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raphslovemuffin80 · 1 hour ago

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Yessssssssssss

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?

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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Oh my………

❝PUSHING THE LIMITS.❞

(not my gif)

summary: eddie might fuck you good, but venom pushes your limits.

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, nasty ass smut, surprised-myself-while-writing-it kind of smut, sorta dubcon towards the end, oral sex f and m receiving, sticky tendrils and tentacles and appendages and such, bondage using v's tendrils, hair pulling, spanking, double penetration, eddie spitting in reader's mouth, eddie slaps reader's cheek a lil bit in the beginning, overstimulation central, names like "good girl", "sweet angel", "sweet girl", "beautiful girl"... don't wanna hype myself up too much, but i think y'all are gonna be eating good while reading this one. monsterfucking. i am definitely not getting into heaven, so make my sacrifice worth it and grab some popcorn!

word count: 2k

a/n: if you've ever wanted me to write a sequel for fics like "take the reins" and "don't pretend", this is for you. i can't believe this is my official return to fic writing LMAO, but we're pretending like i never left! (yes i know i posted my last fic in april.) i hope you enjoy, please give me some feedback for this one!

//////

“Gooooood fuckin’ girl.”

You struggled to hide your wince as Eddie harshly slapped your cheek again: you were on your knees, your face raised to look at him as he knelt over you, directing your face in whatever way he wanted it to go. Some parts sweet, some parts rough - whether it was pulling your hair until your cunt twinged with need, or spitting in your mouth when it got too dry for him to fuck, or how fucking good his cock felt when it was shoved into your mouth, you took all of it enthusiastically.

You hadn’t heard Venom’s commentary in a while, but at least Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself.

“That’s great, honey,” Eddie gasped as he slipped the tip of his cock in your mouth again: you sucked on it dutifully, slathering your spit over his already glistening length, but throughout all of it, your eyes were locked on his face.

He was almost out of breath just from watching you. “Jeez, that’s fuckin’ nasty…”

Overachieving, you responded by taking his whole length into your mouth until the tip of his cock slammed into your uvula and you were forced to gag.

You meant to stay there, but Eddie’s hand was buried in your hair very suddenly, tugging you backward: he evidently hadn’t been expecting that.

“Easy, honey,” he told you. “It’s not every day I got a girl jumping all over me, y’know.”

You sat back on the bed and stuck out your tongue for him, grinning widely. “Sorry.”

Inside his head, Venom scoffed.

PUSSY.

“N-no, don’t be sorry for anything,” Eddie managed to say to you as he allowed his cock into your mouth again, determined to keep Venom at bay inside his thoughts. “Feels so fucking good, just like that…”

Sucking him off until he came had to be the plan, you figured, so you kept going, keeping your tongue flat along his length as he fucked your mouth. His cock was so goddamn thick, and your tongue kept brushing along a prominent vein as you went. The best part was his hand, firm in your hair, ensuring he was using you in whatever way he wanted.

Meanwhile, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

SHE LOOKS SO GOOD LIKE THIS, EDDIE.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Eddie decided he wanted to move: he was off of you in an instant, but he was grabbing your leg, indicating he wanted you to move with him.

His voice was soft, almost sweet, keeping you wet. “Up, honey, c’mon.”

Breathless, your heart pounding now that there wasn’t a hand in your hair anymore, you got off your knees and, following his direction, rolled over on the bed.

“Shit,” Eddie commented appreciatively, just before he spanked you harshly. “Pop that up for me, honey.”

Grinning sheepishly, you buried your face in the pillow and lifted your stinging ass in the air for him.

“Fuck,” he gasped as the palm of his hand brushed over your pussy - yeah, you already knew you were dripping, and the humiliation of it made you flush. “You always get this wet just having a dick in your mouth?”

“It’s just you,” you mumbled weakly, which earned your another spank.

“Just me, huh?” Eddie replied, mockingly, making your face burn. “Not V? You’re telling me this pretty pussy’s dripping just because of me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he’d spanked you directly on your pussy this time, making you moan weakly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, burying your face in the pillows. You had a feeling that Venom would’ve teased you endlessly if you moaned for him, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it when your pussy was already this wet, but God, you’d never been more tempted.

Inside his head, Venom was sounding impressed, but he hadn’t revealed himself yet.

KEEP GOING, EDDIE. YOU WILL BREAK HER.

Keeping your head in the pillow, you spread your legs wider for him, trying to expose as much of your pussy as you could. Spurred on by Venom’s praise, Eddie grinned.

“Fucking glistening,” he laughed, running a finger delicately along your drenched pussy, sending sensitive nerves haywire. “What a pussy. I mean, Jesus…”

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your damp inner thigh, and that simple, two-second touch had your mind speeding out of control with obscenities. No doubt about it, spreading your holes like this turned you on: you could feel your slick running down your inner thighs, and if your brain wasn’t jammed, you would’ve been begging for Eddie for Venom to come out, to finally fuck you.

Breathless with anticipation, you grabbed a fistful of pillows instead and waited patiently, keeping still.

Inside his head, Venom was chomping at the bit, too.

WHEN WILL YOU LET ME OUT, EDDIE?

Just give me a few more minutes, Eddie’s thoughts responded, a bit urgently.

He opted to pretend as though nothing had happened, keeping his control over you.

“Spread your legs more, baby. I want to see how turned on I made you.”

Moaning weakly, you did as he said, spreading your legs to reveal your glistening wet mess of a pussy: you had yet to touch yourself, or do anything to stop the spread of heat in your most sensitive spot, but you felt like if he didn’t touch you soon, you were going to go into cardiac arrest.

You closed your eyes and listen to him move closer.

Eddie’s hands were warm around your thighs, and you could feel him kiss both of your inner thighs - dear god, he’s about to kill you - before he kissed your clit, enveloping it with warmth.

Everywhere. Oh God.

You gasped weakly. “Oh, Eddie…”

Again, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

YOU ARE UNRAVELLING HER, EDDIE. KEEP GOING.

“That feel good?” he whispered, kissing you softly again.

Well, fucking obviously: you were clutching the pillows above you with all your might, doing your best not to squirm in pleasure. “Eddie, please…”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t finish that sentence, but Eddie knew what it meant, and Venom did too.

LET ME OUT, EDDIE. YOU KNOW SHE WANTS IT.

“You need V, honey?” Eddie whispered from between your legs: he sensed from the growing warmth in his abdomen that he wouldn’t have control over his body for much longer, so he was determined to savour it for as long as he could.

You nodded weakly, flushed with pleasure - Eddie’s tongue may have been a natural, non-monstrous length, but it was pressed to your clit nonetheless, and it would’ve made anybody come after long enough. “Give him to me.”

That did it: Venom came out with a flourish, enveloping Eddie’s body entirely in black goo until he wasn’t Eddie anymore, but tendrilled and sticky and terrifying and one hundred percent Venom.

You almost came at the sight of him. “Oh, V…”

Venom’s tongue protruded from his mouth, licking clean his impressive row of fangs. His milky white eyes might’ve caused others to cower, but you stared directly into them, breathless. It was fascinating, really, how quickly Eddie had disappeared.

Venom’s voice was a deep purr, deeper than anything you’d ever heard.

DID YOU MISS ME, SWEET ANGEL?

“I did, V,” you gasped as a glittering black tendril snuck up your leg, “God, I - I want you so bad.”

Venom cocked his head to the side, watching you intently, like a predator watching its prey.

I TELL EDDIE THAT ALL THE TIME.

You gasped as the appendage finally breached your cunt, pulsating and sticky, giving you exactly the feeling of fullness you wanted. “Oh, Venom…”

The pillow you were clinging onto was gone in a second, replaced by two tendrils pinning your arms onto the bed. Before you knew it, two other tentacles were wrapping around your ankles, fully restricting your ability to move, and there you were, trapped on the bed as Venom was leering above you, his cock sliding in and out of you.

His pace was relatively slow, but you soaked up every pulsing inch succeeded inside of you, and every now and again, he’d make the tendril twist, bringing you closer to the edge every time.

I DON’T EVER THINK I’VE SEEN YOU THIS WET, SWEET ANGEL.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, your thoughts responded incredulously, but all that came out was a choked, “Ngh!”

You were coming, you knew it, and it still hit you like a fucking freight train: the orgasm rushed through you as blood thundered to your brain, euphoria crashing over you at maximum intensity. Everything welling up inside of you just burst, and nothing had ever been so lovely.

You went deaf for a moment as the only thing you could hear was your heart absolutely pounding and the shrill ringing in your ears, but you knew you were gasping for breath, completely overtaken by this orgasm. You’d never tell Eddie, but it was Venom who knew how to pull orgasms from you like this, and only Venom, his glittering black cock absolutely destroying you from the inside out.

Of course, it was then Venom suddenly decided to slam his cock into you at full force, overstimulating you beautifully.

The confidence in his voice never wavered.

I KNOW YOU CAN TAKE IT, BEAUTIFUL GIRL. I HAVE SEEN YOU TAKE IT.

“Oh, Venom,” you were gasping over and over, but you couldn’t fully hear yourself over the ringing in your ears and the sounds of Venom’s glittering black tendril sliding in and out of your drenched, abused pussy, filling you up to the maximum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He did the pulsating, twisting thing inside of you once again, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head: when he was pinning you down like this, you had nothing to hold onto, it was just you, the cock inside of you, and the threat of this monstrous creature swallowing you whole. “Oh my god, Venom!”

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EDDIE SEEING THIS, SWEET GIRL?

“Oh, fuck, Venom…” you moaned from underneath him, incoherent now as his cock pistoned in and out of you. You were blathering, but the message was clear: don’t fucking stop!

Venom was smug, now.

HOW DO YOU FEEL KNOWING I CAN TAKE YOU BETTER THAN EDDIE EVER COULD?

“You’re better than Eddie,” you mumbled incoherently as Venom ramped up speed, “Loads better than Eddie, I just - oh fuck - holy shit, V, keep going!”

WILL YOU COME FOR ME, SWEET ANGEL?

Yes, I will, your thoughts responded immediately, but actions spoke louder than words: your second orgasm ripped through you as your legs shook, you were pushed to the point of insanity. This one really took you by surprise compared to the first, but you revelled in it, your vision flashing with white as Venom fucked into you. You could feel your body sinking into the bed despite the restraints, spent, and you almost thought it was over, but–

Venom, of course, didn’t care.

COME FOR ME AGAIN, BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

“V,” you whispered weakly, your entire body damp with sweat from your last orgasm, “I - I don’t think I can, I just came.”

Above you, Venom absolutely snarled, and his tongue slithered down to force your legs even further apart.

WHEN I SAY COME, YOU COME!

A second, bigger tendril sank into your ass this time, and you gasped: you were filled, completely and utterly filled, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t feel so fucking wonderful.

“I - I’m gonna come,” you blathered, blinking hard as the realization set in: you were about to come faster than you’d ever come in your life. “I - I’m gonna come, V, holy - oh my god-”

The words I’m coming were lost in your throat, but it didn’t matter: in a matter of seconds, you’d came for a third time, and the euphoria this time around was still there, yet with a bitter and harsh edge. Your body was exhausted, but your pussy was drenched, and all Venom knew was to keep fucking going, so–

You were gasping, half-deaf with your vision flashing with white, trying to make peace with the reality that Venom was going to fuck you until you passed out.

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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Okay, okay 😍 Bay!Raph, small drabble, 🌻 accidental confession with female reader (she/her) please and thank you!! 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Oops... (Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader)

Of course!! Thank you for being my first request <33 [sorry it's a bit short!]

[prompts ~ 🌻, Bayverse! Raph]

Raphael hadn't even meant to say the words. Embarrassingly enough, they just slipped, something out of the ordinary for the usually quick-witted and flirtatious turtle.

While you were leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and a toothy grin overtaking your features, raph struck up a conversation.

It started out simple enough, something along the lines of why you were hiding a gigantic container of goldfish on top of the fridge, which led to some savory flirting that upcurled the ninja's scarred lip. He relished in the way you stated put, seeming unflustered and quick with your comebacks.

"Whaddya mean by that?" Raph questioned, one brow ridge arching with mischievous curiosity.

"Listen, Red, all I'm saying, is that you just dont have the best... Taste in women."

He scoffed, toned shoulders moving with the force of his breath.

"Oh yeah," he challenged, "And who's to say, except you? I think you'll disagree."

"I'd be willing to bet that the girl you've got a crush on has nothing on these looks."

His chest rumbled with laughter when you struck a dramatic pose, hand landing on your outplaced hip and flipping your hair.

"Hm, then I'm willing to prove that yer wrong, stinker. I've got my work cut out for me."

"Oh? I don't like her."

"Oh but ya do. Hard for you to hate yerself."

It took Raphael a little less than 3 seconds (and your baffled face) to realize whatt he'd said.

Oops...

He didn't know what he was expecting your reaction to be, but it most certainly not a wide smile and the wiggling of eyebrows, masking a flustered expression. You shuffled closer with a grin.

"Oh... Maybe I do like her then."

The turtle coughed nervously, averting his emerald eyes from yours when you nudged his more-than-muscular arm. What was he supposed to say? Thankfully he didn't need to think of anything else, since you'd already began speaking.

"Well then I think you'd be happy with my taste in men too, Red. Unless you hate yourself."

His eyes went wide, glancing at the smug expression on your face, and was soon after left speechless when you pecked a kiss against the side of his scaly face.

[yay! thank you for being my first request lovely! i just adore writing these cute little drabbles!]

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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Big hugs

Hello dearies (if i may say so) ^^

just letting u know to send u this internet hug ^^

@fyreball66 @raisin-shell @foreignbrunette @thelostandforgottenangel @forerunnertracer @the-four-terrapins @coolstar-girl @naya-queenzie @queendice98 @queenkyani @leosgirl82 @raphslovemuffin80 @inspiredwriter @kokosworld95

If i forgot to tag anyone let me know

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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Fine As F**k Friday.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #raphael #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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This!!!!!!

Raphael (NSFW Alphabet)

Bayverse Raphael x F!Reader

Our big guy is my second installment. Word Count: 1700. Mentions of exhibitionism, dirty talk, choking, and just general debauchery. I love him.

Raph is a brash, sassy, and gruff person most of the time around most people. It’s a blatant act. It takes extremely little to reveal an extremely sincere, loving, protective, passionate soul, and it’s a side of him reveals to his partner often. ESPECIALLY in the bedroom. Sex is extremely intimate with him, even if he’s being rough.

Enjoy!

A- Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) - Raph is the one who needs aftercare tbh. He’s a little clueless about what aftercare even is though. He’s loopy and tired and he just wants to kiss and hold you, and unless you speak up and ask for water, a towel, wipes or a snack- he will stay right here with his arms around you. He's a touchy guy, okay? It feels like he’s recharging. If you try to get up, he will pull you back and whine, “What do you think you're doing,” and if you tell him you that you need something he will push you back down, huddle you into the pillows and blankets and go get said items for you.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners) - He loves his arms and tattoos and scars. He knows he looks cool. But he does NOT know he is attractive. Or sexy. Verbal affirmations are overwhelming, especially about his appearance. So be gentle with him about that haha. On you, on the other hand. Ass man. Ass man. Ass man. Ass man. He is checking you out, he is grabbing you, he’s spanking and pinching your ass 24/7.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum) - He needs you close physically. He is grabbing you and holding you close. In missionary he always presses his forehead to yours. Doggy, he nuzzles your hair and buries his face in your shoulder. He loves when you hold his face and keep your eyes on him when it hits. He swears a LOT, and he’s trying to breathe, so if he kisses you it’s super super messy and pathetic in the midst of orgasm. If you’re going down on him or if he’s going down on you, he’s always searching for your hand. Will grasp your hand or arm, and oral get’s intense for both parties, giving or receiving so the connection is needed.

D - Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs) - Actually doesn’t watch porn. He doesn’t like it, and he associates it with a lot of the bad people he faces topside. Feels dirty and thinks it's a dishonorable thing. He doesn't know he's the only one.

E - Experience (How much experience do they have) - Because how little exposure he allows himself to sex, and how little he’s entertained the thought of actually having a partner, he is going in completely- and utterly - blind. At least beyond basic, basic 'what goes in what' stuff. He has no idea what he’s doing. But that won’t stop him from pretending he knows. If he’s allowed complete control the first time, it will end HORRIBLY, so please PLEASE don't let him take over. Allow him to slow down and mess up, he will feel so big and clumsy and ugly so he requires lots of affection and reassurance. And PRAISE. He's a super, super fast learner.

F - Favorite Position - He isn’t picky, but he loves when you get him to relax against the headboard with all the pillows and you ride him. He loves that comfort and he gets to watch and touch and feel as much as he wants. But if he has to pick a favorite…he loves doggy. He feels big and strong and he loves that he can kiss and talk to you in the same moment he can pull back and enjoy the view.

G - Goofy (How goofy are they?) - He won’t goof off until you do, but damn it’s a relief when you do. He feels enormous pressure to do well by you and not hurt you. So when you flirt or joke it’s an enormous relief. Give him some time to get used to fucking because he loves to laugh and tease you.

H - Hair - He does not care.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment) - Raph doesn’t really know he does this, but intimacy comes so naturally to him. There are moments when he’s almost innocent in how much he fucking adores you and needs you. So it can get super emotional super super fast.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) - Masturbation is pretty low on his list of stress relief. When he’s frustrated or stressed or anxious he is in the gym. Then he has like twelve other different hobbies outside of the gym he falls back on often. There isn’t a whole lot of privacy in the lair, and out of everyone he isn’t that desperate for privacy either.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks) - Raph learns very, very quickly that he’s super into dirty talk and praise and begging. Giving and receiving. Words of affirmation are super big for him, and it shows in the bedroom. He loves reassuring you and telling you how much he wants and needs you. If you beg for him he'll give you literally anything you want. Very big into choking or holding you down. You weight two pounds to him, so manhandling you in bed or even standing is so exciting for you both.

L - Location (Favorite places to do the deed) - He doesn’t like anything super sexual around his family, but he does not care anywhere else. He doesn’t care if ya’ll are at risk of being seen or caught or heard- if you are down, he is down and he will make it work.

M - Motivation (What turns them on) - Okay, he’s a slut for your body, so your ass, for one. The second most motivating thing is compliments and physical affection. You start feeling up his arms or waist or dipping your hands in his back pockets, all while telling him how handsome he looks right now- he’s sold instantly.

N - No (Turn Off’s) - Doesn’t like it when his family is around. He wouldn't want to be in a threesome ever. Not at all into the thought of someone else touching you.

O - Oral (Preference in giving/receiving) - He loves the pleasure of receiving, and there are times when he NEEDS the worship and loving's from you. But damn…he prefers to give, and he is really, really, good at it. Really good. He could eat you out for hours and hours. He gets pussy drunk so easily, especially if you're praising or begging for him, or scratching and petting his head. Damn he loves it.

P - Pace (Are they fast/rough or slow/sensual?) - He can do both. He sometimes gets a little lost in the moment and is especially when he’s close, so he can get a bit rough. He struggles to stay slow, especially if you’re talking to him and petting him.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies) - He likes them a lot, because it makes him feel desired and attractive. If it’s been a while and you REALLY need him in an area around his family (say, at the lair) he gets SUPER nervous and subby. Will do whatever you want.

R - Risk (Are they games to experiment? Do they take risks, etc) - Raph is the kind of guy who falls into a routine, so while new stuff isn't a problem, he might take it as he’s doing something wrong or ‘you're not satisfied with him anymore’. So just a lot of communication and assurance will make him an easy sell.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last) - Superhuman stamina. He could have you in bed all day.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?) - With lots and lots of assurance and communication, Raph wouldn’t see toys as an insult or replacement for him. He would be uncomfortable and a tad bit insecure at first, especially at first, and is NOT the type to have his own collection. But with time and age he would master them. He wouldn’t like to tie you up often. He likes you touching and holding him too much.

U - Unfair (How much do they tease) - Give him some practice and confidence and you will unlock a horrible GREMLIN of a tease. He will tease, flirt, tempt and touch literally all the time, in and out of the bedroom. PDA be damned.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds?) - Raph’s more growly and grunty by default, and he swears a lot. He likes to talk, and he gets good at it quickly, but his sounds only start getting strained, desperate and emotional the closer he gets.

W - Wild Card (Random) - He’s so big, that one time you came just from his dick pushing into your pussy. It lives rent free in his head and it boosts his ego for ages…

X - X-Ray (What's going on in those pants) - Team cloaca, here. Raph is fucking…huge. Giving him a bj is a sloppy, wet and messy event. You need tons of prep, lots of foreplay and lube despite all the extra lubricant from both of you. He is large, even proportionate to him and that means he's massive in comparison to you. It’s a lot of work to get him inside of you and it’s kind of the opposite of a problem for you both.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive) - He yearns for you all the time. His drive is enormous, and he could hole up with you somewhere for days and never leave, if it was possible. But your desire for him matters greatly, so his desire for sex depends greatly on yours. If you want to fuck, he will make that happen, but if you don’t want fuck, he REALLY doesn’t want to fuck. If you turn him down once, it will be your turn to initiate the next time you are in the mood.

Z - ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) - Depends on the circumstances. He is a very sexual person, so a good fuck won't necessarily be what tires him out. But if you're loving on him and giving that physical and verbal affection, and he knows that there is nothing left to do but cuddle and fall asleep; he will pass out instantly. But be careful. He's heavy, it's hard to wake him up, and he snores.

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raphslovemuffin80 · 4 days ago

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Good morning!

I just stumbled across your blog and I absolutely love it 🥰 there aren't enough Bayverse fics or writers out there anymore! Thank you for keeping it alive.

I was just wondering if you still write and if you do, could I please please pretty please request a fic? It's purely self indulging. Something where the reader looks/acts like a human version of the turtle bros? (Totally coming from the fact that like Donnie from 2k12, I have gap teeth, reddy-brown eyes, and I'm a huge biology nerd and I giggle at the idea of the turtles coming face to face humans who look/act/have interests just like them.) Could totally see Donnie going straight to parallel universe theories.

Anyways, thank you so much, you're amazing 🥰❤️❣️

Hello anon! I hope this is akin to what you were looking for. 😅

Here are some of my headcanons for a doppelganger reader.

TWINSIES!!!

Leo

Relationship Level: Healthy Competition

Finally. A worthy opponent. Fighting Leonardo is like fighting a mirror. Both of you use this time to sharpen your skills, work out problems, or just process the frustrations of the day. Equally matched, the victor of the sparring session is usually the one who can make the other "lose focus."

Balance is the foundation of your relationship. As much fun as sparring is, (you've made shit talking into an art form), boy does this boy know how to relax. Expect marathon meditation sessions, trading full body massages, and, as equally balanced as the two of you are, the most mind-blowing tantric sex, possibly on the planet.

Raph

Relationship Level: Spotter

Raph, I think, is the only one that wouldn't consider you as a romantic partner. I, personally, feel he's in need of a soft landing, and a bizarro version of him is NOT that. But that's not to say your relationship isn't intimate. As any Gym Rats can tell you, good work out buddies are equal parts coach, therapist, and best friend. They're there to hype you up when you need it, and beat your ass when you need that, too. They're the ones you talk to when you can't go to your partner, because your partner is the one you're complaining about.

ALL. THE. GYM. TIME. You guys should basically move your beds down to the weight room, you live there anyway. On fight nights, the two of you own the big screen TV, and Gods help the poor dumb bastard who tries to cut in, especially during a prize fight. LOUD. You are LOUD. Honestly, you may as well be at the fight in person, the way your roars of triumph and defeat assault the concrete walls, as well as everyone's ears. Splinter likes the two of you hanging out, so he lets it slide, most nights.

Don

Relationship Level: Lab Partner

Neither of you would be able to let it go. Why? How are you this similar? Statistically, the chances of someone being such an extreme parallel were astronomical, but meeting them??? You'd hit the lab and no one would see you for nearly a week. You'd been doing "research," into exactly how alike your are.

Autistic hyper nerd mode ENGAGE. Parallel Play All Day Every Day. Sometimes you wouldn't speak for days, despite working within ten feet of each other, other times you'd be info dumping about your latest hyperfixation. Pray these moods link up, because overwhelm will be a problem. Splinter has to implement a rule that the two of you have to leave the lab at least once a day for at least 10 minutes (not counting patrol or the other necessary things), wherein you must eat something and drink an entire glass of water. This rule was put in place after the third time one of the boys found the two of you passed out in the lab from dehydration.

(A/N: while writing this paragraph I actually remembered that I hadn't eaten anything besides popcorn and some sweetarts in about 16 hours. Oops. 😅)

Mikey

Relationship Level: Besties

You know how, when you bring a six-year-old to the playground, they meet another kid and suddenly they are BEST FRIENDS FOR LIFE WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T GO BACK TO THEIR HOUSE FOR DINNER AFTER KNOWING THEM A WHOLE 20 MINUTES???

That.

Expect to know these pipes like the back of your hand. You will know the best places to skate, the best places to smoke, and the best places to get up to... other things. Pop culture is your jam, and he knows his way in and out of the AMC at Rockefeller Center, so expect to get gussied up and attend any and every movie premier your heart desires. Fun is the foundation of your relationship and you take it very seriously. Play time is sacred, and "play time" is, too.

.....

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@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light

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raphslovemuffin80 · 7 days ago

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For my Donnie babes out there

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donatello

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raphslovemuffin80 · 9 days ago

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Oh my

😍 Puddin=Twitter

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raphslovemuffin80 · 11 days ago

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Very awesome!

Hey so how do you think raphael would deal with a s/o who goes all out for holidays. And also they tend to throw flirty seasonal comments at him. Trying to fluster him every single time. Valentine: “I think cupid might of struck me hard years ago when I laid mine eyes on you”. Halloween they’re a vampire “the only one I want to turn into a vampire is you ;)” and xmas they’re like “All I want for xmas is you”? Or mistletoe is on the ceiling above them suddenly and s/o is like “How’d that get there?” Nearly convincingly. 😂?

Hi there!!! I'm really hoping this turned out okay. 😅

Valentine

RaphaelxFem!reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff

He arrives to an empty apartment. It's only 7, so you're probably still on your way home from work. He heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge, before moving toward the couch to waste time with video games while he waits for you.

As he crosses to the living room, he hears keys in the lock and moves casually out of sight of the door. It explodes open with almost pressurized force, pushed by the enormous collection of plastic shopping bags barely contained by the arms in your fluffy red sweater. You kick the door closed behind you and he's taking the bags from you almost instantly.

"Okay!" you grin, striking a pose as he sets the mountain of bags onto the kitchen table, "I'm here! Now what were your other two wishes?" He rolls his eyes and sighs, but he can't help the quirk of a smile. You're adorable. And he has to admit, you look damn good in his color.

You have a... thing for holidays. You honestly love any excuse to dress up and be silly. It doesn't hurt that it usually earns you a laugh from a certain red-banded bara who is so very pretty when he laughed. You only met a few months ago, but so far, over Samhain, Thanksgiving, and Solstice, he's thankfully gotten used to you going a *little* over the top.

Somehow (surely not all the decorations at your desk and themed outfits over the last year), your co-workers have also figured out how much you love holidays, and when they approached you about taking charge of their "Valentine's Day Luncheon," you were more than happy to oblige.

Now you survey the collection of red and white and pink in plastic before you, your mind whirring with potential. You'd asked Raph to come over on his night off because you had an excuse you needed help, and he was pretty hot handy with a glue gun.

After giving him a run down of everything in the bags, along with your "vision" as he liked to call it (complete with sarcastic hand gesture), you each grab an armful of craft supplies, and move into the living room to get to work. He clears off the coffee table while you order dinner, and soon the two of you are elbow deep in pink glitter and construction paper.

Everything starts out well enough. The drinks and creativity flow and your favorite romantic comedy plays unobtrusively in the background as you eat and laugh between cutting and pasting. You feel good. Valentine's Day may be tomorrow, but tomorrow is in about three hours and you're going to get to spend your first Valentine's Day (at least part of it anyway) with a guy you actually may be falling for and-

Your stream of consciousness comes to a screeching halt, the needle in your hand stilling halfway through the felt plush heart you had been sewing. You look over at him, telling some story about Mikey and Don when they were kids, and you definitely feel... something. But love, that kind of love, is big. Important. Especially for the Hamatos. Seeming so far out of reach for them they may as well be alone on the planet. This isn't the kind of thing you should even joke about until you're absolutely sure.

But it's Valentine's Day.

And wine is happening.

And as the night goes on, your heart and your tongue form an alliance against your brain.

Over the course of the evening you develop a habit of calling him anything *but* his name, and the way words like "Hot Stuff" "Romeo," and "Heartbreaker," roll off your tongue affects him in ways that are not allowed. He's fine. A deep breath and he's back to being cool. But the spark of trouble in your eyes when you call him, "Bruiser," leaves him needing a minute.

You see it. You can't help it. He's hot, and you're single, and it's Valentine's Day, and it seems like he can't get enough of you, and you are about half a bottle in. You start shooting the occasional cheesy pick up line his way, just to see what'll happen. And you are not disappointed.

Mike had subjected him to months worth of shitty pick up lines when he discovered them as kids, but you're so damn cute that they just come out silly and endearing.

"Hey," you call over to him across the living room, "do you like raisins?"

He looks confused, "I guess?"

"How 'bout a date?" You grin.

He rolls his eyes, but the adorable smile and slight color shift in his scales as he looks away is just addicting. With that kind of reaction, the wine in your bloodstream reasons, how the hell are you supposed to stop?

So, between the beer, and the constant back and forth between him thinking you're adorable, and him trying really really hard not to think about what those pet names coming out of that pretty mouth are doing to him physically, halfway through the night he was almost regretting agreeing to help you.

But then, it does stop.

He doesn't know when, through the haze of mild inebriation, and physical and emotional turmoil it's difficult for him to track, but at some point he notices the stupid pick up lines become less frequent, and the pet names become more and more tame until they almost stop completely.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, glaring at the felt plush heart in your hands. You had to make 120, this was your second one, Raph was already sixteen in, and the tangled mess of twisted pink thread was beyond unraveling.

You sigh, frustrated, "Raph, can you toss me the scissors?"

Sewing isn't exactly your forte. It's not that you don't get the mechanics of it: needle + thread + fabric = thing. As long as you can move in a straight line and you don't stab the shit out of yourself it should be easy right? But your hands are uncoordinated and sewing machines can smell fear. You've tried. You just can't sew. Why you decided that *this* was what is needed for the party tomorrow, you will never understand. You thought it'd be easy. It was supposed to be easy.

He stares at you for a few moments, brow knitted in thought as he takes in what's happening. "Having trouble, princess?" He asks. He smirks, but not unkindly.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess..." You respond, taking the scissors from him and attempting to carefully cut through the tangled mass to remove it... which results in you cutting a quarter inch whole through both layers of felt. Your jaw tightens, and you sigh heavily. "I can't sew," you admit, almost shamefully.

He makes a face, "What do you mean you 'can't sew?'"

You sigh, tossing the ruined decoration into the plastic bag the two of you have been using for trash, "I mean I can't sew."

"Anyone can sew," He states, as if it's an objective fact.

You attempt not to snort derisively. You fail.

"You really don't think you can sew?"

You look pointedly at the ruined heart, before looking back at him and wordlessly raising an eyebrow.

Disengaging, you snatch another couple of felt pieces and some pink thread off the coffee table and settle back into your spot in the papasan. He watches as you try and fail to thread the needle. Three times.

You're embarrassed. And frustrated. This is supposed to be your favorite holiday and you're spending it fighting with a stupid needle and looking like an idiot in front of the guy you... something-like-love-...-maybe, and you're so stuck in your own head, you don't notice that he's moved until he's kneeling in front of you and stilling your hands.

He holds up a small metal disk. It looks slightly like a custom made swiss army knife, that has Donnie written all over it. He pushes a lever and a wire... loop? I guess? Pops out of it. You look at him quizzically.

"May I?" He asks, holding his hands out. He takes the needle and thread upon your acceptance. He flicks a small lever and a small pair of scissor pops out of the other side, which he uses to snip off the frayed two inches of embroidery thread. He dexterously replaces the scissors, and, holding the needle, you watch him push the wire through the hole, feed the thread through, and then pull it back out, the needle now neatly threaded.

You blink up at him. He smiles, holding up the disk, "Needle threader," he tosses it in your lap, "your new best friend."

You give him a stunned half smile and start working on your second heart for the second time.

Your not sure how, but somewhere between the first and the fifth stitch, your thread twists and knots itself, resulting in a smaller version of your previous tangle. He cringes.

"Y'know... I could teach you," he ventures hesitantly, "if you want, I mean."

You pick up the disc in your lap and examine it. A specialized tool that Red just happened to have on him, despite him having no idea what fresh insanity you had planned for tonight. Needles, thread bobbins, and several other things you don't recognize, all easily accessible and deployable. The kind of tool you don't have unless you do something very specific. Your frustrated gaze becomes more thoughtful.

"Do you make all your clothes?" You ask, softly, the ghost of a smile hiding in the corner of your mouth as you look back up at him.

The shift in tone catches him off-guard, and when your gaze finds his, it feels like all the breath has left his body. "Well, yeah..." He says, almost transfixed, before clearing his throat and recovering with a smirk, "you really think they make clothes in our size?"

"No," you say, your smile slightly resurrected, "no, I suppose they don't." You look down at the felt in your hands, and it dies again, "I'm afraid you may have your work cut out for you. A lot of people have failed to teach me to sew. I'm pretty sure I'm a lost cause."

"Bullshit," he says, pushing the coffee table back far enough that he can sit in front of you.

After twenty minutes of neat and simple failure, you drop the heart in your lap and cover your face with your hands. "This is hopeless. I can't make the needle do," you gesture vaguely, "whatever it is that you're doing to make this work. We need to pivot," you start looking around at what craft supplies are left, your mind trying to find something you could make as a replacement.

"No."

"What?" Your eyes return to his.

"Excuse me," he clears his throat, "Hell no."

You look confused.

"I said I was gonna teach you to sew, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do if it takes all damn night."

"Raph, it's 11:30, we are out of time for that. We need something easier."

"Please, I can knock these out by myself in an hour, this is more important." He gently places a hand on your knee, and you try to ignore the way it covers nearly half your thigh, "If you want to learn, I want to teach you," he says softly. "But only if you want." He adds, backing off slightly, afraid he might be pushing too hard.

"Look," he continues, "after D, you're probably one of the smartest people I know. So, while it's really cute watching you struggle this hard at something for once," he smirks when you glare at him, "it seems like this really bothers you, and if I can, I want to help."

Okay, this is not helping your little something-like-love situation *at all*.

"Though, I'll admit, there might be a tiny part of me that would, selfishly, really like to show off teach you something that I'm really good at I really enjoy." He gives you what he hopes is his most convincing smile. He doesn't often get to flex outside of the weight room.

You're hesitant. You really *really* don't want to look like any more of an idiot in front of Raphael, and you have zero confidence that this will do anything more than frustrate the both of you, but you can see the poorly concealed hopeful excitement in his eyes, and, Fuck, how is he so damn cute?

"Okay, fine," you relent with a sigh.

"Cool," he says, standing and trying not to grin. He grabs a stack of felt hearts and some thread from the table. "Would you be cool with me sitting behind you? It'll easier to see what you're doing from there."

It's a move he almost immediately regrets when you nod and he settles himself behind you on the papasan. You're close, very close, and he's been drinking. He tries desperately to focus as you command the attention of all his senses. Your warmth radiates through his plastron, and the shape of the chair traps your scent around him. He wills his hands to stay right where they are, as you settle against him.

It's... difficult. He tries talking you through everything, but somehow it isn't translating to your stupid hands. He can feel it, your body almost as curved and rigid as his own carapace with tension. He puts a hand on your arm. "You're pulling too tight. Here," he rumbles into your ear, his rough hands gentle as they move down your arms to your own, "like this." You hope he doesn't notice the gooseflesh that has scattered over your skin.

Over the next half-hour, he guides you through the motions, your small hands moving within his own, and it isn't long before the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm. It starts to feel less like your fighting with the damn thing and more like you're actually capable of handling this, your smile even claws it's way out of it's grave a little.

About fifteen minutes in you start to notice something. A sound or a feeling, you can't quite figure out which, seeming to envelope you. It takes a good few minutes before you realize... It's him.

Donatello told you about this. You heard it once in the lab when Don had been tinkering, contentedly, with a new graphics card for a good while. He seemed embarrassed when you asked, but he explained, very clinically, what it was and why it was happenings.

He called it a "churr," and explained that it's something involuntary that happens when they're content, or happy, or excited, or pissed. Similar to a growl or a purr. (The squeal you had to contain when you found out they purr luckily only came out as a quiet squeak. Don gave you a look.)

And now it's surrounding you. Vibrating against your spine and down your arms. He seems to not even realize it's happening. You suppress a smile. You consider saying something, but your worried he'll get embarrassed and stop. He's pretty sensitive about the non-human parts of his life, so you instead choose to just shut up and enjoy the fact that he's evidently enjoying his time with you.

And he is. It's the first time the thought of Valentine's Day doesn't entirely leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Normally, he wouldn't even leave the lair today, but you'd asked him to come over and help with decorations, and he stupidly agreed. It was you. Of course he was going to say yes. And, honestly, it isn't as painful as he thought it was going to be. You're hot, and fun, and if his terminally single ass is going to do anything other than sulk on Valentine's Day. This ain't half bad.

Once you seem to have the hang of things, you both start working as individuals, though neither of you move far from your positions. That's when he notices it, too, in a lull in conversation, a deep rumble from within his chest. He shifts in the chair, uncomfortably, and clears his throat in hopes that it'll stop, or at least interrupt the involuntary process. But, no. He's not that lucky. Maybe if he just pretends it isn't happening. You don't seem to have noticed yet.

He continues on as if nothing is going on, and eventually settles back into a comfortable rhythm. The mild embarrassment remains, but overall if you don't mention it, maybe it doesn't bother you? You've never really flinched at his weird turtle shit, and maybe this is no different. By 3:30, all 120 hearts have been completed, and his churring has faded almost into white noise.

You steel yourself and sigh internally. You don't want to. You really don't want to. But you have to be at work in five hours, so you stand, yawning. "Okay," you grin, stretching, "thanks for the help, now get the fuck out."

He gets up and tosses the last heart onto the pile, grinning, "Well, shit, how's that for gratitude?" Tonight was a good night.

After a few minutes of both of you finding any reason to stall, you run out of them, and he makes his way out to the fire escape. Speaking, crouched, through the window, he's at eye level, and you kiss his cheek, softly, "Thank you," you say sincerely.

He tries to play it cool, but the hunter green stripes down the lines of his throat darken just a little, and his smirk shifts into something just a bit more bashful.

Gods damn it, this boyish fucking asshole.

"Hey," you say before he can run off, "so, um, it's Valentine's Day, and I'll be getting out of work after sundown tonight, so..." Play it cool, damn it. "You know, there's probably going to be a lot of creeps out, and-"

"I can walk you home," he interrupts a little too eagerly, his stripes darkening further, "uh, if you want, I mean. I'm not saying you couldn't handle some creeps on your own, I just, uh..." He laughs, nervously as he trails off, embarrassed.

You try not to grin, "I'd appreciate that," you say, blushing, and you swear he lights up like Christmas morning.

He gets back home at about sunrise, and doesn't sleep all day. At about 5:30 in the evening his phone buzzes, and he can't help the smile that blooms across his face when he sees your name. When he opens the message the smile fades and is replaced by something very different.

It's a photo of you, probably taken by one of your coworkers, posed coquettishly in front of a Valentine's Day themed step and repeat banner, in a vintage red dress that hugs your curves deliciously. Which you fully didn't pick out with a certain guy in mind, why would you think that?

If you'd been present, you would know that the dress has done it's job, and after a few minutes staring dumbly at the now saved photo on his phone, he starts prepping for a night of protecting the good people of New York City.

Okay, maybe just one, in particular.

.....

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