Hey..., I don't know if you still accept requests, or if you make this kind of content, but you could do a Bay Donnie x reader (established relationship) Bay Raph x reader (platonic) where Raph and the reader had a hidden affair that Raph didn't want to make official, so the reader starts an official relationship with Donnie, Raph gets jealous and envious and calls the reader for a talk, when they are confessing (she is angry because he didn't want to make it official and he thinks she is with his brother to make her jealous) Donnie catches them red-handed
(I love your fanfics❤️)
A/N: Thank you so much! I love this request. I did adjust it a bit, however it still keeps the same general plot. Enjoy!!
What a F*cking Mess (18+)
(This one’s a mix of spice, angst, and some fluff at the end!!)
MINORS DNI
Bayverse Raph x Reader AS WELL AS Bayverse Donnie x Reader
Raph was pissed.
Beyond pissed.
He had just found out, from Mikey of all people, that you and Donnie had started a romantic relationship.
He should’ve seen it coming though.
Especially considering the fact that he had turned down your request for something more serious.
He didn’t regret the nights you had spent together.
They were the best nights of his life.
One night in particular stuck out more than the others.
It was your first time being intimate with each other, actually.
He had come over after an argument with Leo. A bad one.
You sweet talked him out of his rage like it was nothing. Like you had done it a hundred times before.
He couldn’t resist you after that.
The way your arch was so perfect, and your panties were pushed to the side because he wasn’t patient enough to just take them off.
God you were screaming.
But that was nothing but a faded memory now.
Now he was in his room with his little brother who was playing video games and snacking like he hadn’t dropped an atomic bomb on him moments prior.
He had no idea how to even process this. You and Donnie. What had even led up to that? So he asked.
“Hey uh…you know how they got together?” He asked Mikey. It was a bit out of the blue as their initial conversation ended ten minutes ago, but his nonchalance made it less suspicious.
“Donnie had this whole elaborate setup man. Flowers and a fort at her place with her favorite movie on. Even made her dinner.”
“Huh…” Raph was spiraling.
After all…you had only confessed to him a couple of weeks ago.
He came over at his usual time. Expecting nothing more than you in your bed naked and ready for him…
He was so very wrong.
Your apartment was candlelit and smelled like vanilla, which was his favorite scent on you. Dinner was on the table. Fancy pasta was salad and wine. And soft romantic music played in the background.
You looked so gorgeous. Your hair was up and you wore a beautiful red dress that suited you perfectly.
Initially he didn't think much of it. You laughed and talked over dinner (which was delicious by the way) for hours.
After cleaning up a bit Raph moved to unzip your dress but you stopped him, and looked at him with a more serious expression.
"There's….something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
“Yeah? What’s goin’ on?”
You took a deep breath, and looked straight into his eyes.
“I love you, Raph.”
He felt his heart drop to his balls.
“I have for a bit now actually. I just wanted to make the moment more special…”
He could only blink.
“I want to make things official between us. A relationship to be more specific-”
“I uh…hold on shorty.”
You were a bit surprised at his interruption, but listened nonetheless.
“Look I like ya…I really do but, I dunno about a relationship-”
“Why not?” You asked, tears welling up in your eyes as you realized what was happening.
He will never forget the look on your face.
“Y/N I just…I don’t think I wanna take it that far-”
“You don’t want a relationship with me?”
He stared at you for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but his next words came out clear as day.
“No…I don’t.”
The silence that filled your living room was deafening, and that look you had on your face…
He thought you were gonna be sick.
It had to have been at least thirty seconds before you responded.
“I um…I understand.”
“Y/N-”
“Hey um…if it’s ok I kinda wanna be alone tonight…”
He wasn’t gonna argue.
“Alright.”
He grabbed his things and headed out to your fire escape, but just before he left, you called out to him.
“Hey Raph?”
He turned to look at you.
“I’d like some space for a while…”
He had actually already planned to call you later on, but that was out the window now.
He gave a curt nod. “Alright. Take all the time ya need.”
And with that, he left into the night.
You two hadn’t spoken since then…and now this?
He turned to Mikey once more. “You know if she’s still here?”
He swallowed the chip he was munching on before responding. “Yeah she’s here.”
Raph darted into the main area and of course, there you were. In all your glory. Right in Donnie’s lap.
Well, he was gonna have to ruin the moment. It’s not like he was sorry though. Because he wasn’t.
“Hey Y/N?”
You turned to him, the surprise on your features was evident.
“Can I talk to ya for a second?”
You were apprehensive for a second, but nodded, whispering to Donnie that you’d be back before getting off of his lap and following Raph to a more secluded part of the lair.
Once he stops, you wait anxiously for him to say something.
And contrary to your assumption…he doesn’t seem angry.
“So…you and Donnie huh?”
It was a soft spoken question, which only fueled your anxiety.
“Um…yeah. Me and Donnie.”
“When’d that happen?”
“A couple days ago.”
He nodded, taking in the information. The suspense was killing you, so you decided to be more direct.
“Why’d you call me, Raph?”
He looked directly into your eyes.
“Because I think it’s bullshit.”
That definitely threw you off.
“What?”
“This thing you’ve got going on with Don. I think it's bullshit.”
You said nothing…so he continued.
“Two weeks ago, you were tellin’ me you loved me and wanted a relationship with me. Three weeks ago I was the one wipin’ ya tears and bringing you gifts and shit, and now you’re gonna stand here and tell me you’re already in a whole relationship? Nah. Bull. Shit.”
You are getting flustered now. “No Raph. What’s bullshit is the fact that you have the audacity to call me over and berate my relationship when you’re the one that said you didn’t want to be with me!”
Raph kept a straight expression. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say any of that crap and you know it.”
You were bewildered at this point. You gave a sarcastic laugh. “You rejected me Raph. Plain and simple. I told you that I was in love with you and you looked me dead in my face and said-”
“That I didn’t want a relationship.”
Your expression faltered at how confidently he finished your sentence.
“Right. You said you didn’t want to be in a relationship…”
“You know why I said that?”
Your tough resolve was crumbling before his very eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know how, Y/N.”
You stared at him, wanting him to continue his thought.
“I was scared. I don’t have the first clue about being somebody’s boyfriend, but what I do know is that shit ain’t easy. Yeah I know how to order you food and protect you from assholes. I can fuck you good and take care of ya afterwards, but what do I know about relationships?”
You looked at him for a minute, and then began to speak.
“When I got sick six months ago and could barely keep my own head up, who stayed with me for four days straight just to make sure I was eating and taking my meds?”
Raph’s brows furrowed, confused by the question. “I did.” he stated with an obvious tone.
“And when I bombed my chemistry final and bawled my eyes out, who came over to cheer me up?”
Raph’s expression began to soften. “I did.”
You took a deep breath. “And when my grandmother died, who was there waiting for me at my apartment when I got home from the funeral?”
He understood what you were getting at now. “Me…I was there.”
“Yes Raph. You were there. You were always there. Whenever I needed you. That's what partners do. They stick around for each other and help them through their worst moments.”
He didn’t know what to say.
You took his hands into yours, massaging them with your thumb like you always did.
“Do you love me, Raph?”
He answered quickly. “Yeah…I love ya kid.”
You both leaned in immediately, colliding into the most passionate kiss either of you had ever experienced in your entire lives.
He held you close, knowing he was never going to let you go ever again.
When you finally broke apart, you stared into each other's eyes for a long second, before you spoke up.
“What am I gonna tell Donnie?”
A voice broke through the air, sending a chill through both of your spines.
“Don’t worry, you don't have to tell me anything.”
You both whip around to face none other than Donnie himself, who judging by the look on his face, had heard and seen everything.
He immediately turns around and storms off.
“Donnie wait!”
Raph expects you to chase after him, to go and repair your relationship and leave him standing there by himself…but you don’t.
You stay right by his side.
You say nothing for a little bit, but then you look up him and give a defeated smile.
Raph may not be the brains of the group, but he sure as hell isn’t stupid.
He saw the way you snuck glances at him, or the way you seemed to sit so close to him that your thighs touched.
He also noticed that you hug him a little bit longer than you hug his brothers, breathing in his scent and making sure to feel his biceps as you pull away.
However, simply assuming you have the hots for him would be extremely bold, considering the whole mutant turtle thing he has going on.
So he has to come up with a game plan. A foolproof one.
And who better to consult than Casanova himself?
“Oh yeah she’s got it bad for you bro.” Mikey said in the most casual tone ever as his thumbs flew across his controller.
Raph rolled his eyes. “Yeah Mike I figured. Question is, how the hell am I supposed to get it out of her?”
Mikey thought for a brief second, and then answered.
“Just give her the same energy bro.”
Raph was a bit thrown. “What?”
Mikey paused the game and turned to face his elder brother.
“Just…flirt with her. Let her know you’re into it. It’ll give her the confidence to make her move. You gotta let her know you want her.”
Raph was almost shocked at the advice. It was actually…perfect.
“Yeah…I guess that makes enough sense.”
Mikey turned back to his game. “Besides, it’s about time you get some bro.”
Raph rolled his eyes and walked off. He had some flirting to do.
So next time you came over, he laid it on thick.
When you came to give him his mandatory greeting hug, he hugged back just as tight, even lifting you off your feet and spinning you a bit. Your giggles were pure music to his ears.
Then when you sat on the couch, he sat right by you, even throwing an arm around your shoulder.
It was bold, but the way you blushed and melted into it said enough.
He was on you, and you were definitely eating it up.
What really did it is when you came to model a new dress you got for a girl’s night.
You sauntered into the gym where he was lifting weights, calling his name softly to get his attention. He placed the barbell onto the rack and lifted himself up to look at you.
And damn did he like what he saw.
The crimson fabric didn’t go unnoticed by him, the deep v neck line and the way it accentuated every curve you had. And the heels…
He could've bent you over where you stood.
“You goin’ out tonight?”
You nodded enthusiastically. “Me and my friends are gonna see what this new club’s about.”
Raph raised a brow and nodded, his eyes shamelessly raking over your form.
“Do you…like it?”
Raph was tired of the games. So he answered. He gave his real answer.
“Yeah I like it. I like it enough to wanna rip it off of ya.”
Your jaw dropped slightly, not expecting the forward answer.
Raph grabbed a towel, wiping some of the sweat off of his face. “What? You think I was gonna say somethin’ else?”
You gathered yourself. “Well…yes. But maybe I can take you up on that.”
Raph chuckled. “Is that right?”
You smiled and bit your lip as you walked over to him, turned so your back was facing him, and moved your hair for him to access your zipper.
“Do be gentle, I do wanna wear this again at some point.”
Raph huffed with a smirk as he pulled your zipper down. “I ain’t makin’ no promises.”
honestly, I think we need some more Bayverse Raph smut, why? First, it’s Raph. And we love some Raph. Second? So little people request stuff for Bayverse Raph it’s crazy😭 And he’s my favourite turtle. So you can decide WHAT the fic is about, I just request some Raph smut!!
Backshots (18+)
Bayverse!Raphael x reader
A/N: Sounded like you were in desperate need, so I quickly cooked up something😂 It’s pretty short, but hey, Bayverse Raphael doing backshots? Hell yeah. Enjoy!❤️
All characters are aged up.
Warnings: Short, doggy, overstimulation, squirting, Raph calls you a dirty girl.
“Yeah, that’s it”, Raphael growled behind you, standing on his bedroom floor, while you laid ass up on his bed. “Take all of it. Keep takin’ all of it, ya dirty girl”.
“Fuck, Raph!”, you cried out, trying to reach for him behind you. But he grabbed your arm, curling it up on your back, never once breaking the rhythm of his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing throughout Raphael’s room.
Your tight, long-sleeved crop top was still on, but your pants and underwear were far gone, lying somewhere in Raph’s bedroom, far forgotten as he continued to ram into you.
“Nah, dirty girls don't get to touch”, Raph chuckled, finding your whimpering sounds and desperate pleas adorable, his voice so low you could feel wetness starting to run down your thighs. Raph had already made you cum three times already, just by ramming you from behind, so you had no idea how you could still manage to get so wet when he talked. “Dirty girls are only made to be fucked”.
Raph let go of your arm, before grabbing a hold on your hips with both hands, thrusting into you at a brutal speed, making you scream and moan against the mattress. You sounded like a pornstar with how loud you were, however, your sounds were real. You were desperate, feeling yourself getting close to get another orgasm, not knowing if you could handle it.
“Raph! I’m - oh fuck - I’m-!”
“I know”, Raph groaned. “Cum for me, (Y/N). Squirt and make my bed wet like the dirty girl ya are”.
This man was going to be the death of you. Yet you came, crying out in pleasure as you squirted around Raph’s thick member, just like he had wanted you to, all while you saw white spots before your eyes.
“Shit”, Raph groaned, settling his speed, before almost pulling out of you, his head still stuck inside your overstimulated cunt. The hands on your hips moved to your ass, where Raph grabbed onto your cheeks, pulling them away from each other, so he could get a better look at your wet cunt, pulsing around his still erect cock. Then - to your surprise - he spat onto your cunt, putting his hands back on your hips, before slowly rocking in and out of you again. “You can do better, (Y/N)”.
“Wait, what?!”, you asked, trying to turn so that you could look at Raph, only for your head to be pushed down against the bed, his hand on your cheeks forcing the side of your face down.
“I said I wanted my bed wet”, Raph groaned, a smirk thick in his voice. “And squirtin’ only on me isn’t enough”. His raised one of his feet onto the bed, making it easier for him to thrust into you at full force once again.
Q. A. B. by jihnari and specifically this chapter of Walking Study in Demonology by ijustwanttodestroy are both great examples of the insane shit you can do on AO3
ᯓ★ lots of fluff, reader goes by she/her pronouns! (This is late and short— sorry—)
He confessed first.
It came as a shocker to everyone since nobody thought he'd be the type to.
But again he's the type to be like 'If she rejects me then she rejects me'
So imagine his surprise when you said yes. He had a whole script ready for when you said no so he was just stumbling over his words like a mess when you did accept his feelings.
Speaking of, you're the only person in his life he has a hard time of saying no to. Its like you bring out this carefreeness inside him people rarely gets to see.
You once asked him to glitter bomb Raph's punching bag so that everytime he swings at it glitter explodes out of nowhere.
Obviously Leo gave you that stern "No" but next thing you know he's reminding Raph to train.
Completely walking him into the trap you've set up.
You guys enjoy sharing your food... or more like you eating his food since he eats like an IG model.
He always passes you the soda cans when he's done drinking from it and its like he only took a few sips from it.
He has a strict diet.
So yes he cares about his greens.
And yes he cares about your health.
Voluntarily helps you workout. It doesn't have to be intense (unless you suggest so), he just wants you to be in good health.
He'd hate to see you get sick.
You once got a fever and he literally dropped out of everything (even patrols) to take care of you. Because of that the fever only lasted for a few days rather than a week.
You love being carried and he doesn't mind it at all.
He actually enjoys how giddy it makes you feel.
Would spin you around like a Disney princess if you'd let him.
Has definitely caught you playing with his katana before.
He doesn't say anything, just leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as he watches you attempt to open your snacks with the katana because you couldn't find any scissors.
So you know the blue ribbon that hangs from his katana?
That would become your signature look.
Either its used to tie your ponytail, shoes, skirts, its whatever.
It was like a discreet way to say you were his.
And he loves it. He goes crazy over it but you wouldn't know because he always manages to keep his composure.
That doesn't mean he won't kiss you and say how beautiful you are.
Loves to smell the heck out of you.
If you're ever passing by, either to get something or talk to someone, he will always wrap his arms around from the back before he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
Your smell is just so addictive to him.
The only way he can put it into words is how the smell of you just calms him down entirely.
Out of everybody, he feels he can drop his strong leader demeanor and be his stupid self when he's around you.
Is very cheeky when its just the two of you.
He loves tickling you when you least expect it and then finds it amusing having to watch you try to fight your way out of it.
Its not like he can help it.
That pouty angry look of yours just encourages him even more.
He definitely calls you baby. Clichés is best after all.
"I've missed you baby" He'd say before lifting you by the chin to kiss you.
Yes he's a huge kisser. There is not a day that goes where he doesn't kiss you.
Either its quick kiss on the cheek or a long passionate one.
However, his love language is basically words of affirmation.
There's nothing better than voicing your love for someone. Well that's what he thinks.
You do call him cheesy for some of the things he said but he just shuts you up with kisses so that you both end up sounding like laughing fools.
Talks about you all the time... especially when he's with the others.
Always mentioning how you would love these flowers, how you would love the bright moon and whatever else it is that you'd love. He always feels the need to bring you up.
I watched one of those prank videos, where the chick just brushes her behind on her dude's crotch as she walks pass him. Now the Bayverse got hips, thighs, and a lot of baggage down there. How would these 4 course meals react to their human female lover's with hips as scrumptious as theirs, love tapping their junk?
He got himself into trouble again and was assigned dishes duty by Master Splinter
Tonight was supposed to be your date night
Typical guy getting himself in trouble at a horrible time
Not only that, it was your 2 year anniversary
He managed to send you a lengthy message of his boredom after Raphael dumped another load of dishes on him
You felt bad
It was decided you make a quick trip
You get to the lair with a large bag, sat it on the couch and went to Mikey's side in the kitchen
He is a swift one because he only had 3 cup, 5 spoons, and 4 plates left
He whined that he couldn't do much more
He only had a little bit of dishes left and he acted like it was the entire sink
You got up from the couch, walked over just as he was stretching from all the standing
Swiping your donk against his lower regions as you walked passed him
You barely touched him and he was doing double takes, double checks, and whatever he has to do to make sure he is not hallucinating
He worked double time to get those dishes done
'Girl knows how to poke the dragon.'
By the time his brothers came into the living area, you and him were already moaning in his bedroom
Donnie noticed the large bag on the couch, snort laughing
"She brought more dishes?" Raph quirked his brows
"Yeah. Multiple sets of plates, cups, utensils, bowls, and paper towels. She got a lot plates."
They won't be doing dishes for a while, since the ones you brought were disposable🤭🤭
He was having one of those days
You know, where his brothers were getting on his nerves and each other's
The usual spiel
He shunned himself away from the group and started doing work on Raph's bike
You waltzed yourself into the lair to see Mikey and Raph rough housing and Leo reading in his little corner, having gotten used to his brother's ridiculousness
There were only 2 rooms your 4 eyed stallion could be
You went for the garage and there he was
Doing tweaks on the bike that Raph should be fixing since hes the one that jacked it up
He saw you and greeted you,"My Love. How are you?"
"I'm doing fine, need some 'help?"
He was so busy and bothered by his brothers that he missed the emphasis of your 'help'
"Sure. Can you please pass me that screwdriver?" His politeness and slim build only added to your arousal
You collected his tool as he asked, you hand it to him, swiping your behind right across his crotch
Acting like it was an accident
"Sorry, Babe. Lil habit."
He knew right off the bat you did that intentionally. He ain't no neanderthal
Calculating many things in his head after accessing you were in deed trying to send a message to him
'Shes clearly aroused. She knows I'm under a fair amount of stress. The bike is only 65% completed. My brothers are too occupied with their own matters. Choices. Choices. Choice.'
You gave him the final push as you spanked your behind hard for him
He dropped that tool you gave him and started undoing his suspenders
'That bike isn't going anywhere anyway. It can wait. I got something else to fix.'
You and him were at your place after he decided to spend the night
He was nervous out of his mind since he was in your house for the first time and a few steps away from your bedroom
Hes been working too hard on patrol and the gym so you invited him over to your relax himself
You and him flirted, teased, clowned out like buddies, but never did he think you were into him
You offered him sodas and snacks, watching him chill on the couch, watching his wrestling like most jocks do
His chest rose and fell, his face looked like it was carved by angels and body made just for you
Then it hit you. Harder than the time he punched his punching bag and it slamming into Leonardo
You opened your top cabinet and started reaching, whining that you hate being short sometimes
He saw you struggling, thought it was cute so he intervened
"I gotchu shorty." He chuckles, standing beside you as he reached for a cup you didnt need
You nonchalantly brushed your behind against his junk, feeling some thickness behind them shorts of his
He stood there for a moment as you went to the fridge to get a drink
'Did she just rub her sexy booty against my......Nah. She trippin! Ain't no way she teasin' me like that and gettin' away wit it!' He thought
Before your lips touched the cup, he gently took it out of your hands, his eyes locked on you
Looking you over thoroughly
'Did it work?' You thought.
He took you by the wrist, taking you to your bedroom
Him tossing you on the bed said a lot, along with him removing his clothes and gear
"Now." He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you
"Now what? Whatchu gon do Red?" You challenged, your plan already worked, you were just being a typical tease
He smirked,"Yer bout to find out. Get these clothes off, or I'll rip em off myself!"
The seriousness in his voice made you leak as you made haste to remove your clothes
Didn't help he literally ripped the inexpensive fabrics from your body
"Ya think you can tease me and me not do somethin' bout it? Ya thought wrong, Doll."
You ain't walkin' tomorrow, the day after, maybe even next week🤣
This dude's a trip whether he knows it or not
He may not be a teen anymore, but hes just as oblivious and slow as Mikey at times
You stopped by to give him the special candles he requested
He says they soothe him during meditation
He was feeling restless and moody
His brothers tell you a lady he rescued called him a 'monstrosity' that shouldn't exist
That ticked you off so much you wanted to find the chick, mop the floor with her, leave her out to dry and let her get crapped on by those nasty pigeons
You know how the turtles are when it comes to what they are to society and the labels they've dealt with over the years
As soon as you sensed Leo's mood shifting, you had enough
He was looking at the makeshift bookshelf in his quiet corner, collecting a few books to read
You seized your chance,"Oh, I've been wanting to read this one for days."
His brain bulged when he felt your booty brush against his clothed manhood
Giving him that prissy voice,"Excuse me."
His thoughts ran amuck as he pondered on what to do about this position
He tried to remember his training.
Focus. Relax. Clear the mind. Breathe
'Is she really doing this right now? She can't serious!!'
So far all he did was stand there like an antelope in headlights, constantly pondering
'I am supposed to symbolize strength, discipline, and honor. What is happening to me!?'
You pretended to read the book you've selected, waiting for him to make the next move
(Besides, ain't the guy supposed to make the first move anyway?)
After what felt like forever of him frozen in his spot, he closes the book he forgot he had in his hand, and walked away
For a moment, you though you made it worse, pushing him in a deeper hole than he was already in
He stopped at the doorway, his voice deep, enticing,"Don't keep me waiting. You know how I get when you keep me waiting."
It suddenly got hotter as you put that book down and followed your dominate warrior
After a night of bliss, he started scrolling on his phone and he just so happens to come across a video
A video of women pulling the same stunt on their men, that you pulled on him!
He looked over at you as you slept, smirking at how you clung to his waist
"Real smooth."
Forgetting his troubles and what that woman called him
Raph was your boyfriend. The usually short tempered turtle was completely the opposite when he was with you.
He knew the size difference between you two, and he treated you like if you were made of glass. He would become a cuddly turtle when you two were in his room alone.
Which is what you two are doing now. You feel him shifting on the bed to hide his face on the crook of your neck.
“Hmmm…”
You look down at him and raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t lift his head from your neck for a while.
“Raph? You fell asleep or something?” you giggle softly.
“You changed your perfume?” he asks quietly, smelling your neck, rubbing his snout against your neck while his strong arms are wrapped around your waist.
“My perfume? oh, I used a different one since my sister took mine” you say, raising your eyebrow.
His arms tightened subtly around your waist, pulling you even closer into the warmth of his broad shell. He hummed a low, gravelly vibration against your throat, like a purring engine.
"I like it," he grumbled, the words muffled against your skin. "Sweet, but... different. Makes you smell like mine, even if you didn't try."
He shifted his weight, the mattress creaking beneath his muscular form, and tilted his head back just enough to fix his eyes—dark and intense—on yours. A larger, three-fingered hand slid up your arm, his calloused palm brushing stray hairs away from your jawline.
"Don't get me wrong, I like the old one," he rasped, his breath hot and smelling faintly of old leather and the rain, "but this one... has to stay."
“You like it?” you smile softly, oblivious to the reaction your perfume was making inside of him. “I’m glad you like it”
A low, rumbling growl originates in his chest, vibrating through both of you as he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't look away; he fixes you with a stare that makes the air thick and heavy, his pupils dilating to black pools.
“Glad?” His thumb traces the line of your bottom lip with rough, deliberate pressure. “I’m fucking obsessed.”
He shifts his hips, trapping you beneath his solid weight, making sure you feel the hard proof of just how much he likes the new scent pressing against your inner thigh.
“Might have to mark you with it all night,” he rumbles, his breath skimming your ear, “so every time you move, you remember who hits that scent.”
His hand slides down to grip the curve of your hip possessively, squeezing with enough force to pin you in place while he continues to taste the perfume on your pulse point.
“Raph-“
His green lips curled into a smirk against your neck, a rough tongue dragging a stripe right over the frantic pulse beating there.
"Raph" he echoed, mocking your breathless tone with a guttural rasp.
"Don't start begging yet, sweetheart."
He pinned your wrists above your head with one massive hand, the other sliding down to your waistband to bunch the fabric tight against your skin. The air in the room felt suddenly charged, electric with the smell of his musk overpowering your cheap scent.
His hips grounded into yours, a heavy friction that promised nothing but relentless, animalistic effort. He nipped at your jaw, teeth sharp enough to brand but careful enough to leave you aching.
"You wanted attention. You got it. Now stay still while I take it."
“Honey- I don’t want now, you know- stressful day, bla bla bla…” you whisper quietly.
His body went rigid, a tense statue hovering over you. The heat in his eyes cooled instantly, not into anger but a sharp, wary focus. He shifted his weight back half an inch, removing the crushing pressure but keeping his hands firmly on your wrists—a check-in, not a release.
"Alright," he grunted, the word sounded like it scraped his throat raw. He tilted his head, his snout brushing your cheek once, a silent question. "Just... tell me what you need. Or if you just want to stay like this."
You puff your cheeks and wrap your arms around his neck. “Can we just cuddle?”
Raph let out a short, incredulous huff of air, his defensive tension melting into something softer. "Cuddle? You're killing me."
He rolled off to the side, the mattress groaning under his weight, but his arms never let go. He pulled your back firmly against his plastron, curling a thick, scaled limb around your waist to lock you against his chest. A shaky exhale ruffled the hair at your temple as he buried his nose there, the scent of you filling his senses.
"Fine," he grumbled, the word vibrating against your skin. "But you're not moving an inch. You smell too damn good to let go of."
You smile pressing your back against his plastron and closing your eyes.
“Sorry for not being in the mood for sex” you apologise.
His arm tightened around you, pulling you flush against his chest. The rumbling in his chest started again, deep and soft this time.
"Don't apologize." His voice was a low growl, but it was tender, roughened gravel against your ear. "Sometimes... it's just about being close."
He pressed his forehead to the back of your head, taking a slow, deep breath as if he could inhale the scent of you and the new perfume, committing it all to memory. His hand, still resting on your hip, squeezed gently, a silent 'thank you'.
He settled his weight, a heavy, grounding presence against your spine. The rapid beating of his heart slowed to match the rhythm of your breathing, a steady thud against your back. His fingers traced idle patterns over your stomach, the scaled tips catching faintly on the fabric of your shirt.
He exhaled through his nose, a warm puff of air that stirred your hair.
"That scent ain't goin' nowhere," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Just sleep, baby. I got you."
A low rumble vibrated through his chest, a sound that felt less like a purr and more like a generator slowly winding down. His arms, like bands of warm iron, didn't loosen their grip on you.
He shifted, his bulk resettling against the headboard, creating a nest of stone and muscle meant to hold you safely.
The sound of his breathing evened out, becoming a deep, steady foundation beneath your own.
These guys (ya know their names) have big mouths. Huge. Don't forget them tongues. Ya'll ladies seen Raph's tongue. Those who seen it, know exactly what it is. You’re probably jealous of that card he had to catch with it during the police infiltration scene. Or maybe the scene where he kissed that rock🤣. Any who, they got big mouths. Take some time and imagine them using those big mouths, those plump lips, and that long tongue on......whoa! Gettin' hot ova here! Lemme break it down right.......
Fearless Eater
Position: him on top, your head snuggled in the pillow
Hes gonna make you feel comfortable first. Candles lit, thoroughly showered, ready to take you to the Land of Dreams. He ain't gonna rush it like some men who lack patience and proper technique. He'll gently take off your clothes, then take his off to get your juices flowing just right. He knows you love his body. He'll lay you down, kissing you for a good while, to heighten the mood. He'll look you in the eyes, giving you a soft warning,"Tonight is about you. Your satisfaction is my mission, lay down."
He'll lay you down on your back, pillow cushioned under your head. He enjoys this position because he can see you and you can see him. You watch as he covers you with warm kisses. Grasping your knees, pulling them apart as he works his kisses down to your waiting heat.
He'll tease you a little, getting close to your snatch with his beak. Stops. Looks up at you. Waits. Then proceeds to kiss your other thigh. This is his way of showing you hes in control. Your willingness to allow him to take the lead adds to his need to taste you more. When he finally does, he goes for the pearl first. Kissing it languidly. He'll stop and wait for you to look down, before he slithers his long tongue out and circle your pink pearl.
The faces along with the sounds you make, motivated him. Making him want to draw more out of you. Though he may be erect, he will not touch himself until he knows you are satisfied. He focuses every inch of his attention on your heat. Your scent became his addiction.
"Your nectar is dripping. I can't get enough! I want more!" He whispers. You tasted so delicious. He never thought he'd experience such a unique flavor. His hands reached up to caress your face.
"Tell me how this makes you feel! Tell Me!" He grumbles, licking a streak from your hole to your nub. His tongue became your favorite part.
"It’s too good. You're incredible!" You breathe out. The way your body rolls against his face was unlike any other. When you come, he doesn't miss a drop, savoring you as if you were the key to eternal youth.
He continues to pleasure you for hours, loving how much you come. The squeals you made, had his heart thumping harder and harder. Your body covered in sweat. The bedsheets soaked in your release, his saliva, and his pre-cum. He kept egging you on to come again. By the time you reached your final climax, your body is completely and utterly drained. Your body working extra hard to settle after the intense head he gave you. All the while, hes massaging your legs and thighs. Cleaning your mounds until you're cleaned off.
He'll rub your folds, circle your nub a little more before retreating to run a bath for the 2 of you. He'll kiss your lips, tenderly. Your essence still coating his lips. When the bath is ready, he won't allow you to walk. He carries you in and places you in the bath himself. He'll clean you carefully. You return the gesture by cleaning his scales and shell. This pleases him.
"How do you feel?" He asks with the steam of the bath brushing passed his face.
"That was truly wonderful. You're not just a master of ninjitsu. You're the master of pleasure as well." You cooed, he kisses you again, bringing you close to his plastron as you made out in the hot, steamy bath.
A Geek's Technique
Position: You on his desk, legs spread, feet planted on his shoulders (or shell)
After studying the ins and outs of the female body and the joy of bringing a woman to the perfect climax, all he has to do is get you to the lair and get you in the mood.
Under the ruse of helping him clean up his lab, you have no idea the amount of research hes been doing (not to mention practicing his tongue action on all the pop tarts in the lair🤣). When the supposed task was done, he suggested you stay rather than walking home at night. Next thing you know, he had you seated on his desk, kissing you in the most sensual manner. It was intense, loving, tender. He pulled back, removing his glasses, placing them on his other desk inching his lips to your ear.
"I left out the part where you're in for a night of the most eye opening cunnilingus, you've ever experienced. Do you trust me?" His voice was like a fine tune, causing your ear to twitch.
"Yes, Donnie. I do." You whisper, he cups your face, kisses you again, before dragging his kisses down your body. His lips were soft, smooth against your flushed skin. It sent tingles up your abdomen as he got closer to your kitty.
He slowly pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side. He brings his large palms up to caress your knees. He keeps eye contact with you as he slowly pushes your knees apart to see your throbbing womanhood.
"You have the most beautiful flower I've ever seen." He compliments, kissing his way to your close. He snakes his tongue out and runs it all over your outer core. At the sound of your whimpers, he found your sweet spot. He feels a since of pride drawing out the cutest sounds from you. You were so entranced by his mouth, you don't know how he removed his cargo pants. You heard him groaning as he ate you out. He was in fact pleasuring himself as he tasted you. He'll bring his palms up to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You kiss his digit, then throw your head back, allowing him to gently grasp your throat. He pauses.
"Are you gonna cum for me, Love?" He asked, flicking his tongue on your pearl. Your legs twitch, you struggled to breathe.
"Yes. I'm close. Right There! Aahhh!!!" You shrieked as your wetness came out, Donnie drinking it down like it's his personal fountain. He gives you a sinister stare.
"We aren't done. I didn't come yet. I wanna hear those beautiful sounds again." He licks your slick off his lip and went back to eating you out.
You rolled your hips against his face, as he leaked pre-cum down his shaft. You were overwhelmed with immense ecstasy, massaging his head. The floor was practically glossing from the fluids escaping your bodies. The lust coursing through your veins. The amount of trust you've shown by allowing him to do this.
This wasn't another science project. This was something more sensual. More personal. He wanted your complete and total surrender as he pleasured you. You squirmed a little, when he saw how much you were enjoying it, he took it upon himself to make it better. He stuck out his long tongue and sunk it within your canal. You gasped at the feeling. He looked up at you and wiggled his tongue inside you. A moan escapes your lips as you grasped his head, wanting, begging for more.
"Your tongue is inside me! I want more!" You begged, throwing your head back as he grabbed your waist, keeping you as steady as possible during his ministrations. He held your knees one minute, then he'd switch to cupping your breast. Occasionally, he'd beat his meat while he tasted you, coming as soon as you did.
After a total of 5 climaxes and 5 nuttings, he stood up, wiped his face and kissed you. He was completely covered in your scent, just like he wanted. He lays you in his bed to rest, satisfied with your smile. Mission accomplished.
Rough Rider Red
Position: From behind
Hunger is consuming him. What's on the menu: You! He's had some pent up frustrations and you just so happen to be in his radar. He sweet talks you into coming over for the night. You agree, because you've been missing him lately. You get to the manhole, lift up the cover and a large set of palms pulls in down and slams the cover back on. He has you over his shoulder running back to the lair.
You knew he was a beast but you failed to realize that you were tonight's meal. He didn't even care that his brothers were looking at him funny as he went into his room, slammed the door and put you down.
You didn't even get a word in and he was on you. Ripping your clothes off and pushing you onto the bed, on your stomach.
"Raphie baby, what are you...ah!" He sunks his pout into your neck, kissing you aggressively. The churrs coming from his chest was addictive as he drank in your moans. He started biting down your body, making his way to your smooth behind. You yelped when he but your cheeks.
"Lift up fer me, I'm havin' my meal now!" He growls, repositioning you so you were in a doggy position. Anticipation and goosebumps riddled your body thinking hes gonna pound your intestines into your throat, instead he grabbed your cheeks and sunk his face into your heat. You were stunned by the sudden pleasure but went with it because you loved his skills.
He ate you out for a good while, biting your cheeks or spanking you if you made an attempt to escape. He would even tease your other hole with his tongue, making you wetter. His grunts against your folds were tantalizing. You couldn't get enough. He got impatient, pulling your behind towards him so he was in a sitting position while you held his knees to keep your balance.
"Oh Raphael. Give me your tongue. I wanna feel it inside me." You begged, he smirked against your mounds, plunging his impressively long tongue into your depths. He worked his head to a mind-blowing pace. You bit into his sheets, gripping his mattress as he worked that tongue inside you.
He enjoyed your wanting him in such manner. You submitted despite how he basically captured you. He'd stroke himself a little as you moaned out his name. How he loved your flavor and scent. He could bathe in it forever.
When you finally told him you were about to come, he grasped your booty with his thick hands, squeezing your cheeks in encouragement, talking dirty to you.
"Ya like it when I do you like dis, huh?" He spanks you again, you jolt.
"Yes, Raphie. You do me so good. I Love It, Baby!" You squealed as he pressed his thumb onto the other hole.
"Ya gonna come for Daddy? Huh? Gonna come?" He kept spanking you till your booty had his palm print on it.
"Yes! I'm gonna come! Yes! Ahhh haaa ahhh! Ooohhh!" You whimpered as you unleashed your cream onto his face, some of it dripping onto his chest. You hands gave way but he caught you. Positioning you again. This time standing up with your hands against the wall, he bites your butt cheeks again.
"More?" You asked, breathily. He didn't respond, he just went right for it despite you being so tender. You held his head as he ate you out from behind. By the time hes done with you, your resting against his chest, your womanhood swollen and twitchy, his face covered in your slick, his shorts soaked in his come.
You cuddled, taking a breather before falling asleep. He kisses your forehead, whispering a reminder in your ear.
"All Mine. No one elses!"
Fun-Lover's Dream
Position: Side-ways 69, your back against the wall, sitting on his face (frontward & backward), it's Mikey darnit he'll do just about any
He was in a mood. Video games didn't do much. Skateboarding didn't scrape the surface. Even helping Donnie with the truck didn't do it for him. He was frustrated, sexually frustrated.
He invites you over, got that smooth music playing in the background, his room thoroughly cleaned, bed made. He crooks his finger at you, you come forth having been entranced by his charms and dashing baby blue eyes. He nuzzles your neck.
"I want you to sit on my face. I wanna drink all your juices tonight. Gonna feed me?" He asks, his voice so low, his demeanor displaying signs of a predator in heat. Your body moved swiftly to undress yourself as he rips his clothes off and positions himself on his back, making grabby hands at you. Without hesitation, you climbed that massive terrapin and planted your core onto his waiting pout.
He slurped. He sucked. Running his long tongue up and down labia. You threw your head back, rolling your hips, snaking your hands into your locs. He watched you enjoy what he was doing to you. He snaked his one hand to your breast, kept at the top of your mound with his thumb circling your nub.
"Mikey! Mikey!" You shrilled, he kept circling.
"Say my name louder! Louder, Babe!" He cooed, sound more lust-drunk than hes ever been. You started to bounce on his face a little as you felt that shock in your belly.
"Mikey! Oh Mikey you're the best! I'm coming!" You say it loud for the pedestrians up top to hear as you leaked into his mouth. He groaned as he felt your legs twitching around his head.
"You look so amazing when you come." He licks your pearl once more, yet doesn't let you go. He hoisted himself up to where your shoulder and head were on the mattress, your legs wrapped around his neck as he sunk his pout back into your heat. You were overstimulated already and he kept pleasing you. The squeals, the way you looked at him, made him cum on his bed a few times. After a few minutes, he switched it up again. Only this time, he hoisted you up to straddle his face, as he pressed you gently against the wall to eat you out even more.
"You're driving me up the wall, Mikey! You got some mad skills Baby! Mmmmm!" You moaned out loud, holding his head with one hand, while pinching your nipple with the other. You watched him work you hard.
"Literally, hehe!" He chuckled, nipping your thigh a little. Who was this terrapin and what has he done to your Mikey?
This was what he wanted: To see you come undone, see you weak in the knees, admire your beauty while he gives you pleasure no human male ever can.
"I want you to come again! Come for me!" He barked, sucking your pearl hard. You grasped his head.
"Here it comes!!!" You squirted your release onto his face and he lapped up every last bit. He couldn't believe he succeeded in bringing you to the perfect climax. As if having a girlfriend wasn't enough, he satisfied her needs with his mouth. He puts you down onto the bed to catch your breath. He came a few times himself, still leaking onto the floor. He went to his medium sized fridge and pulled out some water and a few sandwiches to munch on. You thanked him for the snacks and drink. He brushed your locs out of your face.
"Did I satisfy you?" He asked, searching your eyes. You kissed his cheek.
"You did. You always satisfy me, Michelangelo. However, when the time is right. I wanna return the favor." You whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek. You share a look, giggling and tickling one another. Then Mikey turns on the TV to watch some oldies. The both of you falling asleep to the show.
Hey! I hope I'm not bothering you with my ideas😅. I was feeling a little angsty when I thought of this.
So the Bay turts (separately) get a call from their s/o but he ignores it because they had an argument and he didn't want to talk at the moment.
It's only later on when he gets a call from April telling him that his s/o was attacked in her apartment and is in the hospital barely alive. He then links the phone call to the situation realizing that she was calling for help. The reality of him almost losing his s/o because of his own pride crushed him.
he rushes to the hospital and climbs into her room. She's awake but very weak, he could tell she had been crying. After a painful exchange between them she tells him that she still loves him but that she will need some time to feel safe again.
You can add anything else to them if you want, and end it how ever you want.
I totally didn't cry while typing this 🥲. Please and thank you ❤️
You ain't a bother at all. I'm having so much fun with these, it should be considered criminal😄😆. Watch Me Now.....
You're Here Now
In a relationship, there will be disagreements. There will be times where things get so ugly, you need space to cool off before you come back together. You and him have a fight. You don't talk for a week. You call, he doesn't answer. After a while, April calls him, telling him the last thing he wanted to hear........
His stomach dropped as April explained what happened.
"Y/N was attacked in an alley. She was taken to the hospital. She looks bad. Really bad!" She says, her voice cracked as she explained.
"When did it happen?" He asked. April sighed.
"It occurred hours ago." She replied. Leonardo looked through his phone, it was a hunch. His body felt a shock run through his body when he realized you were calling him for help!
Leonardo just about shut down. He always pride himself with being the responsible one as both leader and elder brother. Yet in that moment, he felt shame and guilt for failing to be there for you. When you came along, you became another important person in his life that he wanted to love, cherish, and protect with his life. To know that he didn't answer because of a disagreement cut him deep.
'I failed. I wasn't there when she needed me!' This echoes through his brain. His sense of duty and leadership makes it worse because he feels he should've risen above the fight. He clenches his fists, having only one thing in mind: He has to see you!
Guilt flooded his entire being as he made his way to the hospital. He had to be discreet, scaling the walls of the hospital to locate your room. When he found you, he almost cried. IVs hooked to you, bandages surrounding your arms and neck. What struck him the hardest is how he could tell you were crying. He hesitated, afraid you didn't want to see him. He mustered up all his strength to stay as composed as possible as he quietly enters your room.
You were awake, but very weak. He grabbed your hand, carefully.
"Y/N. I'm so sorry. I should've been there. And I wasn't. Forgive Me." He apologizes in a raw, almost broken way. He'll hover over you, protectively.
You were silent. You reached for his face, stroking his cheek. Though your eyes were swollen from the tears you've shed, you had the strength to speak to the one you came to love. What you tell him, he wasn't prepared for.
"Leo, the doctor says I'll be alright. I'm alive and I still love you. Thank You for coming to see me." You mumbled. He could turn to jello from how strong you are despite whats happened. However, it would take time for you to feel safe again. He understands.
"I won't make excuses. Here's my promise to you." He begins, looking you in the eyes,"I will never let my anger cloud my judgement like that again. I Love You, Y/N." You smile at his promise, a feeling of relief came upon you.
When you healed enough to go home, he became more protective than he was before. Making good on his promise to ensure what happened to you, never happens again.
He is in a state of rage and fear. First, at himself for not answering. Then, at the scumbag who put you in the hospital. His chest feels like it's caving in as April explains.
"Some thug broke into her apartment and attacked her. Still waiting to hear back about how bad it is." April explains.
He just about cracked the screen when April told him what happened.
That fight the 2 of you had was history. He is a stubborn turtle, but in this case, the feeling of guilt was unbearable. Thoughts of him ignoring your call playing back over and over in his head. An added thought enhancing his guilt and rage.
'She needed me. And I wasn't there!' He will punch a hole in the way out of pure rage, hes so angry at himself.
For a brief moment, he was invisioning the dead man who hurt his girl. Thoughts of broken bones and split arteries began to plague his mind. To anpoint where his eyes turn beet red. His instincts driving him to go on the hunt to do some permanent damage to the one behind your condition. He didn't even know how bad it was, he knew it was awful. He was about to leave the lair, deadset on turning every alley inside out to locate the one who harmed you, when Splinter stopped him.
"I see your rage, Raphael. You mustn't act on it. Calm your mind, my son. She would not want you to fade into the darkness." He warns, Raph grit his teeth. He knew his father was right, yet the guilt was still eating at him
After taking a few breaths and some alone time to clear his mind, Raph left the lair with something else in mind: Being there for you.
On his way there, his instincts creeped up on him again. Climbing the walls like a spider (thanks to Donnie's climbing gear) reaching your room. All that fire he felt before arriving fizzled out, turning into raw, quiet worry. See you lying there, tired, weak. He tapped the window, getting your attention. You gasp, then slowly got up.
He was glad you could walk, but you had a limp. He worried even more because he wanted you to rest and recover. You let him in, he climbs through the window, sits on his knees, gently placing his head against your belly. You pat his head.
"I'm sorry. So sorry. I shoulda....I wasn't......I never should've........" His voice breaks as he apologizes, though he tries to hide it. He holds your hands tight-half to reassure you, half to convince himself you were still there.
"Raphie. It's alright. I'm gonna be alright. It will take time, but I'll get there." You whisper, cupping his face in your small hands, a smile that speaks promises,"And so will we. I love you, Raphael."
"I Love you, too Baby. It will be. We will. I promise ya that!" He mutters, kissing your knuckles. Raph will struggle to forgive himself. He will smother you with protection, showing up constantly, maybe even snapping at his brothers for joking around.
By sheer luck, he finds out who hurt you. Donnie found out the guy was known to police and has yet to be apprehended, much to the disgust of the turtles. The guy tried to do the same thing to another woman. He stops the attack before it even began, he glares daggers into his entire being, growling.
"Lets take a walk, man!"
After that, cops have yet to locate the jerk. Some say he skipped town, Raph knew otherwise. When questioned by his brothers, Raph kept it simple.
"We went for a walk, had a talk, and that's it. Case closed."
This incident changes how he handles fights with you. He'll try to walk away before it gets bad.
"What did you just say?" He utters.
Shock and panic come into play. His brain goes blank for a second when April tells him what happened to you, then races into overdrive. It only makes it worse when calculating and recalled the last time you 2 spoke, you were having a disagreement. He felt worse when he figured at the moment you called and he didn't answer was when you were in trouble.
He blamed himself, rationalzing, calculating.
"If I had picked up the phone, I could have saved her faster!" He growled, pounding his desk in anger.
He's plagued by overwhelming guilt, mixed with fear. He hates that logic can't fix something and this is one of those cases where he cannot undo his mistakes.
You were overly kind enough to accept him and crazy enough to wanna date him, yet this is how he repayed you. His mind taunting him with images of you badly bruised, barely clinging to life. He whimpered at the image. He cared so much about you and he didn't want you to get hurt and he wasn't gonna repeat the same mistake twice. He had to face the facts that science, tech, and hacking skills, could not help you. It was he that should have helped you.
As much as he wanted to storm the hospital demanding answers on your condition, he looked it up himself from the lair. Hacking into the hospital's documents to locate your care plan and condition. You had bruises on your arms and legs. A knife wound to your cheek, to which he growled aggressively. Hoping he doesn't find the person who did this before the police do.
He discreetly enters your room, glued to your side. When you awaken, he nearly cries.
"Y/N. My Love. I am so sorry. I failed you! I'm supposed to be there for you and I wasn't. All over a stupid argument. I'm sorry. So so sorry." He apologizes, quietly, desperately. Almost pleading.
You couldn't bring yourself to be angry with him. You didn't die and you managed to move a little.
"I will need time to recover and it may take a little longer for me to feel safe again. As long as I have you, I know I'll get there. I forgive you, Donatello." You coo, kissing his snout.
"I don't deserve you. I really don't. Whatever I have to do to ensure your safety, I'll do it. Wholeheartedly." He declares, kissing you softly.
Overtime, he has been going above and beyond to make sure he doesn't screw up again. Over compensating his efforts. Tracking your vitals, encouraging range of motion amd walking, building tech in case of emergencies, checking on you constantly. He may get a little obsessive ensuring your safety. It was his way of showing how much he loves you and doesn't want you to feel unsafe.
"Where is she? Is she hurt bad? How long has she been there?" Mikey panicked in the phone. April doing her best to calm him down after revealing to him you had been brutally attacked.
His voice was filled with pure terror. His normally sunny world collapsing at the realization that you were calling him for help and he didn't answer. He started thinking hard about what hes done.
"What if I lose her? I gotta see her! I need to see her now!" He announced, dropping everything, sprinting to the hospital.
Guilt hits him much differently than his brothers. He feels selfish for being so upset about the fight. For ignoring you when you needed him the most. He hates fighting with you and prefers to be happy with you all the time. Instead, he let a silly problem dictate his decision to answer your calls. Mikey is usually forgiving, but when it's himself he's angry at, it's brutal.
He bursts into the window, tears soaking his mask as he takes in your battered condition. Unlike his brothers, he won't hide how broken up he is. It broke him even more when he noticed you've been crying.
"BabyDoll. I can't tell you how sorry I am. Seeing you here. It's killing me. You shouldn't be here. I should've been there when you called. I never wanna ignore you again. I'm sorry, Y/N." He cries, apologizing over a dozen times, clinging to your hand, fearing you may disappear.
Your eyes flooded with tears, you sniffle, sitting up to wrap your arms around his neck. He gently hugged you back, both of you silently crying together. You finally spoke.
"I wanna feel safe again, Mikey. I don't wanna go on being mad at you. I still love and cherish you. Make me feel safe again, please." Your words sent a shock through his shell. He buried his snout in your neck.
"I will, Baby. I will. Don't worry." He whispered, you both share a heartfelt kiss, letting the tears flow.
Throughout your recovery, Mikey has been more affectionate and clingy. His visits are frequent and filled with laughs and smiles. They say laughter is the best medicine, Mikey made that statement a reality as he came up with many different ways to make you laugh. So much, it hurt your sides.
But behind his contagious smile lies a silent fear of losing you again. He has to be reassured that it'll be alright. Making it a point to push hard for yinz to never go to bed angry-or at least never let a fight end in silence again.
hello! just wanted to request bayverse boys (if not all of them then just Raphael) x exotic dancer reader! im happy with anything, from fluff to the more intimate side :) TYSM FOR YOUR SERVICE IN THIS COMMUNITY🫡
A/N: Thank you so much, anon! 😊
Originally, I was going to write for all the guys. But I loved Raph’s story with the reader so much, I decided to expand upon it and … well, it got pretty long 😂
I hope you enjoy it! 💖
Safer Where I Can See You (angst/action)
❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️
CWs: Canon-typical violence, workplace harassment (implied), mild swearing, threats of kidnapping & physical assault, home invasion, forced proximity, heated arguments, and kissing. All characters are aged-up.
The pulsing bass thumps through the soles of your seven-inch heels and vibrates pleasantly up your spine. Onstage, under the hot, colored lights, you are not you; you are a fantasy, all smoke and seduction wrapped around a steel pole. You move with a fluid grace honed through years of aching muscles and practice, performing for a room of hungry eyes.
It’s a job—and a damn good-paying one, at that. It takes care of the rent on your tiny apartment, keeps the lights on, and puts food in your fridge. You’ve learned to compartmentalize, to leave your real self in the dressing room and let this other, more fearless version of you take the stage. Because out here, under the gaze of strangers, you are untouchable and in control.
Tonight, the feeling in the club is different in a way you can’t put your finger on. Your boss, a sleazy man named Vincenzo, has been watching you with a new intensity. It’s not his usual greasy, predatory stare. This is sharper. Colder. He’s been having meetings in his back office with men who don’t look like they’re here for the entertainment.
Your final set for the night ends, the last note of the song fading into a smattering of applause and a few crude whistles. You retreat to the relative quiet of the dressing room and change your attire, pulling on a hoodie and jeans. You’ll worry about your hair and makeup later; you just want to get home.
You push open the metal door leading to the back alley. You start your usual hurried pace toward the street, keys clutched in your fist—just in case. But a heavy hand clamps down on your shoulder. You spin around, heart hammering, to see Vincenzo, face flushed, flanked by two of the men in black outfits from his office.
“Leaving so soon, sweetheart?” Vincenzo’s smile is a gash in his face, all teeth and no warmth. “We have a business proposition for you.”
Your blood runs cold. “I’m just a dancer. That’s the only business I’m in.”
“That’s the thing,” he says, stepping closer, his overwhelming cheap cologne acrid and suffocating, “our associates think you saw something you shouldn’t have the other night. Near the loading docks.”
You chew on your lip as the realization of who these ‘associates’ are sinks in: the Foot Clan, who have been on the news. You’d seen a crate with their symbol on it, along with another symbol you didn’t recognize, when you were walking home the other night. Immediately, you made yourself small and unnoticeable, pretending to see nothing.
“I didn’t see anything,” you say, your voice a thin, reedy thing that you barely recognize as your own.
One man lets out a dry chuckle as he takes a step forward, reaching for you. You brace yourself, a scream building in your throat, ready to fight, to run—to do something.
And then the world explodes into chaos.
From the rooftops above, four shapes—large and impossibly fast—drop into the alley. Your mind struggles to process what you’re seeing as you scramble backwards: green skin, plastrons, and shells that gleam under the sputtering light nearby. Turtles? you think.
Whatever they are, they aren’t human.
The biggest one, a mountain of muscle with a red mask, situates himself between you and Vincenzo’s thugs. “Pick on someone your own size.”
A flash of blue, and the one with twin katanas disarms the men with precise, non-lethal strikes. Their weapons clatter uselessly onto the grimy pavement. A taller, lankier one with a purple mask wielding a staff sweeps Vincenzo’s legs out from under him; your boss goes down with a choked gasp. Then a blur of orange zips past on a hoverboard, knocking the men over with nunchucks.
It’s over in seconds.
The thugs are groaning heaps on the ground, and Vincenzo is scrambling away into the night like the coward he is. You’re left standing there, breathing hard, staring at the giant turtles now looking at you. Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
The one in orange turns to you, his weapons tucked into his belt. “Whoa, are you okay?” He grins, a wide, surprisingly gentle expression on his face.
“Mikey,” the one in blue says, his voice a low, steady baritone. His gaze sweeps over you and the alley, assessing and cautious, nothing like Vincenzo’s predatory stare. “Give her a second.” He sheathes his katanas with a slick shing that makes you jump.
“We don’t have a second, Leo,” the red-masked one growls. His voice is a gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate in your bones. “The Foot will be back with reinforcements. We need to go.”
A series of holographic readouts flicker to life from a device strapped to the purple one’s arm. “Increased chatter on Foot comms. They know this unit has been compromised.” He pushes what looks like a pair of high-tech goggles up on his forehead, his intelligent eyes finally meeting yours. He looks away almost immediately, a flash of social awkwardness.
You finally find your voice, though it comes out as a shaky whisper. “What … what are you?”
Mikey puffs out his chest. “We’re heroes in a half-shell, the saviors of the city, the—”
“We’re a work in progress,” the one in blue—Leo—cuts in, taking a careful step toward you. He holds his three-fingered hands up in a placating gesture. “My name is Leo. These are my brothers: Raph, Donnie, and Mikey.” He introduces them, gesturing to each.
You stare, your mind catching on the names. “Like the artists?”
Donnie perks up. “An astute observation. The statistical probability of a human civilian making that connection so quickly under duress is remarkably low. It suggests an above-average—”
“Donnie,” Raph snaps. “Nerd out later.”
Leo ignores them, his focus returning to you. “The Foot Clan wanted you. Why?”
You swallow hard, the fear receding, replaced by the cold, sharp instinct of survival that gets you through your shifts and your life. “They think I saw something. A shipment. At the loading docks a few nights ago.”
Leo’s expression hardens. “Then they won’t stop looking for you. You’re a loose end.”
“So what now?” you ask, the question aimed at all of them. “You just … disappear? And leave me here for them to find?” A spark of your usual defiance flares up through the shock. You survived this long on your own; you won’t be a victim.
The four brothers exchange a look. It’s a silent, lightning-fast conversation that you are not privy to. Finally, Leo nods, his decision made.
“No,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re coming with us.”
Raph groans. “Are you serious? We can’t just be takin’ in strays.”
“She’s a witness, Raph. She’s seen them, and now she’s seen us. Leaving her is not an option. It’s our responsibility,” Leo counters, his authority unshakable. He looks back at you. “We can keep you safe. We have a place. But you have to trust us.”
Trust them?
You look at each of their faces: at the impatient, brutish protector; the awkward but brilliant nerd; the cheerful, friendly goof; the calm, resolute leader. They just saved your life, regardless of what they are—and sticking with them is infinitely safer than waiting for black-clad assassins to pick you off.
You give a single, decisive nod. “Okay.”
A grin splits Mikey’s face. “Awesome! You’re gonna love the lair. We got—”
“Alright, no time for a welcome wagon,” Raph grunts, grabbing a nearby fire escape ladder. “Up. Now.”
Leo offers you a hand. You hesitate for only a second before taking it. He helps you onto the first rung of the ladder. You scramble upwards, the turtles following. When you reach the rooftop, the city spreads out before you, a dizzying panorama of glittering lights.
Mikey flies past you again on his hoverboard, doing a flip. “Follow us! And try to keep up!” he calls back with a laugh.
“Mikey,” Leo calls out, his voice sharp, cutting through the night air. “This isn’t a joyride. Stay focused.”
Mikey’s hoverboard dips in a gesture of sheepish apology, and he falls into formation behind Leo, who is already running towards the edge of the roof. You watch, frozen, as he leaps across an impossible gap to the next building. Donnie follows, using his staff to vault across with an elegance that belies his lanky frame.
Your stomach plummets; there’s no way. You can barely handle a six-foot gap on solid ground, let alone a chasm dozens of stories in the air.
Raph seems to read your mind. “Alright, look. There’s no time for the scenic route. You’re gonna have to ride with me.”
Before you can protest, he crouches, turning his back to you. “Get on. And be careful with the shell.”
You hesitate, your mind reeling. This entire night has been a cascade of impossibilities. You take a breath, push down the panic, and do as he says, wrapping your arms gingerly around his thick, muscular neck. His skin is cool and almost leathery.
“Hold on tight,” he grunts, and then he launches himself into the air.
A scream catches in your throat as the rooftop falls away beneath you. You press your face against him, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel the powerful shift of his muscles as he lands, the impact absorbed by his bulk. He doesn’t even stumble. He just runs, bounding from rooftop to rooftop.
The city is a smear of neon and shadow below. You can hear Donnie’s voice coming from a comms unit somewhere on Raph’s gear, a stream of technical jargon and directions. “Thermal signatures two blocks north, likely a Foot patrol. Let us reroute through the financial district.”
After what feels like both a lifetime and a few frantic seconds, the world stops moving so violently. Raph lands with a final, heavy thud on a flat, deserted roof dominated by a large water tower before he jumps down to join his brothers on the ground.
“We’re here,” he says, his voice still a low grumble. He crouches, and you slide off, your legs feeling like jelly. You stumble, and his hand shoots out, steadying you by the arm for a moment before he pulls away.
Leo is already prying open a manhole cover.
“Home sweet home,” Mikey chirps, giving you a reassuring thumbs-up before hopping down into the hole and disappearing.
Donnie follows, then Leo, who pauses at the edge. “It’s okay,” he says, his gaze steady. “We’ve got you.”
Raph just gestures with his head. “You heard him. Move it.”
Clinging to the rungs of a ladder, you descend into the gloom. As you go lower, the sounds of the city fade, replaced by the echo of dripping water. Your feet touch solid ground, and you look to the turtles who usher you into the tunnels.
The air is cool and damp, a stark contrast to the humid alleyway. The smell isn’t as foul as you’d braced for; it’s more earthy and ancient, like a deep cave. Donnie clicks a device on his gauntlet, and a series of small lights flare to life along the walls, casting a white glow ahead. The path is wider than you expected, a brick-lined artery running beneath the city you thought you knew.
Leo takes the lead, moving with a confidence that speaks of years spent navigating these subterranean tunnels. Raph falls in behind you, his presence a comfort; no one is sneaking up on you with him there. Mikey, ever the chatterbox, falls into step beside you, his hoverboard now magnetically clamped to his shell.
“So,” he starts, “you’re a dancer, huh? That’s pretty cool. I bet that takes a lot of skill.”
You manage a weak smile. “It pays the bills.”
“Mikey, give her some space,” Raph grunts from behind. “She ain’t here for an interview.”
“Just trying to be friendly, bro,” Mikey shoots back, though he quiets down.
You walk for what feels like another five minutes. You take a few turns, navigating a maze that would have you hopelessly lost in seconds. Finally, Leo stops before a section of wall that looks no different from the rest. He places his hand on a specific brick. A section of the walls slides inward, revealing not another tunnel—but something that looks like a residence.
You step through the doorway and stop dead, your jaw slackening.
They converted a sewer drain into a makeshift home. Your eyes land first on a sprawling bank of monitors and computer terminals, which Donnie heads straight for. To the left is a dojo, complete with a training dummy, weapon racks, and floor mats. To the right, a living area: a beat-up couch faces a screen displaying a video game’s pause menu. Beyond that, you can see a kitchen area cobbled together from stainless steel restaurant equipment.
It’s the most insane and strangely domestic scene you have ever witnessed.
Raph stalks past you, heading straight for a punching bag in the training area, which he strikes with methodical, bone-jarring force. Mikey makes a beeline for the kitchen, yanking open the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice, which he chugs directly from the container.
Only Leo remains with you at the entrance. “It’s a lot to take in,” he says, his voice measured.
“You could say that,” you breathe, finally tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at him. “You all live here?”
“It’s safe,” he says with a shrug. “And it’s home.” He leads you to the main communal area. “Donnie, we need to know what they were moving.”
Donnie, without turning from his screens, speaks in a rapid-fire cadence. “I’m cross-referencing shipping manifests from the docks against known Foot shell corporations.” He swivels in his chair, his intelligent eyes fixing on you. “I need specifics. Everything you can remember about the crate. Markings, symbols, anything.”
You close your eyes, forcing the image to the front of your mind, and you tell him everything you can remember about that night.
After a few minutes, Donnie’s fingers freeze over his keyboard. “Leo,” he says, his voice suddenly tight. “Get over here.”
Leo is at his side in an instant, Raph moving to loom behind them. Mikey approaches as well, his goofy demeanor gone. On the main monitor, Donnie has pulled up the symbol you described.
“That’s not their standard weapons insignia,” Raph says. “What is it?”
“I’m running the design through our database of known Foot iconography and cross-referencing it with TCRI archival data,” Donnie states.
“If this is as dangerous as I think it is,” Leo begins, looking at you, “you can’t go back to your apartment. Or your job. I’m sorry.”
You nod numbly, wrapping your arms around yourself.
Raph lets out a frustrated sigh. “So she just bunks with us? For how long? Forever?”
“For as long as it takes,” Leo snaps back, his authority silencing any further argument. “We brought her into this. It’s our responsibility to see it through.” His expression softens as he turns back to you. “We have a spare room. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s dry and it’s the safest place in the city for you right now.”
He gestures for you to follow, leading you away from the main area, past the dojo and down a hallway. He stops at a door and slides it open. The room inside is small, clearly a converted storage space. There’s a simple cot in the corner with a folded blanket, a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and a small crate acting as a nightstand.
“We’ll get you some clothes and supplies tomorrow,” he says. “For now, try to get some rest.” He stands in the doorway for a moment. “I know this is … a lot. But you’re not alone in this.”
You look at him, and for the first time since that hand clamped down on your shoulder in the alley, a tiny sliver of hope cuts through the fear. “Thank you, Leo.”
He gives you a nod before closing the door, leaving you in the quiet solitude of the room. You sink down onto the edge of the cot and run a hand over your face, smearing the last of your stage makeup, before you stare at the door. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but the only thing separating you from being killed—or worse—by the group terrorizing New York is your four shelled protectors.
You lie back on the cot, pull the blanket over you, and feel your eyes drift closed. And before you know it, you fall into a restless sleep.
You awake.
And for a moment, you don’t recognize your surroundings. Then the night’s events come rushing back: Vincenzo, the Foot, the alley, the leap across the rooftops pressed against a mountain of muscle.
The turtles.
You sit up on the cot, the blanket pooling around your waist. The clothes you’re wearing feel dirty. You get up and leave the room. Donnie is at his monitors, muttering to himself. Mikey is in the kitchen area, flipping something in a pan that smells surprisingly delicious. Leo is in the dojo, moving through a series of katas.
And Raph—he’s the source of the rhythmic thudding, his powerful form unleashing brutal punches against a hanging bag.
Leo finishes his form and looks at you. “Morning. Hope you slept okay.”
“More than I expected to,” you admit.
“Scrambled eggs or pancakes?” Mikey calls out, pointing a spatula at you.
Before you can answer, Leo’s expression turns serious. “We can’t keep you in those clothes, and you’ll need your personal things. It’s a risk, but you need to go back to your apartment.”
Your stomach clenches. “Go back? But the Foot …”
“Will be looking for you,” Leo finishes. “Which is why you won’t be going alone. Raph.”
The thudding stops. Raph turns, sweat glistening on his skin. His eyes narrow. “What?”
“You’re taking her,” Leo says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s daylight. You’ll need to stick to the sewer routes as much as possible. Get her in, get her stuff, get her out. No engagement unless absolutely necessary.”
Raph lets out a low growl, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Babysitting duty. Great.” He scowls in your direction, and you feel yourself shrink back a little. It’s not that you’re scared of him, exactly—he did save you—but his intensity is a physical force.
“It’s an order, Raph,” Leo says, his voice quiet but steely.
Raph grabs a towel and roughly dries his face and arms, his movements sharp and angry. He stalks towards you, grabbing a pair of sai from a weapons rack and shoving them into his belt. “Alright, let’s go. And try to keep up.”
The trek through the tunnels is a tense, silent affair.
After you tell him where your apartment is, Raph sets a blistering pace, forcing you to jog to keep from being left behind. He moves with certainty, never hesitating at a junction. When you finally stop beneath a manhole cover, he pauses, listening.
“Street’s quiet,” he mutters. He pops the cover with a grunt and peers out before hauling himself onto the pavement of a familiar alley. He reaches a hand down for you, his expression impatient. You take it, and he pulls you up with ease.
“Fire escape. Move,” he says.
You scramble up, Raph right behind you. He guides you across one rooftop to the one adjoining your building. You nearly slip on a loose patch of gravel, and his hand darts out, grabbing your bicep to steady you. His grip is like iron, and you can feel the heat of him through your hoodie. The contact lasts only a second before he lets go.
You slide your window open and slip inside. He follows and scans every corner of your apartment. His eyes flick over a stack of books, a half-finished drawing on a small easel, a photo of you and your sister on the nightstand.
“You got five minutes,” he says, moving to the window to keep watch. “Grab what you need. Clothes, toiletries. Nothing sentimental.”
You nod before retrieving a duffel bag from your closet and throwing clothes into it: jeans, shirts, underwear, socks. You rush to the bathroom, sweeping toiletries into a smaller bag. The whole time, you’re acutely aware of Raph.
That’s when you hear it.
A key fumbling at your apartment door lock.
Raph whips around, his eyes locking with yours, a finger pressed to his lips. Every muscle in his body is tensed for a fight. The key scratches against the metal, failing to turn. Then, a heavy thump against the door.
“She ain’t here,” a gruff voice says from the hallway.
“Vincenzo said to be sure,” another voice answers. “Check again. And if the key don’t work, the boss said to make our own way in.”
Panic seizes you. Raph’s eyes dart around the room, assessing. There’s nowhere to go. A splintering crack comes from the door as a shoulder slams into it.
“Where?” he murmurs as he comes over to you, his voice a pleasant rumble right next to your ear.
Your mind goes blank for a second before you point a trembling finger. “The closet.”
He shoves you towards it, pushing you into the cramped space before squeezing in behind you and pulling the louvered door shut just as your apartment door bursts open with a crash of splintered wood.
You are pressed back against Raph, his body a wall of heat and muscle. His thick shell is flush against the back of the closet, and his plastron is a solid plate against your back. The space is so tight his arm has to wrap around your front, and he instinctively claps his hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp.
You can feel the frantic beat of your own heart. But you can also feel the steady rhythm of his, a powerful thrum against your spine. You can hear the men’s heavy footsteps in your room, the sound of them overturning your mattress, pushing things off your dresser.
“Nothin’,” one of them grunts. “Looks like she did run.”
One of the men walks closer, his shadow falling across the closet door. “What about in here?”
Your breath catches. You can feel Raph’s muscles coiling, preparing to explode from the closet and tear them apart. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable violence.
“Forget it,” the other man calls from the living room. “If she was in there, we’d have heard her. Let’s go. We’ll check her old haunts.”
The shadow moves away. You hear them rummage for another minute before their footsteps retreat. The apartment door slams shut, and then, silence.
Neither of you moves.
The immediate terror recedes, replaced by a dizzying, potent awareness of your proximity to Raph. You can feel every line of his powerful form, the sheer solidness of him. Slowly, he removes his hand from your mouth. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away. He leans his head down, his face just inches from yours in the near-total darkness.
“They’re gone,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that feels like it’s inside your chest.
You can only nod, unable to find your voice.
He shifts, trying to give you space, but there is none to be had. He has to lean back, and as he does, you turn your head slightly. For a heartbeat, in the dim light filtering through the slats of the door, your eyes meet. You see something in his gaze. Not anger, not impatience.
But a fierce, protective intensity that’s focused entirely on you.
He clears his throat, breaking the spell, and pushes the closet door open. He steps out and immediately puts distance between you, the gruff mask slamming back into place. “Grab the bag,” he grunts, not looking at you. “We’re leaving.”
You do as he says, your hands shaking as you quickly throw a couple more things into the bag and zip it closed.
You follow him back out the window and into the uncertain safety of the city. The air between you has changed, charged with everything that wasn’t said in the suffocating darkness of the closet.
The silence in the lair upon your return is heavier than the concrete walls surrounding it.
You drop the duffel bag by the door. Mikey, who had been about to offer you a plate of eggs, sees the look on your face—and the thunderous expression on Raph’s—and wisely stays quiet. Donnie glances up from his monitors, his brow furrowed with concern. Leo’s gaze flits between you and his brother, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
Raph doesn’t say a word. He stalks past all of them, ignoring Leo’s questioning look, and goes straight back to the punching bag.
You still feel the phantom pressure of his hand over your mouth, the memory of his body near yours. “We … ran into some of Vincenzo’s men,” you manage, your voice unsteady. “They broke down my door. We had to hide.”
Leo is at your side in an instant, his expression grim. “Are you hurt?”
“No. They didn’t see us.” You look over at Raph. He kept me safe.
“Donnie,” Leo says, “I need intel. Vincenzo’s men are Foot puppets. If they’re actively searching her apartment, they’re getting desperate. Find out why.”
“Already on it,” Donnie replies, getting to work. “The symbol you described from the crate is … problematic. It’s not standard Foot weaponry or tech. It’s a modified biohazard marker. The trail leads to Baxter Stockman through a series of shell corporations.”
The name means nothing to you, but Raph stops punching. He turns, his chest heaving. “Stockman? I thought he was out of the game.”
“Apparently, the Foot made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,” Donnie says, pulling up a complex schematic. It looks like a double helix, but it’s warped. “From what I can piece together, it’s not just Mutagen. It’s a targeted retro-mutagenic agent. Unstable. It’s designed for the aggressive rewriting of genetic code. In theory, it could create powerful, disposable mutants for them in minutes. In practice …” He trails off, his expression sober. “On a creature like us, it could be … degenerative. Catastrophic.”
The terrifying implication hangs in the air. Because the crate you saw didn’t just contain a weapon.
It contained something that could literally unmake them.
Suddenly, a priority alert flashes across Donnie’s screen, a blaring alarm that makes everyone jump.
“What is it?” Leo demands.
“Foot comms just exploded. They’re not searching anymore. Their tactics have changed,” Donnie says, his voice tight with urgency. “They’re creating a public incident. A chemical spill at the City Hall subway station. It’s the agent. They’ve released some. It’s a trap, Leo. They’re trying to draw us out.”
“And a hundred civilians are caught in the middle,” Leo finishes, his face a mask of resolve as he grabs his katanas. “We’re going.”
“I’m going with you,” you state, the words leaving your mouth before you can think.
All four of them turn to stare at you.
“No,” Leo says immediately. “It’s too dangerous. You’re the one they’re after. You stay here, where you’re safe.”
“They left my apartment to check my ‘old haunts,’ Leo,” you argue. “One of those is the diner right above that station. What if they’re trying to lure me out, and you’re the bonus? I heard their voices. I might recognize them.”
“She’s a civilian; she’s not trained for this,” Leo insists, looking at his brothers for support.
“He’s right,” Donnie agrees. “The tactical disadvantages are enormous.”
But Raph steps forward, his eyes locked on yours. The memory of the closet—the shared breath, the silent terror, his body against yours—is a tangible thing between you.
“She comes with us,” Raph says.
Leo turns on him. “Absolutely not. You, of all people, should know better. This isn’t a place for bystanders.”
“And the lair is? What if they find a way in while we’re gone? What if they send someone else?” Raph stalks closer to Leo, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “She’s safer where I can see her. They want her? They gotta go through me. That’s the only guarantee.”
“This isn’t about your new protective streak, Raph. It’s about the mission!”
“She is the mission!” Raph roars back, jabbing a finger towards you. “I’m not leaving her locked in a sewer to wait and see if we come back!”
The two brothers are nose-to-nose. You see the truth in Raph’s fury. This isn’t about tactics for him; he has decided you are his to protect.
And leaving you behind is something he won’t accept.
Finally, Leo backs down, letting out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But she’s your responsibility. She gets so much as a scratch, it’s on you.” He turns to you, his eyes hard. “You do exactly what he says, when he says it. Understood?”
You give a determined nod.
The subway station is in chaos.
People are screaming and running, fleeing a shimmering, foul-smelling mist that is slowly spreading from the platform. The turtles move through the pandemonium. Raph pulls you along, his hand clamped firmly around your arm.
“Donnie, analysis!” Leo commands into his comm.
“The agent is reacting with pollutants in the air. It’s not just a mist; it’s becoming corrosive! It’s eating through the concrete!”
As if on cue, a support pillar groans, twisted metal showing through dissolving stone. And that’s when you see them. Not Vincenzo’s thugs, but Foot Clan soldiers in black tactical gear, their faces hidden by masks. They drop from the ceiling.
Raph shoves you behind a ticket kiosk. “Stay down!” he bellows before launching himself into the fray.
You watch, heart in your throat. But then a Foot soldier breaks from the fight and makes a run for you. Raph, thankfully, sees it. He disarms his current opponent with a savage twist and hurls one of his sai. It spins through the air and embeds itself in the wall just inches from the soldier’s head, stopping him cold.
Raph is on him in a second, a primal roar tearing from his throat as he slams your would-be assailant into the ground. He turns back to you, his eyes wild with adrenaline, checking that you’re okay. But in that split second of distraction, another figure emerges from the mist behind him.
This one is different. Larger. Its movements are jerky, inhuman. One of Stockman’s new creations. It raises a clawed hand, aiming for the back of Raph’s head. There’s no time to think.
“RAPH!” you scream, pointing.
He turns, but he’s too slow. And you do the only thing you can: grab a metal trash can and hurl it with all your strength. It’s clumsy and desperate, but it works. The can clatters off the mutant’s shoulder, making it flinch and miss its target.
The distraction is all Raph needs. He spins, burying his fist in the creature’s gut and driving it back into a wall, which crumbles on impact. He rushes back to you, grabbing your shoulders, his eyes blazing. “Are you crazy? I told you to stay down!”
“It was going to kill you!” you yell back, trembling.
The world narrows to the space between you and Raph, a bubble of adrenaline-fueled fury and fear. But the station is still collapsing around you. His grip on your shoulders tightens for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by Leo’s voice.
“Raph! We have to contain the spill! Donnie needs cover!”
Raph gives you one last, unreadable look before turning back to the fight. He yanks his sai from the wall and dives back in, leaving you with a racing heart. He becomes a living wall between the remaining Foot soldiers and Donnie, who is frantically working on a device from his pack, its casing sparking as he makes adjustments.
You refuse to be a liability. You scramble over to Donnie’s side, making yourself small but keeping your eyes peeled. “What do you need?”
“Situational awareness!” Donnie answers, not looking up from the delicate wiring. “Raph’s a battering ram, not a sensor array. Call out anything he misses!”
You become his eyes. “Foot soldier, left flank, high!” you shout. Raph, without missing a beat, spins and hurls a discarded piece of rebar, knocking the soldier off a platform. “Another one behind the pillar!” He slams another soldier into that pillar, using the man’s body as a weapon to take out the hidden threat.
Then, the first mutant stirs. Its skin bubbles and distorts, the retro-mutagen rewriting its form in real time into something more monstrous, its claws elongating, its jaw unhinging as it stands. Its eyes fix on Raph—then rushes at him, letting out a shriek.
Raph meets the charge head-on, a brutal clash of titans. But the creature is stronger now, its rage making it unpredictable. It drives Raph back, its claws screeching as the tips manage to scratch his plastron.
“Leo! Raph’s in trouble!” Mikey yells.
Leo and Mikey break off their own fights to help, but the creature is a whirlwind of mindless destruction. As it slams Raph against the corroding remains of a subway car, you see it: the mist of the chemical agent. It’s thicker around the mutant, clinging to it, accelerating its grotesque transformation.
And just above it, frayed by the corrosive gas, hangs a thick bundle of power cables, sparking erratically.
“The electricity!” you scream over the chaos. “Lure it under the power lines!”
Raph hears you. He shoves the creature back with a grunt, then deliberately stumbles, putting himself directly beneath the sparking conduit. It’s a crazy, suicidal gamble. The mutant, sensing victory, lunges for him.
“Now!” Leo yells.
With perfect timing, Mikey whips his nunchucks, the chain wrapping around a dangling piece of metal signage and yanking it down. The sign crashes into the power lines, causing the severed live cables to whip down directly onto the mutant.
The creature convulses, its screams turning into a shriek as thousands of volts course through its unstable form. It collapses, smoking and inert.
Donnie slams a device onto the floor. “Neutralizer active!” A wave of energy pulses outward, and the corrosive mist evaporates, the air clearing instantly.
The fight is over.
Raph never leaves your side during the journey back to the lair. His hand stays on your arm, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. You can see the scratches on his plastron, a reminder of how close he came.
Back in their home, the adrenaline finally crashes, leaving you quaking. Donnie immediately goes to check on his equipment, and Mikey makes a beeline for the first aid kit.
Leo faces Raph, his expression unreadable. “You said you’d protect her.”
Raph’s jaw tightens. “I did.”
“No,” Leo says, his voice dangerously quiet. “You almost got yourself killed, and she had to save you. My order was to keep her safe. Your emotions made you a liability.”
“She’s not a liability!” he bursts out, stepping forward. “She was protecting Donnie!”
You and Raph stand shoulder to shoulder. Leo looks between the two of you, at the unspoken thing that has clearly formed in the heart of the battle, and lets out a long, weary sigh.
“Get yourself checked. Both of you, get some rest.” He walks away, the argument over, though nothing feels resolved.
Mikey comes over and gently starts cleaning the scratches on Raph’s chest plate with an antiseptic wipe. Raph barely flinches, his eyes fixed on you. When Mikey finishes, Raph turns and goes to his room without a word. You hesitate for only a moment before following, softly knocking on the door.
“Go away,” comes the muffled growl from within.
You push the door open anyway. He’s standing in the middle of the room, his back to you, his shoulders slumped.
“I said go away,” he repeats, not turning around.
“No,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be angry at me for not letting you die.”
He whips around. “What you did was stupid!” he snarls, taking a step towards you. “That thing would have torn you in half!” He gestures wildly, his hands clenched into fists. “My job is to stand between you and things like that. Not to be watching my back, worrying if you’re gonna do something insane like throw a damn trash can!”
“So I should have just watched?” you shoot back, taking a step to meet his. “I should have stood there and watched it kill you? Is that what you wanted?”
“YES!” he roars, the sound echoing off the walls.
He stops, panting, the word hanging in the air between you like a wound. His fury collapses in on itself, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its wake. “Yes,” he repeats, his voice cracking, barely a whisper. “Because at least then I’d know you were safe.”
The confession sucker punches the air from your lungs. You see it all now. The anger is a shield against the terror. He’s not mad at you.
He’s terrified for you.
He runs a hand over his face, looking utterly lost. “I can’t fight them and worry about you at the same time. Having you out there—it splits my focus.” He finally looks at you, his gaze pleading. “But leaving you here, not knowing if you’re okay … that’s worse.”
He looks cornered, trapped by his own protective instincts. You close the remaining distance between you and gently place your hand on his arm, right over his bicep. The muscle is tense as steel beneath your touch. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“Raph,” you say softly.
He looks down at your hand on his arm, then up to your eyes. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he admits, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
You look at his face, at the storm of conflict in his eyes. At the way his powerful frame seems to sag under the weight of this new, terrifying emotion. “Maybe,” you whisper, closing the last step of distance between you, “you don’t have to do anything.” Your free hand comes up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Maybe you just … let it be.”
“Let it be?” he scoffs. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” you insist. You look directly into his eyes, willing him to see the truth. “You’re not weak because you were worried about me, Raph. What you did out there … it was the most incredible thing I have ever seen.”
His control shatters.
A sound that is half-growl, half-groan tears from his chest. And in a single, fluid motion, his hands come up to cup your face as his mouth crashes down on yours. He pours every ounce of his pent-up frustration and fear into the kiss. For a heartbeat, the force of it overwhelms you. But you don’t pull back.
Instead, you meet his intensity with your own.
You kiss him back with everything you have: the fear from the closet, the adrenaline from the fight, the staggering relief of seeing him alive. Your hands slide from his jaw up into the rough fabric of his mask, your fingers tangling at the back of his head, pulling him closer. As the kiss deepens, one of his hands moves down your back to press you firmly against him, the other weaving into your hair.
He breaks the kiss, breath coming in ragged gasps—only to press his mouth to your jaw, your neck. He whispers your name against your skin, and the sound is a prayer and a curse all at once. You tilt your head back, giving him access, your own hands exploring the massive expanse of his shoulders, the powerful curve of his neck.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. Then he opens them, framing your face with his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones.
“This …” he breathes. “This changes things.”
“I know,” you whisper.
“I can’t promise you it’ll be easy. Or safe.”
You look into his earnest green eyes and give him a small, unwavering smile. “I’m not looking for easy, Raph.” You raise a hand and place it over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. “I’m looking for you.”
He leans in and gives you one last kiss. Then pulls back. But doesn’t let go.
I physically need more Bayverse Leonardo x Female reader in my life, so I'd like to make a request! I don't have a specific idea, but I'd like it to be something full of mutual pining, with these two idiots clearly loving each other and having extremely high romantic tension. I'd like you to describe the reader as Leonardo's kindred spirit, so someone calm and introverted but with a very present inner strength. Someone who loves spending time with Leonardo without needing to talk too much -> reading, meditating or even learning some ninjutsu moves with him as her sensei *wink wink*. But also someone who is more bubbly when comfortable and wears her heart on her sleeves, so she can balance Leonardo’s stoicism -> and Leonardo can make her learn to stay more grounded or be more confident, so that there is mutual growth! Maybe, while his brothers and April are subtly trying to push them to confess, it's master Splinter, after a deep chat with Leonardo, who pushes him to take a step forward! I just want more Bayverse Leonardo completely in love with a girl but being unsure because he is a leader and he has responsibilities and he needs to stay controlled and she deserve a normal life tch Leo, you fool! And your writing is chef kiss!!! Thank you so much for your work, every time I see that you posted a request the first thing I think is “everyone shut up! my show is on!”
A/N: Chef’s kiss right back at you! Thank you for such an amazing and encouraging comment. It makes all the effort worthwhile knowing you look forward to my writing! 😊
I hope you enjoy this one, too 💖
Beyond Duty (angst/fluff)
💙 Bayverse Leonardo/Female Reader 💙
CWs: Angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, heaps of unspoken feelings, light brotherly teasing, confessions, and first kisses. All characters are aged-up.
The lair is quieter at night.
You sit cross-legged across from Leo, palms on your knees, breath slow. His eyes are closed, the slope of his shoulders relaxed but always vigilant. You admire that about him. How he can be so peaceful and yet alert at the same time, like a coiled spring that chooses restraint over release.
You don’t remember exactly when it started—when your presence began to fit so naturally beside his.
Maybe it was these late nights in the dojo, when the others had already drifted off and you stayed behind to stretch and meditate. Or maybe it was the quiet companionship the two of you had forged over books, over tea. Over a silence that never felt empty.
You open your eyes to steal a glance. Just a second. Just enough to drink in the shape of him—the rise and fall of his chest, the steady furrow between his brows.
He’s beautiful.
You’ve thought it a thousand times. And it never gets easier.
But you close your eyes again. Because if you look too long, your chest tightens and the butterflies take over, and then your breathing’s shot and Leo always notices when you’re off. He doesn’t say it, but you feel the shift in his posture. Always attuned. Always watching.
You inhale. Hold. Exhale.
“I can feel you looking at me,” he says softly, with the faintest upward tilt to his voice. Not quite teasing. Not quite scolding.
You crack one eye open. “I was meditating … with curiosity.”
That earns you the ghost of a smile. “Curiosity is the enemy of mindfulness.”
“And yet,” you hum, “you always let me get away with it.”
His eyes open then, the warm glow of the training room lights reflecting faintly in that deep blue gaze. And for a second, you forget how to breathe.
You’ve always admired how composed he is. But sometimes, you wonder how much of that control is armor. You’re not afraid of it. In fact, you respect it. But more and more, you want to be the one person he doesn’t have to wear it for.
“You’re improving,” he says, rising fluidly to his feet. You follow suit, stretching your arms overhead.
“That’s high praise coming from Sensei Leonardo,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. His arm doesn’t budge, of course. He’s a wall of muscle, but he allows the nudge. Even leans into it a little.
“I mean it,” he says, more seriously now. “Your form is solid. Breath work, too. You’re … centered.” He looks at you a second longer than necessary. “You have a good heart. A strong one.”
Your cheeks warm, and you can’t help the grin that slips out. “Careful. You’re going to make me think I’m your favorite student.”
“You are my only student,” he replies dryly.
“But am I your favorite?”
Leo’s eyes, those deep blue pools, hold yours for a beat longer. The playful challenge in your question seems to catch him off guard, stripping away a layer of his usual composure. A muscle ticks almost imperceptibly in his jaw. He doesn’t smile, not quite. But the sternness around his mouth softens, just a fraction.
“You,” he starts, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the quiet dojo, “make the late hours more bearable.”
It’s not a direct answer. And not the effusive declaration your teasing heart might have playfully hoped for. But coming from Leo, it’s a canyon-wide admission. Your own smile softens, your gaze dropping to the tatami mat for a moment, a warmth spreading through your chest.
When you look up again, his expression is more guarded, the leader facade back in place. But there’s a new awareness in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the current pulling you both.
“High praise indeed,” you murmur, deciding not to push further.
The air is thick enough as it is, charged with everything unsaid. You can feel the thrum of it, a delicate, almost painful tension that you’ve both learned to navigate, to live within. As you grab your water bottle, he moves to the corner where a small, worn bookshelf stands. You follow, knowing the unspoken invitation.
He retrieves a leather-bound copy of The Art of War while you fish out a book of poetry from your bag that you’ve been slowly making your way through. You settle onto the worn cushions near the edge of the dojo, a comfortable distance apart, yet deeply aware of each other’s presence.
This is your sanctuary, a world away from the chaos of the city above. Away from the boisterous energy of his brothers. Here, you are simply you, and he is simply Leo. And sometimes, that feels like everything. But the peace is fragile.
Because the unspoken always hovers.
Just as you’re losing yourself in a poignant verse, a burst of energy shatters the calm.
“Leo! Dude? You in here?” Mikey’s voice, loud and cheerful, bounces off the walls as he pokes his head in. He spots you, and his grin widens. “Oh hey, didn’t see ya there … or did I?” He winks, an unsubtle gesture.
You feel the familiar warmth creep up your neck. Leo, beside you, stiffens slightly. His focus, which had been softened by the reading, sharpens, his leader-mask slipping firmly back into place.
“What is it, Mikey?” Leo’s tone is patient, but with an underlying edge that you recognize as his ‘on-duty’ voice.
“Just wonderin’ if you two needed a chaperone,” Mikey says, waggling his brows. “Or, you know, some snacks? Maybe a single plate of spaghetti to share? Lady and the Tramp style?”
You can’t help but let out a small laugh, quickly covering your mouth.
Leo, however, does not look amused. “We’re reading.”
“Riiiiight,” Mikey draws out the word. “April was asking if you guys were gonna, like, officially announce your book club or something. She’s got t-shirt ideas.”
Leo closes his book with a quiet, definitive thud. “That’s enough, Mikey.”
His voice is low, a clear warning. There’s no anger, not really, but a weariness that tugs at your heart. You know he hates being put on the spot, especially about anything personal.
Mikey, sensing he’s pushed the boundary from playful to potentially irksome for his leader, raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just tryin’ to liven things up. You two are so quiet. It’s like a library in here.”
He glances between you and Leo one last time, a hopeful glint in his eyes, before disappearing as quickly as he arrived.
The silence he leaves behind is different now. Heavier. The comfortable quiet has been disturbed, replaced by a lingering awkwardness. You risk a glance at Leo. His jaw is set, and he fixes his gaze on the closed book in his lap. You want to say something, to ease the tension, but the words catch in your throat.
“He means well,” you finally offer, your voice softer than you intend, almost a whisper.
He doesn’t look at you immediately. Instead, he lets out a slow, controlled breath, the kind you’ve seen him use before a difficult training spar. When he finally turns his head, you see his troubled eyes. The playful warmth from earlier is gone, replaced by a familiar guardedness that always makes your chest ache a little.
“Mikey is … Mikey,” he says, his voice low. It’s an echo of your own sentiment, yet it carries a weight of resignation. He looks away, toward the dojo entrance, as if expecting another interruption. “He doesn’t always think.”
“No,” you agree, a small, hesitant smile playing on your lips. “But his heart’s usually in the right place. Even if his delivery is … theatrical.” You’re trying to inject a little levity.
He gives a curt nod, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. He pushes himself to his feet, the abruptness of it making you still. The unspoken message is clear: the quiet interlude is over.
“It’s getting late,” he states, not looking at you directly, but at some point over your shoulder. His voice is flat, devoid of the earlier softness.
Your heart sinks a little. You understand. He’s retreating, rebuilding his walls. Mikey’s teasing, however well-intentioned, has touched a nerve, exposed something Leo clearly wants to keep hidden, controlled.
So you nod, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. “Yeah, you’re right.” You slowly close your own book, the words on the page now a blur.
You rise and grab your bag. He stands by the dojo entrance, waiting. It’s a polite gesture, but it also feels like he’s eager for you to leave, to restore the order Mikey disrupted. When you reach the doorway, you pause, looking up at him. You want to say something more.
But the words die on your lips when you see the conflict in his eyes. It’s a fleeting glimpse, quickly masked, but you see it.
“Thank you for the … reading time,” you manage, your voice a little too formal.
“Anytime,” he replies, his tone equally stilted. But then, for a fleeting second, as your eyes meet, his gaze briefly softens. And he gives a small, almost hesitant nod. “Get home safe.”
It’s the leader speaking, the protector. Not the Leo who shares knowing glances with you, who bonds with you over poetry and strategy.
Your smile is small. “I will. Goodnight, Leo.”
“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his eyes following you as you turn and head out of the dojo, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your shoulders. You can feel his gaze on your back until you round the corner.
As you walk through the quieter common area of the lair and pass by the kitchen, you hear a voice.
“So, book club over for the night?”
It’s Raph, a smirk playing on his lips.
You sigh, a genuine, tired sound this time. “Something like that.”
“Mikey get under his shell too much?”
You manage a wry smile. “Mikey gets under everyone’s shell eventually. It’s his special talent.”
“Yeah, but Leo’s got that ‘leader on duty, do not engage emotions’ sign up permanently these days,” Raph observes, his head tilting slightly. “Especially when you’re around.”
Your breath catches and you look down, suddenly finding the pattern of the floor fascinating. “I don’t … I mean …” You fiddle with the strap of your bag, shifting your stance uncomfortably as heat rises to your cheeks.
“Relax,” Raph says, and his voice, surprisingly, loses some of its edge, softening into something almost gentle. For him, anyway. “Not blamin’ ya. Just sayin’. Guy’s wound up tighter than his own sword wraps.” He pauses, then adds, “He actually looks … less like he’s carryin’ the whole damn world when he’s with you. Even if you’re just readin’ old books and not sayin’ a word.”
His words land like a balm on the fresh sting of Leo’s withdrawal. It’s a confirmation, from an unlikely source, that your quiet presence offers him some solace—that it’s not just your wishful thinking.
“He …” you start, then stop, unsure how to articulate the complex knot of hope and anxiety in your chest. “He needs his focus. His responsibilities are huge.”
Raph scoffs. “He needs to let someone else share the load sometimes. And not just the ‘end of the world’ kind of load.” He gives you a significant look, one that speaks volumes about shared burdens beyond fighting Krang or Shredder. “Anyway,” he continues, “don’t be a stranger just ‘cause he gets all constipated with his feelings.”
“I won’t,” you promise, offering a small, genuine smile. Raph’s gruff brand of support is unexpectedly comforting, cutting through the ambiguity.
You make your way out of the lair, the sounds of the city growing louder as you ascend. The cool night air feels good on your warm cheeks. Still, Raph’s words echo in your mind, mingling with the lingering image of Leo’s troubled eyes.
His words offer a fragile shield against the disappointment. You know things are not that simple—because Leo’s life is a maelstrom of duty and danger. And you … you’re just you. But Raph saw something. Mikey sees something, as well as Donnie and April. Hell, even Casey noticed.
It’s just Leo, the one who matters most in this equation, who seems determined to keep it at arm’s length.
Back in the dojo, the silence Leo usually craves feels oppressive.
He stands where you left him, by the entrance, long after the echo of your footsteps has faded. His fists clench and unclench at his sides—before he forces himself to move. His movements are stiff, mechanical as he slots his book back into the shelf.
He thinks of you. How you deserve sunlight, laughter without the shadow of his world. A life unburdened by the secrets and dangers that define his. And yet, the thought of you not being here—of that quiet space beside him remaining permanently empty—sends a sharp pang through him, colder and more cutting than any blade.
“The quiet in here is … different tonight, Leonardo.”
Leo spins around. Splinter stands in the doorway, his gaze soft but unnervingly perceptive.
“Master Splinter,” Leo manages, his voice rougher than he intends. He clears his throat. “I was just … finishing up.”
Splinter hums, walking further into the dojo, his eyes sweeping over the cushions where Leo and you had been sitting. “She has left her book.”
Leo hadn’t noticed. His gaze flicks to where it lies beside the cushion, a fresh wave of something akin to longing washing over him. “Oh. I … I’ll make sure she gets it back.”
“She is a calming presence, is she not?” Splinter continues, his tone conversational, yet Leo feels the gentle probe behind his words. “A kindred spirit, as you once described her to me.”
Leo nods, unable to meet his eyes, and focuses instead on straightening a weapon on the rack. “She understands the quiet. It’s rare.”
“Indeed.” Splinter strokes his beard thoughtfully. “And you, my son? Do you understand the disquiet she leaves in her absence? The kind that is not born of loneliness, but of … something more profound?”
Leo finally turns to him, a frown creasing his brow. “Master, I have responsibilities. A team to lead. Distractions are a luxury I cannot afford.” The words sound hollow even to his own ears, the well-rehearsed excuse of a man trying to convince himself.
“Ah, yes. The dedicated leader,” Splinter says, his eyes twinkling, though his expression remains serious. “The one who believes he must carry the world’s burdens alone, lest he falter. Is her presence truly a distraction, Leonardo? Or is it, perhaps, a steadying hand in the storm you so often navigate?”
Leo remains silent, the truth of Splinter’s words unsettling him. He thinks of your calm focus, the way your quiet strength seems to mirror his own, yet also balances his intensity with a gentle resilience.
“She possesses an inner fortitude,” Splinter continues, his gaze softening. “Much like you, she finds solace in stillness. Yet, when she is comfortable, her spirit shines brightly. Does this not complement your own more measured nature?”
“She is … good,” Leo finally admits, the word feeling inadequate. “She’s kind and strong in ways most people aren’t. She deserves a normal life. Not … this.” He gestures vaguely around the dojo, encompassing the shadows, the weapons, the constant threat that is his reality.
Splinter steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “And who are you to decide what life she deserves, or what she is capable of embracing? Do you believe her spirit is so fragile that it cannot withstand the realities of your world? Or is it your own heart you seek to protect?”
His question hits its mark, and Leo flinches internally. The armor he wears, the control he prizes, feels suddenly constricting. “I need to be focused. Controlled. My emotions—they can be a liability.”
“Or they can be a strength,” Splinter counters gently. “Love, compassion, connection—these are not weaknesses, my son. They are the wellspring of courage, of loyalty, of the very protective instinct that makes you the leader you are. To deny them is to deny a part of yourself.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “She does not ask you to be less of a leader. Perhaps she even helps you become a better one, by grounding you, by reminding you of what you fight for.”
Leo looks at him, the conflict warring within him plain on his face. His Master’s words dismantle his carefully constructed arguments one by one.
“You fear,” Splinter says, “the pain of loss, the vulnerability of opening your heart. These are understandable fears for one who has seen so much hardship. But a life lived in fear of what might be lost is a life half-lived.” He places a gentle hand on Leo’s arm. “Your discipline is a virtue, Leonardo. But do not let it become a cage that keeps out the very light that seeks to enter. She is a kind soul. And you … you seem more at peace, more truly yourself, when she is near.”
His hand drops from Leo’s arm, but his gaze holds his. “Consider this, my son. Sometimes, the greatest responsibility a leader has is to allow himself moments of happiness. Do not let this opportunity for connection pass you by out of a misplaced sense of duty or fear.”
He gives Leo a small, knowing nod, then turns and pads silently out of the dojo, leaving him alone once more. He remains rooted to the spot, his gaze drifting to the book you left behind. In his mind, he replays his brothers’ teasing, April’s knowing glances. Because, it seems, they all see it.
Though the only one actively fighting it, it seems, is him.
The next evening, you make your way back to the lair.
The place is hushed, most of its occupants likely asleep or engrossed in their own late-night pursuits. Your footsteps echo slightly as you head towards the dojo, your heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against your ribs. You tell yourself it’s just for the book. A quick retrieval.
But somehow, you know it’s more than that.
You pause at the threshold. A single lamp casts its warm, inviting glow. And there, standing in the center of the room, is Leo. He’s not training, not meditating. As if your mere presence is a tangible thing, he turns. His eyes—those oceans you so often find yourself lost in—cause the air to leave your lungs in a rush.
The guardedness is gone. In its place is a raw, aching vulnerability that you’ve only ever glimpsed in fleeting moments. It’s startling, disarming, and it makes your own carefully constructed composure crumble.
In his large, three-fingered hand, he holds your poetry book. “You … you forgot this,” he says.
You step fully into the dojo. “Yes,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper. “I … Sorry about that.”
He doesn’t respond to your apology, his eyes fixed on you. Instead, he takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, then another, the space between you shrinking. Your heart hammers against your ribs as he stops just in front of you.
“I’m glad you came back,” he says, and the simple words hang heavy, laden with a significance that makes your breath catch.
“Leo?” you breathe.
He glances down at the book in his hand, as if it holds some profound answer, then his gaze lifts back to yours, a muscle working in his jaw.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he begins, his voice gaining a touch more strength, “since you left. About … us.”
Us.
The word hangs in the air, a fragile possibility.
His free hand lifts, hesitates, then ever so gently, his fingers brush against your cheek. The touch is feather light, yet it sends an electric shiver down your spine. “For so long, I’ve told myself that I can’t … that I shouldn’t.” His eyes flick down to your lips for a heartbeat, then back up. “That my responsibilities, my duty, means I have to keep my focus absolute. No distractions. No … vulnerabilities.”
You see the internal battle raging within him. And you want to reach out, to reassure him. But you remain glued to the floor, allowing him the space to voice the thoughts he’s held captive for so long.
“I told myself you deserve a normal life,” he says, his voice thick with a profound, aching sincerity. “Away from all of this.” He gestures vaguely with the hand holding your book. “Away from me.” His expression is pained, heartbreakingly honest. “And I still believe you deserve every good thing. Every moment of peace.”
Your heart constricts at his words, at the depth of the sacrifice he’s always been willing to make, the burden he carries. “Leo …” you begin, your voice choked with emotion—but he gently shakes his head, not to silence you, but to ask for a moment more.
“But I was wrong,” he says, his voice dropping, becoming more intimate, “about one thing.” His eyes, if possible, grow even more intense, more focused on you. “You’re not a distraction. You’re …” He searches for the words, his gaze softening. “You’re the calm in the middle of the storm. You’re the quiet I never knew I needed until you were here, sharing it with me.” A ghost of that rare, beautiful smile touches his lips. “You’re my kindred spirit.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring his image. You bite down hard on your lower lip, a desperate attempt to keep them from falling, to hold on to some semblance of composure.
“Being with you,” he continues, his voice a low, earnest rumble, “it doesn’t weaken my resolve. It strengthens it. It reminds me of what I’m fighting for.” He takes a shaky breath, the sound loud in the stillness. “You make me better. More grounded. More … myself.”
He reaches out again, his large hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I can’t … I don’t want to push you away anymore,” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with vulnerability. “I’ve been a fool. So afraid of what could go wrong, of not being strong enough, of failing you, that I almost missed …”
“Leo,” you breathe, your own voice trembling. You can’t hold back the tears any longer; one escapes, tracing a warm path down your cheek. He catches it with his thumb, his touch achingly gentle, reverent.
“I am deeply, incredibly, in love with you,” he confesses, the words tumbling out, a torrent of pent-up emotion and unspoken feelings laid bare at your feet. “I think I have been for a very long time. And it terrifies me.” His gaze holds yours, pleading for understanding, for acceptance. “But the thought of not telling you, of not trying … that terrifies me more.”
The world seems to tilt, to narrow and focus entirely on the space between you, on the profound truth he has just spoken. All the unsaid words, the lingering glances, the quiet moments of shared understanding—they all converge into this single, breathtaking point.
You look into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings mirrored there: the fear, the hope, the undeniable love. And your own heart, so full it feels as if it might burst from your chest.
“Oh, Leo,” you whisper, a watery smile breaking through your tears, your hands instinctively rising to frame his face. Your thumbs stroke the firm line of his jaw, feeling the slight tremble beneath your touch. “I love you too. So much.”
The relief that washes over his features is profound, chasing away the last shadows of doubt and fear. His broad shoulders, which always seem to carry the weight of the world, visibly relax. A genuine, breathtaking smile—the kind you’ve only dreamed of—finally breaks through his stoicism. Transforming his face, making him look younger. Lighter.
Freer.
He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for a moment as a shuddering breath escapes him. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, the words a warm caress against your skin, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. How long I’ve fought telling you.”
“We’ve both been idiots,” you breathe, the words laced with affection.
He chuckles, a melody you never knew you were missing until now. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling back just enough to look into your tear-filled eyes again, his own shining with a fierce, protective tenderness. “We have.”
“This won’t be easy,” he says, his innate sense of responsibility still present. “My life is complicated. Dangerous.”
“I know,” you reply, your voice steady. “And I’m not afraid. Not when I’m with you.”
You mean it with every fiber of your being.
His smile widens, radiant and full of love. “Then,” he says, his voice lowering to a husky whisper, his gaze fixed on yours before it drops to your lips, “can I …?”
You don’t need him to finish the sentence. Your heart soaring, you lean in, and he meets you halfway, closing the last bit of distance between you.
The first touch of his lips to yours is tentative, achingly soft, a question in itself. It’s a whisper of contact, a breath shared. And in this moment, you feel the tremor that runs through him, the culmination of his long-held restraint finally giving way.
The dojo, the city above—it all fades away, receding into a distant hum. Because there is only this: the press of Leo’s lips, the feel of his powerful arms around you, the overwhelming, soul-deep certainty that this is right.
Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss. “For the record,” he murmurs, gently touching your lips with his thumb, “you’ve always been my favorite student.”
Your heart overflows. “And you, Leo, have always been my favorite everything,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss.
Been thinking about doing this for a while, and about writing all the lads. But Leo comes to me the easiest, I guess?
Lowkey vent session!
Leonardo × F!Reader w/ Nightmare Disorder
Bad Dreams
He couldn't sleep.
Leonardo was endlessly tired. His eyes closed. But he was stagnant. Just laying here; thinking. Fretting. Totally unable to drift off.
The days events had been stressful, and he was overwhelmed with new information. Leo's mind raced with tactical strategies, leads, and contingency plans- wishing to handle the multitude of new problems NOW. But unfortunately, nothing was going to be solved anytime soon.
Which was all the more reason Leo should be asleep. No gear. No mask. No more new information. Everyone was gone. Asleep.
Leaving him ansty.
But he stayed here. Silent in the dark. The only thing keeping him in bed- fighting the temptation to walk around- was her.
Leo reveled in the warmth radiating at his side. The extra weight on the bed brought him a peace he was still getting used to; listening to her quiet, even breaths. He knew she was staying tonight out of sympathy or worry for what today had wrought- Leo wasn't sure.
She rarely stayed in the sewers for long. Let alone overnight. When he met her, it had bothered him. A flare of indignation and protectiveness would burst in his chest at the fact sometimes, and he had fought to ask why.
But she soon told him the real reason why she never stayed; told him while they were curled up on the couch. She was slumped against him, exhausted and upset, eyes red from crying.
Leo's heart had broken over her tired, nonchalant confession. And even more so at the graphic and horrible details. It got worse and worse, and he had almost asked her to stop.
Which was why now; Leo wasn't surprised when something in her changed.
It was still pitch dark in the room. But her peaceful breathing shifted. Just slightly in the silence. Quickening just enough- to click Leo into high alert, and he blinked his eyes open.
She wasn't awake, but he lifted his head quietly just enough to look at her. His nocturnal eyes could see her clearly, where she was curled away from him. Leo watched her back. Her sides.
Her torso was moving in tiny jerks with her small huffs. Her hand, the one bundled up close to her face holding the blanket, twitched.
Leo watched, saddened. The condition wasn't as dramatic as he had first thought. Always subtle, just like this. Nothing like his night terrors, which would wake him up in a cold sweat, leaving him so paranoid he'd sometimes get up to check on his family. He wouldn't wish it on anyone else.
Hers were so quiet that most of the time, it didn't even break his sleep; that alone being a miracle.
Leo was still watching.
She had explained that it is normal- and they happened every night. A life-long chronic issue, dating all the way back to her first memories. Haunting her night in and night out. Though sickness and in health.
Leo didn't have to wake her every time. She'd even explained that sometimes it was worse to jerk her awake. That it was even more disorienting to have an actual person grabbing and shaking her.
It was always going to be there, she had whispered, and Leo had actually believed her. His critiques, his suggestions and easy fixes dying on his tongue at the way she had been looking at him- like she was sad and resigned. Studying him. Watching for his reaction. Waiting for him to leave.
But Leo was here now. He hoped he always would be. His hand hovering over her arm, in the middle of the night, witnessing just another little fit.
Leo decided he couldn't wait. Couldn't watch.
"Y/n." He whispered. "Y/n, baby." He wiggled her shoulder just a little before he got up, bending his legs, resting on a hip and hand while he leaned over her. "Y/n?"
She blinked her eyes open, then suddenly grabbing for the pillow, squinting in confusion. Leo was there in a heartbeat, petting her back and brushing her hair away from her face. "It's me, it's just me. You're okay."
She sighed, eyes closed again as she slumped back onto the pillows. "Did I wake you up?" She whispered weakly, that pretty voice rough and broken.
"I never fell asleep." Leo moved again, scooting closer and switching his supporting hands, leaning even further over her form. Giving him room to comfortably pet her face and neck. To look at her. To sheild her from the room. "You okay?"
"Yeah." she said easily, eyes still closed.
Leo learned early on that prying for the details of a nightmare would only exhaust and hurt both of them. Sometimes, it even scared Leo, though he would never admit it.
"Need me to keep you up?" Leo offered instead.
She twitched, as if not expecting the question. She opened an eye, and Leo gave her a small smile, still petting her face. "I can keep you up."
"You sure you're not tired?" She asked.
"Yep." Leo whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'm right here. C'mon. Turn around."
She did as told, scooting around as he fell back into the sheets. This was always Leo's favorite part. They slotted together with practiced efficancy, and Leo buzzed with satisfaction at having her curled up under his chest and arm. Like perfect puzzle pieces. A position that allowed comfort for both him and the shell. And unlimited nuzzles and kisses to her head.
"Want to hear what's keeping me awake?" He asked.
"Yes, please." She muttered into his chest, then rested a hand over his collar bone. Pressing lightly there. "Thank you."
Anything for you. Always.
Leo pressed one last, sad kiss to his girlfriends head. Then he relaxed into her and the mattress, filling the dark with his quiet voice
Pairing: Leo/fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Contents: Leo gets injured during patrol and he gets in the mood for some love making time
Warnings: 18+, mdni, brief mention of blood from a wound, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps)
Wordcount: 4,139
Sentence Prompt: # 14 + 67
𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤
Notes:
Wow, this one actually took quite some time to finish, and I’m surprised by the word count. I believe this might be the post with the highest word count I have so far!
Warnings: 18+ / NSFW / MDNI / Ninja guys are late twenties / Happy Valentine's Day!! ❤️
Pussy! drunk Leo holds you tightly close to his chest, fisting your face with a full hand as he forces you to look at him because, fuck, you're so hot when you come.
Pussy!drunk Leo moans into your mouth as he pounds frantically into you, dizzy in the feeling of your cunt around him. Mmm, so fucking tight.
Pussy!drunk Leo whispers the best degradation-praise combos in your ear with a breathy, raspy tone that drives you crazy. He can't have enough. Squirm more to his words. Be louder, scratch his shell harder. Shit, he's so close—
Pussy!drunk Leo knows he has to pull out but it feels so freaking good that he can't bring himself to do so, especially not when you're begging him to breed you so much. Shit, you're gonna be the end of him.
Pussy!drunk Raph relentlessly fucks you from behind in front of your bedroom mirror. Fuck, he's so big, stretching you so good it has you on the verge of turning stupid.
Pussy!drunk Raph fucks you up and down his dick like a small fuck toy, too lost in pleasure to do nothing but hold onto his shoulders as he manhandles you all he wants.
Pussy!drunk Raph barely allows you to breathe as he devours your mouth, groaning agast your lips with each new thrust. God, he loves it when he's so overstimulated that it's almost too much. His cum is dripping from you, and the sounds of your flesh slapping have Raph craving to come again. Can you? Just one more time, doll. Fuck, please.
Pussy!drunk Donatello drinks you up eagerly. His tongue feels heavenly over your clit, he knows. You're tugging him too much to keep him there for it to not. That's right, darling, come on his face— Yeah, like that, damn good.
Pussy!drunk Donatello enjoys himself so much that suddenly all inhibitions are thrown out the window, and he's shamelessly moaning, mouth open as a trail of drool rolls out the corner of his mouth. You feel so good~
Pussy!drunk Donatello loves having your tongue down his throat, claiming him vehemently as your hands scratch the side of his shell, just where it joins to his plastron. The sound that escapes him is everything but human.
Pussy!drunk Mikey can't keep his hands out of you. He slips his palm up your thigh under the table, only stopping when he's met with your warm cunt. Leaking for him just by his slightest touch? Aw, you're so cute!
Pussy!drunk Mikey can't hold back once he starts kissing you. It's like he physically needs the heat emanating from your body. He wants to rob it, keep it alongside you, so deep inside that it deliciously burns.
Pussy!drunk Mikey inhales your scent from the crock of your neck and lets out a mix between a sigh and a soft moan. He pulls you closer, fucking himself deeper in you. You're so soft, so his, from now to forever.
Give Me Raph Or Leo Plz Thnx @raphielover - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
