raphielover

[raphielover]

Watch pt 2

Part 1

Uh ohhhhhh

Words: 1653

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only

Tags: @lovelyladylavie @auggiemty @serpentinefairy @miranexx @drowninghell @monsterroonio

He is a tidal wave. 

Moving and moving, sweeping along anything that may get too close. 

His hands found your waist without faltering for another second. His fingers twitched as he struggled to keep his grip loose. He wanted to touch you, he’s dreamed of touching you. Now that you’re standing before him with nearly as much need as him he’s worried he’ll do it wrong. That he’ll hurt you.

That he’ll scare you away. 

You pressed yourself against him, tracing the pathways of his scales as his breath quickened. You felt the skin of his arms, his shoulders, tracing the border of his plastron. He pressed his lips to your neck as you explored him, the evidence of his want hardening against your stomach. 

You moved to meet his gaze. Your face was only inches from his, and you felt any sense leave your brain as you closed the distance. He was stunned for a moment before you felt his arms wrap further around you. Strong hands splaying out on your back, desperate to have you as close to him as he could manage.

He broke away from you only to kiss your neck again, madly inhaling the scent of your skin before releasing a low groan. A grumble coming from his chest followed soon after, your heart raced at the intensity. 

You thought back to how he had touched himself just moments ago. The image of him stroking himself slowly, twisting his fist as the head that will now forever be imprinted on your mind. You mimicked him as you wrapped your hand around his cock. He let out a strangled gasp, and you realized how sensitive he must be. 

His eyes shut for a moment before returning to meet yours. Deep pools of malachite lit with the fervid flames of his lust. There was something else there that you couldn’t place. He watched you 

You figured it would be best to move slowly at first, since he had just cum moments ago. It wasn’t long before you felt his hips buck against you, urging for more friction. 

“Needy,” 

“You have no idea,” He whispered against your cheek before he kissed you again. 

Your hand moved faster, twisting at the tip just as he had done, as his lips traced your shoulder until he was met with the neckline of your shirt. 

There was the sound of stretching fabric until you felt your shirt tear completely. You gasped his name as the fabric slipped from your body and you felt him smile against your skin. His hands now roamed along the skin of your back, tracing the shape of your spine, the curve of your hips. 

You felt his legs twitch as you began stroking him faster. His restlessness grew with each passing moment of your hands working on him. He wanted more. He has wanted more for so long that it has turned itself into an unforgiving blade wedged into his side. 

Touching you, the feeling of you touching him, were the only things that eased it. Even in his frenzied state he was still in awe of you. 

So he allowed his hands to roam over your body. He wouldn’t last much longer with your hand working him the way it was, and he didn’t want to cum yet. It would feel too much like a waste. 

He felt you gasp again as his hand slid down the front of your leggings, toying with you through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your pace faltered slightly, burying your face into his shoulder as he formed circles over your clit. 

“Don’t get shy now,” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of your skin was set ablaze the moment you arrived. But words slipped away everytime you tried to form them, too focused on his hand between your legs and yours between his. How the two of you moved together like you’d done this hundreds of times already. 

His free hand moved to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh against his palm. “Now.” 

Your heart pounded as desire rolled through you like waves. “It’s so good, Raph, please,” You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, but just after he pushed your panties out of his way, his finger slipping between your folds to continue his work on you, savoring each whimper and moan that he pulled from you. 

Your hand left from between his legs and flew to his shoulder in an attempt to steady yourself. Though he ached from the sudden lack of pressure, he was too caught up in your breathy moans and pleas for him to make you cum for him to care. 

You were feeling yourself nearing the edge. Your heart pounded like you were running as you ran your hands down his arms, feeling the thick bands of muscle underneath his skin. 

He groaned into your hair. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” His voice almost sounded pained, desperate. 

You fell. 

Effortlessly, he held you against him as your knees buckled. His endless strength was something that had left you stunned a hundred times over by now. 

Your hips ground against his hand as you rode out your orgasm, eyes clenched shut, your fingernails no doubt digging into the back of his neck. 

He was breathing as hard as you were as you came down. His lips traced the curve of your neck. His hand slipped from between your legs, fingers covered in you. 

He inhaled deeply, tasting it off the tip of his finger. The fire inside you sparked back up. 

“Raph,” His name had never sounded more beautiful. “I need you, please.”

He was already helping you slide your pants down, your underwear following soon after. With the fabric in his hand he had the sudden impulse to keep them, just so he could breathe you in whenever he missed this. Though there was a bit of guilt, he dropped them behind him, separate from the rest of your clothes.

You were weightless as he lifted you, bringing you to rest your head on his pillow. He kissed you hungrily, settling on his elbows over top of you. You pressed your knees to his sides, spreading for him as far as you were able in an attempt to make your desperation clear. 

He entered you slowly, his other hand holding a firm grip on your thigh. He watched closely as your head fell back and eyes shut as you took all of him in. 

He knew now that he would never be able to replicate this. His fist would never be able to make him feel the way your cunt is, his body shuddering as he bottomed out.  

He couldn’t think straight, his mind melting from the heat of your velvety core. The churring from his chest had gotten deeper, and already he felt his end drawing near.  

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. His hand slid between the two of you to run circles over your clit. Slowly, he felt you begin to relax around him. 

He forced himself to go slow. Every inch of him was begging for another release, to cum inside you and claim you as his. His mind was so clouded with the scent of you and the strength of his own urges

He waited until you began lifting your hips to match his thrusts to start moving a bit more freely. 

“You’re fuckin’ tight, I’ll make you feel so good.” He felt like he was floating, lost your scent and your whines. “You’re mine.” His body twitched as you tightened around him. “Say it.”

“I’m all yours, Raph.” You tried saying more, and you would have if it didn’t feel so good. Your brain was empty of all thoughts other than his movements. His hands gripped your thighs with enough force you knew it would bruise and didn’t even care. 

Part of you wanted it to.

He watched every movement you made, like he was memorizing you as intensely as you were trying to do to him.

His thrusts picked up, falling out of the rhythm he had created. 

“So good,” He breathes out almost to himself. “So fuckin’ good”

He moved faster. The change of pace nearly made you see stars as his hand continued toying with your clit.  

He watched as your back arched as you met your second release. You held onto him so tightly as your legs shook against his sides. He could feel you pulsing, clouding his vision. 

He breathed you in one last time before his head fell back as he spilled inside of you. He lifted your legs up to his shoulders before he could convince himself not to. He held you there for a minute, kissing your ankles and rubbing your legs, whispering praises of how good you felt before he laid beside you. 

You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his body. The feeling of your bare skin pressing against him was something he never wanted to part with. 

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, and he couldn’t force himself to care either. He had your breath against his neck, your arm draped over his stomach.

The moon could fall from the sky at this moment, and the only sorrow he would feel would come from him never again being able to see how the light would fall against your skin. 

It hit him harder than it ever had before, the realization of how important you had become to him. He thought back to the days before you had entered their lives, and they all felt incomplete. 

You nuzzled your face closer into his neck and immediately, almost instinctively, his arm tightened around you. With a light sigh, he accepted that he was absolutely fucked. 

[raphielover]

you've unleashed something with this and you already know I want my leader in blue going feral for reader

[ REMIND ] for our muses to have passionate sex meant to remind one party who they belong to.

❝ i want everyone here to see that you’re mine. ❞

❝ are they making you uncomfortable? i can do something about it. ❞

❝ you wanna lose a limb? beat it, fucker. ❞

Tried to stay in the limit, can't wait to see you work your magic!!

Friend you never disappoint 👌

Let’s do this,

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Once I start, I cannot stop myself”

His peripheral alerted him immediately.

Because Leonardo always had some part of him keyed into your moods and their various shifts.

Right now he could tell you were bothered, annoyed.

Naturally once he saw the reason for said annoyance he could empathize.

Vern Fenwick wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

Yours and Leo’s thing had started a few months back and the two of you had opted to keep a low profile. So of course Vern didn’t know which meant he thought he had the go ahead to pathetically flirt with you.

And that little nugget of information had nested within Leo’s stomach in the worst of ways. The basket ball game felt like a thing of the past now, Casey and Raph’s bantering far away. Mikey and April’s hushed laughter white noise, Splinters even breaths as he meditated a simple hum.

He doesn’t quite remember getting up from the couch, his large frame standing at full height had been your alert. Your eyes going back and forth between his approaching steps and Vern’s close proximity.

Something screamed in the back of your mind the second that Leo was behind Vern. All you could envision was the large terrapin suplexing the Falcon into the eighth level of hell.

“So how about it? You and me, a flight to the vineyard and a bottle of rosé?” Vern’s smile faltered the second he felt a large none human hand fall on his shoulder. There was a little jump but soon a sigh of relief. He must’ve thought Leo was Raph, who wasn’t too fond of him either.

“Hey Leo-oomph!”

Vern was not so gently shoved behind him. Leo’s she’ll serving a shield for privacy.

In a hushed whisper he simply asked, “is he making you uncomfortable?” And Christ, Leo had never looked this serious before. Not just serious but downright mad.

“Hey Blue, I was in the middle of something here with Y/n, you mind?” Vern’s eyeroll could be heard more than seen.

You huffed at his words, to which Leo added.

“I can do something about it”

Stern. Truthful. A vein on his forearm more evident as he fisted his hands.

You didn’t want conflict, any moment now everyone would look over and nothing about this screamed ‘friendly banter.’

But Vern naturally had to fuck things up further.

You didn’t hear it, Leo’s large frame was in the way but the way his eyes widened and the way he turned to face Vern was very telling.

“Run that by me again” Leo’s voice was in what everyone joked as ‘leader mode.’

Vern audibly gulped and whispered closer to Leo.

“I said I’m trying to get something going here with Y/n, be a pal and let me close the deal here will ya?” there was a little scoff and laugh as if trying to keep his cool but that quickly went to shit when Leo leaned down closer to Vern’s face.

“You wanna lose a limb?” Was the simple question Leo posed.

“E-excuse me?” Vern visibly shrunk.

“You have two working ears, you heard me” whatever looked Leo was casting at Vern had the man turning pale as a sheet of paper. You felt a small exhilarating rush.

“Well of course not, no-“

“Beat it, fucker”

Oh.

Oh shit.

It dawned on Vern, the warning bells rang and before he could come to the conclusion to what really was going on here, he had scurried off to the living room like a robot.

“Holy shit Leo-“ Before you could finish your sentence his lips had found yours. A three finger grip on the back of your neck kept you in place as he kissed with every intention of everyone finally knowing.

When he released you, the gang (sans Splinter who was deep in meditation) was staring and blinking. Your nervous smile faltered when Leo grabbed your hand and pulled you in direction of his room.

You didn’t miss Mikey’s “good for them” as the door closed.

“Jesus is it spring or are you really this upset?” You smiled and laughed nervously some more once Leo backed you up against the wall.

“No, but if I ever see anybody talk to you like that, I’m going to break their legs” His fingers found the button of your jeans, he undid it and knelt to roll the fabric down vast your knees. Your face heated, pink and red and hot at the sight of his hands giving your underwear the same treatment.

“Leo everyone’s here, they’ll-“

“I want everyone here to see that you’re mine”

The words knocked the air out of you.

Before you could fathom an excuse he used stuck a digit into his mouth and wet the appendage. He found your clit and drew circles. Knees buckling and lips twitching you forgot what sentence you were creating. “I’m going to cover you head to toe in marks…” He stood back up, finger never seizing its movements.

“When you leave this room, you’re leaving smelling of me, on you, in you…” A finger slipped inside of you, thumbs continuing to circle your clit. The action made your hands shoot out to grab at his plastron. “Oh f-fuuuck” You muttered out, a hand slipped to grab his wrist.

Leo’s other hand cupped you’re face, a loving stroke across your lips made another gush of heat pool at his knuckle.

He smiled.

“Please-oh-Leo!” You squeaked as he turned you around and pressed you against the wall.

“Everyday, if I have to remind everyone everyday from now on, I will” His teeth found your shoulder and sunk, hard enough to see the indentations of his teeth on the flesh. “Is that a pro-promise?” You smiled against the concrete wall, stuck out your rear and relished the growl like churr that escaped him.

The rustle of clothes made you bite your lip.

You felt him, inch by excruciating inch.

Felt the desperate need to claim you overtake him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and fucked you.

His mouth found your neck and sucked a bruise onto it, hips rhythmically slapping against your rear. The finger that had been rubbing teasing circles was now in your mouth. Your eyes fluttered, palms against the cold concrete, his heated body a delightful contrast.

He muttered praises at your ear, the ones that with each syllable made you stand on your tippy toes as that familiar pressure overtook. He boxed you against that wall, his massive body pressing up against you wantonly, deliberately, with every intention of your orgasm bouncing off of the concrete against his very soul.

It was a rush, everything weightless and then so very heavy when it hit you. You bit down on his finger and felt your bones turn to jelly as he held you through it. The shaking alone made Leo smirk as he continue to thrust, to push as much of his essence into you. Your drool dribbled down his finger, his own seed doing the very same down your inner thighs.

You felt your world spin as his teeth found another spot on your shoulder.

[raphielover]

Please please please with a cherry on top! I am in NEED of a thigh fuck with Raph xFemReader. I’ve had this scene stuck in my head of Raph and his girl making out and she’s finally had enough of him pushing her away when she’s about to bust so she straddles him on the lair couch. They’ve only made out with some semi-heavy petting before he pulls away and gets all “tough” and tries to change the subject. She’s a needy woman and she needs some attention and validation or at least an explanation as to why he’s so hesitant. She doesn’t get it because she’s been after him forever & now that she has him she’s not about to let him go. This could be completely filthy ❤️‍🔥 I just need my big boy to come undone (pun intended) No pressure but I just love your writing & have been going through and rereading all of your amazing stories! — Much love, Phera

Ngl this has been festering my noggin for a while because I’ve been in a big Raph mood lately. I hope you don’t mind but this is a combination of something I’ve been working on with like a portion of your request into it but I think you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Raphael always found the word “obsessed” to be a tad too exaggerated.

Whenever Donnie said he was obsessed with some new tech thing, or Mikey was obsessed with a new song, or even Leo was obsessed with some new form of meditation.

Obsessed sounded too big of an adjective to explain it.

Raph didn’t consider himself obsessed with his workouts or even knitting. He liked them sure, maybe even loved them because they brought some semblance of balance to an already complicated brain. But obsessed felt too outrageous of a word.

That all went to hell the second his eyes had landed on yours. Because suddenly the word began to ring out loudly in his brain in blood red caution style letters. Something chemically switched in his brain the very moment you had spoken. He felt sweaty, clammy and downright sick to his stomach.

How many hours in the day could somebody think about another person?

He felt like his ass was going numb from sitting on the bench thing long contemplating this situation. He’d only done one rep of his bench presses when he had to sit up and breathe and quiet his mind.

You were April’s friend, her latest and most stable roommate and somehow the idea of mutants in the sewers had been easier to swallow than he could ever hope for in human reactions.

He felt pathetic, a little dirty but overall weightless whenever you were near by. You’d stepped in several times to help whenever April simply couldn’t. You’d come down with groceries, hand me downs and all sorts of necessities simply because you wanted to help. Raph wasn’t some inconsiderate chump though, he was thankful, he’d (somehow) engaged in his fair share of small talk with you.

And sure your eyes had lit up with him.

Sure there were moments he wanted to do a double take because he swore your eyes had lingered on him.

Pesky pesky pesky ‘ifs’.

Quite often the sensation of your eyes lingering on him had taken him to places he hardly entertained. He didn’t want to place you in that box, that ‘potential’ box where he wondered what a normal life could feel like. He much less wanted to stuff you in the other box.

The one where when he slept and saw nothing but your eyes and mouth and hands all over him. The one where when he woke up and felt like a fever was burning him in the very pits of hell, all because he swore he heard you moan out for him. How many ruined sheets carried your name. How many showers he’s tried to burn you off of him only to simply get off to the idea of your skin against his own.

God he was obsessed wasn’t he?

The hypocrisy alone wouldn’t mortify him.

What would kill him is if you suddenly developed mind reading powers and saw one third of his thoughts on you.

From the fruity gushy romantic ones.

To the filthy debauched images he painted daily ones.

He felt sick again.

Sicker the second you walked in the shorts you wore when summer was approaching.

You had a scar on your knee cap he wanted to taste. He saw how skin spread when you sat down, the plushness, the softest of chubbiness that had him thinking how divine it would be to wake up to those thighs crushing his face. A tremble in his hand urged him to lay a palm on your thigh, just to touch, just to get a taste of human flesh against his calloused scales. Raph wanted nothing more than to feel you sit on his lap and ask him if he could be a good boy for you and-

“Yo bro if you ain’t taking a plate I’m eating it” When had Mikey gotten in front him and why was food being shoved into his face?

Oh, right, you brought dinner tonight.

He had mumbled a grunt of an apology and had poured the rest of his energy into eating.

Unbeknownst to him, you had felt that shift that could only be described as the earth shaking. Raphael wasn’t necessarily subtle, sure he’s gotten away with it a few times but there’s no way he expected you to not notice his eyes burning a hole through your thigh as you sat next to him.

And who said you couldn’t be a little cruel in your endeavors of letting him get the fucking hint that you wanted him too?

So when you had finished eating and Casey and Donnie had started up one of their heated debates, you had placed a hand on his knee to push yourself up from the couch.

You had dug just a little bit of nail.

You had let your palm slide on your way up.

If Raph could implode he would’ve.

If he could set himself on fire he would’ve lit a match by now.

That had messed him up for days. He had rutted against his pillow three nights in a row and none of it had been enough to silence the voice, the itch of his skin.

All it had done was open his eyes a little wider, to watch you like a damn hawk.

And he began to notice things. Notice the little games you played with him.

From the way you crossed your legs when his green eyes landed on you. To the way your smile felt just mischievous enough to let him know he had been had.

You knew.

God, could you read his thoughts?

He had been tasked one evening to walk you to the exit of the Lair. It wasn’t too late, but work and deadlines were impeding you from torturing him longer this evening. He had quietly gotten you to the latter that led closest to your place.

“Ya let us know when ya make it home safe” Came that gruff voice of his, that almost constipated pit nesting in his stomach. Just before your hands could grip the ladder, you had gripped the length of the white cloth that adorned his shorts. You twirled the fabric, gentle twists and a knowing smile that made him hold his breath.

“And you let me know the next time you’re thinking of me at night. I think we’re past this little game.” You didn’t give him a second to recover let alone form a coherent sentence before you were up the ladder and gone.

Raphael looked up, the beam of light as the cover was opened to allow you out into the buzzing city. It felt too much of a spotlight highlighting his desires. You watched him down below, the shadows hiding just enough but not the stunned hungry look. If he were a religious man, he could say that you looked like a god, above him all knowing and with the power to turn him into ash.

And how he wanted to fall to his knees and pray in between your legs.

He hadn’t slept that night.

He had watched the ceiling of his and Mikey’s shared room and contemplated your words. He turned them over and over, examined every vowel and consonant. He tasted the sounds in his mouth. Your haughty smile as the wind blew a few strands of hair.

He lasted a week.

Seven days of self loathing.

A hundred and sixty eight hours of working up the courage.

Ten thousand and eighty minutes of wanting to even the playing field.

So on that last day, last hour, last minute, he had snuck out after patrol and a shower and headed to your apartment. He had climbed up the fire escape with every intention of telling you how evil you were for making him so obsessed.

His simply texted,

‘Window.’

His tried to mask a neutral face as you pulled back the curtains and found him crouched there.

The second you smiled though…

He had lost.

You lifted the window open and rested your hands on the windowsill.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of me?” Your words stabbed him, and he loved it.

He wanted to snarl, wanted to show you that this was stupid of you to even consider. So when he moved forward, brought his face close to yours, you didn’t flinch.

“Don’t be such a coward and show me what kept you up this late?” Your warm breath caressed his scarred lips.

Raph blinked, taken aback on how easily you had taken hold of him. When your hand reached up, knuckles caressing his jaw before they rested on the lip of his plastron, he closed the distance with an innocent kiss. A pressing of lips that froze him against your mouth. He felt that hand run up his neck, a scratch of your nails bringing some life back to him as your lips moved against his own.

Just as his mouth began to catch up, to lose itself against the wetness of your tongue you had backed up into the room and beckoned him inside the living room.

And like a trained pet he slid inside and felt smaller than he had ever imagined he could.

And god, he loved it.

He let you lead him to the couch, watched obsessively as you straddled his lap and kissed him with every intention of devouring all the secrets he possessed inside of him. He can’t and won’t be able to forget the sensation of your hands grabbing his own and letting them hover over your chest.

“Do you want me? Do you want to keep doing this?” You had asked cautiously, adamant in letting him know this could stop the second he felt it needed to. It took every power in him to not yell out a resounding and firm ‘yes’.

“Good, that’s a good boy” And fuck his dick twitched and almost came undone right then and there. He felt his hands cup your breast, the soft tender flesh from above your sleep shirt, just as you rolled your hips against his painfully hard erection.

Between the kisses he groaned out a desire.

“Wanna feel more of ya, can I?” He whispered it against the corner of your mouth as desperate as he ever could.

Your reply came in the simple gesture of lifting your shirt and your reward came in the form of hungry eyes and lips finding your breasts.

He was gutted, how could something this beautiful also be perfect and soft and right now against his lips?

Raph felt your hand on the back of his head and the quiet little yelp as he bit down gently on your nipple almost be his second undoing of the night. He kissed the perked bud, wrapped his tongue around it and savored the texture, the taste, the way that with each suction you grew needier and wetter.

He could feel you so perfectly through the fabric of your underwear just gush against his clothed crotch. His hands held your waist as he devoured your other breast and delighted ‘ha!’ escaped your lips when he his bit down just a little harder than before. Raph’s eyes looked up, the flush pink of your neck, the sweat starting to form.

The two of you still needed to be quiet, you weren’t alone after all.

And this was simply still a taste of things to come.

“I want you, so fucking bad, but not here, not like this” You kissed it up his neck, felt those big hands grip your rear. His eyes held confusion and a stupor that could only mean he was drunk off of this.

“We’re gonna be a little creative and very very quiet” Your hands rested on his shoulders, to which allowed yourself the luxury of a good firm squeeze to the muscle. God he was a fucking sight to behold.

With a remorseful push you got up on wobbly legs and slid your underwear down and off. He had followed the path, mesmerized and hungry. Just to tease, just to be the cruel god you could be, you rubbed along your folds, gathered slick and offered up to his willing and devout lips. He sucked greedily, loved the way you slowly pulled out the digits from his mouth.

Next to his spot you climbed on the couch and rested against the backrest and urged him closer. “Y/n I um, I’m too big-“ And he wanted to cringe at the admission that there was no way this could happen like this without some lube and patience.

“Thighs, use my thighs Raphie” That stupid name sounded like salvation when spoken in your voice. Nervously but ever so in need he settled behind you, pushed his shorts past his hips and saw the mess he had become due to you, much like he did on nights.

His hands ran up the globes of your cheeks and found your waist. He slid himself between the thighs he had dreamt off for far too long and just as he hoped, they felt better than he could ever imagine. “Oh-fuck…” Was his breathless response to the first slide, your thighs locked up as tight as they could be. The move allowed his cock to perfectly slide along your core, rub against your clit and you tighten your lips in a muffled moan.

The next thrust wasn’t as gentle, as slow. But enough to have his navel slap against your rear in that all to familiar lewd slap he often heard in ‘videos.’

He fell slightly forward, massive arms wrapped around your stomach and lips at the top of your head. “God, Y/n, fucking wanted this” He grunted against the crown of your head. “Me too baby, me too” You braced yourself better, if he was like this…

The thought alone made your toes curl as he began to thrust, building a rhythm that had the two of you on the brink of screwing up and moaning louder than allowed. A hand clasped down on your breast as the couch began to protest with the force of his movements.

“Come on Raphie, just like you dreamt of, do just like you’ve always wanted to” You turned your head, did your best to catch a glimpse of his debauched features as he thrusted faster, that squelching sound combined with your moans making him lose control.

“Shit-I’m gonna…” He buried his face against the back of your neck.

“Do it, do it for me, make a mess” Your own undoing so close you could taste it.

It’s a gut punch, it’s like a bomb going off in his chest and stomach all at once. It’s the hardest he has ever cum, and he’s clutching you and not a pillow for once. He can feel it mix in with your own release, feel it drip down against your thighs and shot against the couch. He feels you slap against him as you ride your own wave whilst biting down on your forearm.

He feels dizzy, tired and drained.

He feels you against him. Sticky and sweaty and panting.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

[raphielover]

I’d like to request 5 and 17 with sub!Leo and afab reader, maybe it could be their first time together? 👀 Thank you so much! I am so in love with the way you write everyone’s favourite boy in blue! 🖤

Hello hello, will be keeping these short and to the point so I hope it’s to your liking anon.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Being on top of every duty could leave him feeling deflated some days

Some days he just needed a hard reset, realign the wires, maybe just leave his head feeling empty but fuzzy.

That feeling engulfed him when you gave him that first hard thrust. Suddenly meditation had nothing on this.

Leo couldn’t exactly find the right words, not right now at least. Because the second your hands pressed down on his plastron, the very moment your hips angled just right, his brain seems to shut down and restart all at once. It was a tickling that he could feel from his toes to his eyeballs. It left his mouth hanging open and his eyes rolling back onto his skull. Just to witness you roll your hips against him, see the way your body moves with his own, he was hooked.

This could never compare to his hands. This could never compare to his fantasies, his dreams, his desires the second he saw you.

“God, you feel so fucking good." It comes out slurred and shaky and he wants to be embarrassed but his dick feels suffocated by warmth and it’s a miracle he could speak.

Your eyes catch him, catch how he admires your body as you move with every intention of chasing pleasure. You quite like having blue eyes glued to you with a pleading, downright pathetic look.

God, you love him.

Leo forgets to check his strength when you rub your clit against him, his hands are vices at your hips just as a he groans out, “Faster—ah shit—harder…” He chokes up just as you start to cum, the warmth so much you moan way too loud for comfort but it’s Leo, moaning and gripping you that makes it even more worthwhile.

[raphielover]

if you're still taking requests, can i get 15 with a possessive and needy leo and fem reader, pretty please?

Anon, this is too perfect to pass up so why not.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

There was a look to him when he arrived that night, something that spoke volumes when he had kissed you hello.

Leo wasn’t one to allow his feelings to get the better of him, but tonight felt different, tonight he didn’t want to allow his training, his responsibilities dictate him. He had one goal in mind, and it came in the shape of you.

So when he had kissed down your neck, when he had backed you up against the wall of your living room, you knew there wouldn’t be much pleasantries.

His hands had roughly gripped your waist, yanked you close to his strong body and with just one breathy grunt he’d expressed it, "You're mine."

He’d made sure to lay an exclamation point to his words by shoving your pants down. Even as your face shyly looked away, he’d made sure to find your eyes when the palm of his hand found your warm core.

“You don’t believe me?” He muttered softly against your lips.

Your mouth took shape of something, some semblance of a response but it was futile when he began to rub you. A pathetic little squeak escapes your lips, he took too much pleasure in that.

Even more so when pushed a finger into your wet heat, began to pump in and out.

“Say it, come on, before you can’t even speak anymore.” He whispered it against your ear, crooking a finger just so make you tighten around the digit.

“Leo—oh, oh…” He wasn’t wrong, talking was quickly becoming a weak point for you.

When Leo pushed deep enough, until he could press his palm against your clit, that’s when you knew there was no way this could go in your favor.

“What are you?” He kissed your lips, gentle, enough to leave you wanting.

“I’m— y-yours…” You breathed out, eyes fluttering close as your climaxes fast approached.

When Leo’s other hand wrapped around your throat, thumb caressing with authority, his smirk was enough to knock the air out of you.

“All miiiiine” His hand thrusted quicker, obscene wet sounds mixing with your moans.

[raphielover]

"I...I don't want to stop. Please don't ask me to stop."

With ol blue eyes pretty please 😈

Our boy in blue yes!

Rated Mature (Steamy af)

This had to be a little too dangerous, right?

A city wide blackout had somehow turned to Leo and you kissing at the fire escape. With the extra cover of darkness on his side, it had permitted for the two of you to stay out there.

The city was still buzzing beneath with the complains of citizens on their way home.

But that all seems far away when Leo had hiked up your skirt for another mind melting kiss.

He deepened it when he felt your hands gripping at the straps of his gear. Suddenly refuge at the Lair seemed like a stupid idea. Somehow grinding against you on a fire escape out in the open night felt like the more logical choice.

Leo’s hands dipped into your underwear, gripping your rear just as he groaned his wants right into your open mouth.

It was a little scary being high up and out in the open but whatever fear you may have had was quickly distracted by Leo leaning down enough to slide hand between your clothes crotch from the back. He bit gently at your chin, mumbled something you couldn’t make out because your moan was loud enough to mask it.

“Leo—god, maybe—“

“I… I don’t want to stop, please don’t ask me stop.” He sounded almost wounded, as if the very act of disentangling himself from you could be his undoing. He pressed his fingers against your core, muttered how fucking good you smelled, before you lost all sense of thought and begged him to not stop, to not fucking stop.

[raphielover]

Could we get a little something on the spicy side, maybe Raph just taking care of himself during a particularly annoying mating season, hes yearling after reader (who’s his bestie) and he’s feels all types of wrong but the more he does it, the worse (all too real) his desires get for him.

Watch

Ok so like usual this one got away from me, I played a bit further into the "all too real" than I had intended, I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1362

Warning: NSWF 18+, implied attraction between characters

Three weeks. 

The pulsing ache that burrowed inside of him would leave after three weeks. The tension in his muscles would slip away, his irritability would return to its normal state, and life would resume as normal. Or as normal as it ever was. 

Raphael usually stuck to his weight set for hours at a time before returning to his room to attempt to ease the stiffness that built up after a single day. That had become his routine whenever this time of year came around, and though he knew it was going to be a reoccurring thing, he dreaded it every time the weather started to warm. 

Yet something new has happened since last year. Something that had brought a new complication into this tortuous few weeks. You.

They had met you by accident, and you remaining so close to them hadn’t been part of the plan either. Some days Raph felt so grateful that such a thing happened to them that it overwhelmed him, and he usually had to distract himself for a bit until the fullness inside his chest slipped away.

Other days, he cursed the world for it. You had opened a door inside him that he had locked for years. The feelings that he never thought he would have to deal with in his lifetime, now being something that trailed behind him closer than his own shadow.

He liked to believe he might be haunting you the same way. There were moments between the two of you that he labeled as your close calls. Times when you had brushed against him, times when you grabbed his arm while laughing and your hand lingered on his skin, thumb brushing briefly before leaving. Times that left him wondering if this was something more or if he was creating something new entirely. 

Now, when he felt the beginning signs of springtime, he knew it was going to be worse. The thoughts that floated back to you used to be mostly harmless, now they dug into him like blades. 

A few weeks ago, he had told you some bullshit excuse to keep you out of the lair while they were able to push through the weeks of unbearable horniness. He felt bad lying to you, but he felt it might be easier than to remind you of just how unhuman he was. 

On one of the first days, he abused his punching bag until the chain broke. He lifted weights until his limbs burned, waiting until just before the sun set to touch himself. 

When that time came around, he shut himself in his room. He slowly undressed, then lounged back on his bed. With his eyes shut, he slipped into the easy motions he had gone on many times before. 

His cock was already hard just by the thought of what he was about to do. He wrapped his hand around it, his head falling back just from the feeling that provided. 

He stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing his hand around the head to use his precum as lube. 

That was when his mind strayed to you, and though he feared it would be unavoidable, it still made him feel like he was crossing a line he could never come back across. He had imagined being with you, of course, he craved to know what your legs would feel like slung over his shoulders. He wanted to know what you sounded like when you came, what you tasted like.

But something felt different about this. His hand moved faster as he imagined being inside of you. Your face buried in a pillow, muffling your cries for him to fuck you harder. He imagined cumming inside of you. How it would spill out of you when he pulled out, how full you would be of him. 

He thought of your voice, smooth and beautiful. Your moans would be just as sweet, full of lust and pleads. He thought of your smell, something that managed to remain anywhere you touched just to taunt him. He could imagine it now, the silky aroma that drifted off of your skin. It felt so vivid to him now, so close to him it drove him crazy. 

He was so close now it was nearly unbearable. His stomach had tightened, a cord stretching further and further. He heard your voice saying his name, and he pushed himself further into the fantasy of you touching him, of you yearning to see him cum, and he whispered your name in return. 

Through his closed eyes, he noticed the room brighten a bit. When he lifted his head, his first sight was you. At first he thought he had imagined you there, eyes wide as you watched him. Reality sank in shortly after, and he jerked to sit up.  

He blurted your name out in a panic.“What are you doing here?” He grabbed his pants off the floor and brought them over his lap. His blood roared in his ears as he waited for you to respond, to do anything but stand there. It was horrible of him, but the sight of you made his cock twitch beneath his clothes, reminding him of the visions he’d seen, how close he was just moments ago.   

You were silent for a moment, before stepping inside his room, and, to his complete shock, closing the door behind you, pressing your back against it. 

“What are you…” His words trailed off, breaths heaving. You clasped your hands together, but not before he noticed a slight tremor.

“You said my name. I heard you.” Your voice was quiet, and though you tried hiding it, he could tell you were nervous. “Were you thinking about me?” 

 Raph was silent, eyes wide. But you looked at him, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, still unsure if he had imagined you there at all. 

“Can I watch?” 

His heart nearly stopped, his body felt like it turned into clouds. He answered you by slowly taking the pants from his lap. You moved carefully, not taking your eyes off of him, and sat in the beanbag chair against the wall across from him. 

He began stroking himself again, moving slow until he felt himself fall back into the motions. He found the rhythm he enjoyed, squeezing his fist at the head. At first he avoided looking at you, but he could feel you watching him. 

He opened his eyes to see you leaning further back, your legs spread slightly, hands gripping your knees. He desperately wished he could know what you were thinking, but the rich smell of your arousal reached him from across the room, answering most of his questions for him. 

It pushed him further, the fact that he could get you like this without even touching you. That just seeing him like this had gotten you wet. His hand began moving faster, he could hear you lean forward. 

“Were you thinking about me touching you like that?” 

A chuckle escaped him. “‘Was thinking about a lot more than that.”

“What else?”

“Fuck,” He put more pressure around his cock, feeling flares shoot down his legs. He saw the muscles in your legs clench, hands tightening into fists. “Thought about having you any way I want. Makin’ you say my name while I fuck you. Makin’ you cum.” He let out a sharp breath. He was almost there, the cord nearly snapping inside him. “I’d have you all to myself. Nobody else would ever fuckin’ touch you. 

You slid your hand up your thigh, your voice a dreamy whisper. “Raph,” 

Fuck.

His head fell back as he came. Ropes of cum landing across the back of his hand. The quickened rise and fall of his chest slowly began to settle

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after today, but at the moment, with his brain clouded by the mix of his  afterglow and his own instincts, as well as the undeniable need radiating off of you, he couldn’t care less. 

“Come here,” His voice was low, eyes so intensely focused on you. 

Without hesitation, you obediently stood, taking a step toward him.

[raphielover]

I love your writing so much and how you write the turtle just ugh ♥️ So I’ve been in my very angsty mood lately so I’m thinking of Raphael x F!reader? If you don’t mind?

The reader is a anti-hero type of character doesn’t feel like a good influence on Raph who is more of the hero type. Especially since his family are against the relationship because of the reader’s morals so they have her second guessing herself. Raphael disagrees with his family and is a stubborn mofo as usual. Lmao

"Why are you running? Why is it that every time I get close to you, you take off? What are you so scared of?"

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

Listen I’m having a heart attack at having you in my inbox because I’m a HUGE HUGE fan of yours and like yeah, no pressure, I’m fine, I’m alright,

Rated Mature (suggestive themes)

There were many instances where you could feel Leo burning a hole through the back of your head, the grimace he sported the second he could spot you out on the open was enough to make your eyes roll. You knew having him be anything but pissy wasn’t going to be an option when Raph had told you about him.

The tallest one wasn’t any different, he was subtle sure but you’ve changed enough cellphones in 3 months just paranoid over being tapped. He observed, calculated, probably thought up of ways of his own to sabotage.

The youngest seemed stuck between feeling joy for his older brother but the worry was there, the second guessing resonated in his blue eyes whenever you rode up in your motorcycle looking a little worse for wear. What had you been doing the week you’d gone radio silent? Why could he smell blood on you? Why were your knuckles so bruised?

It was natural for Raphael’s family to want to shield him, Splinter especially, it was normal that you came from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks.

But couldn’t they see?

You cared for him, deeply. Wanted him, desired him, he made the bullshit somehow fade away.

But those cold gazes, the ironic judgment they held the second Raph ran off towards you, you could picture it.

So when Raph ran, so did you.

Somehow keeping a step away to his forward steps.

Because now whenever he reached out you felt a twinge of unworthiness at his touch.

Because maybe you were as bad as they thought you were, maybe you were a bad influence, something sent to break him apart and condemn.

You wrist hurt from holding onto the throttle, the ride back into the city an all too familiar one. You could feel your phone vibrate in the inside pocket of your jacket and while could guess, you tried to ignore it.

Maybe it due time to quietly slip away, Raph was good, he was a genuinely good man who stood for what he did. Why corrupted him (were you?) why give this a death sentence? (Was it?) why hurt yourself more? (Will it hurt more when you leave?)

You pulled into the subterranean garage of the apartment building you’d taken up residence in. You walked the bike towards the spot and sighed. Your hands were shaking, vibrating from the buzzing of the night ride.

“Ya planning on just never answering?” It came from the shadows, the deep baritone you often heard in your brain at all hours of the day.

Raph stepped out of the dark corner of the garage with a tension in his shoulders that must’ve ached. Taking off your helmet and setting it on the bike, you watched from your tousled locks at a man you found peace in.

Leaving peace behind wouldn’t be easy.

“It was a busy night, came back into the city just now.” You kept your gaze adverted, anywhere where it wouldn’t hurt to see worries green eyes staring back.

“It’s been a week, kid…what’s going on?” What did I do?

Was all you could hear deep within the swallowing of his throat.

“Nothing, had a job, did the job, took longer.” You hated how dry you sounded, sandpaper words that could damage those scales of his.

When Raph took a step to greet you, touch you, you took a small one back.

When you chanced a look at him, well it was easier to eat glass than watch that look.

“Raph—“

“Why are you running? Why is it that every time I get close to you, you take off? What are you so scared of?” He was close now, a large mitt reaching for your chin, gently oh so painfully gently caressing the outline of your jaw. You looked up, eyes shaky from finding any way to let him go, to push him away.

“You know why—“

He didn’t let you finish again.

“I don’t fucking care, this is what I want, you, I want you.” He cupped your cheek, small and vulnerable against his large palm.

You drowned in the possibility of leaving him, so when you remained silent, didn’t say anything, Raph leaned down.

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay? Just…Just let me kiss you.” The need in his voice, the want so visceral it made you feel it all the same.

When Raph’s lips met yours, for those little moments you allowed yourself the luxury of greed.

[raphielover]

Random Turtle Thoughts...

NSFW (18+ only)

Sinfulness Below....

Wanna set the mood? Listen to Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens.... Happy Reading.

><><><><><><><

You had never known addiction could be so consuming. So controlling. So demanding. So --- intoxicating.

Until you had him that is. That very first time the whole facade of "we're just friends, no way we want more" came crashing down in a torrent of heated need one night he returned you home from a movie marathon with the four. When his mouth had brushed so dangerously close past your lips as he lifted you inside your apartment window. It made his breath catch in his throat. He had told you he could smell what you were thinking. So he risked everything to brush his mouth past again. Temptation too much, you chased, wanting so much more.

And that was it. One time was all it took. You were hooked. Hopelessly. Stupidly. Addicted after just a single taste.

But life has a funny way of making you rethink your actions. Just as it only took one time to give in to all those desires, it only took one time to make you cut the line and reel everything back deep inside. Regretting having ever given air for the fire to breathe.

You were a risk to him. A weak spot. No matter how badly you wanted to be his everything, the inescapable truth was, you couldn't be without simultaneously being a liability. He'd come running if it was you. Even if it were to his inevitable demise.

Leo's eyes had looked so - broken - when you'd told him. The two of you couldn't be. He nodded. Acknowledged that your words were true. But his hand had clutched so tightly to your fingers, as he dared to beg for the two of you to still stay close. Stay in each other's lives.

Of course, you'd told him. How could you ever stand to lose him altogether? So that was how it stayed. Each of you playing your part.

Until the addiction came calling again. And what sweet, sweet relief there was in giving in. To have those lips, so soft in their conquest of your flesh. Those hands, so strong squeezing and kneading into your hips. His swollen member, leaking and throbbing, all in the want of you. The insatiable, inebriating allure of every nerve in your body drowning in bliss. The addiction taking you captive all over again.

Then you'd swear to each other that it wouldn't happen again once it was all over. Just a little slip. Wouldn't happen again. Just friends, right? Right.

Yeah right.

A secret. So secret. One you loved so fiercely. Too much to admit how much the back and forth of being then not hurt. How much you hated that it hurt. Hated that you couldn't be satisfied to just be his friend. His platonic friend.

Again and again the two of you would fall victim to the want. The need. To just give in. And be what you both wanted to be. A vicious cycle of recovery and relapse. Each time the pull greater than the last. Until the chase became almost as desirable as the act itself.

He'd claim you against the wall in the dojo. You'd slip into his room in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes he'd appear out of the shadows on your way home from work, and you'd find yourself stripped bare, your naked skin erupting in goosebumps from the kiss of the cold night air high atop some skyscraper. Only the heat of him thrusting deep into you to keep the real cold at bay. Other times you two would sneak off to some quiet corner in the lair with only moments of solitude to do the deed. The thrill of getting caught by any one of his brothers making his hand rest heavily over your mouth, cerulean orbs locked onto yours, daring you to whimper louder.

"Go ahead, princess," he'd huskily whisper. "Get loud. "I'm not the one with my legs spread wide. "

Then again, just as many times prior you'd both swear that was the last time. It had to be. The game, though exhilarating, was exhaustive all the same.

Six months now. Six months since the two of you caved to temptation. Though the thought of your flushed, conjoined, breathless forms was constantly present in your mind.

So you couldn't have him all the way. But that didn't mean you couldn't still play. Right?

That was right. And play you would.

Your fingertips would linger on his skin. Always with a suggestive glint to your eye. Allowing your touch to trail across his muscles until falling away, leaving static in the air.

Sitting near him, you'd take advantage to tease, rubbing the top of your foot up and down the back of his calf. Relishing the satisfaction of the ever so faint hitch to his breath at the contact. Biting your lip just enough for him to catch as he focused intently on you through the periphery of his vision.

Making a show of your pink tongue sliding slowly across your pout to moisten your lips when he was speaking to you. Curling them into a knowing smile at the nearly inperceptual tightening of his mouth as he stumbled over his words for a fraction of a second.

Casting bedroom eyes his way between banter with his brothers. Tilting your head just so, encouraging the lengths of your hair to fall to the side, exposing your neck and jaw to him in the way you would before. When his teeth would nip along your pulse. Before he'd sink his bite in. Just enough to pinch. Just enough to make you suck in a hot breath and plead for more.

Oh yes, you'd teased. So it shouldn't be any surprise to you. The position you found yourself in now.

On your knees, nails digging into Leo's thighs as tears streamed down your face. His fingers fisted in your hair at the back of your head. Holding you perfectly in place as he slid his cock back and forth, bumping the back of your throat again and again. The dangerous reflection of an alpha behind his hungry stare. One intent on taking what he wanted.

All the while your own excitement soaked your half ripped panties. Your wanting slick starting to trickle down your quivering thighs. The burning desire to be the best you had ever been for him. Always for him.

Nearly delirious now from the wish for friction you dropped one hand down. Seeking to slip your fingers past the hem of your ruined lingerie. But Leo caught you by the arm with his free hand. A dark smile splitting his face as you squirmed against his mass filling your mouth.

"Don't think so, petal. You've had your fun. Taunting me. Testing me. For months." His voice deepened. Nearly rumbled with a low growl. "Now it's my turn."

Moving so fast you almost couldn't process it, Leo pulled himself free from your lips with a pop and threw you back onto his bed. Massive hands tore the last bit of attire clinging to your curves then pressed your legs back. Leaving you inescapably exposed and spread wide.

"Mhmm," he groaned. "God, how I've missed this."

Wasting no time with finesse or delicateness, he plunged his tongue deep straight into your wet core. Immediately letting loose a forceful moan. One which instantly had you trembling, hands flying back to clutch his bedding, seeking to ground yourself on something - anything - as you came undone.

Before you had a chance to fall into rhythm with his minstrations, Leo was on the move again. Suddenly empty your eyes couldn't even open in surprise before his mouth was crashing against yours. Teeth clashing against one another's, so lost to the moment, you couldn't even care about the fact you could taste yourself.

Pressure from his thumb turned your chin away as he marked your neck in ravenous kisses. All the way down to your shoulder. Where you abruptly found one thick finger aggressively working your aching cunt with another pressing down on your tongue, encouraging you to suck, with a set of teeth in your shoulder.

Feeling wild and dizzy in the surging euphoria of it all, your eyes rolled back in your head. So very, very thankful to be at his mercy. Every nerve in your body screaming to combust, just so long as he kept making you feel so unbelievably good.

Yet again you felt him nearly rip himself away. Then you found yourself flipped over, face down into the mattress. Skilled fingers of one hand tangled themselves within your hair with the other pressed down the small of your back. One knee cupped against your hip, his other leg stretched behind. Then before any other thought could cross your mind, he was deep, deep inside. The faint burn from the stretch his girth caused conflicting against the pleasure of his thrusts stole your breath away.

For several moments the only sound of wet skin slapping against skin was all that met your ears. Until Leo tipped his hips just so and struck the perfect spot. Unable to keep from crying out, your body seized beneath his weight, whimpering through your orgasm.

The sounds of your bliss sent Leo over the edge only seconds later. Filling your quivering sex full of his white hot seed. Eyes squeezed shut, trying in vain to hold onto the rush of his relief. A few dopamine filled gasps broke free as Leo untangled his hand from the back of your head before the room fell into silence.

You lay still a moment. Enjoying how wonderful you felt. Then you became aware of feather light kisses being planted across your shoulders. A hum of appreciation. Then the weight of his head against your neck.

"I can't do this anymore." Leo's normally confident voice coming out small and injured. "I can't keep pretending this is okay. Like it doesn't rip my heart out every time we do this."

"Go back to being just friends?"

Only a small nod answered you.

"Then let's not."

His head shot up. Even though you couldn't really see him behind you, you knew his eyes were boring into you.

"You mean it?" Hopefull. Daring to believe your answer could be yes.

"Only if you do. I -,"

You couldn't finish your sentenxe before you found yourself flipped over again. A searing kiss pressing hard against your lips.

There was a lot the two of you needed to work out. But right now, all you think of was how good it felt to give in. To be what you wanted to be. To have what you wanted. Forever addicted to him. Only him.

You had never known addiction could be so intoxicating.

@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @celticvix @writinandcrying @donniesgirlie @thelaundrybitch @turtlecleric @khayalli @thejudiciousneurotic

[raphielover]

This has been in the back of my mind for a while now. So I figured I’d try getting it out. While this doesn’t mean I’m “back” back, it doesn’t mean the few good folk on here shouldn’t (hopefully) enjoy this. For the foreseeable future I don’t feel like I’ll be taking request but you can maybe catch my own doings here and there.

But on with the show.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

You feel you’ll go out of your mind at this rate.

All the staring.

The quiet little gestures.

His passive resistance.

You’ve remained glued to your spot for so long. Hoping that maybe somewhere between weeks in the months of the years you’ve known him, that he’d crack.

Leonardo doesn’t crack easily you’ve gathered.

He hardly moves. He doesn’t allow his eyes to betray him. His hands remain within eyesight, but it’s in the subtle clench of his knuckles. The way his hands ball up and quickly stretch exposing the veins.

While he smiles sweetly, almost submissively at the sound of your voice. You know he doesn’t show this to just anybody. He doesn’t allow himself the luxury but god dammit, you can see that he wants to drink you in.

You’re liquor to him, addicting and burning.

You’re oil to him, never quite mixed with the water he floats upon.

You’re pornography to him, a hidden treasure for when he’s too far gone.

So why does it ache so much to open your mouth? To make a move. To peel back that layer of protection he’s been so steadfast in building.

Because he could still reject.

He could push away your pulling aura.

So when you stand next to him during the group picture April insisted on taking. Feeling the cold of his skin so close to your arm. Your little hairs sticking out to somehow feel something of his. You don’t think, don’t linger on the possibility of rejection. Because when your pinky reaches for his palm, gently caressing his hand, begging for permission you somehow only whisper in your mind…

You hold back the gasp as his own finger wraps around yours.

It’s tentative and charged with electricity.

He’s a knife.

You chance a look at him from the corner of your eye and watch his throat bob. The tension in his broad shoulders, the shakiness of his irises. The fight to turn and stare right back at you, to cut you with his blue eyes and inquire if his fantasies have become fact for once.

When you feel an arm around your shoulders as everyone screams cheese, it takes your entire will to muster your designer smile. Leo seems to do the same, a defeated retreat from the prize.

You still feel him weeks later. The way the top of his hand rubbed against your own.

What you’d give to have that palm right now between your legs, trying to rush the blood to your brain and drowning you in the ecstasy he could give. You wonder if he’s done the same? Have you driven him insane all these months? Made him question every waking moment of his life?

Are his pretty beaten hands wrapped around himself right now?

Is he begin for you?

Is he dying for you?

Somehow this all comes to fruition one evening. Another night with your friends. Celebrating another big win.

You get sent to the supply closet to get something (because at this point you forgot what) and as you rummage through a box, that tiny bulb swinging around you like a halo. You feel that rush when the door opens.

A hand reaching and gripping the back of your neck and pulling.

Lips.

At the shell of your ear.

You gasp.

Leo feels mortification sink deep.

But before he allows the logical side to quick in, you grip the fabric of his pant leg.

“Don’t-“ you hold him there, silently begging him.

Leo let’s out a breath he’s been holding since his feet took him to you.

Several heartbeats pass, tension building and swirling around both your souls. Somewhere between bravery and madness you grab those hands press those palms around you.

And hold on for dear life.

Presses you against himself like a security blanket. Greedily inhales and exhales you. You’re shaking but god Leo is shaking worse.

He slides down you, comes to his knees and watches you turn around his embrace and watch him as he lets his vices win this time.

It’s the way those eyes look up at you, apologetically, fascinated, tormented.

His stomach drops when you cup his face, fear overwritten his features.

He looks weak, he knows it.

But to you? To you he’s the most beautiful creature. Gentle features, eyes as blue as the sky. Lips surprisingly warm, hesitant and yet needy. He’s kissing back just as your hands run across his cheeks and neck. Lips molding, desperation kicking in because now he’s had a taste. Now he knows what paradise tastes like.

His hands fall to your hips, gripping as he leans up more, still tall enough on his knees for your comfort. When he feels your moan, captures it inside his throat; he knows he’s done for.

Weakened by you.

Overwhelmed by you.

He can hear himself panting, the blood inside his veins pumping. How your sounds pick up the more he kisses you back.

You smile against the corner of his mouth as he grabs your waist and stands up with you in his arms. The contents inside the supply closet rattle to the ground but his hold is bruising and the prospect of his hand marked on your flesh make you euphoric.

Leo’s tongue and yours.

His nails digging into your rear, yours at his neck.

His teeth meet your bottom lip.

He’s hard and rubbing against the spot of your underwear.

You should stop, lead him into something more understandable.

But the greedy little creature inside of you chants ‘more!’ Just as he moans into your mouth for the twentieth time. A sound hitches in the back of your throat when you feel something warm gush and connect with your wetness.

You’re doing this to him.

You’re causing this.

He’s cumming for YOU.

That desperate point of no return is there, the two of your skating down it. His kissing is erratic and out of sync because his eyes are going wide.

His locked to your own blown out pupils.

He wants to apologize, to stop but your hips just rubbed up against him just as you start to cum. His name seeping out of your wet parten lips.

The haze will clear.

The mess will remain.

But what will you say?

What will he say?

[raphielover]

Preoccupied (18+)

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

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

Raphael x Reader

All characters are aged up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

He remembers how this all started now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can’t it be so easy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never is.

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

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

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

[raphielover]

Hear me out

Raph railing the living daylights out of you for your birthday, and eating your ass like its cake

Of course my friend doesnt follow this acc, of course im not specifically requesting this for them in particular 👀

(Cough cough hi sugar boo 😘)

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES THAT THIS IS LATE

there’s no request for a spef Raph so naturally I must go with bay! Bc that guy??? Licks the plate CLEAN—

Warnings: fem reader, ass eating, fingering in the ass and brief mention of anal, he fucks your PUSS!!

“Happy birthday, baby. Got your present in my room.”

“Oh, Raph! You didn’t have to get anything for me.”

You miss the smirk on his lips since you turn to head down the hall, the glint in his eye and the way his tongue darts out his mouth.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I wanted to. Gotta spoil you, yeah?”

You turn to him as you sweep the curtain to his room aside, raising an eyebrow at him with a questioning smirk.

“Spoil me how?”

“Mmm fuck— oh fuck!”

He pushes your head further into the mattress, his hand nearly engulfing your skull as his tongue delves deeper into your hole. He shakes his head back and forth, curling the muscle and absolutely slobbering all over your cheeks, creating a big wet spot on the sheets beneath you.

Raph’s other hand grips your ass tight, definitely going to leave prints that’ll show in the later hours but right now he doesn’t care, right now he’s too focused on trying to reduce you to even an bigger quivering and whimpering mess.

He lets go of your head and comes to grab your other cheek, spreading both of them far apart and pulling back. He chuckles at the sight of your puckered hole clenching around nothing, already missing the shape of his tongue.

“So good f’me, you know that?” He grunts as he teasingly presses his thumb into your asshole, not enough to penetrate but just enough to have you squirming under him. “You and this tight l’il hole you got,”

He drops a glob of spit in between your parted cheeks, the warm sensation making you gasp and shudder as it slips further down. He quickly scoops it up with one finger and uses it as lube, pushing his thick digit in all the way to the first knuckle while he lines himself up with your sweet cunt.

“An’ you’re gonna take this cock like a good girl, yeah? S’your birthday present from me.” Ever so slowly he pushes in, inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt, rubbing his palm up and down your back in a soothing gesture.

You claw at the bedsheets, arching yourself as he sunk into your soaking pussy, mewling and whimpering with every light brush of his fingertips against your hot skin.

He gives you a moment to adjust, knowing it wasn’t easy for you to take his massive length. He goes to massage your ass, running the blunts of his nails up and down your spine. He gently fingers your asshole, tempted to put another but once he sees you go barely lax, he clutches your hips and adjusts himself.

He plants one foot on the bed and immediately your eyes widen, looking over your shoulder to find him already giving you that shit eating smirk.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His hold on you grows more firm before he starts fucking into you with no regard, grunting and muttering curses under his breath as you squeeze and suction onto his length. You can hardly get your moans out, and even if you could they’d be overshadowed by the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass.

You’re already so pent up from him eating your ass that you know you won’t last much longer. And when he removes his finger from your hole and sneaks around to start rubbing furiously at your clit, you can feel the band in your stomach tighten impossibly more.

“Mmmm Raph—!!”

“I know, can feel ya squeezing me, baby. Go ahead and come f’me, sweetheart. Birthday girl can do whatever she wants.” His free hand goes back to your skull, pushing your cheek to the bed for more leverage while pounding into you.

Your body jerks and twists, thighs threatening to close around his hand but he keeps you pried open while still thrusting into you. Merely a few seconds later you’re coming hard, your scream muffled by the sheets and your body attempting to push back while also trying to get away from his finger that’s still touching your sensitive clit.

He hums in satisfaction and pulls back, giving you a break and squeezing random parts of your body to calm you down. You’re breathing heavily, swallowing to quench your parched throat. With shaky arms you lift yourself and look back at him, finding that same cocky grin plastered on his lips.

“One down…” He slips his cock out, the empty feeling having you shiver. You gasp when you feel the head press against your ass, the tip just barely pushing in.

“Many more to go.”

[raphielover]

If you are still writing pics could you do a smut bayverse raph if you are comfortable with it it would make my day

Of course dear, hope you like it, it's my first time writing smut. Sorry if it was too short.

Warning: smut/nsfw/MDNI/ everyone in here are of legal age

Let's Fuck

It's not the first or second time that you and Raph do this, you and him, in his room, most likely his brothers are sleeping now so it's the perfect time for a good fuck.

You never imagined in your life that one day you would be under a mutant, much less that it would be as good or better than with any boy you had ever met in your life. Every thrust he gave inside you was another moan asking for more.

"So wet, just for me" he said as he pleasurably abused their pussy, without stopping.

Raph felt like the best man on the face of the earth, he has a partner who, besides not caring about the fact that he was a mutant, still begged with their legs open to be fucked by him senseless, it was too much, he needed more, he wanted his brothers and all of New York to know that you were his and that you were begging for him.

"You're so fucking hot, you know that, doll? I could have you like this all the time" he says, looking at your face, your eyes watering with pleasure and you looking at him as if he were the only one...He IS the only one, what a triumph.

"Raph, keep going, please, I'm coming" you said with your mind clouded with so much pleasure, he was the one, he was the one who made you feel like this, he was the one who ate your pussy like no one else did.

Raphael was getting close too, so to finish off with a flourish, he pulled you into a passionate kiss as he poured himself inside you. You both fall to the side of the bed, catching your breath.

You look at him. "I love you y/n" You smile and kiss him "So...ready for round 2?"

[raphielover]

“Say That Again”

Bayverse Raphael x fem!reader

The smell of pizza and burnt garlic knots filled April’s apartment. Mikey’s chaotic playlist blared from a speaker on the shelf, and somewhere in the background, Casey was yelling “NO FAIR!” at Donnie after losing a racing game for the third time.

You were perched on the couch with a soda in one hand, casually chatting with April about her latest job debacle, when the cushion beside you dipped.

“Still stunning as ever, babe,” Vern said with a smug little grin.

You blinked slowly. “Hey, Vern.” Flat tone. Minimal effort.

He leaned his elbow on the back of the couch, inching just a little too close. “I must say, you’re the only person I know who can make sitting under fluorescent lights and talking about sewer monsters look hot.”

You resisted the urge to sigh and glanced at April, who gave you a subtle smirk before disappearing into the bathroom. Traitor.

“I’m pretty sure I just ranted about my laundry issues for ten minutes,” you said, unimpressed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Vern replied. “You got that effortless cool thing going on. Must be tough, hanging around these four oversized reptiles all the time. You know, if you ever want a break from… mutant drama, I do have a pretty decent car. And no shell.”

You arched a brow. “How is that a selling point?”

Before he could answer, a familiar shadow loomed at the edge of your vision.

“Aw, don’t let me interrupt,” came a deep voice, low and flat.

Raph.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared Vern down with all the warmth of a brick wall. The tension was instant. You didn’t even have to look at him to feel it.

Vern turned with that awkward laugh of his. “Hey, man! Just, uh, talking to your girl here. Didn’t know you were around.”

“Uh-huh,” Raph said, deadpan. “Well, now you do.”

“Relax. I was just keeping her company.”

Raph’s lip curled slightly. “Sure. ‘Company.’ You tryin’ to sell her a used car next, or just your ego?”

You stood up and slid between them before the sarcasm turned into something heavier. Vern might’ve been annoying, but you weren’t about to let Raph go full “intimidation mode” in the middle of April’s living room.

“Hey, Raph,” you said lightly, placing your empty cup in his hand. “Mind grabbing me a refill?”

He didn’t move at first, still glaring at Vern. Then he gave you a look - half questioning, half knowing - and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Yeah. Come with me.”

You walked with him past the TV, where Mikey waved two pizza slices like pompoms. “Oooooh, Raph looks spicy!”

“Shut it,” Raph muttered.

Once in the kitchen, he set your cup down on the counter a little harder than necessary.

“So,” you said, casually leaning on the fridge, “that was subtle.”

“He was flirting with you,” Raph snapped, turning to face you. “Right in front of me.”

“He flirts with everything. He’d flirt with Donnie’s tech if it had a decent set of speakers.”

“That ain’t the point,” he said, voice low. “He was lookin’ at you like… like you were up for grabs or somethin’.”

You crossed your arms. “Do I look like I care what Vern thinks of me?”

He hesitated. “…No. I guess not.”

You stepped closer, nudging his side with your elbow. “Exactly. I didn’t flirt back, Raph. I wasn’t even interested in talking to him. He parked himself next to me like a lost poodle and started trying to be smooth.”

His jaw shifted, still tense, still chewing on the weight of his mood.

“Seriously,” you added. “Do you really think I’d waste time with Vern when I already date the one guy who can bench-press a dumpster and make sarcastic brooding look hot?”

That got a snort out of him, just barely.

“Don’t like the way he talks to you,” he muttered again, quieter now. “Like you’re just some… option. He knows we’re together.”

You shrugged. “Then let him embarrass himself. You don’t have to puff your chest every time someone tries to get cute. I’m not interested. Never was.”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just stood there, eyes down, frown still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You nudged his arm again. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I just don’t like anyone thinkin’ they can take what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your bike, Raph. I’m not something to ‘take.’”

He looked up fast. “That’s not what I-”

“I know.” You cut him off gently. “I’m yours because I choose to be. And no smooth-talking, hair-gelled local reporter’s gonna change that.”

“…Okay. That was kind of hot.”

You grinned and finally stepped back to grab your drink. “Now c’mon, let’s go back out before Mikey starts pretending to be our couples therapist.”

As the two of you stepped back into the living room, Vern glanced over from his spot - now safely across the room - and gave a sheepish little wave.

Raph stared at him. Silent. Stone-faced.

Vern cleared his throat. “Okay, okay. I get it. Loud and clear.”

Raph smirked.

“Say that again,” he said.

And this time, you didn’t stop the laugh that escaped.

[raphielover]

Mating Season ~ Bay Donnie Headcanons

Here are my headcanons for Bay Donnie during the mating season.

NSFW ~ F!Reader

(Note: I'm french. My english is limited and I use Deepl.)

Donnie is a mess. He can't think straight, and that gets on his nerves.

Over the years, Donnie has found solutions to make this period less difficult. A special schedule to manage his needs and his work. But let's be honest, he's not very productive during this period.

In his schedule, Donnie gives himself a period of work and then a period of play time to satisfy his needs, like a kind of pomodoro system. He tries to stick to it, but some days are harder than others.

On the hardest days, Donnie spends his time in bed, either sleeping, trying to distract himself, or indulging his cravings. His brothers know that he's totally unavailable at this time, and he turns the music up loud so they don't hear him. Because he can't even think about not making noise. There are no rules, no shame, no limits. Just him and his pleasure.

When things finally calm down, Donnie only leaves his bed to change the sheets, then goes back to bed and doesn't come out again. This time it's sleep and embarrassment that prevent him from getting up. In the end, his brothers come to reassure him (or annoy him) so that he can finally recover and resume his normal life.

If you're together but haven't gotten to sex yet, Donnie will isolate himself as he usually does, begging you not to come and disturb him because he doesn't want you to see him like this or for your first time to be during this time. He knows he wouldn't be able to control himself and he'd blame himself for the rest of his life.

After a while, he'd break down enough to send you a message, innocent at first, then increasingly suggestive, especially if you decided to tease him. “I miss you.” “You have no idea how much I'd love to see you right now.” "I feel like I'm soiling you, but it's hard not to think about you. I'm sorry…"

After a while, if you can get him to understand that you like it, Donnie ends up sending you messages that are a little more explicit about what he imagines and would like to do to you. “I want to taste you so bad…” “I can't wait to know what it feels like to be inside you…” "I'm so miserable right now… You could do whatever you want with me, no problem…"

If you initiate the thing, it might even end up in phone sex. He's ashamed of the whole thing afterwards, and you need to reassure him that you enjoyed it and would love to do it again.

If you two are already having sex, Donnie is extremely annoying and you need a lot of patience to deal with him.

First of all, he's demanding. Because his vital need is no longer “I have to cum” but “I have to cum inside my female”. His animal instinct to reproduce is uncontrollable and he finds it hard to satisfy himself on his own.

If in your version of the universe, Bay Boys can reproduce with humans then watch out because that's exactly Donnie's goal and he doesn't care if it's a good thing or not, he has to do it. No brain, just instinct.

Then he's a pain in the ass between sessions, because his brain rewires a bit and he feels guilty for being so out of control.

Because in those moments, he finds it hard not to think only of himself and not to be brutal. You'll have to tell him clearly and loudly if he hurts you, because he won't be able to see it himself. He needs to be reasoned with, and he'll beg you to do it every time his neurons are even remotely connected.

Donnie's mostly dominant at times like this, but if you're able to speak loudly and sternly, you'll be able to use blackmail or make him feel guilty to get EVERYTHING you want. Really and truly. He'll do anything. Even the hardcore stuff he wouldn't normally do for fear of hurting you, or because he's too embarrassed, or because it's just not his thing. During the mating season, he has no limits and it drives him crazy when you treat him like that. (Don't do it outside this period without talking it over with him first and making it clear that it's a game. He might feel badly treated).

If you're tired of it and want him to end up on his own (and frankly, that would be understandable), you only need to tell him once, but clearly. He'll isolate himself and take care of himself. He'll probably pout, but eventually he'll come around and apologize.

After this period, he's very tired and can't help feeling guilty. He may not even dare to come back to you the first few times, so you'll have to go looking for him, reassure him and let him sleep close to you to make him understand that no, he hasn't lost you.

[raphielover]

First time ~ Bay Donnie Headcanons

Here are my headcanons for Bay Donnie's first time with reader.

NSFW ~ F!Reader

(Note: I'm french. My english is limited and I use Deepl.)

From the moment you and Donnie became a couple, he pulled out and updated his computer file containing all the information he'd collected on “how to pleasure a woman”.

Then he runs tests. To find out exactly what the risks are if you have sex with each other. The risk of pregnancy, disease and physical compatibility.

Donnie tries to do this in a discreet way, without telling you. Because not only does it embarrass him, but he feels that all these technical details could ruin the magic of the moment. He wants it to be perfect, of course. For you and for him.

So, when he feels the moment is near, he's ready. At least, he thinks he is. But the reality is quite different, because this kind of thing can't be programmed like computer software.

So, when the time comes, he has doubts. He's afraid. Afraid of hurting you, afraid of not being able to give you pleasure. Afraid of doing it wrong, of not understanding what's going on in your head, of neglecting yourself, of not going all the way, of...

If you already have experience in the field, now's the time to take the reins. Because it's his first time and he's bound to need some guidance. Talk to him, show him, but also let him explore, test his theoretical knowledge. Donnie will listen to you and apply what you tell him to the letter at first.

Then he'll test things out. Things he's read or seen, but also things that come to him by instinct. With shyness and clumsiness, but also perseverance. And while he's putting his knowledge into practice, he's studying everything. Your gaze, your facial expressions, the movement of your body under his fingers, the sounds that come out of your mouth... He observes everything, analyzes everything and deciphers everything. He wants to know what you like and what you don't like. Because Donnie has two major objectives: not to hurt you, but above all to make you feel good.

He's got lots of questions, and he'll be asking them later. His brain is currently too busy remembering what he's learned and not losing control of himself. Because having you under his fingertips, freely running through you, is beyond anything he could have imagined, and he's on the verge of a short circuit.

No, the first time, his questions will be limited to “Are you okay?”, “Can I go on?”, “Do you want me to stop?”. And as he loses control, Donnie asks your permission to enter you, panting and stammering. And he won't do anything without your permission.

But before he does, he makes sure you're ready for him, because he's not human in size or shape. Donnie takes his time, first making sure you can handle a finger. Then eventually a second. He makes sure you cum at least once. And, just in case that didn't work, he's provided lubricant and even a few accessories to satisfy you without penetration, so you can both have fun in a different way. It'll never be a total failure.

When he decides you're ready (and he'll decide when, even if you're begging) and you've given him the go-ahead, he'll make his move. He has a plan to make things go smoothly and he fights to the bitter end against his urge to just work his way into you for his own pleasure. He'll only get in as part of the game with insane slowness, analyzing your reactions and resistance. Start gentle back-and-forth strokes with just the tip until no sign of discomfort appears on your facial features. Then he'll move in a little more and start again.

Throughout this process, Donnie lets out the most animalistic moans and grunts you've ever heard. He tries to contain them, but he's already having trouble containing his movements inside you. Sometimes he pauses, shaking intensely, and you come to understand that he's just trying not to cum too soon.

When he's deep enough inside you and feels he can't go any further, he makes sure to cover the part of him that won't enter you with his hand. Just in case he loses a little too much control and wants to go deeper. No, his hand must not move.

Donnie then starts moving back and forth more frankly and, to his (and your) frustration, he doesn't last much longer. As a result, he has an angry orgasm, swearing at himself. So much work and patience for a few seconds.... He feels guilty.

Might as well laugh it off and give him a second chance. He'll last longer this time. And why not take the lead for round two ;)

If this is also your first time, things aren't much different at first. Except that Donnie takes a little more on himself, fighting his embarrassment and looking to do you good without expecting you to guide him. He'll be doubly attentive and caring, though.

For this first time, he's decided he's far too... imposing, and he doesn't want to inflict that on you. If it's all right with you, he'd like to settle for a little...

For your first time, he's decided he's far too... impressive, and he doesn't want to put you through that. If you agree, he'd like to stick to his fingers for the first few times. He doesn't like the idea of taking your virginity that way, but he'd rather do that than risk hurting you.

After a few sessions of fingers fucking, he ends up wanting more, but he doesn't ask. He waits for you to tell him when you're ready. And when you are, he makes sure he does it right and as painlessly as possible. It may take you a few tries before he can finally enter you, but it's worth the wait ;)

[raphielover]

As soon as I saw @girl-loves-nerds's Sleepy Heads drawing, I knew I wanted to have a go with my own. Thank you for the inspiration! I hope you don't mind.

I will continue to tweak this thing until the cows come home, so I'm posting it so I can call it.

For Dog Days followers, this isn't chapter art...but I guess it could be for some future date. TBD. Unknown.