#2007 raphael x reader

[stellaspectral]

Can you do a 2007 Raph x collage psychology student reader

After Leo leaves, Reader just moved from Florida to New York for college to become a therapist, but still keeps in touch with her family by calling every few days. She meets Raph by accident a week moving into her dorm, and after spending some time together, they eventually start dating (her roommate knows about him, but they just don't really care, lol).

Two months into the relationship, Reader gets a call from her parents that a family member she doesn't know died, and even though she doesn't really care, she still wants to be there to support them, and when Reader tells Raph about the situation he pretends to take it well but is worried she's not going to come back even though she says she will. So when she does come back a few days later, she spends the next couple days with him to make him feel better.

A/N: This ended up a bit longer than I originally intended, but I really wanted to properly set up Raph and the reader’s relationship and display his insecurities regarding Leo leaving and how that affected him.

I hope you enjoy! ��

I’m Not Going Anywhere (angst)

❤️ 2007 Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Angst, some brief violence, blood and injury, hurt/comfort, and abandonment issues. All characters are aged-up.

The move from Florida to New York was jarring. The skyline swallows the stars, the cold air bites harder than you expected, and the city never stops buzzing. You traded palm trees and predictability for subway maps and a cramped dorm room. But although it’s only been a week, it already feels more like home than Florida ever did.

You moved away for college to study psychology, finally pursuing your dream of helping people untangle the knots in their heads. You miss your family, and you had promised to call at least every couple of days. Your mom always sounds a little too cheerful, your dad distracted in the background. They mean well.

They just don’t quite understand why psychology, why New York, why now. And you try not to feel the weight of their confusion pressing behind every “we’re proud of you.”

Then one night, on the way back from a late study group, it happens. You’re still memorizing the streets and directions, and you end up taking a wrong turn trying to find the quickest route back to your dorm, earbuds in and your thoughts drifting. You almost don’t notice the guy in the alley—until a sharp, desperate cry cuts through your music.

You yank your earbuds out. You hear heavy breathing, the scuff of shoes on asphalt, and a low, threatening voice: “Just give us the wallet, old man. And the watch. Don’t make this difficult.” Peeking around the dumpster that marks the alley’s entrance, your blood runs cold.

Two large, brutish men have a third, much older man pinned against the brick wall. His face is pale with terror, his hands raised in surrender. Your own hands begin to tremble. This is it. The New York horror story every out-of-towner is warned about. Your first instinct, a primal scream in your gut, is to run. To turn and sprint back to the well-lit street, dial 911, and forget you ever saw anything.

The man’s fearful eyes meet yours for a fleeting second over the shoulder of one of his assailants, a silent plea that roots you to the spot. The future therapist in you, the part that wants to help, wars with the terrified Florida girl who is way out of her depth. Before you can settle on a choice, it’s made for you.

There’s a metallic clang from above, like a dropped wrench on a fire escape. The two thugs look up, annoyed. “What the hell was that?” one of them growls.

Someone drops from the darkness above, landing in a low crouch, clad in armor. “You heard him,” a voice rumbles, low and gravelly, distorted by the helmet. “Don’t make this difficult.”

The thugs are momentarily stunned. Then one of them scoffs, pulling out a knife. “And who are you supposed to be? Some kinda bargain-bin Batman?”

The armored figure doesn’t answer with words; he moves. An elbow connects with the first thug’s jaw with a sickening crack. A metal-gauntleted fist slams into the second one’s stomach, doubling him over with a gasp. In less than ten seconds, both men are groaning on the ground, disarmed and incapacitated, the fight over before it truly began.

The armored vigilante turns to the old man, who is staring, slack-jawed. “Go. Get out of here.” The command is rough, impatient. The old man doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles away, disappearing into the night.

Then, the helmeted head turns to you.

You’re still frozen at the alley’s edge, your bag held to your chest like a shield. The heavy helmet tilts down, and you feel the weight of an unseen gaze sweep over you, assessing. You see your own wide-eyed, terrified reflection warped in the visor. For a heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to come for you next, another loose end to be dealt with.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the voice rumbles. It’s not a question; it’s a statement of fact, laced with annoyance.

Your brain, which had shut down completely, reboots with a jolt. “I … I took a wrong turn,” you stammer, the words barely a whisper. Your knuckles are white where you’re clutching your bag strap.

He takes a half-step towards you, and you flinch, pressing yourself back against the grimy brick of the building behind you. “Go home,” he grunts, gesturing dismissively towards the street. “And forget you saw anything.”

He grabs the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder, preparing to haul himself up. He’s leaving. Just like that. The encounter is over. All you have to do is turn around and walk away. Go back to your dorm, lock the door, and pretend this was a nightmare brought on by too much caffeine and stress.

But you don’t move.

“Wait,” you call out, your voice steadier than you expect.

He freezes, one boot on the first rung of the ladder. He doesn’t turn around, but you can feel his entire body tense.

“You’re hurt,” you add, your observational skills kicking in despite the shock. You can see a wound on his arm, something that must have happened in the brief scuffle.

“I’m fine,” he bites out, the words clipped.

“It’s bleeding,” you insist, taking a cautious step forward. You point toward the gash on his bicep, where blood is slowly seeping through a tear in the fabric under his armor. “You can’t just leave that. It’ll get infected.”

He takes a step down from the ladder, and then another, until he’s standing in the alley again, looming over you. “What part of ‘go home’ did you not understand? Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

The insult stings, a sharp jab to your already frayed nerves, but you force yourself to stand your ground. You meet the visor of his helmet, refusing to be cowed. “Neither,” you say, your voice remarkably even. You hold up your hands in a placating gesture, letting your bag slide down one arm. “I’m a student. I … I have a first-aid kit in my bag. For emergencies. It’ll take two minutes.”

You watch as the helmet tilts down to look at the gash on his bicep, then back up at you. Through the distorted reflection, you can just make out the hard set of your own jaw. He’s weighing his options: the risk of infection versus the risk of trusting a complete stranger.

Finally, he lets out a sound that’s halfway between a sigh and a growl. “Fine,” he rasps. He points a finger upward, toward the roof. “Up there where no one can see us.”

You nod, your heart hammering against your ribs, not with fear anymore, but with a strange, jittery adrenaline. He turns and begins to climb the fire escape with a fluid, powerful grace, even with his injury. He moves with a silence that seems impossible for someone his size, his armored boots making only the softest of metallic sounds on the rungs.

You follow. Your hands are slick with nervous sweat as you grip the cold metal. The climb feels treacherous, your bag bumping awkwardly against your back. You don’t look down. You focus only on the rung in front of you and the broad, armored back of the strange vigilante above you.

When you finally heave yourself over the ledge onto the flat, gravel-strewn roof, you pause, hands on your knees as you catch your breath. He’s already standing by a low ventilation unit, his back to the sprawling cityscape. He watches you, his posture rigid. The helmet is still on, hiding everything.

“Well?” he prompts impatiently. “You wanted to play doctor. Get on with it.”

You slide your bag off your shoulders and kneel on the gritty rooftop, unzipping it with trembling fingers. You pull out the small, red nylon case of your first-aid kit. Your hands are shaking as you open it, revealing antiseptic wipes, gauze pads, and rolls of tape.

“You’re going to have to take that part of the armor off,” you state, looking at the pauldron covering his bicep. “And you’ll have to take off the helmet if—”

“No,” the voice rumbles, the single word sharp and final, cutting through the quiet. He takes a step back, putting distance between you. “The helmet stays on.”

You bite your lip, feeling a fresh wave of trepidation; you’ve pushed too far. But your logic, the student-in-training part of you, won’t let it go. “What if you have a head injury, and—”

“I don’t have a head injury,” he snaps, gesturing to his bleeding arm. “The problem’s here. Now are you gonna help or are you just gonna stand there making stupid demands?”

The insult lands, but it’s laced with something else. Like a frantic, cornered energy. He’s not just being difficult; he’s scared.

You don’t know of what.

“Okay,” you concede softly. “The helmet stays on. But the pauldron has to come off. I can’t get to the wound otherwise.”

He hesitates for another long moment. Then, with a grunt of resignation, he reaches up with his good hand. There’s a series of soft clicks and snaps as he unfastens the piece of armor covering his bicep, pulling it free before dropping it. He then works at the torn sleeve of the garment underneath, ripping it further to expose the gash properly.

And you stop breathing.

Your brain simply cannot process what you’re seeing. Under the dim glow of the distant city lights, the skin of his arm is not any of the tones you were expecting: it’s green.

For a second, you think it’s a full-body suit, some kind of advanced costume. But you see the texture of the skin itself, which has a smooth, almost leathery quality, with faint, subtle patterns like a reptile. And he’s massive, his bicep thick with a dense, powerful muscle unlike any you’ve ever seen on a human.

He notices your hesitation, your frozen posture. “What?” he growls, his voice low. “Gonna run screaming now?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor. He’s waiting for you to recoil, to confirm whatever fears he has about being seen. The part of you that wants to help—the part that is your entire reason for being in this city—overrides the part that is struggling with reality.

“No,” you say, your voice a little shaky. You clear your throat and force yourself to move. “No, I’m not.” You reach into your kit and pull out an antiseptic wipe. Your fingers tremble as you tear the packet open. “This is probably going to sting.”

He just grunts in response, watching your every move.

You take a deep breath to steady your hands and gently press the wipe to the edges of the cut. He flinches, a sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t pull away. You work with a focused silence, cleaning the wound as best you can.

“Why?” he asks suddenly.

You pause, looking up at the helmet. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

You grab a sterile gauze pad and press it firmly against the gash to staunch the bleeding. “You saved that man. You got hurt doing it. Seems like a fair trade.”

He’s silent for a long time as you work, taping the gauze into place. Your hands are steady now, your purpose clear. When you’re done, you gently pat the bandage.

“There,” you say. “You should get that looked at by an actual doctor, but it’s clean and covered for now.”

He looks down at his bandaged arm. He seems … surprised. As if he didn’t actually expect you to go through with it.

“What’s your name?” you ask, the question popping out before you can stop it.

He tenses again. “Why?”

“Because I can’t keep calling you ‘the armored vigilante’ in my head forever,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

A strange sound comes from the helmet; you take a second to identify it as a rough, choked-off chuckle. “Raph,” he says.

You offer a small smile and tell him your name.

“Right,” Raph says, standing up abruptly. He picks up his discarded pauldron, looking at it for a moment before deciding to just carry it. “Remember, you never saw me. Don’t come looking for trouble.”

He turns and stalks to the edge of the roof without a backward glance. With the same impossible grace as before, he swings over the side and disappears down the fire escape, his movements swift and silent.

You’re left alone on the roof, the cool night air raising goosebumps on your arms. Your mind is a whirlwind of green skin, a gravelly voice, and a single, reluctantly given name. You look down at your hands. A small smear of drying blood is on one of your fingers. His blood—the only proof that any of this was real.

After cleaning your hands, you slowly pack up your first-aid kit, moving on autopilot. Then you tuck it carefully into your bag before making your own, much slower, descent back to the world you thought you knew.

The memory of that night replays in your mind for days. You do your coursework; you attend lectures on behavioral theory; you text your family that yes, you’re eating enough vegetables. But a part of your brain is always on that rooftop.

A week later, you climb the fire escape again. It’s a foolish impulse, one that the logical part of your brain screams against. He told you to stay away. But the therapist-in-training part, the part that saw a flicker of profound loneliness behind that helmet, is stronger.

Your heart beats a nervous drum against your ribs as you reach the roof—but you find it empty. You sit for a while, watching the traffic as you work on some essays or read, and then you go home. You do this for three nights.

On the fourth, he’s there.

He’s not in his armor, just dark pants and a hoodie, the hood pulled low. He’s leaning against the same ventilation unit. As you approach, he doesn’t turn, but you know he heard you.

“Thought I told you to forget you saw anything,” he rumbles.

“You also told me your name,” you counter softly, stopping a respectful distance away. “Kind of a mixed message.”

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he turns his head just enough for you to see the strong line of his jaw in the shadows. “You’re stubborn.”

“I’m told it’s one of my defining traits,” you reply, a small smile touching your lips.

And that’s how it begins.

You meet on that rooftop, maybe once or twice a week. The conversations are stilted at first. You talk about your classes, the culture shock of moving from Florida, the pressure you feel from your family. He listens, though he rarely talks about himself.

About a month into your strange rooftop rendezvous, he finally trusts you enough. You’re talking about a frustrating professor when he reaches up and pulls his hood back. You’d prepared yourself, but it’s still a shock. His skin is green, his head bald and reptilian, his eyes a startlingly intense amber. You even see the peek of a plastron and—is that a shell?!

He’s a turtle. A giant humanoid turtle!

He’s waiting for you to scream, to run, to do anything but what you do—which is meeting his gaze and giving him a small, genuine smile. “Hi, Raph,” you say, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The tension drains out of his shoulders in a visible wave. He gives a short, disbelieving huff of air through his nostrils. From that night on, the hood and armor stay off when you’re together.

Your late-night disappearances don’t go unnoticed. Your roommate, Chloe, a born-and-bred New Yorker with zero patience for nonsense, corners you one evening as you’re trying to sneak out.

“Alright, spill,” she says, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not in a cult, are you? Because my mom’s cousin joined a cult and the first sign was him sneaking out at all hours to ‘commune with the moon goddess’ in Central Park. So if you’re doing that, just tell me.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky. “No, definitely not communing with any goddesses.” You hesitate, chewing on your lower lip. You’ve kept this part of your life entirely separate, a secret world on the rooftops. But Chloe is your friend, and the lying is getting exhausting. “Look,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s a guy. But it’s … complicated.”

“Complicated how?” she asks, her gaze sharpening. “Is he married? In a gang? Both?”

“No! God, no.” You lean against the wall, trying to find the words. “He’s just really shy. And he prefers … nighttime.”

As if summoned by your words, a soft, distinct tap-tap-tap sounds on your dorm room window. Chloe’s eyes widen and she swivels her head towards the sound. You close your eyes, a groan escaping your lips. Of course.

She stalks over to the window, yanking back the curtain. On the fire escape, illuminated by the glow of a nearby streetlamp, is Raph. He’s in his hoodie, but there’s no hiding the massive, three-fingered hand resting on the windowpane, or the sheer bulk of his frame. He sees Chloe, his eyes going wide, and he immediately pulls back, ready to bolt.

You rush to the window, sliding it open a crack. “Raph, it’s okay! It’s okay, this is Chloe. My roommate.”

She just stares. She takes in the green skin, the edge of the shell visible under his hoodie, the general impossibility of him. Her expression is utterly blank. You brace yourself for the screaming, the fainting.

Instead, she lets the curtain fall, turns back to you, and crosses her arms again. She’s silent for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, she asks, in a perfectly level tone, “So, is he why we’re suddenly out of frozen pizzas?”

The sheer, anticlimactic normalcy of the question sends a wave of hysterical relief through you. “Um. Yes?”

She nods once, as if this explains everything. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell your giant turtle boyfriend to use the front door from now on.” She uncrosses her arms and walks back to her desk, picking up her textbook as if nothing has happened.

And just like that, the biggest secret of your life is out, met not with panic but the resigned sigh of a city girl who’s apparently seen too much to be fazed by mutant reptiles.

New York, you decide, is even weirder than you thought.

You glance back out the window, where Raph still lingers on the fire escape, clearly caught between fight, flight, and full-on identity crisis. “You good?” you whisper.

His eyes flick between you and the curtain Chloe just dropped, and he mutters, “Didn’t think I’d be meetin’ your roommate like that.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, well, she’s more chill than she looks.”

“She just called me your boyfriend,” he says, and there’s something new in his voice—half teasing, half stunned. His gaze locks with yours, and for a second, all the noise of the city fades.

Your stomach does a little flip. The way he says boyfriend, like it’s foreign on his tongue, like he doesn’t quite know if he’s joking or serious, makes your heart thud hard against your ribs.

You meet his gaze, searching his expression. “Well,” you murmur, “you do keep showing up at my window like a lovesick raccoon.”

That gets a low chuckle out of him, gravelly and amused. “I’m way cooler than a raccoon.”

“Debatable,” you say, smiling now. “You eat all my food, lurk in the dark, and have mysterious night habits. Sounds pretty raccoon to me.”

His head dips slightly, maybe in defeat, maybe to hide a grin. “Fine. But a buff raccoon.”

You lean on the window frame, looking at him. “A terrifying, buff raccoon who apparently gets flustered when Chloe calls him her roommate’s boyfriend.”

That earns a dramatic groan as he lifts a hand to his face. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

That hangs in the air between you for a beat. Then Raph shifts his weight, shoulders squaring, eyes warmer now. “So … still up for a run across the rooftops?”

You grin and reach for your jacket. “Always.”

Now, you’re two months into a relationship with Raph.

And over these past months, the pieces of his life have slowly slotted into place for you. You’ve met his family: Splinter, his father, calm and commanding, with a quiet strength that fills every room. Donnie, his tech-genius brother, whose mind moves at lightning speed. And Mikey, the youngest, a whirlwind of bright energy who immediately declared you his new favorite human.

And then there’s the missing piece, the ghost that haunts their home: his older brother, Leo.

You’ve learned about him in fragments, pieced together from Raph’s late-night rants. Leo had left months ago for a training mission in Central America. His departure left a gaping wound in the family, a fracture in their dynamic. And for Raph, it’s a wound that festers with a unique blend of resentment, grief, and a profound sense of abandonment.

Raph feels the weight of leadership now and the sting of his brother—his rival, the family’s rock—choosing to leave them behind. You understand now that much of his anger is just a shield for that deep, aching hurt.

You’re curled up on the couch in the lair, a psychology textbook open in your lap. But your attention is fixed on the old sci-fi movie playing on the TV. Raph is on the floor, his head resting against your knees, completely relaxed for once. This is your new normal, and you love it.

Then your phone buzzes on the cushion beside you. You glance at the screen; it’s your mom.

“Hey, Mom,” you say, keeping your voice low as Raph’s gaze flits to you.

Her voice on the other end is strained, artificially bright in that way she gets when she’s delivering bad news. “Hi, sweetheart. So, um, I’m calling because … well, your Great-Aunt Carol passed away last night.”

You blink. Great-Aunt Carol? You vaguely remember a stooped, stern-faced woman from a family reunion when you were six, one who smelled like mothballs and gave you a piece of hard candy that tasted like soap. You haven’t seen or thought of her since.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of what else to offer. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The funeral is on Friday,” your mom continues, her voice cracking slightly. “I know it’s a long way, honey, and with your studies … but your father and I would really love it if you could be here. For support.”

You don’t care about the funeral, not really. But you hear the wobble in your mom’s voice, the plea behind the words. She wants her daughter. “Of course, Mom,” you say without hesitation. “I’ll book a flight. I’ll be there.”

After you hang up, Raph pushes himself up into a sitting position, turning to face you. His relaxed posture is gone, replaced by a subtle tension in his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

You close your textbook and set it aside. “A great-aunt of mine died. The funeral’s in a few days back in Florida. My parents want me to come home.”

“Oh,” he says, the word flat. “Right. Family’s important. You should go.”

His response is perfect. It’s exactly what a supportive boyfriend should say. But you’re fluent in Raph, and you see the flicker of something else in his eyes. It’s the same look whenever the conversation turns to Leo.

“I’ll only be gone for a few days,” you say, reaching out to touch his arm. “Just for the weekend, really. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grunts, not quite meeting your eyes. He stands up, a sudden, restless energy about him. “It’s fine. Go. Do your thing.” He turns away from you and pretends to be interested in a rack of weapons against the wall.

You know he’s not fine—because you know that ‘leaving’ is a loaded word with him. You get up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and pressing your cheek against his shell. “Raph,” you say softly. “I promise I’m coming back.”

He lets out a shaky breath, placing one of his hands over yours. “I know,” he says again, his voice a low rumble. But he doesn’t sound convinced; he sounds like a little boy trying to be brave.

The next few days are a blur of travel and stilted social obligations.

The funeral is as awkward as you imagined. You stand beside your grieving parents, holding their hands, offering tissues, and accepting condolences from relatives whose names you can’t remember for a woman you barely knew. You feel like an actor in a play you haven’t rehearsed.

You text Raph sporadically. ‘Landed safely.’ ‘Funeral was today.’ ‘How are you?’

He gives clipped, monosyllabic replies. ‘Good.’ ‘K.’ ‘Fine.’

It’s like talking to a brick wall, and it makes your heart ache. He’s closing himself off, retreating behind his anger because it’s safer than admitting he’s scared.

On Sunday evening, true to your word, you’re back in New York. The cab ride from the airport feels impossibly long. You don’t even bother going back to your dorm. You pay the driver and head straight for the lair.

You slip inside, your overnight bag still slung over your shoulder. It’s quiet. The main living area is empty, save for Mikey’s scattered comic books. You find Raph in the dojo, sitting on the floor, his back to the door. He’s not meditating. He’s just … sitting. The stillness from him is more worrying than any of his rages.

“I told you I’d be back,” you say gently.

His head whips around. His eyes widen, a storm of disbelief, relief, and something incredibly vulnerable washing over his face. He’s on his feet in a second, closing the distance between you in three long strides. He doesn’t say a word, just cups your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones as if to confirm you’re real.

“You’re back,” he breathes, the words full of emotion.

“I’m back,” you confirm, leaning into his touch. “I promised, didn’t I?”

He finally lets himself pull you against his plastron, his arms wrapping around you securely, protectively. You can feel the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he rests his head against yours. “I was worried,” he admits, the confession a low, gravelly whisper. His eyes finally drop from yours to the floor. “Stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, sliding your arms around his neck. “Not when you’ve lost people before. Not when you’re still scared it could happen again.”

His arms tighten just a little, holding you like you might still disappear if he lets go. “I kept thinking you’d get down there, see how simple things used to be, and realize you don’t need all this,” he mutters. “All the crap that comes with bein’ with me.”

Your heart aches at the rawness in his voice. You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want ‘easy,’ Raph. I want you. This. All of it.”

His expression falters, the fierce mask slipping for a moment. There’s something wide and uncertain in his gaze, something wounded and desperate for reassurance. You cradle his jaw in your hand, thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper. “You don’t scare me. This life doesn’t scare me. But the idea of not being here with you? That does.”

He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut like he’s savoring the words, letting them sink in deep. When he opens them again, the storm has settled a little. Still there, but quieter.

“I missed you,” he finally says.

You smile softly. “I missed you too.”

He steps back and grabs your bag with one hand like it weighs nothing, gesturing toward the common room. “C’mon. You look dead on your feet. Let’s get you settled.”

“I’m not going to bed yet,” you reply, following him. “You’ve been sulking for three days. I think you owe me some quality time.”

That gets a grunt, but the corner of his mouth lifts just a little. “What, like a movie night?”

“You pick the cheesiest, most ridiculous movie you own,” you say, “and I get to use your shoulder as a pillow.”

“Deal,” he says, and the word is so immediate, so relieved, that you know you made the right choice.

You don’t go back to your dorm that night.

The next morning, you wake to the distant sounds of clattering and energetic yelling from the kitchen. You find Raph already there, leaning against a counter with a mug in his hands, watching Mikey attempt to flip a pancake the size of a manhole cover. Donnie is at the table, tinkering with some gadget and pointedly ignoring the culinary chaos.

“Morning,” Raph says, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

Mikey, mid-flip, spots you and beams. “She’s alive! Dude, I thought you were gonna sleep forever. Want a pizza-sized pancake?” He gestures with his spatula to the monstrosity in the pan, which looks suspiciously lumpy.

“I think I’ll stick to coffee for now,” you say with a laugh, accepting the mug Raph offers you, and you lean against the counter next to him.

Later, you find him in the dojo, working out his remaining frustrations on a heavily worn punching bag. He moves with a brutal grace, every muscle in his powerful arms and shoulders coiled and released with explosive force. You don’t interrupt, just lean against the doorframe and watch until he finally stops, panting, his skin slick with a light sweat.

He turns, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, and finally says what’s been sitting between you. “Hey. I, uh … I was a jerk when you were gone.”

You push off the frame and walk over, picking up a water bottle from a nearby bench before holding it out to him. “You were scared,” you counter gently. “It’s okay to be scared, you know.”

He takes the bottle, his fingers brushing yours. He avoids your gaze, looking down at the scuffed floor mats. “Yeah, but I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree softly. “But I understand why.” You reach up and place a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward you. “So I forgive you. On one condition.”

A hint of a smile touches his lips. “What’s that?”

“You let me win our next game of air hockey.”

He lets out a genuine laugh. “Not a chance.” He leans down and captures your lips. He pulls you flush against him, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against your own.

The next day feels lighter.

You spend the afternoon on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap as you try to explain the fundamentals of cognitive-behavioral therapy to him using his favorite movie characters as examples. By evening, you feel the last of Raph’s anxious energy finally dissipate. So you tell him you have to go back to your dorm for clean clothes and textbooks.

He doesn’t retreat or tense up. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, but he’s already grabbing his hoodie.

“I know. I want to.”

When you reach your dorm, you pause and look at the glittering expanse of the city out of your kitchen window. “It’s weird,” you muse. “When I first moved here, this all felt so big and scary. It felt … lonely.”

Raph comes to stand beside you, following your gaze out to the city lights. “And now?” he asks, his voice low.

You turn your head to look at him. You think of the weight of his arm around you on the couch, the steady beat of his heart. The feel of his lips on yours. You smile and take his hand. “Now,” you say, lacing your fingers with his, “because of you, it feels like home.”

[katanablue]

Hey there. I absurdly love your blog and your writing style, it’s amazing. I wanted to ask I I could perhaps request a Raphael x reader where it’s kind of an enemies to lovers. Reader and Raphael don’t get along at first because of their similar personalities but after a while they realize that they overplayed their feelings for each other with hate.

I’m not sure if this made any sense at all ;-;

ABSOLUTELY MADE SENSE ANON!!!!

You didn’t request a spef Raph, so I’m going with 07 I hope that’s okay ❤️

Stupid idiot.

Annoying prick.

Hotheaded jerk.

You had a few more insults for the red clad turtle but you’re sure if you kept thinking about it, you’d accidentally say them out loud.

Not that it would matter, it’s not like your distaste for him was a secret. Just like his wasn’t hidden from you.

It’s like two bulls in a China shop whenever you two are together, always butting heads and arguing opinions over the simplest things that can be easily discussed over a cup of tea. But not you two, you two would rather point fingers and get into petty arguments like 5 year olds.

You’re not sure what exactly caused you dislike Raphael, but you’re more than certain that it was him who started it. Probably countered an opinion you had about something so minuscule that you honestly would have let it go if it weren’t for the smug and cocky attitude he was displaying.

Thus, your rivalry with the turtle started.

Raph feels the exact same way about you; complaining that your temper is too short, you can’t take or follow direction and all he gets are snorts and fake shock from his brothers and Splinter.

“Really?”

“You don’t say?”

“That is so funny that you feel that way.”

And all Raphael can do is scoff and roll his eyes because he’s not stupid, he knows you’re similar to him. Maybe that’s why you clash, because he’s never had someone to combat his bonehead personality besides Leo and Casey but even then he was used to it, he’s known them forever.

Now you, having just met you a few months ago because April insisted that you, her friend, and he would get along splendidly.

Clearly she was wrong.

Currently you were over for a game night, sitting in between Don and Mikey while he and Leo sat across. April and Casey temporarily stepped out to grab food for everyone, leaving you with the mutant turtles. But you were having a wonderful time; good games, good vibes, good company…

Almost.

You roll your eyes when you catch Raph scoffing to himself after your turn, crossing his arms and grumbling to himself.

“Problem, Raph?” You ask, painting an innocent vibe as you lean back in your seat to glare at him. He looks at you with a bored expression, shrugging and then gesturing towards the game board with his chin.

“Dumb move, should’ve gone left instead of right.”

You can see from your peripheral how Don shakes his head and how Mikey tenses in the slightest. Leo rubs at his forehead, knowing what was coming.

“Yeah that’s why you got sent back to the start of the board right?”

“Maybe so, but I’m winning with the most money.”

“Doesn’t matter numb nuts, now you have to go past the scammer and pay the debt—“

“Oh I got more than enough, sweetheart—“

“Okay you know what—“

“Enough!” Leo shouts, standing up and looking back and forth between the two of you. “You two, get out. You’re banned from the rest of the game.”

Your mouth drops open in shock and Raph and scoffs again but harder, slapping his palms on his lap.

“She started it!”

“You should’ve just shut the fuck up!”

“Out!” He says again, pointing his finger towards the entrance of the Lair.

You suck your teeth and stand up, walking past Don in sheer annoyance. Raphael isn’t far behind you, muttering under his breath and kicking at Mikey’s skateboard which earns him an irritated ‘hey!’.

You step outside the Lair, wishing you could slam the door in Raph’s face but the entrance unfortunately didn’t work like that. With a heavy sigh you lean against the wall, digging into your pocket to grab your phone only to realize you left it inside. You suck your teeth, ready to head back in when Raph suddenly tosses you something. You catch it, clutching it close to your chest and when you look down you realize it’s your phone.

“…Thanks.”

He only grunts in response, leaning on the opposite wall and crossing his arms over his plastron. You look down at your phone to check the time and any notifications, about to just waste time on social media before deciding otherwise. You shove it into your pocket, pursing your lips a bit and look at Raph.

“…So you think I should’ve gone left?” You mumble, feeling oddly anxious to see if he’d respond.

He raises an eye ridge at you, an insult ready on his tongue before he drops it and decides it’s not worth it, especially considering you two just got kicked out of game night.

“Woulda been better. Cuz now you gotta go the long way to get to the end.”

“Yeah but this route has better chances of getting a treasure chest.” You try to keep your voice calm, surprised at how… quiet, your conversation was so far.

He shrugs and straightens his posture a bit. “Jus’ tryin to help.”

You can’t help but laugh, bewildered that he just say that.

“By calling it a dumb move?” You huff and roll your eyes, feeling that faint flicker of anger start in your chest.

“Well. It was.” He retorts but there’s no hint of hatred whatsoever.

There’s a silence between the two of you now, Raph avoiding your gaze but you looking at him straight on.

“You know, you’re somewhat pleasant to talk to when you aren’t being a dick.”

Now he laughs, shaking his head a bit and finally making eye contact with you.

“Yeah well, you ain’t so half bad when you’re not being crazy.”

“I am not—“ You catch yourself, taking a moment to breathe in. “I am not crazy. You bring out my crazy.”

“Only because you bring out mine!”

You bite your tongue, trying really hard to not fight because it’ll always end in the same way; the both of you repeating yourselves, throwing insults, and then ruining everyone else’s good time. Well, that last part seemed to have already happened.

“You don’t hate me as much as you make it out to be, right?” You couldn’t help but ask, seizing the opportunity to test if there was something more that just this supposed hatred.

He sighs heavily, reaching to scratch the back of his neck and awkwardly shift around. He sucks his teeth and lets out a huff before finally answering you.

“Nah, I don’t. Jus’ hate that there’s someone who’s too much like me.”

You squint at him, a confused smile crossing your lips.

“You mean hotheaded, short tempered, argumentative—“

He waves you off with an exasperated groan but nods.

“Now I see why my brothers are always gettin’ pissed at me.” He chuckles quietly.

You smile, finding his laughter a bit endearing and with the way it warms your chest, you know you want to hear it more. Especially if you can be the one to cause it.

Another silence follows. Raph fidgets with one of his arm bands as a sort of distraction.

“Hope that means you don’t actually hate me that much either…” He murmurs under his breath.

“Well, you get on my nerves and sometimes I wanna pop your head off but, no, I don’t actually hate you…that much.”

He smirks at you and extends his hand out.

“Start over?”

You smile back and clasp his hand, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Start over.”

[theturtlelovers]

Raph is the kind of turtle who tenderly brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and kissing your temple, all while he's pistoning into you with such intensity that your cries of pleasure are unavoidable.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Ok so this is more of a headcanon/scenario request:

Which Turtle is likely to fuck reader so hard the bed breaks under them? (In detail, if possible 😏)

Would They Break The Bed? (18+)

2007!Turtles x reader

A/N: Tbh, they are mutants. If they wanted to break the bed, they would do it😂 Anyway, I gave the wheel a spin, and it decided on 2007 TMNT, so I hope you’ll enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Furniture and things breaking during sex, and sex lol.

Leonardo:

Leo is the least likely to break the bed while fucking you. That does not mean that he doesn’t go hard and rough, because damn, he does. It simply is because Leo is very aware of how the bed is going, while he is fucking you into the maddress.

He could be in the middle of turning your world upside down, fucking you so good that you were a moaning and whimpering mess, unable to formulate words, yet he would still notice if the bed’s creaking started to sound a little different under the two of you.

If the bed was about to break, Leo would be quick to notice, and before you would be able to realize anything was happening, Leo would already have you in a different position on a different part of the bed, relieving some of the tension on the bed frame.

But that did not mean in any way that he would slow down, instead wrapping a hand around your neck in whatever position you now found yourself in, telling you how good you were doing for him, continuing to go as hard and fast as before.

It wouldn’t stop the bed from creaking though, and Leo did find some kind of satisfaction in hearing how close the two of you were to breaking the furniture.

Raphael:

Raph is the most likely one to break the bed during sex. Actually, he has already done it a few times. He has broken his bed twice and yours once, costing you a trip to IKEA for a new bed, and a long complaint from your downstairs neighbour.

It was in the middle of the night when Raph had crawled through your window, wasting little time before the two of you were getting busy on your bed, with Raph going to absolute town on you. Your knees pressed to your chest in a mating press, with Raph pounding relentlessly into you, groaning in your ear, telling you how good you felt around him.

The bed was creaking violently, moving back and forth with each of Raph’s thrusts into you. Both of you could hear it, and after having broken Raph’s bed twice, you knew the sound of a bed falling apart. But with how good the two of you were feeling, neither of you cared, too deeply invested in your pleasure.

Suddenly there was a loud crack, followed by a bang. You screamed as the frame of the bed fell to the floor with a loud bang, followed by your neighbor screaming downstairs. But did Raph care? No. Not even a broken bed could stop him from continuing fucking you sensles.

Donatello:

Donnie breaking the bed during sex? Not very likely, but also not impossible. Sure he would make it creak like hell underneath you, making it very obvious what you were doing, even if you somehow managed to keep your sounds quiet.

It was actually quite a problem how noisy Donnie had made yours and his bed. You couldn’t even get ready to sleep him your own bed, without it creaking after the attack Donnie had caused it while fucking your brains out.

But if your bed was creaking badly, then Donnie’s bed was a screaming nightmare. It was loud, moving back and forth with each of Donnie’s thrusts into you, even banging against the wall at full force. But that didn’t do too much to dampen you and Donnie’s mood. Actually, very little could dampen your lustful mood when you were together. But it surely killed the mood for Donnie’s brothers who had to listen to it when they were in their own room.

The loud creaking and banging against the wall was enough to keep all three awake at night. It did muffle out the sounds of you and Donnie’s moans and groans, but the unmistakable sounds of furniture and walls gave you away. And yes, they had yelled at Donnie to get a new bed and move it away from the wall.

Michelangelo:

Well, you, Mikey and furniture had a complicated history to put it lightly. You may not have fully broken a bed together, but you did cause one of the legs on your bed to break beneath you once, where Mikey decided it would be fun to have you bouncing on him at the corner of your bed. Upsi.

One thing was the amount of times the two of you had accidentally knocked things onto the ground while going at it (which happened quite often. Many cups, glasses and lamps have been broken after falling from your nightstands), but nothing could compare to the time you broke not just a couch, but a coffee table as well during the same session.

You and Mikey had the lair to yourselves, so of course you decided to have sex on the couch. And it was there, in the middle of a rough and hot doggy, that the springs under you collapsed, causing the two of you to fall halfway through the couch.

But with you and Mikey being the horny fools that you were, you just moved from the couch to the coffee table. It was here, while you were laying with your back on the table, with Mikey thrusting between your legs, that two legs on the table broke, causing you to slide down onto the ground. And that was how you and Mikey ended up fucking on the floor in the middle of the lair.

[chadobi]

“Heavy Lies the Mask”

Bayverse Leonardo x Reader

Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Argument, Romantic Tension

Warnings: Emotional vulnerability, arguing, slight swearing, comfort, Leo being a stubborn emotionally constipated turtle

The lair was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that followed a verbal explosion, with everyone retreating to their corners to nurse bruised egos and emotions. You could still feel the burn of the tension that had ripped through the team earlier like a live wire. Donatello was holed up in his lab. Mikey hadn’t even tried to be funny when you passed him. Raph had punched a hole in the wall. Again.

And Leonardo was in the dojo, alone.

You stood in the doorway, watching him go through his katas—fluid, sharp, angry. Every movement was just a bit too aggressive. Every strike snapped like a whip, like he was trying to beat the air into submission.

“Rough night?” you asked, leaning against the frame.

He didn’t look at you. “Go home, Y/N.”

“No.”

His jaw twitched. “I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, walking in. “You yelled at your brothers like they were soldiers in a boot camp. Even Mikey looked scared, and that never happens.”

“They weren’t taking anything seriously,” Leo snapped, stopping mid-swing. “Do you want to tell me how I’m supposed to plan a patrol when Raph argues with everything, Donnie keeps fact-checking me, and Mikey acts like it’s a damn game?”

“They’re trying, Leo. You just didn’t give them a chance to breathe.”

“I gave them direction,” he said stiffly, “and they threw it in my face.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s because you gave orders, not guidance. There’s a difference.”

He turned, finally looking at you—and his eyes were sharp. “So now this is my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,” you shot back. “But maybe you should stop acting like the only one whose opinion matters. You talk like they’re below you.”

“I am the leader.”

“Yeah? Then act like it.” Your voice rose before you meant it to. “Because right now you’re acting like a dictator who’s pissed nobody bowed down.”

Leo’s shoulders rose with a sharp inhale. “You have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under. I have to keep them safe. I have to think ten steps ahead so that one of them doesn’t get stabbed, or shot, or caught—”

“You think they don’t know that?” you snapped. “You think they don’t feel the same fear every time they go topside? You’re not the only one putting your life on the line, Leo. But you act like their safety is all on you. That’s not leadership. That’s martyrdom.”

The words hung in the air like broken glass, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, more quietly, you said, “You’re their leader. Not their boss. They follow you because they trust you, not because they’re forced to.”

He exhaled, like the words deflated something in him.

“I’m trying,” he said finally. “But if I don’t take control, everything falls apart.”

“No,” you said, stepping closer, voice softer now. “If you don’t let go, you fall apart. And they need you whole, Leo. Not just standing, but present. Human.”

“I’m not—”

“You know what I mean.”

He looked away, jaw clenched tight, like he hated how right you sounded. Like it hurt to be seen this clearly.

You reached out and gently touched his arm. “I know you carry more than your share. I see how hard you try. But you push everyone away when things get tough—including me.”

That hit deeper than you expected. His gaze flicked back to you, and something raw surfaced in his expression.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” he said, voice barely audible. “But I can’t let myself fall apart. If I do, who’s left to keep us together?

“You don’t have to be made of stone to be strong, Leo.” You stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “You can lean on people. On me.”

He looked down at your intertwined fingers, something shifting behind his eyes. Shame, maybe. Gratitude. A little fear.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted. “Not really.”

You smiled faintly. “Good news: you don’t have to know. You just have to try.”

He let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it for days. Then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours.

“I really screwed things up tonight,” he murmured.

“Not beyond fixing,” you said gently. “But you should talk to them. Not as their leader. As their brother.”

He nodded. A pause, then: “Do you think they hate me right now?”

“They’re pissed,” you said honestly. “But they love you. That’s why it hurts when you act like this. You matter too much to them.”

Leo swallowed hard and glanced at you again. His expression had softened—no longer that tightly-wound leader you’d walked in on. Just Leo. A little lost, but not alone.

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly.

You stepped forward and gently rested your forehead against his. “Not even a little,” you whispered. “But don’t make me fight you just to be there for you, okay?”

He chuckled softly—a small, tired sound. “I’ll try.

“Good.” You kissed the edge of his jaw, light and warm. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[oozedninjas]

Spring fleeting

A/N: Fucking rude of me not to have fed my pretty girlies in this much while. In compensation, I offer you: a mating season special!!! You can shoot in a prompt and I'll turn it into a short smut ;) ily!!

Warnings: 18+ / MDNI / Smut / NSFW / edging, orgasm denial, dom!turtles, oral sex / General verses / Mutant guys are 25-29 y/o and they're suffering from spring heat!

Leo doesn't want to breathe because if he does he might get carried away by your scent. He watches from a safe distance never leaving sight of your neck and shoulders. Fuck, he wants to bite them, suck on them, lick a stripe over your pulse line that would cut your breath sharply. Shit, he wants you to hold from the upper end of his shell, begging. Before he registers he's calling your name. Let him lure you elsewhere, yeah?

Raph loves fucking you stupid. Your eyes closed and gaped mouth have him on the verge of coming. Words scarcely coherent enough to moan for more. He's balls deep in you, aching to fill you up once more. But Raph edges himself, just for the bliss of numbing everything away with each crashing orgasm. 

He trembles inside you, cum dripping from your abused cunt as he thrusts. Fuck you love him, you're crazy about him, and he just grins, amused at your stupid failed attempts to communicate it.

Donatello's knowledge of each sensitive part in your body borders on mean when he uses it like this. From your neck to your back, to your lower half. He's held you still for what feels like ages, nibbling, marking, and kissing the bruise after. But none of what he's done equals the cruel way he's sucking your clit: just enough to make your back arch, but never quite granting release. 

Begging wouldn't suffice, it wasn't about that. It was about him showing you how fucking good he could make you feel if you let him, how hard you could come just by his expert tongue. And shit, who are you kidding? You fucking adore it.

Mikey loves how hot you look riding his cock. He's got the best of views! Everything in you is perfect. He reaches up, palming every bit of skin he can get his hands on, squeezing, pinching, scratching. He loves it when his touch makes you weak enough to lose the rhythm, seemingly tumbling over his plastron, finally giving out. 

He's softer when he's had enough, and brings your mouth to his gently, big hands covering your back, pushing you down to his chest before he thrusts up. He reaches that sweet spot so easily like this, and your clit rubs so deliciously over the lower part of his plastron. Come on, don't hold back, you don't gotta do nothing, just relax.

[melancholyswayafterdark]

TMNT 2007!Raphael x Fem!Reader: Make Me (NSFW 18+)

Anonymous asked: This is kind of weird but would you be able to write 2007!Raph x reader where Raph is trying to dominant and gets shy when he finds out y/n is more experienced?

ya'll im such an idiot and I accidentally deleted the anon request who had asked for this. Luckily, I keep all the reqs in a google doc when writing lol. Here goes nothing! Let me know if you enjoyed this :)

NOTE: this is my after dark blog, and you're going to find smut here. 2007 is a more mature version of the turtles, and they are around their early/mid 20s. MINORS DNI. WARNINGS : dirty talk, doggystyle, and missionary

Imagine Raphael getting thrown for a loop the first time you have sex with each other

It’s honestly so sudden, neither of you expecting it to happen the way it did.

Now, Raph has had his fair share of sex. If the turtles had to take a guess, Raph would have the highest body count out of the four of them (Donnie takes the cake for last place, he’s a scaredy-cat).

He vividly remembers women practically throwing themselves onto him while he was The Nightwatcher long ago

I mean, could you blame him? A mysterious man in metal armor with a sexy accent who protects the city?

He felt invisible, being able to be himself and enjoy life the way it was supposed to be lived

In short, Raph here is no stranger to women- he knows what’s got to be done. 

When you first met the turtles, it was thanks to a clumsy Mikey during patrol one night who came crashing into your bedroom window.

With some panicked explanations, promises to keep a secret, and to fix a window, bonds were made. Friendship blossomed. 

Feelings blossomed. 

You seemed to get along well with each and every turtle, however, something about the smug-looking golden-eyed one who didn’t speak much at first had grabbed your attention. 

As you began to come down to their home often, you found yourself having more opportunities to interact with the second oldest brother: Raphael. He had this bad-boy aura that had you hooked. 

However, it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Raphael constantly teased you, and you constantly did the same back. He had no malicious intent, and neither did you. You had simply piqued each other's interest. 

“Hey shorty,” Raph snickers at you trying to reach for something on a high shelf.

“Hey hothead,” You tease back, “How about you use those big muscles of yours to help me instead of standing there and enjoying the show?” His eyes watched your breasts bounce in your shirt as you struggled to reach what you needed. 

Oh, and he loved it. That you noticed what his game was, and that you were more than happy to play. 

His non stop picking had been his fun way of flirting with you, to which you did the same back. As it went on, a friendly yet flirtatious connection had been made. 

Only, a cloud of sexual tension seemed to follow you around every time you interacted with the turtle in red. 

There was something about Raphael that got your panties in a twist. As time went on, you found yourself fantasizing about how you’d make your move on him. It seemed that your sexual appetite grew hungrier with each and every scenario you imagined in your head. 

You wondered just how Raph was able to get you going. 

Unbeknownst to you, Raphael’s reptilian instincts give him a heightened sense of smell. 

AKA, you didn’t have to tell him, he knew- no- he could smell how down bad you were for him.

Luckily for him, your human senses weren’t as strong. 

He remembered how he tested the waters a bit, trying to see if he was the cause of the smell of arousal coming from your sex. He had to make sure you were actually thinking of him in that way. 

Long story short, he was right. One day, he placed his hands on your waist during training, only for his nostrils to be hugged with your excitement in between your legs. 

And thus, the more he flirted with you, the more he wanted- no- needed you. 

It seemed the feeling was mutual, yet you both went about your days as normal. 

Until one day, you said two words that sent Raph over the edge.

Brace yourself, Y/n.

-------

“Ya ain’t gonna take me down that easily, shorty.” Your eyes follow Raph’s figure, watching as he circles you around the dojo. Since the streets have been getting pretty bad, Raphael took it upon himself to teach you a few things just in case. 

You could almost feel your heart pounding out of your chest. Being pushed to your limits, you weren’t giving up so quickly, either. You could see Raph looking you up and down, his amber eyes stopping right at your chest. You made a good choice to wear a tight tank top today, huh?

Quickly, his eyes shoot back up to look at your own, and suddenly, he’s studying you to see what his next move could be.

“I bet money you can’t take me down this time.” You smirk, albeit you were talking out of your ass; seeing Raph’s devious smile got you going. 

“Oh, so now we’re delusional?” The turtle chuckles as he gets in a fighting stance, “Looks cute on ya, Y/n.” Raph closes the space between you both inch by inch, and suddenly, his fists are flying toward you. 

He was ready to see if you remembered what you practiced. 

You quickly dodge his first hit, brushing the loose hair out of your eyes, “I told you,” Your knees bend, and Raphs last punches don’t connect, giving you the upper hand while he’s distracted. “I pay,” with a sweep of your left leg, you were able to catch Raph off balance. “Attention!” To finish, you hop on his shell from behind, touching the pressure point on his neck with two fingers (thanks, Master Splinter!) He easily topples over, and you pin his arm behind him as you straddle the back of his rough shell. 

Okay, maybe Raphael underestimated you a bit. He had no idea where you’d learn pressure points from, he didn’t teach you those. 

Seemingly defeated, the turtle under you sighs, his breathing becoming regular and less shallow as his heart rate goes down. 

“Did Leo teach ya that?” He huffs, straining under your control. A prideful smile is formed with your lips. 

“Nope, Master Splinter did.” Why would Leo teach you something like that, anyway? I mean, it wasn’t like he trained you alone. It was always as a group with their sensei. Leonardo taught you safer tricks that didn’t require you to get so close to your opponent.

You were enjoying your little victory, and what kind of victory would it be if you didn’t rub it in Raph’s face? 

“Did I really beat Mister Hothead?” You teased the turtle under you, whose annoyed eyes seemed to burn into your skin for you to set him free.

“Aigh’t, ya got me, now, get off.” Raphael’s rough accent was music to your ears, and you couldn’t imagine letting this opportunity go to show him what you were made of. Your grip on his arm becomes tighter, and you lower your lips to his exposed neck. 

What’s the point of teasing the big teddy bear if some flirting isn’t involved, right?

“Make me.” 

Suddenly, Raphael stops struggling and falls silent. You follow suit, alleviating the pressure you put on his body while on top, letting your guard down in confusion. Before you can ask what was going on, you feel yourself being flipped over, with your back hitting the hardwood floor and Raph’s face centimeters away from your own. Your arms are pinned at the top of your head by one of his hands, while the other is placed under your chin. 

“Come again?” He purrs, eyes scanning for any sign of you wanting him to stop. But, you don’t. In fact, you wanted him to keep going. 

“I said, ‘Make me.” You could feel the heat between your legs begin to rise, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You watched as golden eyes behind a red mask looked into your own before his free hand moved toward your bra strap.

“Ya think ya so innocent, dontcha?” You could almost jump out of your skin from the feeling of butterflies invading your stomach. It felt electrifying with every touch the turtle gave you. 

“Ya think I don’ know?” His face dives into your neck, taking a slow lick before suckling in a spot that causes your body to shiver in desire. “I can smell ya, I know that ya been wantin’ this.” You wished he would let go of your hands to give you free will, eager to take the lead and surprise him. 

It wasn’t long until your soft whimpers caused a throbbing erection to emerge, and when his hand let go of your wrists bound at the top of your head, your fingers found their way to his biceps, giving them a light squeeze. 

“Like you haven’t been wanting it, too” You challenged, trying to keep all composure. Raph comes up from working on your neck, his eyes darting to your lips that continue to tease him even though he has the upper hand. He couldn’t wait to shut you up. 

He did just that. Before you could think of something slick to say, his green lips crashed on yours, not coming up for air once. It seemed all the pent-up sexual frustration was being let out in this very moment in the middle of the dojo. 

Speaking of, it’s amazing how nobody came in by now. 

“I’ll take you right here,” You knew he would. Name a time or place and Raph would be down. You could feel tingles up and down your body from the friction, your nipples hardening from the arousal, and Raph's tongue intertwining with your own. 

It was a long time coming, and before you know it, Raph’s three-pronged hand moves one of your thighs over, only for them to rub circles around your clothed clit. Now sensitive, you wondered just how you could get Raph crumbling beneath you. “You’d like that, won’t ya?” Oh, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. Every sentence he said in between kisses drove you up the wall, the strong desire to ride him until the wheels fell off seemed to take over, and you knew you had to prove yourself. Raphael has no idea who he’s messing with. 

His fingers then move to the hem of your leggings, dropping the hint he wants them off.

“Make sure it's locked, big guy.” Your voice hoarse from a dry throat. Looking at you one last time, Raph makes the conscious decision to listen to you. Sure, he could take you to his room and get it on, but he couldn’t wait. He wanted you now. As he makes his way to lock the dojo, you undress behind him, tank and bottoms discarded in a pile off to the side. Your red bra teasing the red-banded turtle, almost begging him to snap it off you. But before he could even think about doing so, he watched you motion for him to come over sitting on the workout bench by the dumbbells. 

“My turn,” Your body naturally gravitates toward Raphael’s sweet spots when he sits beside you. Before he can take control, you straddle his waist before he can go anywhere. Arms around his neck, your back arches in pleasure as his hands go up and down your exposed sides, heating you up as he does so. Now, Raphael didn’t expect you to take control of him that easily. If anything, he didn’t think he had it in you. But, here you were, caressing his body and grinding yourself on his throbbing cock, a wave of sinful thoughts making up his mind as he felt the pre-cum leaking onto his thigh. You must’ve noticed, because you dip a finger in the sticky substance, placing it in your mouth as the turtle’s cheeks heated up from watching you taste him. 

“Sweet,” You teased, giggling at the sight of a shy yet enticed Raphael.

You really knew what you were doing.

But, shyness aside from not being the only experienced one, he’s ready to show you just what you’re in for. With the help from you, his erection springs up after a swift movement of his lower plastron. His dick stood up with pride, begging for warmth as it throbbed once exposed to the cold air. Once in your sight, it had your own sex wanting to welcome it home. Raphael could smell it, how your pussy soaked your panties, and he couldn’t wait to take them off and make you his. 

Picking you up and laying you on the hardwood floor, you unclip your bra as Raph’s fingers find the band of your panties, throwing them to God knows where in the dojo. You’ll get them later. They didn’t matter right now. What mattered was the way Raph admired your excitement, watching you let out a submissive moan as he dipped his head in to taste you. 

“Sweet,” He comments huskily, words vibrating your cunt that sends a signal to your brain to ask for more. You didn’t just want his tongue, you wanted him inside of you.

“Stop teasing~” You murmur, your chest heaving after each and every lick your sensitive bud takes. It was enough to get your cavern dripping, and Raphael wasted no time in flipping you over onto your stomach and getting your ass up in the air, arching your back as his hands gripped your hips. You could feel his tip pressing against your tight hole, and as he took your wrists to hold them behind your back, he slowly inserted himself, your pussy squeezing him tight as he stretched you out to the max. He wanted to go crazy, but he knew he needed you to adjust before doing so. 

Your body aching for more decides to meet him halfway, your ass coming into contact with his plastron in an instant, swallowing him whole. He was so big, and he knew it, too. Your loud moan after taking him all in caused Raph to hesitate. 

“Not too loud, pretty.” His hand then frees your arms, and almost immediately you clasp a hand onto your mouth, muffling all sounds you were making. Once Raph got into the swing, his wild side came out. Before he knew it, he was thrusting in and out of you at an animalistic speed. He was a rough lover, and you loved every second of it. His praises on how good you felt and how wet you were caused shivers throughout your body and mind. The sound of skin slapping against skin was enough for you to be in a trance. You could feel how his curved dick hit you in the right spot deep in your cavern, pressing against your G-spot. How his hands continuously guided your hips and ass to back up against his plastron, and he smirked as he observed you crumble beneath him. You were practically biting your lip to keep yourself from shrieking in pleasure. The last thing you needed was anyone knocking and destroying your high. 

“You’ve always wanted me, huh?” “Fuck, you’re so tight,” All of his remarks whispered into your ear as his hand moved toward your neck, choking you lightly. Your hands went over his own, begging for his grip to tighten. He stopped for a moment, then gave into your noiseless demand. 

“Didn’t take ya as a freak, Y/n,” He chuckles, watching you turn around to face him. If the sound wasn’t enough, your flushed, fucked-out face was enough to drive him wild. 

He was close, but he couldn’t finish like this. He needed to see all of you. He needed you facing him, tits bouncing with every thrust. His hand around your windpipe and your eyes rolling back into your skull. 

So as he unexpectedly stops, your legs begin to shake. “W-wha?” You strain your back, trying to get relief. It isn’t until Raph uses his strength to flip you over as if you weighed nothing that you knew what was about to happen. 

He wasn’t done, he was just getting started. 

“I wanna see ya beggin’ fa me, got it?” Raph grips his member, placing it in between your wet folds as he churrs, locking eyes with you to make sure you understood the assignment. 

“Y-yes.” You were hypnotized by Raph. How his girth was enough to stretch you out, and was long enough to hit places you didn’t think were possible. A smirk plays along his lips, and you feel his tip at your entrance once again. He leans in, lips crashing into yours before you feel him fill you up once more. Only this time, he was hitting your sweet spot even better. You felt yourself nearing the top of the hill, waiting for just the right thrust to send you over the top and back down again. 

“Tell me how much ya wanted me, baby,” You see Raph’s focused look as his hands gripped your cupped breasts, ripping them clean off before tossing them to the side. He plays with your hardened bud, alternating from the left and the right. 

“Shit.. a-a lot! I wanted this so bad, Raph~” Your sweet voice had created the music he wanted to hear, and you felt him slam into you harder. It wasn’t until his hand left your breasts and moved down to your swollen clit. Looking up at you, then back down at your sex, he gives you a smirk before getting to work. “Oh! Fuck, Raph!” His finger quickly flicking your clit like it was a bell, making it ring in ways that caused you to reach the top of the hill. 

“Fuck, please,” Your breathy moans became uneven, and your body came millimeters away from your well-needed orgasm, “Don’t fucking stop,” Your words became slurred and sloppy, and Raphael wouldn’t want to have it any other way. “You’re doing so good, Raph, fuck.” You were copping pleas, just like he wanted. Your sweet voice interrupted by unsolicited wonton moans caused Raph to fuck you like there was no tomorrow. He studies your face, and your half-lidded eyes watch as beads of sweat litter his emerald skin, the sweet sinful smell of sex filling the air as you finally come to your senses. “Think you could fill me up?” You had asked so innocently despite the obvious whine in your voice. You sounded so needy and sexy, that Raphael couldn’t hold it in any longer. All of his senses were being simulated, and the sight of you was the cherry on top. He had you exactly where he wanted you: crumbled, fucked-out face, rosy cheeks, and begging for him to cum.

You tightened around him, a wave of pure euphoria taking over you as you came to the squelching sound of you finishing all over Raph’s member. Your body shakes as he doesn’t stop, moments go by before he slows down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. You lean up to lock lips, and his thrusts quicken before he groans huskily into the sloppy kiss. He had reached the top of his own hill, and he couldn’t wait to fill you up and paint your insides white. 

When he’s finally ready, he puts his forehead on yours, and you watch as he becomes weak at the knees, bucking his hips to meet your pelvis one last time before you feel something warm shoot through you. The thought of Raph’s cum filling you up alone caused you to moan in ecstasy, never mind the feeling of it.

Raph shifts his weight, holding himself up with his reserved strength. It wasn’t like he was finished. No, Raph’s libido was so high and mighty, this was just the pregame. 

“I kind of feel bad…” You trail off. You felt Raph’s cum leak from your pulsating cunt, pooling onto the floor under you. Droplets of sweat littered the hardwood, “We made a mess.” But before you could get up, Raph lets out a throaty chuckle, “Ya think so? We could do bettah than this.” His accented voice teases a new idea. Maybe he was right, you guys could make an even bigger mess.

The smell of sex wasn’t leaving the dojo anytime soon, and with the way you went uninterrupted for what seemed like hours, what made you think you’d be stopping here? You sit up on your knees, pushing Raphael back onto his shell. Straddling his waist, his member jumped in response. Once again, he was ready to give it to you. As he watched you grab it at the base and align it with your sex, cum still dripping from the previous activity, you sat down on it slowly until your pelvis met his own. 

It was your turn to fuck his brains out, and you were ready to do just that. 

// Taglist:

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[melancholysway]

Hey! I've been following your blog for a long time, it's great! I'm also a big fan of the 2007 film! I don't know if you're still accepting requests, but I'll leave it here just in case. I would like to ask about the turtles' reaction to S/O wearing their color. I bet Raph would be possessive if his S/O wore his red color 😏. Merry Christmas and all the best!

thank you! I'm glad you like my blog! I hope you like this! and Merry Chirstmas!!!!!!

TMNT 2007 Headcanons: S/O Wearing their color!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Leonardo

He loves it!

It gives Leo a sense of pride when you do. It could be anything, a hair tie, a bracelet, even earrings!

Any subtle way of wearing blue would make his heart happy!

“You look so pretty in blue.” - him, all the time

He isn’t as vocal about it as his baby brother, but his gestures show you that he loves when you wear it!

When he sees you coming into the Lair wearing something blue, he’ll walk over to you and smile before giving you a loving kiss.

“I love it, honey.”

If you go out with friends and wear blue, he would feel so appreciated. It’s like you wear it as a sign of letting him now you’re his, and that you’re off limits to anyone else

“Blue? You know what you’re doing wearing that, huh?” You know he loves it, and expect a lot of kisses coming from this turtle once he sees

Wearing it also shows him that you’re paying attention to his interests. He has some unfavorable colors, and he notices that you never wear them when you’re wearing blue.

Put on some blue waist beads! I think I HC in an earlier post that Leo’s favorite body part of hs S/O was their nose, but he loves your waist, too.

If you decorate it with a few blue waist beads, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close for a kiss.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Oh Leo you sly mf-

In short, he’s very appreciative and prideful that you’re wearing blue! Wear it more often!

Raphael

This man is a happy turtle when you wear red

He’s prideful, and even possessive. When you wear it outside or any social scene away from him, it’s like he’s left his mark on you. Red- that’s his color

For all my ladies: If you want to tease him, wear an off the shoulder top that shows your red bra strap underneath. He’s gonna go feral

“Did anyone eva tell ya that ya look so sexy in red?” Oh, he knows what he’s doing

He’s smooth with his words, albeit a little flustered internally that you even thought about wearing his color and putting it on

Wear it when you go to the Lair

it’ll show his brothers you’re his and his only

Mikey’s also less likely to hug you for long periods of time, it’s Raph’s nonverbal threat to him

I HC 2007 Raph knits like bay Raph, and he’s definitely knitting you something red! A scarf, quilt, anything!

Raph manages to get you a red helmet for when he takes you on bike rides with him

He’s letting all of New York City know who he’s riding with is his.

He’ll also love it if you wore red lipstick or lipgloss. This turtle is making sure your lip print is on him somehow someway on any part of him. 

There’s something about red lips that gets him going

“Ya know what you’re doin,’ ain’t that right princess?” Yes, yes you do

Seeing him get all hot and bothered over you wearing red is something you live for

In conclusion: he wants you to wear it! Show everyone you’re Raph’s S/O!

Donatello

Donnie is a little naive at first

He doesn’t even notice when you start adding subtle hints of purple to your outfits

A belt here, earrings there- but, he doesn’t notice

It isn’t until Raph lets him now

“What color shoes does Y/n have on?”

“Um…purple?”

“And what color jacket did they have on yesterday?”

“Purple. Look, why does this-”

“Shutup- and what’s your favorite color?”

“Pur- Oh” Yeah, he doesn’t notice it. To be fair, Donnie is so busy being Bill Nye the Science Guy in his lab, that he’s usually tired by the end of the day when you come over after work.

He’ll apologize to you profusely for not noticing at first

But the next day he sees you and you’re wearing that purple sweater you like, he knows.

“Purple’s just not my color, is it dove?”

He. loves. It. 

He feels a small sense of pride. You? Wearing his favorite color? 

He always has this shy smile on his face when you come to visit him, sporting his favorite color.

“You look so pretty in my color.” Maybe the occasional nosebleed, too.

I think 2007 Donnie would melt if you have piercings, and changing a nose ring or stud to a purple one would send him to heaven.

He thinks it’s perfect- he loves whenever you wear it (and still feels bad for not noticing in the beginning)

Michelangelo

He notices right away- Mikey loves the color orange! Of course he’s going to notice!

“I see the earrings, come give Mikey a kiss~!” - him the second you step in the Lair

He always points out what you’re wearing thats orange.

 Any shade or pattern that includes orange, he sees it!

Mikey (a little much like Raph) likes when you wear his color since it’s an indicator that you’re his!

“Angelcakes is wearing my color! See that? I’d be jealous too!” - Mikey to Donnie

It’s like a game of I Spy for him, he’ll try and find anything in your outfit that includes orange

And when he finds it, expect a bear hug!

He’ll also make you a bracelet or give you a trinket that’s orange; anything you can have that’s his color!

If you wear makeup, putting on a nice shade of orange eyeshadow or eyeliner would make his heart soar!

//

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@bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside @xnorthstar3x @miss-andromeda

Masterlist

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[hotheadedhero]

TMNT x Reader Masterlist

Request status: Closed!

If/When they open again, please refer to the rules before making a request! And feel free to ask me anything should you have any questions 💖

Updated: 5th June 2025

2003

All Boyos

Reacting to Pregnant S/O

De-Stress Methods

Baby Bump

Leonardo

Exception

Raphael

Baby Jitters (Comfort)

2007

All Boyos

Favourite Kisses

Leonardo

All That's Left (Angst)

2012

All Boyos

Why They Fall/Favourite Feature

S/O That Swears... a Lot (Crack?)

Learning Curves

Boob Behaviour (Slightly Suggestive)

Caught Single-Handed (18+)

Raphael

Love at First Fight

Donatello

In Unrequited Love (Angst/Happy Ending) Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Bayverse (2014/16)

All Boyos

Turtles x Ballerina (Fluff)

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret (Angst) Part 1 - Part 2

Kiss Me (Fluff)

Affectionate Biting

Raphael

Daft Pretty Boys (Fluff/Angst)

Preoccupied (18+)

Donatello

Consequence of Dilatory Behaviour (Angst)

Michelangelo

Crushing New Dreams (Angst)

The Velvet Weaver Part 1 - Part 2

Rise (2018)

All Boyos

Pros/Cons of Your Relationship

Hug Headcanons

Raphael

Like 'em Big (Series) Part 1 - Part 2

Sucker Punch my Heart (Headcanon)

Threshold (Angst)

Donatello

A Dichotomy in Donnie's Dearest (Fluff)

Science vs Mystic (Angsty)

Rise Movie (2022)

All Boyos

Past Days, Future Pain (Angst)

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANONS - Taking naps with the turtles / having a sleepy S/O

As someone who has accidentally slept for 23 hours straight and literally has a nickname as “snooze” I’m obligated to do this (I tried to look for a cute / aesthetic gift but that pup is my spirit animal fr)

I’ve been digging how @oozedninjas does their Headcanons (as long with their writing, I seriously eat it up everytime yum yum yum)

as much as I love looooong Headcanons, sometimes I only have some blurbs going on in my mind, I also think this keeps things so dynamic, every interaction can be seen and everyone is happy yipee (I hope you don’t mind me using your writing style? Headcanon Set-up? Layout? as reference! Pls let me know if so, I’ll def take it out or reference you on new ones!)

English is not my first language and I didn’t proof read this, if there is any gramatical erros pls don’t hesitate to tell me!

• Isn’t the one for naps, lowkey thinks it’s a waste of time, he rather do activities with you! Time is precious! That being your hobbies or his, talking, playing games or reading, he has his mind set on it… until you flutter your lashes at him, giving him puppy eyes, and suddenly at the warm of your embrace, the way you hum over his plastron, how cute and serene you look… he starts questions himself, why haven’t you two done this sooner?

2003, 2012, Rottmnt Donnie

2003, MM Raph

2003, MM Mikey

All Leo’s (minus MM and rise) lmao

• Has been waiting for it. Since you two have been officially a thing, he has been patiently waiting for it. wants to do nap dates, casual napping after Sunday lunches, accidentally napping from watching a boring film, coming home late and you are tired? Lay on top of him babe, let him will take care of you 🫶🏼 adores the innocence of holding you close, caressing your skin as you caress him back, finally admiring your features while you sleep, he longs for it, absolutely eats it up

MM AND ROTTMNT LEO !!

2007, 2012, ROTTMNT, Bayverse Mikey (keeping bayverse and 2012 still would be A Task (but anyways BOTH WANTS IT) 2007 is probably tired all the time bc of his gigs lol)

Bayverse, ROTTMNT RAPH !!!!

2007 and 2003 Donnie

• How come you are always this sleepy? This doesn’t make sense, something has to be wrong with your vitamins levels, have you been sleeping at night? Are you having nightmares? What kind of meds are you taking? Your sleep schedule and how you can just simply fall asleep everywhere is astonishingly worrisome, he will look into it

Take a wild guess (all versions)

Doctor feelings

• HE is the who Needs a nap. Drag him to his bed. Hold him close, put ambient music, kiss him softly and don’t let go.

2007 Leo, Future!Rottmnt Leo

2003, 2007, Future!Rottmnt DONNIE !

Future!rottmnt and Last Ronin Mikey

Future!Rottmnt, bayverse, 2007 Raph

Everyone in IDW-TMNT

Not a turtle, but Rottmnt Casey Jones

• can’t take naps (light sleeper or doesn’t want to mess their sleeping schedule) but enjoys you being by his side anyways, will give a dirty look to whoever makes loud noises next to you, tries to always save the most comfortable spots for you on movie nights, he knows you are bound to fall asleep. will takes embarrassing pics of you tho

Take another wild guess (all versions)

And another one (all versions as well)

Mm Donnie

[hornedstorys]

And then there is this hothead who also heals Something in me *sigh even more*❤️‍🔥🧣

Give me a hothead with passion and loyalty, to the death. Hard shell, soft core. Big strong arms to cuddle and motorcycle rides at night - to clear your head if necessary...

I've had a crush on him and Leo for thirteen years hahah ( The 2012 series was the first time I really saw the Turtles) and Raph was my first Fav *Crying*

[katanablue]

Was going through a massive doc I have of prompts and came across one that gave me a brain blast.

Set after Leo leaves to Central America, a year or so when Raph becomes the NW.

Warnings: Angst, hurt, little to no comfort, Raph yelling at you and vice versa, no happy ending

You had an inkling that your boyfriend was the Nightwatcher, you don’t know exactly when or what it was that gave you that unsettling feeling in your stomach but you just knew.

His sleep schedule was all kinds of messed up, more so than usual. He seemed angrier and more on edge, patience seeming to run thin for everyone.

Including you.

Never mind the fact that he always seemed to be sporting a fresh bruise somewhere on his body. It’s not like he can hide them from you either since he only wears protective pads and his mask. He tells you that it’s from patrolling with his brothers or from sparring with Splinter. If that were the case then why didn’t Mikey or Don have the same bruises? Why did Raph seem to divert your attention away from the topic whenever you tried to pry more?

But then again, who are you to not believe him, your boyfriend has never lied to you before so why would he now?

Still, it’s just another piece to the mysterious puzzle, one that seems to be never ending the more you try and put it together.

Deep down you knew. Knew that he was out there alone and putting himself in these dangerous situations without any help. Whenever you saw a story on the news about how ‘The Nightwatcher Struck Again’, you’d immediately turn to look at Raphael to gauge his reaction, hoping that maybe you can pick up any subtle sign on his face.

But he kept himself stoic, expression blank as he listened to the coverage.

You had asked Donnie, Mikey and even Splinter if they’ve noticed anything off with him but all they told you was that he was struggling with Leo’s absence. It’s believable, because that’s what they believe.

Casey didn’t know any better, saying that Raph was just having a hard time adjusting with the lack of crime fighting and order between him and his brothers. Just because Shredder was dead, didn’t mean that crime stopped. In fact it was at an all time high; especially with the Purple Dragons now trying to take over every inch of city they could.

Then the late night appearances started happening.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to show up at your apartment unannounced prior to Leo leaving. Nowadays he only showed up when he was battered and bruised, looking as if he just got out of a dogfight. And at first you didn’t ask, having tended to some of his injuries before. You presumed that he had a scuffle or two with one of his brothers or maybe he and Casey just got a bit too rough with one another.

That’s when you vaguely recalled hearing Mikey talk about how Splinter forbade them from doing any patrols until Leo returned.

You nearly asked him one night right then and there when he showed up on your fire escape at 3 a.m, splattered in bruises and cuts, nearly halfway unconscious. You had hauled him in and laid him on your bed, on the verge of tears as he bled onto your sheets. You begged and begged for him to tell you what happened but he refused, just wanting you to clean him up and go to sleep holding you in his arms.

And you listened of course, not wanting to push and risk having him shut you out completely. But that night replayed constantly in your head and it’s what drove you for your next course of action.

It was driving you crazy not knowing, and it made you plan to deliberately put yourself in danger just to see if he would come and save you.

Luckily for you, you only had to put yourself at risk just once.

It’s over before it even really began, a long chain weapon zipped right in front of you and into the skull of the thug who attempted to rob you at gun point. You gasped and shielded your face, turning away from the man who was cradling his bleeding head and trying to get up off the floor. You heard a loud metallic thud somewhere in the alley, the footsteps getting closer to you.

You looked up right into the eyes of the infamous Nightwatcher.

It felt like time stood still as he looked at you, alarms ringing in Raphael’s head as he tried to figure out why the hell you were out so late at night.

You practically screamed at yourself to look at him entirely, take in his whole form before he left. Your eyes roamed haphazardly over him; from his metal helmet, down his right arm, all the way to his gloves—

“Hold your breath.”

You hardly had anytime to register his words before he snapped something to the ground, a cloud of gray smoke enveloping your vision. You covered your nose and mouth with your hand, shutting your eyes and waving away the smoke. He ran past you to snatch up the goon, not even sparing you another glance as he hurried out the alley. You went after him blindly, seeing the guy tied up to a light pole and just barely catching the Nightwatcher pull off on his all too familiar motorcycle and drive away.

You went back into the alley, searching the ground until you found it; the capsule. You’d seen these before, not many people, let alone any crime fighters use this type.

And you remember exactly who the mutant was that showed them to you.

As soon as you got home you texted Raph that you needed to see him, hardly giving him any time to respond before you called. You were urgent in your message, pleading for him to come over and explaining that you almost got robbed but were saved by the Nightwatcher.

You felt awful because it felt like you were lying to him, luring him into a trap.

In a way you almost were, because you practically had solid evidence that he is the Nightwatcher. It’s like you acquired the last piece of the puzzle and all you had to do was put it into place.

Raphael knew what you were doing and he hated it. Hated that he allowed himself to be so careless, hated that he got himself into this predicament in the first place, hated that he knew that if he didn’t go to you then it would make him seem like the worlds most horrible boyfriend.

There’s a part of him that hopes you haven’t put two and two together, that you were just in dire need of some comfort after a nearly traumatic event. But when he takes that first step on your fire escape and looks into your window, seeing you standing there like a nervous wreck…

He knows you know.

The silence is uncomfortable, like a thick heavy blanket that makes it nearly impossible to breathe. You feel like there’s something wrapped around your lungs the longer Raph goes without saying anything. He can see one of your hands clenched into a fist, your shaking barely visible and he wants nothing more than to close the distance between you two, scoop you into his arms and kiss you breathless to distract you.

Eventually you can’t take the silence anymore, opening your hand and tossing the smoke capsule onto the carpet between you two.

It’s like the blanket doubles in thickness when his eyes land on it.

“Where—“

“Don’t. Do not fucking lie to me, Raphael.” You keep your voice steady, forcing yourself to maintain your composure and to not completely lose it at your boyfriend.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out harshly, fingers flexing against his palms as he looks between you and the empty smoke pellet.

“I can explain.”

“Why don’t you say it first.”

Another deep inhale, followed by his hand coming to run down his face.

“You’re the Nightwatcher.” Your tone gets softer but it doesn’t lessen the impact of your words nor the tears that start to line your eyes.

You hate how Raph is able to keep up his poker face, like you didn’t just reveal his longtime secret of the past year.

He only gives you a simple nod and that seems to finally break the dam.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow?” He asks, straining as he tries to keep calm.

“No,” You say, actually appalled that he would have the audacity to say that. “You need to explain yourself—“

“What the hell is there to explain!” His voice raises in volume, hands going up in the air in exasperation. “I’m protectin’ the city, I’m keepin’ people safe, I’m doin what I’ve always done!”

“But by yourself, Raph? Are you crazy!?” You fight back, holding back your anger and tears as your emotions start to overflow.

“Listen, I’ve been doin’ just fine, okay? I don’t need you breathin’ down my back now that you know.” He rolls his eyes when you scoff, folding his arms over his plastron and shaking his head.

“You don’t want me to be concerned? News flash, Hothead— that’s what loved ones do!” You couldn’t believe this, that he’s somehow turning this around on you when he’s the one who’s been lying about his late night activities for so long.

“Whatever,” He sneers, waving you off with a flick of his hand and turning towards the fire escape.

“Don’t you dare leave. We’re not done talking about this.” You step closer to him, your slipper crunching over the empty capsule as you get closer to him.

“What the fuck else is there to talk about? Hm? Because I’m sure as hell ain’t gonna stop bein’ the Nightwatcher.” He growls over his shoulder, not even giving you the respect of saying it to your face completely,

This isn’t Raph, not really. This isn’t the turtle you’ve come to fall in love with, the one who used to take you for rides around the city on his bike at random intervals of the night or the one who surprised you with a big bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting on your fire escape with a card that said ‘happy birthday, sweetheart’ right at midnight.

Not the same Raph who held you close and kissed your tears away the first time you made love because you were so overwhelmed by everything. He held you close and whispered nothing but praise and adoration for you, waiting until you showed him that beautiful smile before he took you to a pleasurable new height.

The same Raph who definitely had his faults whether it was by accidentally hitting you a bit too hard during training or the one who’d shut you out but immediately open up once he was ready.

You know that Raph is still somewhere in there, hidden within the castle of walls and laying beneath all that anger and hatred he’s built up over time due to Leo being gone.

There’s a brief fleeting moment that passes in your brain that maybe you should’ve been more patient with him, that if you had just waited out a little longer then maybe he would’ve told you instead of you having to confront him like this.

“You know what, no, how bout we talk bout the fact that you put yourself in danger! Just to prove something that you already knew! Are you fuckin’ thick in the head?” Now he whirls around to face you, his brow set so deep that all you want to do is reach up and smooth it out with your fingers.

“It’s not like you would’ve told me if I asked you! You could hardly admit it just now—“

“My business is my fuckin’ business, okay?” He gestures towards himself, tapping at his plastron and glaring down at you. “And you need to learn when to stop stickin’ your nose into shit that ain’t yours!”

He hates how he’s letting his anger consume him, letting it take over and manipulate his body like a puppet. He feels himself start to get out of control and he knows he’s got to get out there before he says something he’ll regret.

“Fine,” You croak out, the quiver in your tone not going unnoticed by him.

But it seems it’s already too late.

“You want me to stop getting in your business?”

Shit shit shit, don’t say it.

Please don’t say it.

“Wish granted. I’m done.”

You turn away so you don’t have to see the way Raphael’s face fall at your words, how his brow immediately smooths out and how his lips part in shock.

“Wha— no, sweetheart. You can’t—“ he reaches out towards you and just faintly grazes your arm. His heart falls to his stomach when you pull away, like his touch burned your skin and you had to get away before it spread like wildfire.

“I will not stand by and watch you throw yourself in danger, night after night, with absolutely no backup. I will not be waiting by my window every night, wondering if you’re going to show up with one foot on deaths door. I respected your privacy but only asked that you be careful and be mindful about what you’re doing.”

Raphael stares hard at you, fingers clenching into fists as he chooses his next few words wisely.

“So that’s it then? It’s over?”

You can tell he’s doing all he can to not break down and beg for your forgiveness. Even the next sentence being on the tip of your tongue has you shedding tears, wiping them away quickly and willing yourself to finish speaking.

“You pushed me away, refused to even give me the grace to tell me what you were doing, instead having me back you up into a corner and practically force it out of you.” You inhale shakily, saying it before you can fully stop yourself.

“It’s over.” You whisper, crying more freely now.

He looks at you crestfallen, shaking his head in disbelief as your words rings over and over in his head. He doesn’t say anything as he turns away from you and back out the window. He looks over his shoulder one last time, hating that his last memory of you is going to be you standing there heartbroken with a tear streaked face.

He wants to scream and shout; at you and himself. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you while he pleads for you to forgive him and that he’ll do better, that he’ll work on his vulnerability more. He tells himself that all you need is space, that with time you’ll take him back and you can go back to the way things were. That you can adjust to him being the Nightwatcher.

“I’m sorry.” He leaves you with that, jumping off the fire escape and disappearing into the bleak night.

You believe him and that thought makes you cry even harder.

[taleeater]

In With the Rain [Rewritten]

I didn't like how this turned out the first time so I edited it to make it softer and more in character. :] <3

TMNT Raphael x Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Warnings: illness, fluff, domestic, non-sexual caretaking

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Raphael was waiting for you to get home from work in your apartment. But you’re late. It’s been raining all evening, and he got soaked on his way over. Raph made sure to dry off quickly with a discarded blanket when he let himself inside through your window, so he wouldn’t get your floor wet.

An hour goes by. The cop show he’s watching is getting boring and he wonders if maybe you stopped for groceries on the way home. 

Another half an hour passes, and he’s anxiously checking his phone. He considers going out to look for you, when the lock on your door turns. He stands to attention, and when it’s you who walks through the door, he slumps with relief.

“Where have you been?” He says casually from the couch. You don’t respond, and he notices something is off. You’re swaying in place by the door, struggling to slowly shed your coat off. 

You woke up with a scratchy feeling in your throat this morning. Work ran late. You’d forgotten an umbrella. And your hair is dripping wet. 

It’s been a long day. 

You suddenly slump forward and brace a hand against the wall, hit with a dizzy spell, and Raph immediately rushes to your side at the door. His hands are hovering over you, not sure what you need. 

“Babe?”

You’re panting hard. Raphael wonders if you ran home for some reason and gets worried. He looks around you for any indication as to why you were late and sees no shopping bags to help with. He leaned his head down to try and look into your eyes, trying to get your attention. But he sees your hazy red rimmed gaze and guesses you weren’t feeling very good. Were you okay...? 

“(Y/n), are you sick?”

You lifted your head slowly when you heard his voice, barely registering it as your head swam. Raph held your cheek in his palm and brushed some wet strands of hair out of your face, and felt the scorching heat under your skin. 

You groan tiredly and shut your eyes tight against the light of your apartment. Legs shaking and unsteady, you leaned your weight into Raphael’s offered hand.

“That’s some fever you got… Hey. Let’s get you into bed, okay?” Raph spoke to you softly in his husky voice. You swallowed dryly and barely managed a slight nod, still not opening your eyes. 

Raph took the lead, wrapping an arm around your waist and slowly led you down the hall towards your bedroom. Your legs felt like jelly. The long day running around at work that ran late, the dizzying trudge home through the biting cold rain, you tried to focus on the sight of your door at the end of the hallway but your vision swam with every trembling step. You only managed to get half way before your legs gave out from under you.

“Woah!! Hey, hey, hey, I got you.” Raph was quick to hold you up and support your weight. After some shifting he pulled you close and scooped you up off the floor, carrying you the rest of the way to your room. 

He carefully sat you down on the edge of your bed, watching carefully as you swayed in place trying to stay upright. Your heavy lidded eyes were trained on him as he bent down to pull off your sopping wet shoes and socks.

“....sorry…” You mumbled quietly, exhaling a deep shuddering breath. 

“Don’t be. I gotcha.” Raphael looked at you softly. His brow ridges knit together in concern. 

He reached up and gently pressed a kiss to your heated forehead, making you shudder a sigh. His fingers traced your sides and found the edges of your sweater and shirt.

“Arms up.” He muttered, slowly pulling off the damp fabric. Once it was pulled off, you slumped back onto your bed, panting lightly. He did the same with removing your soggy pants. After the wet fabric was removed, he rushed to your bathroom to retrieve a proper towel and hang up the clothes to dry.

When he returned only a minute later, you were starting to doze quietly on your bed. He snorted at you fondly.

Raph wasn’t always the best at being gentle. But he did his best to dry out your hair and slid on some soft pajamas while you muttered tiredly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send your boss a text and ask April to bring us groceries tomorrow.” He crawled up on the bed over you after discarding the towel. “You want some medicine or somethin?”

You made an adorable sour face, scrunching up your nose at the proposition. Raph chuckled. He then reached under you and scooped you up again, agilely pulling down the covers of your bed with his foot before sliding you under the comfy blankets. 

He took a moment to pull out his phone and shoot a quick message to his brothers that he would be staying over with you for a while to take care of you. Mikey immediately responded with heavy exaggerated despair that you were sick. Donnie followed up by asking if he needed to stop by and give you a check up. Leo eventually responded with confirmation that Raph would not be back in the morning, and respectfully wished you well. Raph smirked at his phone as he responded with assurances that he would tell them if you needed anything. Then he felt a small tug on his sash.

He looked over to you, your eyes shiny with fever as you pushed down the edge of your sheets and wordlessly begged him to join you.

Raph’s eyes softened as he gazed at you warmly. He couldn’t say no to you.

Tucking his phone away, he untied his belt and his mask and slipped under the covers beside you. His arm slid beneath your head and other snaked over your waist, pulling you close as you snuggled against him for warmth. Raph buried his snoot in your hair and inhaled the scent of rain, tracing your back comfortingly. 

 Raph looked out the rain pattered window as the city lights illuminated each individual droplet. Your soft, even breathing warm against his chest.

In less than a minute you were soundly asleep. Raph peeked down to check on you, taking in your flushed cheeks and pallid exhaustion. In that moment he resolved himself to take care of you. 

Raph sighed and hugged you closer to him, muttering to himself. 

“……you idiot.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Random Headcanons (18+)

2007!Raphael x reader

A/N: Felt like it had been a minute or two since I had written anything for 2007, especially 2007!Raphael, so here ya go. Takes some inspiration and vibe ideas from my Anger series. Enjoy❤️

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Mentioning of rough sex, mentioning of BDSM, mentioning of being heard by others during sex.

Raph has always been more to the rougher and harder things, when it came to sex. Forceful is probably not the best way to describe it, but he did have a tendency to be impatient, and more often than not, willing to skip the foreplay and jump straight to action, meaning that you would have to keep him in check, and remind him that you in fact wanted foreplay, and in some cases actually needed it. It’s not that Raph didn’t like foreplay, but it’s simply because could get so impatient, wanting to get to the big price as soon as possible.

After Leonardo left New York City for South America, there was a noticeable shift in Raphael’s mood. Sure, Raph had a tendency to easily get moody or straight up mad, up until that point. But after Leo left, Raph’s mood only seemed to take on a downward dive, and you could certainly feel that in your relationship. Raph’s mood didn’t dive down in the form of a depression, instead he seemed much more angry. And that led to a lot more angry sex, where Raph could take his anger for the world, out in a way that provided pleasure for the two of you. And luckily for you, you loved the force and speed at which Raph would ram into you, when he was mad and frustrated.

Raph didn’t have time for bondage or any additional props in the bedroom. He found that they were getting in the way of what he wanted to do, and that they were taking up too much focus. But Raph surely was into BDSM, and especially being a dominating partner in BDSM dynamic. It was definitely Raph’s default mode when it came to sex, and all just came natural to him.

Hair pulling, spanking, choking, biting, restraining you with his own hands against the bed, all that lovely stuff. Raph is into it all, and will not shy away from any of it, even if there was nothing but a thin wall between the two of you, deep in action, and the rest of his family on the other side. “That’s their problem”, Raph might even say, while having his member buried deep within you.

When Leo returned from South America, there was once again a switch in Raph’s mood. He was once again angry, being just how he was when Leo left. But now, he would visit you more and more often, not wishing to be around Leo more often than he needed to. That of course led to a lot more sex for you and Raph, just as you had thought that the two of you was having as much sex as possible.

[chadobi]

Hi! I saw that you were taking requests and decided to shoot my shot :D

Could I request headcanons for a 2007 Donnie and Raph (separately of course, or either one!) with an S/O that is really girly who likes to dress up in the cutest little outfits and contradicts their personality completely?

Please and thank you!

– 🍡

Hi! So I decide to write this for every guy! I hope that is not a problem 🫶🏻

Leonardo

• At first, he’s confused. You walk in wearing bows, lace, and pink gloss, and he fully expects you to be the sweet, delicate type…

• …and then you call Raph a “discount Vin Diesel” and tell Donnie to “touch grass.”

• He’s horrified the first time you sass Master Splinter under your breath—horrified and deeply intrigued.

• Once he gets used to the contrast, he secretly loves it. You’re this beautiful, soft vision in a frilly dress, and then you open your mouth and it’s pure chaos.

• He’s very protective of you in public—people assume you’re fragile because of how you look, and Leo will gladly step in… until you shut someone down harder than he ever could.

• You soften his edges in the best way. He’s all about control and discipline, and then there you are—batting your lashes and telling him to relax and “stop brooding, you’re not Batman.”

• He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’s obsessed with how confidently you own both your style and your sharp tongue.

Raphael

• He thinks it’s hilarious. You look like you just walked out of a kawaii fashion magazine… and then you threaten to key someone’s bike for looking at you weird.

• The duality? Iconic. He lives for it.

• He teases you constantly—“Nice bow, babe. Gonna kill someone with kindness or stilettos today?”

• But God help anyone who insults your style or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

Donatello

• Whiplash. Pure, unfiltered whiplash. He meets you, thinks, “Ah, a soft and gentle soul,” and then you drop a sarcastic bomb on him like it’s nothing.

• He’s awkward at first—doesn’t know how to balance your sugar-sweet appearance with your cutting humor.

• But he quickly becomes fascinated. You’re unpredictable and refreshing, and he loves trying to figure you out.

• Loves how you tease him with biting wit but still bring him homemade snacks in a heart-shaped box.

• If you ever show up in his lab wearing something pastel and say something savage like “Are you done pretending to be God yet?” he might short-circuit a little.

• He’s definitely taken aback when you stand up for him with zero hesitation—you’re small and sparkly and ruthless.

• He secretly keeps a picture of you in your cutest outfit taped to his screen and labeled “Absolute Weapon.”

Michelangelo

• He’s OBSESSED. He thinks you’re the coolest person alive.

• He constantly calls you his “Barbie with a bite.”

• Mikey is all in—matching accessories? Couple outfits? Let’s go.

• He loves your energy. You’re sweet-looking, but your mouth is sharp enough to cut diamonds, and he thinks it’s hot.

• He will 100% hype you up while you roast someone in the most polite voice possible.

•“Babe just ended someone’s ego while wearing glitter lip gloss. I’m in love.”

• He gets giddy when you call him your “favorite dumbass” while kissing his cheek. He knows it’s love.

• Also? He totally brags about you. All the time. “Yeah, my girl could destroy your self-esteem and look cute doing it. Stay jealous.” le or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

[oozedninjas]

Raph: Guys, y/n kissed me. Mikey: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Raph: Unbelievable, I know. Leo: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Donnie, get the teapot. Raph, does this end well or do we need tissues? Raph: Oh, it ended damn well ;) Donnie running back with the tea: Do not start without me! Leo: Okay, let’s hear about the kiss. Mikey: Yeah! Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing? Raph: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then… then we just sort of sunk into it. Leo: Oh. So, okay, was she holding you? Or were her hands on your shell? Raph: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up, and then they were in my bandana. Mikey and Donnie: Ohhh. meanwhile Y/n, at April's apartment: And then I kissed him. April: Tongue? Y/n: Yeah. April: Cool.