seen from Singapore
seen from Ireland
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Slovenia
seen from Italy
seen from Sweden
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Slovenia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Slovenia
seen from Slovenia
seen from China
seen from Slovenia
seen from Slovenia
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*....
Act Natural
Optimus Prime x GN!Human!reader (non-continuity specific)
Summary: It's a lovely, sunny day and your friend Optimus Prime comes to you for one of your favorite forms of self-care: a car wash! (Fluff; Can be read as romantic or platonic; Thoughts are in italics)
Warnings: none other than scrubbing bugs off a car.
Word Count: 1,848
A/N: Welp, here it is, my first oneshot! Just a little something simple, born from my weird love of washing cars, haha. I'm pretty proud of how it turned out considering I haven't written anything for fun in forever. I hope you enjoy it!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.
"How'd you get this dirty? I'd assume it was from a fight but I don't see any scuff marks or anything."
Picking your sponge out of the bucket of soapy water you had on the ground, you give Optimus' right side door a long swipe. It was currently a nice weekend afternoon, pleasantly warm and sunny - and a great time for your big bot buddy to stop by your house to ask for a wash. A much needed one apparently, as he was covered in a thick layer of dust before you gave him a quick power-washed rinse.
Imagine being sick and so you take a 'quick' nap at the lair, while the boys are out on patrol and they never realised that you slept over at the lair, then all they spot is you sleeping on the couch, cuddled up in Raph's knitted blanket and a plushie that Mikey gave you on your birthday, meanwhile Leo is making you tea when you wake up and Donnie is checking up on your heart rate just in case
-A<3
TMNT Drabbles & Oneshots ☆
Raphael - Soft Center
Raphael has always been the one with the tough exterior, 'rough around the edges', stubborn and fiery temper. Even though he is all of those things, he is also the sweetest, kindest and most thoughtful person when it comes to you.
Raph has a hard time saying how he feels. Words can just end up being too complicated for him and there's no doubt about that however, for what he lacks verbally he makes up for in action. Movie you've been wanting to watch? He's already got a date night at the lair figured out. You mentioned that you have been wanting to take self defense classes? He's got ya covered. He will teach you how to stay safe and kick all kinds of ass. Haven't been getting enough sleep recently? Yea, he can tell. He already has you a good pillow and blanket laid out for you to catch up on your beauty sleep.
As good brothers do, they pick on him about it but not too much (they try not to get TOO far on his bad side). It really just makes poor Raphael more bashful than anything. He tends to get a bit shy around you when approaching with his manifestations of affection but it's just because he really wants you to like whatever it is that he has in store this time.
Even though he might seem uninterested about a lot of things, he is always interested when it comes to you. He constantly pays attention to every detail about you and the littlest things you mention. No matter what he will always do what he can to show that he is listening and that he cares
☆ This work belongs to me
☆ This work is not allowed to be used for ai
Soo ummm I still don't think I'm great at writing smut but I've had this idea with Bay! Donnie for...a while so here. An offering for my fans ૮( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
The Night Shift
{Bay! Donnie x Fem! Reader}
This is smut! Somnophilia smut specifically! 18+ obviously so you are reading this at your own risk!! Please be aware!! Thank you and enjoy <3 (also this is long, the longest thing I've written I believe so be aware)
The lair was quiet, save for the hum of electronics and the occasional clatter of Donnie’s fingers against his keyboard. The blue glow of multiple monitors bathed his face in sharp contrasts, his goggles pushed up over his brow, eyes narrowed in concentration. He was deep in the guts of a new program, lines of code scrolling like water, and he’d been at it for hours.
You were curled up in the worn armchair beside his desk, the one he kept there specifically for you. A thin blanket—tugged from his cot—was draped over your legs, your head lolled against the padded back, lips slightly parted. You’d come by an hour ago, complaining of a long day, and he’d offered his chair while he worked. You’d hummed, stretched, and within twenty minutes, your breathing had evened out into soft, steady sleep.
Donnie’s attention kept drifting.
Not to the code. To you.
He watched the slow rise and fall of your chest beneath your loose tank top. The way your fingers twitched occasionally, palm resting open on your thigh. The gentle flutter of your eyelashes catching the light. Vulnerable. Trusting. Completely unaware.
His cock stirred against the fabric of his cargo shorts, and he shifted in his seat, trying to refocus. But the red strings of error messages glared at him, and he couldn’t care less. The longer he stared at you, the harder he got, the more the idea burrowed into his mind like a persistent worm.
You had an arrangement. Friends with benefits, no strings, no expectations. You’d fucked in his lab, in his room, on the rooftop, in the back of the Shellraiser. Always when you were both awake, both eager, both vocal. But this…
This was different.
He could taste the fantasy on his tongue. The thought of sliding into you while you slept, feeling your body respond without conscious permission, claiming you in the quiet, taking what you both knew you’d give if you were awake. It was a particular flavor of intimacy that made his pulse throb in his throat, his palms sweat.
You wouldn’t say no, he told himself. You never say no.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was that you couldn’t say yes. That you’d wake to the sensation of being filled, stretched, fucked, and the shock would melt into arousal, your body remembering what it liked before your mind caught up.
He bit his lower lip, hard, and killed the program without saving.
Carefully, silently, he rose from his chair, the cushion sighing with relief. His bare feet padded across the cool concrete floor, each step deliberate, measured, predator-slow. He stopped in front of you, looking down at your sleeping form. A strand of hair had fallen across your face, and he resisted the urge to brush it away. That would wake you.
Instead, he lowered himself to his knees.
The blanket was soft under his palms as he gently, slowly, eased it down. You stirred slightly, a soft murmur in your throat, then settled again. He held his breath, waiting, counting. When your breathing resumed its deep rhythm, he let the blanket pool beside you.
You were wearing those old sleep shorts, thin cotton, worn soft from washing. Your tank top had ridden up, revealing a strip of your stomach, the curve of your hip. He ran a hand along your bare shin, featherlight, testing. Your skin was warm, smooth. No reaction.
His cock was painfully hard now, pressing against the fly of his shorts. He freed it slowly, the thick, green shaft standing upright, pre-cum already beading at the tip. He stroked himself once, twice, just to relieve the pressure, then leaned forward.
First, his mouth.
He pressed his lips to your knee, a whisper of a kiss. Then another, higher on your thigh. Then another, closer to the hem of your shorts. He watched your face the entire time, waiting for any flicker of awareness. Nothing. You were deep under, lost in whatever dreamland your brain had conjured.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and tugged them down, inch by inch. The fabric slid over your hips, your thighs, baring your pussy to the cool air. You wore nothing underneath. Of course you didn’t.
Donnie’s mouth watered.
He spread your legs gently, settling between them. Your cunt was soft, closed, innocent in sleep. He could see the faint glisten of your natural moisture, but nothing more. You weren’t aroused. Not yet.
He would fix that.
His tongue, long and dextrous, traced a line from your entrance to your clit. A slow, exploratory stroke. He tasted the salt of your skin, the faint musk of your scent. Your body responded instinctively—a small shiver, a slight clench of your thighs. But you didn’t wake.
He did it again, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping at it in soft, teasing motions. He could feel the heat building, your flesh growing slick under his attention. Pre-cum dripped from his cock onto the floor, but he ignored it. His entire world was between your legs.
He sucked your clit into his mouth, gentle suction, and your hips twitched, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His heart hammered. He pulled back, watching. You shifted, your hand sliding off your stomach, but your eyes stayed closed.
Yes. Keep sleeping. Let me take care of you.
He nuzzled deeper, his tongue plunging into your cunt, tasting the growing wetness. He fucked you with his tongue, slow and deep, savoring every drop. Your body was beginning to respond more openly now—your hips rolling slightly, a low moan bubbling from your throat. But you were still under, a puppet of pleasure-driven reflex.
He pulled his mouth away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your slick folds. He wiped it with the back of his hand, then positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your slit. He wanted to watch your face when he entered you.
He pushed.
Slow. So slow. The head breached your entrance, stretching you open around his girth. Your lips parted, a faint gasp. He paused, letting your body adjust. Then he sank deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against yours. He was buried inside you, fully sheathed, and you hadn’t even stirred.
The feeling was exquisite. Your cunt was hot, tight, gripping him in reflexive pulses. He could feel your heartbeat through your walls. He stayed still, savoring the sensation, watching the peaceful expression on your face. You were so beautiful like this—open, relaxed, completely his.
Then he began to move.
Long, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. He built a rhythm, steady and unhurried, each stroke pushing a little deeper, a little harder. Your breath hitched on each inward slide, small sounds escaping you—whimpers, half-formed moans. He loved every one.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the armchair’s sides, his face hovering over yours. He could feel your warm breath on his lips, could smell the faint scent of your shampoo. He whispered your name, barely audible, just to taste it on his tongue.
You didn’t answer. You were still sleeping, though your hips had begun to move in counterpoint to his thrusts, a dreamy, unconscious rhythm. Your hands twitched, fingers curling into the cushion.
Donnie’s pace quickened. The need was building, a coil tightening in his gut. He wanted to bury himself deeper, to fuck you harder, to make you whimper loud enough to wake. But he held back, maintaining that gentle, possessive cadence. This was about the slow burn, the quiet greed.
He reached down, thumb finding your clit, pressing and circling in tandem with his thrusts. Your legs tightened around him, your breath quickened. He felt your walls flutter, a telltale sign of imminent climax. You were going to come in your sleep, your body surrendering without your conscious permission.
That thought alone nearly made him spill.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Your back arched, a soft cry breaking from your lips, and your cunt clamped down on him in a series of pulsing waves. He watched you come, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes still closed, your mouth open in a silent O. It was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.
He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting through your orgasm, drawing it out, milking every shudder. Your body was limp, pliant, accepting everything he gave. He felt the last spasms fade, and then he was chasing his own release, fucking deeper, faster, harder.
“Ah—fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking.
He came with a guttural sound, buried to the hilt, his cum flooding your depths in hot, thick spurts. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing harshly, feeling the aftershocks ripple through you both. For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then he felt your hand brush his.
Donnie froze.
He lifted his head, meeting your eyes. They were half-lidded, hazy with sleep and something else—recognition, acceptance. A slow, lazy smile spread across your face.
“Took you long enough,” you murmured, your voice rough with sleep.
A grin cracked his beak. He kissed you, tasting himself on your lips.
“You were dead to the world,” he said against your mouth. “I had to be thorough.”
You laughed softly, your legs tightening around him, keeping him inside. “Thorough. Right.”
He thrust once, shallowly, and you gasped, your eyes fluttering.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, pulling back to look at you. “I’m not done. I’ve got all night, and you’ve got a cot that’s much more comfortable.”
You arched an eyebrow, but the heat in your gaze gave you away. “Is that so?”
He lifted you out of the chair, still buried inside you, and carried you toward the corner of the lab where his cot was shoved against the wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, and let him lay you down.
The night was just beginning.
The cot groaned under your combined weight as Donnie laid you down, his body still pressed against yours, still buried deep inside. The thin mattress sagged, but neither of you cared. His arms caged you on either side, his breath hot against your neck as he stayed perfectly still, letting the moment stretch.
You shifted beneath him, a deliberate roll of your hips, and he hissed through his teeth. His cock was still half-hard, slick with his release and your arousal, and the movement sent a jolt through both of you.
"Impatient?" he murmured, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear.
"Just checking if you're still in there." Your voice was sleep-roughened, but your hands were already sliding up his arms, tracing the ridges of his biceps, the curve of his shoulders. "That was a hell of a wake-up call."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide. A smirk tugged at the corner of his beak. "You seemed to enjoy it."
"You know I did." You reached up, fingers threading through the edge of his mask, tugging him down. "But I'm awake now. I want to feel everything."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He withdrew slowly, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls making you gasp. He watched your face, the way your lips parted, the way your eyes fluttered half-closed. Then he pushed back in, harder this time, a full, deep stroke that punched the air from your lungs.
"Like that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"God—yes."
He set a pace that was relentless, no longer gentle or cautious. Each thrust was deliberate, aimed, calculated to hit the spots he'd mapped out through weeks of fucking you in every possible position. He knew your body like he knew his machines, every switch, every button, every sensitive node.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your heels digging into the small of his back. The cot squeaked in protest, but the sound was lost beneath your moans, the wet slap of skin on skin, his guttural grunts.
He lowered himself, chest to chest, his plastron pressing against your softness. The weight of him was grounding, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ragged against your skin, and fucked you with a focused intensity that bordered on desperate.
"You feel—" He cut himself off, a shudder running through him. "Fuck. You feel so good."
Your fingers raked down his shell, nails scratching against the edge. He groaned, his hips stuttering, and you felt him thicken inside you, knew he was close.
"Not yet," you whispered, your voice a command. "I want to ride you."
He pulled out immediately, despite the visible strain on his face. He rolled onto his back, the cot groaning under his larger frame, and pulled you on top of him. His hands found your hips, guiding you as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the thin mattress.
You reached down, wrapping your hand around his cock, feeling the heat and slickness. You guided the head to your entrance, teasing, rubbing it through your folds, watching his eyes roll back.
"Don't tease," he growled, his grip tightening on your hips.
"Make me."
He did.
He thrust up, impaling you in one sharp motion, and you cried out, your head falling back. The angle was different, deeper, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. You braced your hands on his chest and began to move, a rhythm born of mutual hunger.
He watched you, his gaze fixed on where your bodies joined, watching himself disappear into you, watching the glisten of your slickness coat his shaft. His hands roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, sliding down to grip your ass, guiding your movements.
"Look at you," he breathed. "So fucking perfect."
You leaned forward, your hair falling around your faces like a curtain, and kissed him. It was messy, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss that wasn't about tenderness but about possession. He bit your lower lip, pulling, and you moaned into his mouth.
He flipped you again, faster than you could process, pinning you beneath him, your legs hooked over his shoulders. The new angle had you nearly folded in half, and he drove into you with a brutal precision that left you gasping.
"Don—Donnie—"
"Say my name," he growled, each word punctuated by a thrust. "Say it when you come."
He reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, pressing hard, circling in time with his strokes. The pressure built, coiling tight, your walls clenching around him.
"I'm—fuck—Donnie!"
Your orgasm crashed over you, a wave that started in your core and radiated outward, your back arching, your vision going white. He fucked you through it, his own control snapping, his hips slamming into you as he spilled inside you again, hot and thick, a groan tearing from his throat.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting pressure, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the distant hum of the lair's systems.
You lay there, tangled, sweaty, satisfied. His lips pressed lazy kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your jaw.
"You're going to be sore tomorrow," he murmured.
"Worth it."
He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest, through you. "Stay the night. Actually sleep this time. I'll wake you up again if you want."
You smiled, your eyes already growing heavy. "Promises, promises."
He pulled the thin blanket over both of you, his arm draped across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. You could feel the slow beat of his heart against your back, steady and real.
The lair settled into quiet. The monitors flickered on standby. And Donnie held you, his mind already cataloging the sounds you made, the way you moved, the things he wanted to try next time.
Because there would always be a next time.
Ermm please let me know what you thought of this! I'd love to know! As always if you have a request feel free to put it in and have a wonderful day!! Love you guys ❤️
Operation: Ask her out - Success || Optimus Prime ||
A/n: He's doing his best
The next morning arrived with an unusual tension that only one Cybertronian seemed to notice.
Optimus had commanded troops through impossible battles, negotiated fragile peace treaties between warring civilizations, and stared down enemies capable of extinguishing entire worlds.
Yet standing just outside the garage while watching you laugh with Bumblebee somehow proved infinitely more.....intimidating.
Jazz noticed immediately.
The silver Autobot now in the more humanized android body leaned casually against one of the support beams, sipping from a paper coffee cup someone had insisted humans carried everywhere. Whether he actually needed the coffee was beside the point. It completed the illusion of normalcy his android body was trying to project.
“You’ve been standin’ there for six minutes.”
“I have.” Optimus states, hands rigidly behind his back.
“You gonna ask her?”
“I intend to.”
“…you gonna do it....Today?”
Optimus hesitated. “I intend to.”
Jazz sighed into his coffee. “Prime.”
“I am… considering my wording.”
“Boss, you’ve been considerin’ your wording since yesterday.”
Before Optimus could answer, Ironhide wandered past carrying several ammunition crates balanced effortlessly against one shoulder. He took one look at the pair, followed Optimus’s line of sight toward you, and immediately understood.
“So?” he asked. “Did lover boy ask her yet?”
“I have not.”
Ironhide snorted. “Just walk over there.”
“It is not quite so simple.”
“It is literally that simple.”
“It is not.”
“It is.” Jazz pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You know what?” Ironhide continued. “You’re overthinkin’ this.”
“I wish to ensure she feels respected.”
“And she will.”
“I wish for her to understand that my intentions are sincere.”
“She will.”
“I do not wish to make her uncomfortable.”
Ironhide stared at him for a long moment before throwing one hand into the air. “Prime, you’re the only guy I know who could turn askin’ a woman to dinner into a military campaign.”
Jazz couldn’t help but start laughing. “He’s got you there.”
Optimus looked genuinely thoughtful. “…Perhaps I have overprepared.”
“You think?”
Across the garage, you were blissfully unaware of the crisis unfolding several yards away.
Ratchet in his own humanized android form had handed you a scanner while muttering something about calibration, and you obediently followed his instructions despite understanding perhaps half of the technical explanation.
“So if this line goes into the green…”
“Good.”
“And red is…”
“Very bad.” He states, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.
“What happens if it turns purple?” You blinked tilting your head.
Ratchet paused. “…Do not allow it to turn purple.”
You blinked. “I appreciate how that answered absolutely nothing.”
Before Ratchet could respond, Bumblebee’s radio crackled. “Mission objective: Don’t let it become purple.”
You laughed. “Even Bee doesn’t know.”
The radio immediately switched to exaggerated game-show applause.
Sam arrived moments later carrying two sodas and far more confidence than experience.
He glanced toward Optimus, noticed the leader still standing exactly where he’d been several minutes earlier, and groaned. “Dude…”
Jazz immediately pointed at him. “No.”
“What?”
“You are not helping.”
“I was just gonna...!”
“No.”
“I learned from yesterday.” Sam protested.
“You absolutely did not.”
Sam frowned. “I kinda did.”
Jazz folded his arms. “You told a ten-million-year-old alien robot to introduce himself as ‘potential romantic partner.’”
“…When you say it out loud…”
“It gets worse every time.”
Optimus drew a slow, unnecessary breath, he had delayed long enough.
Before another interruption could present itself, he crossed the garage with measured steps that somehow felt heavier than armor.
You looked up the moment his shadow fell across the workbench as your face brightened instantly.
“Morning, Optimus.”
Every carefully rehearsed sentence vanished.
The notebook.
The crossed-out greetings.
The disastrous lessons.
Gone.
There was only you smiling at him as though seeing him was the easiest thing in the world.
“…Good morning,” he replied softly.
Something about his voice made you tilt your head.
“You okay?”
“I am.” He clasped his hands behind his back, a familiar gesture that usually accompanied battlefield briefings. Today, however, there was the faintest hint of nervousness beneath his composed posture. “I just wished to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
Across the garage, four heads slowly rose from behind various pieces of equipment.
Jazz spotted you both immediately. “Oh, no.”
Sam.
Bumblebee
Ironhide.
Even Ratchet had stopped pretending not to watch.
Jazz sighed. “We are all terrible.”
Sam shrugged. "At least it's entertaining."
Meanwhile, Optimus remained blissfully unaware of his audience.
“I have recently come to understand…” he began carefully, “…that you have never been invited on what humans consider… a proper date.”
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “…I may have mentioned that.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t realize anyone heard me.”
“My hearing is… rather difficult to circumvent.”
You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”
His sapphire eyes met yours,not with the unnerving, unblinking intensity Sam or any other human had once suggested, but warmly.
“I found myself thinking about your words for quite some time.”
Your eyes went wide as something fluttered unexpectedly in your chest. “You did?”
“I did.” His expression softened in a way that seemed almost vulnerable as he then continued his speech. “I have faced many difficult decisions throughout my life.” He smiled faintly, almost amused with himself. “Surprisingly… this has proven to be among the more intimidating.”
Your heart melted. “…Really?”
“You are.....very important to me.”
A simple honest answer.
“I enjoy every conversation we share. I find myself seeking opportunities to spend time in your company. When I witness your kindness toward others…” His smile grew just enough to reach his eyes. “…it reminds me that even after countless wars, goodness continues to exist.”
Warmth creeped up your neck and behind a nearby support pillar, Sam clutched Bumblebee’s hood.
“Dude,” he whispered.
Jazz elbowed him. “Quiet.”
“I am being quiet.”
“You whispered ‘dude.’”
Optimus looked down briefly before returning his gaze to yours. “I realized there was no speech I could prepare that would express my thoughts more honestly than the truth.” His voice remained gentle. “So…”
For perhaps the first time in millions of years, Optimus Prime looked genuinely uncertain, his gaze drifted away from you. “If it would make you happy…” His smile was small but unmistakably real as he finally looked into your eyes. “…would you allow me the privilege of taking you on a date?”
The entire garage seemed to stop breathing.
You stared at him for one stunned heartbeat, this was the last thing you were expecting. “You’ve been stressing over asking me?”
“…Perhaps.”
“For how long?”
“…Longer than I would prefer to admit.”
Your smile became impossibly softer. “Optimus…”
Without thinking, you reached out and took one of his large hands between both of yours.
His fingers instinctively curled ever so slightly around yours, as though afraid to hold too tightly.
“I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”
For a fraction of a second, the ancient Autobot Commander simply stared.
Then relief swept across his face with such quiet sincerity that it transformed him.
The tension in his shoulders disappeared and behind the support pillar, Sam forgot every promise he’d made to stay quiet.
“YES!”
The shout echoed across the garage.
Everyone froze.
Sam’s eyes widened. “…Oops.”
Optimus slowly closed his eyes. “…Samuel.”
“I got excited!”
Ironhide barked out a booming laugh, Bumblebee’s radio erupted into triumphant fanfare, Ratchet muttered something about everyone in the building behaving like adolescents, and Jazz simply rubbed a hand over his face before grinning.
“I told you he’d blow it.”
Sam pointed toward the two of you, entirely unashamed. “But she said yes!”
You couldn’t stop laughing.
Neither, to your surprise, could Optimus.
The deep, warm sound rumbled from his chest as he looked down at you, your hands still wrapped around his, and in that moment every disastrous rehearsal, every terrible piece of advice, every crossed-out sentence in a discarded notebook suddenly seemed worthwhile.
Because in the end, the only words that had mattered were the ones that had come straight from his spark.
On My Last Nerve: Bay! Raph x Reader
💌 not my favorite thing i’ve ever written, which is probably a given, considering how long it took— but hey. it’s some words on paper (tumblr) ❤️🩹 lots of scrambled words. may rewrite. enjoy beautiful ppl
requests are open! <3 getting to them slowly
tags: bayverse, request part 2, not a pre-established relationship, apologies previous anon, angst w/ comfort, distant reader (?), raph comforts you through a breakup
synopsis: raph hears the banter from you and your now ex-boyfriend over patrol one night. he comes to ease your mind a little, unexpectedly.
𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇
bayverse tmnt x reader | raphael x black! fem! reader
for years, raphael has followed/crushed on you, an up and coming music artist and starlet, ever since your debut. now, when you comes back to new york to throw a premiere party, he finally has a chance to see you in person... though, a foot clan attack threatens to ruin the festivities.
cw - violence, injury, fighting, romance, love at first sight-ish, raph is adorable, leo is leo, mikey is mikey, 16+, pretty tame
The clang of metal echoed through the lair’s weight room.
Raphael lay flat on the bench, his massive green frame straining but steady as he pressed another rep of a weight well over two thousand pounds.
Sweat gleamed along the ridge of his shell, muscles taut as he lowered, lifted, lowered again with practiced rhythm.
Beside him, propped against the bench, his beat-up phone streamed a live interview.
