and be warmed by the fire. You had plenty of extra blankets to bundle yourself up with.

He was silent for a moment, considering your offer before responding. “You take it, it’s freezing, I’ll be fine on the carpet.” It was a tone that bore no argument. No matter, you could easily ensure he’d be comfortable there too.

After rinsing the bowl with snow and water and putting the rest of the stew in the fridge, you hesitated about what he might like to drink. Finally, you settled on a bottle of water and a few beers. When you returned, you found him awkwardly sitting on a chair by the fire, warming himself. His outer coat had been removed and was hanging on the hook by the door.

He was an impressive sight to behold. His shell was deep olive and smooth-looking, just like the little turtles you’d seen sunning themselves on logs in the pond near your cabin. His plastron front was yellow and tough, and his skin a brilliant colour of emerald green. The main difference between him and the actual turtles was the number of scars, nicks and imperfections on his upper body. Three awful slash marks marred his shell like he’d been involved in some kind of battle. Maybe with a mountain lion? You didn’t want to ask him about those. It was highly possible he’d been through something traumatic.

He caught you staring and exhaled softly, replying as if able to pull the thoughts from your mind. “I can see ya staring. I know you probably got a lotta questions for me, if you wanna know somethin’ ask.” He was bracing himself for what he could only assume would be a barrage of questions.

You quietly handed him the drinks and settled onto the couch, re-wrapping the blankets around yourself once more. He was intelligent, as human as you were, and although you were very curious about him, you didn’t want to overwhelm him by asking everything that was on your mind. “Did you like the food?”

He gave you a nod, relaxing a bit as the warmth of the fire gently seeped into him. “Yeah... best I’ve had in a really long time, thanks.” He took the top off the bottle and took a long drink. “Been a real long time since anyone got me a beer, too.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile as you crack open your own beer before taking a sip. “I don’t want to ask you too many questions, but do you have a name?” You told him yours before waiting to see if he’ll reciprocate and share his.

“Yeah… the name's Raphael, but friends call me Raph.” He cast a cautious glance your way, as if giving you permission to call him that.

It suited him, you decided and rather than ask him a follow-up question, you just smiled. “Nice to meet you, Raph, thank you for the gifts."

Next Chapter

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@thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon

@scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie @jenuinelycurious

@chadobi

#mnt #adult mutant ninja turtles #aged up ninja turtles #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael x reader #eventual smut #angst with a happy ending #living in the woods #hurt/comfort #soft romance #monster romance #they think Raph is like Bigfoot #living in the mountains

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