#bayverse x reader

[bennyb0i0]

I’ve been working on the same ask for three days HURT/COMFORT ANON UR FIC IS COMING I SWEAR🥹✌️

[bennyb0i0]

Hi! I hope you're well!

I was wondering if I could ask for a drabble/oneshot of bayverse raphael with an autistic reader? I feel like he's be a little confused, but he's got the spirit!

Thanks in advance! ❤️

IM NEURODIVERGENT SO I GOTCHU BRAH

Also I ended up doing all the bayverse if that’s ok

Bayverse!tmnt with an Autisic!S/O

Donatello

-This can go one of two ways

-“Hey I do that and I’m not autisic”

OR

-“Wait I do that and I’m not autistic..” (said with intense thought)

-Undiagnosed king

-he’s probably the one to understand having an autistic s/o the most. He’s done his research (for you AND him).

-He’s so sweet but will sometimes try to teach you about your own autism 😭😭

-he’s a know-it-all with no limits I fear

-he also can’t take a hint very well. When he gets into a relationship, he’s a lot more comfy when it comes to yapping on and on and on about his inventions.

-you will very bluntly have to tell him to shut up for a moment. And surprisingly, if you explain, he won’t get offended at all.

Raphael

-tbh your autism probably went over his head until you told him you had it

-Not because he doesn’t pay attention, but because the turtles have lived underground and separated from people for so long, they also do not get social cues. He noticed your picky eating and your sensory issues, yes, but he just thought the way you interacted with people socially was just a part of your personality! Like, doesn’t everyone have a social battery? Who cares if yours runs out faster than others, you’re still you, and he loves you!

-But he doesn’t think like this as a way to dismiss it, he just didn’t realize that some of your traits had a name. To him, you are you!

-He loves that you can be blunt with people that was part of the appeal for him!

-you don’t like mushy stuff? He doesn’t either!

-hate people/talking sometimes? He’s in the same boat!

-meltdown? He has those too!

-‘He a lil confused but he got the spirit’ -anon

Leonardo

-He’d be a bit more confused about it

-like raph, he just saw you as you, not realizing some of your traits had a name

-HOWEVER, I feel like he’s more likely to either try to “fix” some of your “problems”

STAY WITH ME LET ME EXPLAIN

Or try to “help” you.

-like picky eating? He’ll say smth like “That’s good for you! Why do you always eat junk food?”

-I need you to know that this phase does NOT last long however, and he feels AWFUL about it afterwards.

-he just loves you so much and he’s so used to leading/fixing problems with his brothers behavior, it kinda oozes (haha get it) into your relationship too.

-after that he’s a lot like Donnie. Understanding king 100%

Mikey

-I usually hc Mikey as having adhd, but I’m not sure for bayverse. Like- maybe? I see him having it when it comes to social cues and stuff, but I dunno.

-if so, you and him are almost kinda in the same boat.

-but he’s also super sensitive. Like- say you’re overstimulated, he won’t shut up, and you tell him to be quiet? He’s gonna think ur mad at him and get all sulky. HOWEVER, this doesn’t last long and he gets used to it. He eventually learns the signs of you getting stressed out, and has learned to back off when you start showing them.

-touchy guy. If you like touch? Good. He will squeeze. If you don’t like touch? It’ll take a minute for him to learn that.

-he a lil confused but he got the spirit pt 2

[bennyb0i0]

Should I do bayverse requests guys

My request box is open..

[yes-im-gushing]

Donnie/F!Reader

lazy and sleepy, outercourse, fluids, animal traits, low energy Donnie looses his manners, not dominant just big and tired.

Donnie isn't dominant in bed. Not exactly. Not on purpose. He's just so....big.

And he knows it. He's gentle, slow, patient. The big guy has a lot more fun letting you take control. Getting you on top. Commanding him. Pushing and pulling. Punishing and rewarding.

You've both had a bit of a kinky past. And Donnie was a total experimentalist who loved nothing more than trying something new and wild.

But sometimes. You didn't have the time or the mental energy to take on that dominant role. And you wouldn't always want to anyway.

Both of you were far too burned out now. The last couple months have been grueling. Between advancements in your career and a power struggle among the local gangs. You've barely had time to see each other much less come up with kinky roleplay scripts.

You'd only started to recover and Donnie was still in the trenches. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to start causing serious concern.

He needed a stress relief, fuck you both did. And you needed some time together. Some time to just feel connected. Not like the texts you'd only been replying to hours after they'd been sent and the phone call on your way home that he'd be half paying attention to.

So, no muss no fuss, simple sex it was.

Just Donnie stretched out long and loose across his bed waiting for you. His muscles still tense, a pinch in his brows that wouldn't fade.

You really didn't have the energy to ride him for real. The thought alone made your hips ache. FUck he was just so big. The size difference was sexy a lot of the time but it was still something that had to be compensated for. Fitting together took a little work. And you were tired.

He could tell by the wince when you climbed up beside him. Tank top strap already slipping off one shoulder. Panties not even damp yet, even at the sight of your man all laid out like one of your French girls.

He huffed once, a insistent tired noise he usually made at one of his brothers when they were mishandling gear.

His hands came to wrap around your hips pulling, like actually pulling, you up to his face. A little more manhandling than he usually took the liberty of.

"Are you sure-" You begin to ask as he grips your knee and spreads you over his head.

"Can I just play with you please?"

It doesn't sound like a question. The exhaustion in his voice made him sound petulant and demanding.

You sigh, tired and honestly not really minding much either way. "Yeah, do what you want."

Was that the wrong thing to say? Too bitchy, too uncaring?

Donnie doesn't hesitate. Big hands smoothing over your hips, pulling your pelvis back and spreading your thighs over his face. You can feel the curve of your spine, the stretch of muscles. The waft of his hot breathe over your still dry cunt.

His nose presses in. Slightly warm and a little rough in texture. His hand pulling your panties over one ass cheek, not removing them entirely just removing them from the nonexistent space between his face and your sex.

There's a rumble deep in his chest. Pleased.

And condensation building up in the creases of your knees and the curve of your lower lips from his breathing. You are warming at his touches. Heat building up between your bodies, goosebumps springing up in the trails his hands wear against your skin. Exploring over your hips, up your stomach down your thighs. Gripping here and there worrying the softness of your flesh between his fingers

You can hear the moment he opens his mouth wide. The wet pop of it. the rush of hot concentrated breath a prelude to the wide hot tongue that presses up flat against you with considerable strength.

Donnie's a lingerer. Wanting to take his time with your cunt. Familiarize himself with the smell and the texture. Fall into the pattern of the wet glide. Loose himself in the sensation of having you on his tongue. Nuzzling. Sniffing. Nipping at your thighs.

That's why it takes you so off guard when he doesn't.

Sure you don't have him on his knees this time. But you don't expect the way his tongue flexes. Hard like the muscles in his forearms. Sweeping over your clit before it's stood up for him. He isn't coaxing or massaging. This is a demand. An insistent impatient pressure rolling over your nerves again and again. Pulling the blood from your brain so it pools on his tongue. Softening your lips into plush swelling. Forcing your clit to attention. Making your cunt slick with his saliva.

Just rolling over again and again.

And before you can settle into the sensation, it's changed. His wide tongue lapping hard at your entrance. Trying to force it's way in. Too big. the wrong shape. Square peg to round hole. But it passes over again and again. Awaking every nerve in your thinnest skin. Making you shudder every time his chin tilts into it, dragging his bottom lip over your clit. One hand hard on your hip. The other spread wide over your breast. Fingers flexing carefully, not squeezing too hard.

It's harder, faster, rougher than your used to. But soo slick and hot and your so pent up. Wishing so badly that you could hammer that square peg in. More than just the tip that sweeps over sensitive walls pulling pulling pulling like he's trying to drag something out.

The edge of his plastron digs a line into your palm as you lean forward. Angling your cunt over his mouth. Spreading wide as you can. The sounds of your panting bouncing off of the hard plains of his chest while his own groans and gasps are absorbed into the soft meat of your thighs.

You think about rocking into him. Test the give in his grip. But there is none. His hand is iron on your hip. His face buried so far into you there really isn't any farther you can push against it. But you want to. That curling writhing feeling that's gathering at the bottom of your spine is begging you to thrust onto his tongue. To chase his mouth and grind against it.

He doesn't say it with words. There is no break in his movement to speak to you. But you can read it in the way his hands move. The way he grips hard at one thigh pulling you open and down as far as you go. His other hand spreading over the curve of your hip, thumb digging into your belly, pressing in. His mouth is demanding, working your inflamed cunt. Forcing you to cum as surely as if he had voiced the order.

You hear the rip of your moan yanked out of your chest, something deep and a bit embarrassing but you can't think about it through every other sensation that's bombarding you. It's an impact like a getting the wind knocked out of you. The air flees from your lungs. Mouth falling open in a gasp. There's a stretch in the tendons of your neck when your head falls back. Spit cooling on your thighs and up the cleft of your ass. The hard line of his plastron still digging into your palm, nails failing to find purchase as your fingers curl. The blood rushes out of your head in a small bout of vertigo. Stars swimming round your head like a cartoon character that's been knocked out. A deep deep pressure that starts where his hand presses into your stomach and ends somewhere in your throat.

You come to slumped forward. Down on your elbows on his chest. Gasping for air while his hands slide up under your shirt and caress your back.

Your head is still swimming but at least you can tell up from down now.

"I'd ask for a performance review but it sounds like you're having trouble breathing." Even through the higher than normal bite of wit there's tenderness.

His soothing hands urge you up to sitting on his chest before he's sitting up himself and your forced to slide down to his lap.

He arranges a few things behind him and leans back into a reclined position. Enough that you can lay out on his chest but he still has a great view.

"How do you want me?" It's breathless.

Instead of answering he just shifts you. Now you were laid out on his chest. Low enough that your ass was down in his lap and your head was laid against the solid keratin of his chest. He'd propped himself up a bit so he could gaze down at you from an angle.

Now that your blood has circled mostly back to your brain and the air has returned to your lungs you can speak more coherently. Though with the exhaustion eating at the edges of your mind you're not sure for how much longer.

"You did drop right?"

He scoffs. "Never not dropped with you on my tongue."

Your hands wrapped around either side of his plastron for stability though it wasn't necessary with gravity and the ache of your heavy body holding you down firmly. Not as firmly as his big hand wrapped around your hips.

You could probably take him from this angle if you pulled your knees up, but the thought of holding them there made a whine build up in the back of your throat.

you were so tired.

He shushes you. hands smoothing down your hips, fingers curling over your knees and spreading your legs. Tugging hard enough that he shifts your ass a bit lower a long exhale, bordering on a sigh, leaving him as his thighs flex up.

Instead of planting your feet on his thighs and spreading you open from this angle like you expect, he pushes your thighs closed.

You jolt in surprise as something hot and damp intrudes on the space between your thighs. You summon enough energy to get an elbow up behind you so you can sit up enough to look down.

And fuck if it isn't a sight. The dim LED lights casting interesting neon highlights and strange shadows over your bodies.

His thick cock spreading the wet flesh of your thighs apart. Standing tall and intimidating even from the plush flesh of your thighs. You can feel the flex in his fingers as he presses your legs tighter together. A flex you can mirror in the long muscles of your legs.

He groans like something wounded and not quite human. A shift in his hips that nearly jostles you as he pulls back Inhaling deeply and then thrusting forward again. The dryer skin catching and pulling against him with a sticky sort of friction. Making the flesh there jiggle with the slow rhythm of it.

It feels wrong to not participate. To lie there and hold your legs closed while he does all the work. But even if you had the energy to get up and ride him, the grip he has on your thighs won't allow you to move an inch.

Maybe you should reach down and play with his tip?

Your fingers barely brush over the heated skin before there's a growl echoing through your skull where it lays on his chest.

"Would you just let me?" There's noticeable aggravation in his voice.

"I want to help." you whine back.

"No you don't. Your exhausted. Just let me do it."

your lip juts out in uncharacteristic poutiness.

"Stop worrying and just relax."

His words are almost kind, almost consoling, but his hand is far rougher as it tangles in the waistband of your panties. Yanking the fabric up until it's pulled tight against your cunt. Blunt unyielding pressure shifting with every thrust. Stimulating your already primed clit. But not enough.

The more he thrust up between you the more that slick spread until you are dripping wet from your damp cunt to a point on your thighs that could be considered a school appropriate skirt length.

the soft give of your flesh, tight but yielding to the intrusion of his cock, big and hot and thrusting. Agitating that slick until it turns white. Marking your skin with the most vulgar display of sex the two of you may have ever made.

"Want you to take it. Just like this." He's breathy now too. You can't quite tell if it was pleasure or exhaustion he was loosing himself in. Or maybe some kind of mind melting mixture of the two.

Maybe his brain is only half online too. Maybe his head is swimming too, everything out of focus but the places where you touch. The tingle of overstimulation under your skin at odds with the numbness in your finger clenched so hard on the edges of his plastron.

"Can't you at least rub it on my-"

"Can't you practice some patience?" The fist in your waistband pulls harder, the fabric creaking in protest. But he lets up soon after, blood slowly returning to your clit as the pressure eases off.

Still he only gets a few thrust farther before he's pulling your knees up, panties yanked halfway down your thighs, that throbbing cock shifting higher until it presses up against your lips. It's a momentary brush. An obscene sticking of wet flesh slowly pulling apart as he shifts, positioning you both. His hand closing over the head, holding it in place so he can thrust up against his palm.

The drag over every wet sensitive swollen inch is torturous. It drags a pornographic whine out of you. Everything is drying a little, more sticky than slick. The friction ramping up making your tenderest flesh cling hard to him. Dragging and squelching and groaning. Animalistic hisses half bitten off as his palm twists and his thighs flex.

His other hand releases your hip, apparently confident enough in your ability to hold still, instead he shucks your shirt up. Palm closing over a tit and groaning. You feel him lean a bit foreword, watching.

Taking in the sight of it all. The way your head is leaned back, lips parted in helpless pants. The way your hips twitch to follow his movement even while just the strength of his wrist against your pubic bone is enough to pin you down.

The way your thighs already look like he's cum all over them.

There's a deep exhale of air through his nostrils. An aggressive territorial sound that tells you exactly how blown his pupils are right now. Animal hindbrain taking over. Chasing that edge faster than you could keep up with. Tipping tipping and falling right over, Chuffing noises as the slicker and slicker sound of his thrusts as precum leaks down his shaft.

It's too much. Ever slick glide over your hypersensitive clit throws your makes you pulse. The knowledge that he's right there with you, slipping right off that edge sends you over so fast it's blinding. Everything goes white and hot and too much too much.

You can't feel anything through the waves of static that rush through you. can't hear anything but the pounding of your own heart. Feel it in your temples. It shakes your whole body. Dragging out too long with the constant stimulation he continues to drag you through. And when it finally starts to ease there's still so much oversensitivity left behind.

Your skin is all static everywhere he's touching. And you can feel tears cooling in the edge of your feverish eyes.

But he hasn't cum yet. Close so close but not over that edge yet. All words have melted out of him. Arms flexing in rhythmic twists trying to avoid flexing his hands at all. Being very careful not to handle you too roughly when his hind brain is screaming at him to pin you down and hold on tight.

Theres one two three more agonizing thrusts before he's crying out. Throaty and whiny and broken. Hot cum splattering over your stomach.

You clench your thighs hard. Holding steady as he rides the waves. His hands laid flat over your stomach and sternum, trembling so hard your can feel it in your bones. More hot liquid pools in your belly button and drips down the creases between your legs.

There's rumbling vibrating through the back of your skull.

The way it echoes out of the wet clench of his throat as he gasps is obscene. He bites down on those noises with clenched teeth and a groan.

Part of your own animal hind brain is waiting for the praise to be showered down on you. If you were less exhausted it would have occurred to you earlier that he literally can't speak right now. He can't praise you with anything more than the way his fingertips are digging in just a little bit.

Instead you speak, pushing past the croaky fucked out sound of your voice to tell him, "Good job baby, thank you."

He groans again in response, breathy and almost whiny.

"I-" your throat is so dry, "I have no idea how we're gonna clean up." Your eyes are already getting harder to keep open. Exhaustion dragging you down. But you absolutely cannot sleep covered in this much cum.

Probably.

[luxthestrange]

MTMTE Incorrect quotes#51 Witwicky madness

The Autobots got a distress signal, about leaked images of the All Spark...but then they got to the location, which was an abandoned scrapyard, and traps were laid out for each of them, giant magnets keeping them in place as sam and makaela themselves trapped their belts or bracelets, when a small figure laughs and steps into the light...like some cartoon villain

Sam*Sees who it is and shouts angrily* Y/N!?!

Sibling!Y/n*Confused for a second seeing two humans with the aliens, but notices familiar features in one, disgusted* SAM!?!

Bumblebee tries to turn his head, seeing Sam never use that tone on anyone, the Autobots are completely confused by the ordeal

Ratchet: You know this small demon?!

Sam: Do I know them? That's my sibling

Upon hearing that the human in front of the two, the Autobots and Makaela, face grew into total shock

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bumblebee notices you don't seem fond of seeing his Choosen driver and lowkey bestfriend in the lab. He, along with some other bots, stared at the files on the walls about aliens,cyrptics, and multiple screens showing real-life footage of them landing on earth back to ancient times, even to their ancestor Archibald Witwicky, while you and Sam seemed to be arguing

Optimus*Seems some computer screen showing you...been hacking into any media to hide any footage of them that any other tries to show they are here*Mhhm....

Bumblebee*Looks at Makaela for help on what's going on*???

Makaela*Shrugs, giving an apologetic*Sorry Bee...no clue who they are either-

Y/n: What the fuck are you doing here, shithead?

Sam*Seeing all the research and many devices crammed in the lab* I should be asking you the same thing! You check yourself out of rehab, no call, no note, and I have to find you down to this shithole with- what the fuck is this?...

Sibling!Y/n*Rolls eyes, putting your notes down and glaring at an autobot whom accidently broke one you couches*....

Jazz*Looks at the now broken expensive couch he sat on to the angry human staring at him*...sorry

Sibling!Y/n*Looks back at your twin brother* -Nothing, it's my stuff, and who's the out of your league girl here?~

Sam: Eeeeh...My uh...friend, she's with me-

CRASH was heard again, and the humans saw Ironhide clearly holding a now one of your now broken hanging potted plants

Bumblebee*Who is ignoring the chaos as spots a picture frame of you smiling at the camera in the artic*....

[luxthestrange]

Transformers Meme#10

Y/n*Was having a break at the local Cafe and simply ignores the fight,looking back at your screen as the patrons run*...just five minutes,Can you boys just not fight...FOR FIVE MINUTES!?!-

Bots & Cons*Stop fighting for a minute to stare at you*....

[theanonymousninja247]

Pretty Random Turtle Thunks:

Bayverse Domestication HC's

Hewoo Friendo's! Been a bit, but wanted to get in the writing mindset again and share some turtle thunks as I do. Just some silly little HC's about fun domesticated things to do with your turtle once starting to officially share a space. Check it out: Rating: Cookies and Cream Milk (16+ please!)

Leo: Meal Prep Planning

No ok listen. It's common knowledge across the fandom, in most iterations, Leo can't cook right? Practically banished from the kitchen with caution tape and daily threats + taunts from his oh so delightful brethren on the rEgUlAr. (He gets it ok? he's a hazard)

This is a VERY difficult piece of humble pie for our dear Fearless to swallow, as he is not perfect in every aspect (surprise surprise) even though he desperately tries to emulate nonetheless.

ESPECIALLY in the aspect of trying to seriously take care of you. How on earth is he supposed to properly provide, preside, and protect if he is not allowed within 5 ft of a toaster?!

Well, Leo would be the most determined partner to say the least. If he can't help provide your daily required intake of consumed nutrients, than he will just have to help you PREPARE them at the very least.

And prepare this turtle do. Man stays up LATE scouring over every single recipe website he can get his hands on. Mom Blogs, Pinterest Boards, Nana's Facebook Pages, University Databases, you name it, he's probably seen it.

Look, he just wants to make sure he can view all his options alright? He is the team strategist for a REASON, thank you very much.

Speaking of strategy, Mr. Helpful Himself will write for you (in his stinkingly perfect calligraphy) a detailed shopping list for each and every of the poor recipes that caught his eye for you this week. (They were screened to make sure you are getting your basic food groups because Leo is a "secret" health nerd. More like Disappointed Dad Biased, but that's besides the point)

This grocery list also includes where to find said item in the store (no he did NOT scout the perimeter beforehand to make sure you had the quickest and safest route what are you talking about?) Not to mention, he also peeked at your budget and highlighted which brands have the best price.

When it actually comes to cooking time, this turtle is your most dedicated sue chef. I'm talking perfectly sharpened knifes ("A dull knife is more dangerous you know"), preset little bowls with all ingredients diced, minced and measured, ready and waiting for you to kick him out, so you can do your thing.

His favorite thing about all of this (besides legit "cooking" up a kitchen battle strategy for you) is putting all the leftovers in little straight containers, for you to use for the rest of the week. I see this OCD turtle loving Snapware (In HIS designated blue of course) and little BentoBoxes. The little click click of the lid just does something for him.

Overall, Leo just likes to be included and knowing that something he did would be beneficial to you💙

Donnie: Painting Walls

Donnie for all of his brains and mastery with tech, I think would be the most darling little painter friend when wanting to help you with a color project.

Turtle wants to be helpful to you so bad, it legitimately causes his brain to crash if he lets him sit with his feels for too long. Which is...why he NEVER lets himself sit with the feels and rather just becomes ANXIOUSLY engaged in trying to help you with all of your projects.

And engaged he becomes! You want to repaint a wall in your living room? Maybe add some cute new decorations or shelving? This Turtle has got his two money making skills at YOUR service (AKA being observant and having a good steady hand)

That delightful attention to detail becomes your greatest boone and bore when Mr. Donatello puts his eye to do something. I'm talking about him pulling out nearly all of his tools to make sure that this project of yours is done most effectively. Measuring tape, painting tape, filling putty, painting mats, paint brushes of every shape and size, paint rollers, paint roller extenders, sanders, screws, bolts, levers, screwdrivers, hammers. Basically you blink, and your living room is suddenly a small Home Depot.

You blink again, and suddenly everything is already off the wall, or out of the box, placed with the utmost precision in perfectly little placed groups (for the moment, just wait for this turtle to get going and get in the zone. The Tinker Zone! OW!)

It might actually take bit to get to said project because Donnie is going to get lost in his head making sure he has everything, and is going about this in the best way. AKA spends a solid 15 minutes trying to figure out the best way to tape off the outlets. Whether or not he should use the filler putty to make the wall level or just sand off the original paint to make sure the new paint sticks well enough, etc etc

And he really is a good helper once both of y'all stop bickering like an old married couple about which of the 5 shades of the one color you requested is going to look best in this lighting.

He's got that steady hand which makes cutting around the edges a breeze (Mikey wishes he had that much control of a brush) and that delightful height which can reach all the high corners you can't get with a ladder.

Speaking of ladders, they are no longer allowed in your household anymore because Donnie once got so distracted looking up and seeing your bum in those tight paint smeared jeans that he accidentally flung paint into his open mouth.

Which resulted in this tree of a turtle startling himself that he all but felled himself backwards. And in doing so...accidentally painted the ceiling as well. It was...bad to say the least. How do you call poison control for a turtle AND tell his medic brother that he may or may not have a concussion due to perceiving thiccness firsthand?

Bottomline (heh pun intended) all that is done with love is done well. And Donnie loves you, and he puts that love into his hands. And puts those hands to work for you. So everything is done well. Even if there is a single infuriating corner on the ceiling that you didn't let him paint over, to stand as a witness of this most infamous painting day.💜 Raph: Bed Shenanigans

Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think or probably what you want I swear.

Listen. It's like this. Raph. Is big. A mountain of a man. A tank of a turtle. Large and in charge in almost every way. And if y'all are at the point of mutual domestication, all that Grande is gonna be coming your way.

And one of those ways is discovering that as delightful as your couch is for movie time cuddles and daily wrestling occurrences, it's not the best place to conk out for the night.

Let's be honest here too. Raph deals with...a LOT. Literal weight of the world on those shoulders. The brunt of it all. You of all people would know that this turtle deserves some softness after it all.

Hence the adventure of bed shopping and decorating begins!

Unfortunately because of the whole "turtle situation" you can't exactly bring Raph with you to the store (as mush as he would NEVER admit loving to do something just normal and mundane with you) but you CAN always bring your findings to Raph.

Cue long nights of you two huddled close while looking at the screen of your phone or computer as y'all playfully bicker about what kind of sheets and pillows and styles Raph would prefer, you excitedly pulling out your samples of the day and letting Raph test the textures of the plethora of fabrics to see if they feel comfy.

Raph has never felt more overwhelmed with all the options and in hopes of trying to appease you said he didn't really think much about that stuff and said whatever made you happy would work just fine. So as a joke for the first time, you brought back bright pink satin sheets with little embroidered flowers. It uno reversed on you because he ended up liking the sheets because they were soft against his scales and kept y'all both cool enough during....the other bedtime activities.

Unfortunately (fortunately?) those sheets didn't last through a single season which led to y'all doing some more intense research on things having durability and LONG lifetime use. Or at the very least. Multiple spares of the same brand.

Turns out y'all both can agree on soft green coloring, plaid if you can believe it (it strokes his man card and you like teasing him for being a lumberjack the way he cuts logs in his sleep) and y'all both enjoy the bamboo cooling sheets. Raph handles your decorative throw pillows as long as he gets to have his massive maroon Minky weighted blanket as the accent piece. It's heavy enough that he uses it as a cuddle net when he's in that mood to never let you go.

And Raph being Raph is almost ALWAYS in a mood. So another fun thing y'all get to "experiment" with is finding which laundry detergent/ fabric softener's work well enough with Raph's scales and shell while not simultaneously murdering his poor oversensitive turtle sznoze. (He'll never admit it, but he likes the simple floral scented soaps. Because it feels clean and fresh in a way that's not tainted by the city. Something still good and alive in this world. Kinda like how he sees you)❤️ Mikey: Dishes Collector

The funny thing about Mikey is that for as much as he eats, he actually doesn't ever really use a lot of dishes. Most of his food has been prepackaged and ready to go because everybody knows this turtle can't still still to save his life. He likes to put the T-O G-O in Hot To Go.

So when the time comes that he actually slows down to settle down enough that you introduce him to the joys of personalizing y'alls kitchen together, Turtle has a BLAST.

He had no idea that there were so many utensils or types of plates! All the brands for all the dishes! Oh and the cups? Mugs? Bottles? TANKARDS? Yeah, hon, might be best to keep him away from the thrift stores because you KNOW he's about to bring back the most horrendous looking thing that barely counts as a cup and fall absolutely in love with it. He uses it for everything and you even though you can't STAND it, it makes him happy so you guess it stays.

Also be warned that because Mikey is not used to having all these cool new dishes, the curious ADHD orange cat in him will want to use all the cool new toys - er- utensils right away to try and figure them out. Even if it means doing so in a rather...unorthodox kind of way.

So don't be TOO alarmed when you catch Mikey trying to sneak away with your new flour pin because he thinks it would make a sick new kind of heavy weight nunchucks if he attached a strong enough chain to it. Or enthusiastically putting in WAY too much flower into your breadmaker because watching it all swirl together is just too fascinating of a siren call to resist.

You probably have a slightly bit more tamed taste, and introduce Mikey into the joys of having matching sets with cute little patterns or designs and learning how to use new dishes CORRECTLY. The artist in him appreciates how it all comes together when you show him how to properly set up a dinner place set and he really gets into setting the table because of it I could see him really getting into duck/chicken themed things or brightly fiesta colored vibes for whatever reason.

Be warned though, once man has picked a theme with you, he is DEDICATED. It literally becomes a game for him to try and find something, ANYTHING that matches your theme in the weirdest and most wholesome of ways.

You end up having to ask Donnie to help install more shelves, to show off you and Mikey's growing assortment of strange kitchen collectables. By the end of the year, it looks more like a strange museum than a kitchen(Don't ask Mikey where he found them. Trust me. You don't wanna know. Just make you you wash it clearly beforehand)

Mikey loves this about you. And despite all of his totally turtley tubular finds, his favorite pride and joy are the two poorly hand-shaped ceramic mugs that y'all made and fired together as a couples date night one time.

Because Mikey has discovered that the best dishes, both literal and the ones you eat, are always then one that you create and share together. 🧡

Tag List (lemme know if I got you all or you'd like to be included) @thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @raphsmuneca @avery73 @anobodyinabog @definitely-canon @milykins

[dolliesdread]

Ngl I got kinda bored soo I wrote a fluffy cuddle scene with Leo

Always finding your way back

Bay! Leo x GN! Reader

Warnings: None. Just heart warmy fluff </3

The lair was unusually quiet when you came in, that rare kind of hush that only seemed to settle after a long day of training and patrols. Normally, Mikey’s music would be rattling the walls, Donnie’s machines humming, or Raph muttering under his breath about something. But tonight? Silence. The type of silence that wraps you up in itself like a warm blanket.

You set your bag down by the door and padded into the main living space. That’s when you saw him.

Leo was stretched out on the couch, head tilted back against the cushions, mask tails draped down his shoulders. His katanas rested neatly against the wall within reach, but his chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm that betrayed how close he was to sleep. For once, he looked completely at peace.

You should have just let him be. You told yourself you would. But after the day you’d had, after the way your chest ached for some kind of comfort, your feet carried you closer. Almost without thinking, you climbed up onto the couch, shifting carefully until you settled against him. His plastron was firm but warm, grounding in a way you didn’t realize you needed. You rested your cheek against him, exhaling slowly, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe.

And then—movement.

A low rumble sounded in his chest, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Before you could sit up, his arm shifted from where it had been resting at his side. Heavy and warm, it wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you closer until you were tucked fully against him. His legs slipping with yours, ensnaring you closer.

“Mm.” His voice was rough, thick with sleep, but there was a note of amusement in it. “Thought you could sneak up on me?”

You froze, caught in the act, until his thumb brushed lazily against your hip.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, softer now, almost pleading. “Stay.”

And just like that, you melted.

The lair was quiet, the city above far away, and it was just the two of you. His breathing evened out, steady and strong beneath your ear. The rise and fall of his chest was soothing, like a tide you could lose yourself in.

You’d denied it for so long—why you always seemed to find yourself gravitating toward him. How you lingered when he was near, how the sound of his voice pulled you back from your own thoughts, how safe you felt in his presence. You’d told yourself it was coincidence. That it was just comfort, or familiarity. But here, with his arm snug around you and the world muted to nothing but the sound of his heartbeat, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You wanted this. Him. Always had.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you let your eyes slip closed. A soft, almost inaudible whisper drifted from his throat.

“Knew you’d always find your way back here…”

His words, half-asleep and low, made your heart squeeze. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew. Already felt it too. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully accept it, to let yourself sink into the warmth and quiet, knowing this was where you both belonged.

You thought you might drift off entirely, letting the warmth of his arm and the quiet of the lair lull you into sleep. But then, his voice came again, low and careful, as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile bubble of peace between you.

“Ya' know,” he murmured, pressing his cheek lightly to the top of your head, “I don’t mind. You being here. I… I like it.”

A small, happy shiver ran through you, and you nuzzled closer without thinking, resting your forehead against the curve of his plastron.

“I think,” he continued, voice half-dreamy, half-earnest, “I’ve been hoping you’d… stay. Even when you don’t realize it yourself.”

You felt his thumb trace a lazy circle on your hip, and it wasn’t heavy, not at all—it was grounding, warm, protective, like a silent promise.

“You’re… always welcome here,” he whispered, and the softness in his tone made your chest ache in the best way. “And I want you to know that I’m glad you’re always around.”

It was such a simple thing, really. Words that barely reached above a whisper. But in the quiet lair, curled up against him, it was everything.

As your eyes finally drifted closed for real, you felt him shift slightly, adjusting so you were completely nestled against him. His arm tightened just enough to be protective, not restricting, and a soft, sleepy chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Don’t think I’m letting you go anytime soon,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You sighed softly, letting yourself sink fully into the warmth, the security, the soft, unspoken promise of always being together. And finally, at last, you let sleep take you—curled up against Leonardo, safe, warm, and completely at peace.

Kinda in a fluffy mood ngl :'3