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moxfirefly · 4 months ago

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Climbing Floors to Purple Light

This is a little brain worm I've had, for who knows how long, and I finally got it out. I know there isn't much interaction between reader and Donnie but I'm gonna be honest the point of this fic was to give you guys a reader who has the chance to fight for herself. Domestic violence is a rampant and killing oppression that many people face. Some do not have the strength to leave their situations, some may not even know they're in situations to begin with, and some do die. I come from a childhood filled with domestic violence and child abuse, and many years I had laid awake watching out that trailer window not knowing that what I was going through was wrong but knowing I never wanted it for myself. Sadly, that doesn't make me immune to falling into the cycle my mother and grandmother had, we are all at the potential of falling into harmful relationships. Stay aware, stay safe, and stay open to help. You are not alone

Tw: domestic violence, crude language, ugly men, ominous ending for ex

It's a little bit of a rainy night here in New York, drizzling against your umbrella as you walk back to your apartment with a pep in your step. The guy's and April had made the plan to have a fun game night to start off the weekend, and afterward, the guys would head out to do their usual rounds. Hanging with them was always the best, Mikey had a habit of making whatever drink you have coming out your nose with his jokes, but you were more excited about one brother specifically.

You and Donatello had been going steady for… 6 months? You struggled to remember, but he could tell you the exact days, minutes, and hours. He was a total upgrade from your last relationship, kind and attentive, patient, and forgiving. April claimed this should be considered the norm, but your bar had been set kinda, maybe super, low. But that just made everything better in your eyes! And yeah, sometimes when he was nose deep in some business, you can get kind of lonely. But you can't even dwell on it long before he door dashes a treat to your apartment or sends you plans for a date that he'd rolled in his brain for the past couple hours.

Just thinking about him makes you smile, and quickly, you pull your phone out, shooting a quick text to him that you're about to be inside the building. Maybe you were moving too fast with him, falling in so deep, sharing parts of yourself with him that you probably wouldn't have done with any other guy. Yet, it all felt so right.

There was one part you had not shared with him, though.It hadn't helped that your last relationship was so…mean. Being hit hurt more than it looked on TV, and a long time ago, you had convinced yourself that a part of you deserved it. The hair pulling and kicking your knees, gripping you till there were big purple splotches. You lost friends, somehow didn't lose your job, and at this point could feel the look of pity from miles away. Being handed brochures on how to leave dangerous situations by supporting groups or defacs workers and being asked if there was trouble at home by worrying grannies. You would persist that it was fine, would throw away the pamphlets or guiltily shove them in an old coat pocket in the back of your closet.It had taken being beaten down on the bathroom floor just because of how you were "looking at him" to finally realize it'd be best getting out of there. That resulted in a restraining order and moving in with April, which led to meeting the turtles and led to meeting someone who made you so happy. It was the best choice you had made in a long time. It's been nearly 2 years since then, he felt like a distant memory behind you.

You're quick to put your card key to the door panel and swing it open, shoes clicking onto the linoleum when you get in. The elevator was straight across from the main door. All you had to do was get in, and you'd be a hallway away from your apartment. Pressing the button, you wait, watching the numbers above the door dwindle down as they come to the lobby and ding open. Stepping in, the overhead light is dim, having not been changed in who knows how long, and the buttons are worn, but you know which is yours.

You expect the doors to shut, but a hand shoots out and stops them, and in a dark hood and a ball cap, your ex's face pops up.

"Y/n?" He's not even waiting before he wedges himself in through the barely opened doors. Your stomach drops, and a heavy weight makes you nauseous as your tongue feels cemented to the top of your mouth. He's standing on the opposite side of the elevator, at least, but you're thumbing your phone in your pocket. "Hope you don't mind, I followed behind you when you opened the door."

What?

Had you been so careless not to notice him right there??

"You were behind me?" It comes out as even as you can make it, a little breathless from anxiety. He nods like it's the most casual thing in the world, and the elevator doors are sliding shut. Like the heavy gates to some cage, they squeak, and your center of gravity feels off as it lifts."Yeah," He shuffles a bit, hands in his pockets. "I had to wait for you at work and everything to figure out where you were staying. You're pretty hard to find." He double takes when you do, noticing your panicked state and defensively raises his hands. "But it was just so I could talk to you! I really wanna work things out babe…"

"I don't!" Your voice cracks, and he looks stunned, so you gulp a breath down and speak again. "We are done. We have been done, I don't know why, why you at all thought it was okay to come find me li-" He's coming towards you and it makes you flinch, shoulders pressed into the corner of this suddenly very too tiny elevator. He doesn't touch you, just crowds, body blocking your line of sight from the elevator panel and doors.

"Y/n, liten to me…" You're already shaking your head and trembling hands reach up, leaving your phone in your pocket, just in the hopes to maybe keep space between you both. That makes him sneer. A rough hand tries to knock them away, but you yank away, trying to slide past him. "Y/n!"

"No! I don't want to!" You hate that you're getting panicked so easy. But he had been so cruel the last time you had seen him, had left you there to pick yourself up while he went out without you. You couldn't do it anymore. And now that he's in front of you again, it's like you're a rabbit in the jaw of some hunting dog. Raised and bred by their hunting, neglectful fathers, and sad, pushover mothers to be hateful and harmful to women. A cycle that you had repeated onto you, a flower squashed in some book about war, you can't let it happen again.

You try to turn away from him and pull your phone out but freeze as the elevator stops, the emergency alarm beeping from overhead. "I said listen to me, Y/n."You barely get to turn and see that he had pushed it before knuckles meet your face, and you crumple away from him, phone skidding across the small floor. You feel like you're blabbering as you beg for a second to catch yourself. "Wait, wait, please -"

"I don't know why you're acting like such a major bitch." He's crouching down, grabbing your ankles, trying to drag you to him. "I did a lot for you, I was the reason you even had friends, even got your job." You sober up quickly when you feel yourself coming closer to him, fingers digging into the floor to drag and lift yourself. Those few self-defense lessons Leo had given you wouldn't be for naught.You've gotta get to your phone and get out of here.

—

"Hey, where's Y/n? She was supposed to be here a couple of minutes ago, right?" April wonders, leaning against the counter as she watches the queso dip heat in the microwave. The brothers sit in the living room, watching as Raph indecisively scrolls through what movie they'd play in the background. Mikey is stacking the game boxes ridiculously high in one corner while Leo lazily scrolls on his phone. Donnie is the only one to lean back and answer her, though.

"Yeah, she texted me earlier and said she was close, so I'm assuming it'll be another minute or two." A toilet flushes, and Casey walks out from the hall, adjusting his pants.

"What are we talking about?" He comes into the open kitchen with April snuggling up to her side. "Y/n isn't here yet. Did you wash your hands?" He freezes awkwardly and backs up, sheepishly moving to the kitchen sink.

"Eeew, Case C'mon.""I bet if you ask those four, they're not washing their hands." April's face pinches up, but Donnie snorts. "I don't know, Leo is pretty anal about that kind of stuff."

April can hear Mikey and Raph giggling before they even open their mouths, and she can't help but smile herself. "Okay, you guys are officially nasty!"

Everyone laughs, carefree, and floating out the window.

—

You're panting. This elevator feels like a grave to you, buried under cement and hidden from everyone. Your phone sits, cracked in between you both. Your eye feels like it's throbbing, blood drips down your nose, and you taste it in your mouth. He has scratches on his cheek, and a part of his hair is ugily skewed from being pulled. When he had gotten ahold of your ankles, you had kicked out of them, but he was quick to lunge and slam his fists down on you.

You had done everything you could, kicked your knees up into his stomach, and slid yourself away. You had tried picking your phone up again, hands fumbling, but he knocked it from you. Crowding you again, hands going into your hair and yanking to the point it brings tears to your eyes, you take a hand and slash at him, coming up again to pull his own hair. He had a grip on you, though, shaking you violently by your hair and standing you both up. His other hand punched at your face again with no direction. One hit collided with your eye, directly into the lens. You hear your glasses crack, and the plastic pinches your nose and the soft skin of your eyebrow.

"All you had to do was hear me out!" Spittle hits your face, head whooshing, and you can barely hear him with all this sound. The emergency alarm sounds louder than it had before, thrumming in your ears and flooding your senses. And in slow motion, you're colliding with the wall of the elevator, body slammed against metal. "Why are you so fucking dense! You never learn!"

It's like a sleeper agent coming to life when you hear that phrase. The last thing he had said to you the last time he had seen you, what you had hoped was the last time.

"GET OFF ME!"

With a sudden rush, you're awkwardly hiking up your leg and shooting it straight at his gut. Your work shoes must've hurt because he's stumbling back, hand releasing your hair.

This is what leads to you both standing across from each other. Your phone, in the middle, the button to get the elevator moving beside him, nothing beside you. The choice you had to make, the levels of importance. To get this elevator moving brought you closer to home, to get your phone would let your friends know you needed help.You don't even give him a chance to open his mouth before you're jumping for the elevator panel.

You throw yourself against it, crying out as his arms wrap around you, throwing you down onto the floor. You wilt for a second, thinking you had wasted it as he grabs at your clothes, a seam ripping as he drags you again, but victoriously, the alarm stops and the elevator is in motion once more.

"You bitch!" He's staggering to get up and press it again, the elevator moving throws him off balance. And you, with vindication,kick the back of his knee and watch him stumble nose-first into the railing.

"Siri!" You shout, and the chime rings, cutting the moment of silence, and he's whipping around. The first name that comes out of your mouth, the one you had waited for all day, your purple light in that dark tunnel. "Call Donatello!"

…

"Calling Michelangelo!" Good enough!Your phone is ringing when a punch lands on your ribs. The pain makes your whole torso ache. You still have to fight, to shout, you wouldn't lie down again, and this time you wouldn't be alone picking up pieces of yourself, you were not gonna be left broken. You hear the phone pick up, Mikey's happy 'Sup Gurl!' Murmurs from the phone, and you gasp, gathering the air in this little space…And scream.

—

Things had started getting set up, Leo insisting they pull out a game so when Y/n got here, the ball would be rolling. They're all sitting around the coffee table, clue is set up, and everyone is picking pieces.

"I just don't understand why you won't let me have Mrs. Peacock." Leo fusses, looking sourly at the Reverand Greene pawn he's holding.

"The only reason is because Y/n likes her," Donnie insists and cutely makes Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock touch faces, his oldest brother stares the action down, unamused. "It'd be unfair to leave her with leftover characters just because she's running a little late."

"Uh huh, sure," Mikey teases, fiddling with his own pawn. "Definitely not because you're thinking that's you two in another life."

"That's not plausible," Donnie snarks, "We're far more compatible than Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock. We just like these two.

"My Bubblegum by Rasheeda starts up, coming from Mikey's pocket.

"There is no way that's your ringtone!" April giggles, watching as Casey dances in his seat to the music. Mikey is cheesing, glad it's getting recognized.

"Well, duh! It's trending right now," Taking a quick peek at his phone has him sitting up, though. "Uh oh Don, it's your snookums, think she changed her mind on which brother is the best?" He's waggling his brows for show as Donnie rolls his eyes, big hands still pressing Mrs. Peacock and Professor Plum together. Mikey answers the phone on speaker phone and with a quick "Sup Gurl!" And before he can follow up asking where she's at, her scream cuts through the speaker, shrill and frantic.

Everyone is suddenly standing, the air tenses as some man is shouting profanities at her, and dull thuds can be heard.

"Where the hell is she?" Raphael asks, but Donnie is already looking concerned at a screen with a dot flashing on it."She's here." He tries, eyes roving over nothing, trying to think of any spaces there are, but a ding reaches over her struggling, and the dots connect.

"The elevator!" April confirms, having heard the ding every day coming home. It was hard to miss. Leo starts to grab his sheathed katanas, already thinking of how to get access."Alright, we need to find a way to get into the elevator shaft, if we can get the dro- "

He doesn't even get to finish before Donnie is racing right out the front door and into the hallway. His brother's call behind him, warning him of the risk he's taking, but they don't deny following after him, Casey tailing to watch any doors that may open.

He can see before he touches the door that the elevator has reached its floor, but before the doors slide open, there's a thud, and the emergency alarm blares from it again. Donnie gives it no time before he's taking both his hands and wedging his fingers through the elevator door. What would've taken two or three men to open only took him, with barely any strain, and the sight before him makes his vision spotty.

—

That call had been your saving grace. The silence on his end showed you they had understood. The pain is nothing to the relief in that moment, his hand around your neck as the other reaches behind him and slams into the emergency button again. This time, the lights go off, and the strain on the elevator makes the overhead bulbs pop.

You fear the fight you'd have to put up in the dark, weakly kicking your feet, his hand trying to tighten around your neck, but then you hear this loud groan. A sliver of light peaks through where the doors are, and in a sense of urgency, your ex pushes off of you and separates himself. He's already stammering out some excuse as you lie there trying to catch your breath, but whatever he sees has him gasping.

"Wh, what the fuck!" His voice goes up an octave, face drained of color, the scratch marks on his face now starkly red. Your head feels heavy, flat on your back knees still hiked up in defense, you try with the last bit of your strength and turn to see.

Donnie, with the hall lights shining on his back, looks objectively terrifying and threatening. To anyone, he would be considered a monster, but to you, it was, again, that purple light in the dark tunnel.

He doesn't even pay mind to the other person in there with you, crouching down to gently lift you to your knees and beckon over some of his brothers.

"You did so good," He gently murmurs, brushing back your hair and fretting over your broken glasses, taking them off your face and pocketing them. Michelangelo comes behind him, hands reaching to guide you out, but you feel hesitant leaving Donnie, your body still shaking. "I'll handle the rest, Dove. They've got you."

That gentle nudge convinces you to move into Michelangelo's arms, being lifted and carried past a rather calm Leonardo, Raphael, and Casey, who almost look like they're holding post in the hallway. April meets you at her door, rushing Mikey in and racing for her first aid kit. You feel numb, like the energy was sucked from you, but Mikey still fidgets with your clothes, trying to imitate the way Donnie had pet your hair back.

"Don't worry, angel, it's gonna get handled, your ol' Donnie's on it." And all you can do is nod and breathe, the pain slowly growing as that adrenaline and fear fade away. April is coming back with a mess of a box when you see it, beyond the open doorway. An old man is shutting his door.

—

He watches as Michelangelo takes her back down the hall and doesn't turn back until they're both out of sight. He looks at his two older brothers, at Casey, who all nod."Do what you've gotta do." Raphael, ever the one to encourage a fight. But Leonardo looks like he's ready to agree.

He's about to speak, but a door creaks open, the one across from April's, where an old man peeks out to see what the noise is about. He freezes for a second, seeing this scuffed up guy in the elevator, but then he sees Y/n crying, sitting in sight of the doorway of April's apartment, looking worse.It doesn't take a man long to understand what's happening here. He knows Casey and April, knows their good character, and whatever they let happen with these men must be for good reason

."Have a good evening, boys, yeah?" And he shuts the door, doesn't even bother to lock the door, and it's just them again.

That was his cue.

Donnie stands to his full height, looking down at this shaking leaf, and takes a looming step onto the elevator. It creaks a little under his weight, dipping just an inch past being level with the floor, and reverently, Donnie leans over to the panel and turns the emergency alarm off. The Guy must realize what he's trying to do, and scrambles, trying to bolt out, but he's snatched up by Donatello, harshly gagging as the collar of his shirt chokes him. The elevator dings, yet the light doesn't come on, and as the doors are shutting, Donnie brings this guy right to the front of him, peering down. "Let's see if you can last as many floors as she did."

Darkness envelopes both of them.

#still obsessed #donatello

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moxfirefly · 4 months ago

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*cough* Take this *cough*

There had been many moments in Leo's life where he had been unprepared for the beauty of womanhood. His first time seeing them dance along the television screen, the disney princesses that Mikey would put on just to forget about. An innocent appreciation, sweet and gentle, where now that he's older, he laughs at himself for being so enamored.

In his early teenage years, where suddenly a girl who was pretty had much more weight to it than it used to. That quiet and wistful sighing he and his brothers would release at any glimpse of girlhood. Never verbalizing their wish to feel that around them, in their home that is masculine and loud, whether with anger amongst each other or the laughter that they sometimes worry could be heard from far underground. In his later teenage years, where unlike his younger brothers, who would have posters of pretty women, he would instead read and, in his own mind, curate that feminine energy into something shaped. She'd have no face, as much as he wished for one, but it had felt whatever features he'd give her, none could do it justice.

When April comes into their lives, he realizes that while he wishes for love, a sister is enough. Suddenly, but not drastically, the cement alcove that he and his family had resided in finally had that energy they had craved. Fairy lights in the dark corners, a throw blanket that doesn't fit over them, but holds so much warmth, a warm candle, a nice smelling bathroom. It had become their new way, embraced, and ecstatic for some concept of normal.

Over time, coming into adulthood, they gain new friends. Casey, who would be considered Raphael's soulmate (he had been pushed for saying that), Vern, who was not so much their friend as April’s…. And most recently, if a year can be considered recently, Y/n.

She had been something 10 fold to April's gentleness. A sweet scent follows her everywhere she goes. Cute shoes that clicked. Hair that flounces with every movement of her. He had never thought that innocent admiration would come back, but it had. Nestled deep within him, cracking from its shell and sprouting slowly.

Truly, he had seen her as yet another addition to this found family, nothing more, nothing less. The admiration would sit, subservient and watching, appreciating the presence of her and basking in that sweet smell that would follow. It really wasn't meant to be anything. He swears by it.

That was until she had thrown her leg at him, a smile so big it could crack her face. The heel of her foot props up on his leg, digging into the meat of his thigh to keep her balance, and Leo can't help but linger on the curve of her foot, the way her ankle isn't even as thick as his wrist. But quickly, he looks up at where she stands, smiling at him, and suddenly that admiration doesn't feel like it did from when he was a child.She must notice his confusion and flourish her hand towards her leg.

“Feel it, I just shaved, and I want someone to appreciate it!” And suddenly, he notices her hair is wet, a t-shirt hanging off her shoulder, and those cute gingham shorts that she had gotten herself as a little treat the day she got that job.

“...Feel?” He parrots back at her, so zoned in on her that he doesn't bother to look back when he hears Michelangelo giggle. She nods encouragingly, “Yeah, feel, Leo.”

He looks back down at that leg, following the curve of her thigh and the meat of her calf, seeing how the skin shines compared to the scales on his forearm. Had she done this earlier in the year when she was still new, he would've politely declined, found some decorum, and excuse himself. But now, as he looks at the leg resting upon his own, he can't help but swallow that lump in his throat.

“What's wrong with you fearless? It's not like her leg is gonna bite at you.” Raph jests, leaned back in the one recliner they had.

“If you don't feel, I will.” the second oldest muses, and suddenly Leo feels threatened, and puts a possessive hand around her ankle. It stays, frozen, and again, he looks up at her, and she looks down at him, and that admiring turns into exactly what he fears it would. A burning in his chest that drops down to his stomach as his big hand smoothly rubs up her shin, cupping her knee, and down her leg again, his thumb resting on the bine that juts from her ankle.

Leo had never known what true strength was, not until now, when he has to lift his hand from her leg and hold in that same wistful sigh like when he was a teenager and just nod. He doesn't even look at her leg, blue eyes boring into her face, a distraction from temptation.

“Yes, very nice.” He curtly affirms, and the sad pout on her face that follows makes that warmth in his stomach burn just a little hotter. “That's it? Just nice?” She asks dejectedly, taking her leg back and standing to her full height. “Not ‘amazing!’ Or ‘wow so smooth'?”

“Amazing, wow so smooth.” He spits out robotically and realizes he must've sounded stupid with how his two younger brothers laugh. Y/n huffs, obviously biting the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. “Thank you” She murmers, and for a split second Leo wonders if that's shyness he hears, her cheeks pink. And as she walks off, his eyes follow, and that admiration for womanhood, femininity, turns into a deep want for just one. And she's got smooth legs and cute gingham shorts on.

#bestie writing gold here ��#leonardo

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moxfirefly · 4 months ago

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Helloooo

This isn't meant as a "when's the next chapter" etc, simply me coming to your ask box to tell you how much I love "The Guard and the Mob Princess".

I know I've commented on it on AO3 too, but man. Coming back to re-read for probably the 6th time now.

You're extremely talented.

Hey there hon! You don’t know how happy it makes me that you still enjoy that fic regardless. I know I’ve kept you in suspense about what might be the outcome and honestly I’m stuck between a good or band ending type of deal. So maybe you can be the deciding factor since you’ve been so sweet about it.

Would you prefer a happy-ish ending or an angst filled one?

#ninnosaurus #ask #I’m legit #tell me and I think that might push me in the direction needed

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moxfirefly · 5 months ago

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Heisenberg has something to say

#resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg

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moxfirefly · 6 months ago

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more of leo being pretty in oots ♡

#toxic brat #Leo

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moxfirefly · 6 months ago

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Happy Valentine's Day

#ethan winters #re8 #karl heisenberg #wintersberg

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moxfirefly · 6 months ago

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

But on with the show.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

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

All the staring.

The quiet little gestures.

His passive resistance.

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

Leonardo doesn’t crack easily you’ve gathered.

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

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

You’re liquor to him, addicting and burning.

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

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

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

Because he could still reject.

He could push away your pulling aura.

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

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

It’s tentative and charged with electricity.

He’s a knife.

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

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

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

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

Are his pretty beaten hands wrapped around himself right now?

Is he begin for you?

Is he dying for you?

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

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

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

Lips.

At the shell of your ear.

You gasp.

Leo feels mortification sink deep.

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

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

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

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

And hold on for dear life.

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

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

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

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

He looks weak, he knows it.

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

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

Weakened by you.

Overwhelmed by you.

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

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

Leo’s tongue and yours.

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

His teeth meet your bottom lip.

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

You should stop, lead him into something more understandable.

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

You’re doing this to him.

You’re causing this.

He’s cumming for YOU.

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

His locked to your own blown out pupils.

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

The haze will clear.

The mess will remain.

But what will you say?

What will he say?

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #leonardo x reader #ns*w #Spotify

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moxfirefly · 6 months ago

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LOVE YOUR OCS!!! YOU DID GREAT ON THEM!! EVEN IF THEYRE OVERPOWERED!! EVEN IF THEYRE EDGY!! EVEN IF THEYRE CLICHE!! YOU PUT SO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT INTO THEM AND YOU SHOULD LOVE THEM AND LOVE YOURSELF FOR MAKING THEM!!!

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moxfirefly · 6 months ago

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Not so fun fact the person who requested this turned out to be a Tr*mp supporter if you can imagine such a thing.

So yeah, fuck her. This ain’t for her no more 🖕

Okay, my most excellent dude, here’s my official ask for Raph and his crush and the ‘only one bed’ trope. Same as the other ask, can be fluff or NSFW, whatever you want. I leave my hopes in your capable hands. ♥️

We love the ‘only one bed’ trope in this house. So let’s see how it goes with our big red lad.

Rated Fluff and maybe a teeny bit spicy

Raph had never kicked so much shit under this bed in record speed. Of course this sleeping arrangement had to happen on the one day he hadn’t picked up his room.

And of course he had drawn the metaphorical short straw with having the girl of his god damn dreams bunk in with him.

You hadn’t even thought about it, as soon as everyone had settled into their spots you were left to wonder where you could sleep. Just as Raph was about to suggest his bed, with him finding some other spot, you agreed and told him the two of you could sleep together.

Together.

And thus here he was in a trance wondering if he should pull out more blankets and another extra pillow.

Chicks get cold a lot, no? April’s always complaining about being cold.

Was that weird?

“Any preference-“

“Are ya cold?”

You felt your arms, the loose too big tank top provided comfort and no overheating. Raph seemed concerned, you shrugged with a shake of your head. “I’m fine, um, left or right?” You asked with a motion of your finger. Raph for all intents and purposes could’ve just heard latin come out of your mouth. “Side of the bed? Do you like left or right?” Ohhh, of course sides were a thing.

Smooth, Raph, real fucking smooth.

He offered his side of the bed, something about it hopefully catching your scent made him jittery on the inside. You climbed on with a light bounce and settled under the blanket he had crochet himself, he liked how you ran your fingers over it with wonderment. “Wow this feels fancy and so snug” You wrapped yourself up more in the blanket and turned to face him. With a soft sigh to reassure himself he laid on his side, resting his eyes on your face.

“You forgetting something?” Came your amused voice.

“What? Ya want some warm milk and cookies?” He smirked when you smacked his arm playfully.

“Something tells me you fall a sleep with this often, huh?” You scooted up enough to reach behind his head to untie his mask. The act itself left Raph unable to breath, you were so close, close enough he could smell that perfume of yours.

So close he could see the shape of your chest in that flimsy sleep tank top.

He swallowed as you undid his bandana and casted it to the makeshift night table next to his side.

“There,” Your gaze lingered on him, green eyes that made your skin vibrate with curiosity. As you laid back down you kept your eyes on his own, you saw them shake slightly with worry as you continued to stare. Consciously Raph rubbed at his face, maybe he had toothpaste or something, or maybe you’re weirded out.

“You know, you’re very handsome” Your voice was a whisper, the sounds in the Lair had settled signifying that everyone was asleep.

Raph’s brow furrowed, that was an incredulous statement.

“Ya must be real tired” He chuckled lightly, the noise catching in his throat when he felt your fingers press against his lips.

“Take the compliment, Raphael” Oh, oh he quite liked his name leaving your mouth in that stern tone.

He liked your hand even more too.

The feel of your fingers running across his cheek, making a detour to the scar on his lip. “How’d this one happen?” You asked just as softly as you ran the length of it with the pads of your fingers.

Raph’s throat bobbed with how much he had swallowed in the past few minutes. They way you gingerly touched his insecurities had him gutted to no end.

“Training, when I was a kid” He wasn’t to keen on reliving the memory, he just wanted more of your hand on his face. His eyes betrayed him, fluttering when you continued your trek across his jawline. “Should I stop?” You weren’t sure if this was a bit much but with the way he shook his head ‘no’ you felt he was equally enjoying the caress.

Your fingers itch to touch more though, his massive arm was there, all rippling muscle and reptilian flesh. You let your hand travel to his shoulder, a foolish attempt to knead tension there but Raphael is literally a brick of muscle. The attempt made him grin, you clicked your tongue. “Efforts appreciated, don’t worry kid” You both chuckled some more before you let your hand settle on his arm, the bumpy burned flesh hidden away with a giant dark tattoo. Another question but for another night.

Raphael wasn’t sure what to make of these comforting touches, you’d always been keen on them but having them solely directed at him, while he laid in bed with you, well it all seem like a dream.

Simply too good to be true.

So when he snaked his hand out of the blanket and grabbed your hand, he wondered if you would recoil or pull away.

You did neither.

He felt your fingers drum on his palm, all perfect five digits against his three imperfect ones. He watched it, he savored it. “I’m cold” You whispered between the two of you.

“Do ya want that blan-“

“I want you”

In all his years on this earth, he never expected a sentence to rattle him, turn him on and ruin him all at once.

So when he saw you scoot closer towards him, felt your bare thigh connect with his knee and a hand rest on his chest, he was ready to have his heart broken by you. He could see the colors he’d never quite noticed that were sprinkled across your eyes, shades and hues only an intimate stare could provide, he felt an urge so palpable to grab you.

He only knew that was happening when you maneuvered his arm to wrap around your waist, face so close to his heartbeat, his snout connected with your hairline. He felt your soft breast against his hard plates, your fingers rub across where his clavicles would be, if he wasn’t such a freak.

Those thoughts seemed be put out like the wild fire they could be when you muttered against his chest for him to rub your back.

Under your shirt, he barely caught it but he did.

The process of pushing up your shirt had his mouth dry, the second his hand connected with skin, warm and soft and fragile.

God, he was already a little hard, this is going to be embarrassing.

He brushed his fingers, felt the little hairs on your skin, your flesh breakout in goosebumps as a pleasant shiver went through you.

And the image of that pleasant shiver being caused by him in many a many different way…

Your thigh rubbed against his own, the exhale of warm air against his plastron. You were settling, drifting against him as he threw caution to the wind and nosed your head. The scent, fuck that was going into his memory forever, he wanted to smell that every morning, every night, every second of his life.

He scratched your back a little more, going towards your bare upper back and you arched into the pleasant sensation with soft little sighs. What was happening, he didn’t know, he didn’t care. Why was this happening, he hoped it was because you shared the same feelings he’d been harboring for such a long time now.

When Raph chanced a look down at you, snuggled up against him, neck arched back and features between relaxed and flushed, he wanted to scream.

He wanted to fucking scream when your tired eyes fluttered open.

Your lips parted.

Felt your hand on his cheek.

Thumb run across his lips.

The way he leaned down the few inches necessary and let you take the reigns from there.

The kiss itself is unreal, he’s convinced he’s still in some fugue state and this is all an elaborate dream he’s gonna wake from to ruined sheets and sweaty scales.

But lips don’t mold that way in dreams. He can’t perfectly describe the plush softness of it as you melt against him in a sleepy but passionate kiss.

Dreams don’t taste this good.

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