#the spice 🤌

[hauxicrook]

Vada pav 🫶

[turkeytrey]

hangin wit da homayyy🤙🧡 @futturmangamez

[trashworldblog]

shout out to the little ghost words that show up... ily

[kuromi-hoemie]

when you ask a restaurant for spicy food and instead of cooking it in a way that makes the end result hotter they just obliterate all the flavor by dumping heaps of sriracha all over it after the fact

[lunasilvis]

Messy suit Thursday

[roxthecreator]

why beg yk what's going to happen

[jockpoetry]

I’m making one of my papa’s recipes tonight because my mom’s been asking for it for a couple months and it’s finally seasonal and it’s the most brokeass recipe (water and baked potato are top of the list ingredients)

look at this fucking busted ass pie filling has 30 more minutes cooking on the stove and then an hour as a pie to bake

But good god does it smell so good.

[clowningcrows]

i’m convinced that anyone who hates on boxed mac and cheese simply doesn’t know how to make it right

[eulaties]

THE BOMB IS HERE YAYYYYY 😍😍😍

[milf-murdock]

Alright my anon Laswell Lovers, I see you 👀 and lucky for yall I need to tone my hair which means an hour soak in my lavender bubble bath while I write out some lil cute scenes 😏😏😏😏😏

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

[enthusiasticalien]

I made that grilled cheese recipe that’s been floating around tumblr and even though I used vegan cheese and weird bread it was soooo good

[suprchnk]

never loved the insinuation that, as a child of divorce, i use humor as a defense mechanism and lean so heavily on it. first of all, who the fuck asked you? secondly, i’ve always been funny, because while i am a renaissance man, a scholar, a sex symbol, a rock star, and a mentor to many, above all else i am both figuratively and quite literally, a gigantic idiot.

[whatever-lmaoo]

Lmaooo so true😂😂😂

[whatever-lmaoo]

The menace in me is like I could make this fic so sickeningly sweet and then turn around and destroy y’all’s feelings at the end, but I won’t because that means I would have to break my own heart first and I ain’t finna do that😂

[thelaundrybitch]

@leosgirl82

Monster

Raphael x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Happy Monsterfucker Pride Month you fucking deviants. 😈 Here's a present.

There are a lot of words that come to mind to the average person upon meeting the Hamato clan. "Thing" is pretty popular, and "Freak" is always a classic, but by far Raphael's least favorite is "Monster."

That one tends to stick around, like a "Hello My Name Is" sticker, even after first meeting. The others have an easier time. Leo's the calm, cool one, Mikey doesn't need any help making friends, and Don's got that cute nerd thing going on, but Raphael is big, quiet, and Close Quarter Combat has left him with more scars than clear skin, making an already ugly situation worse.

So when he was sitting at your desk while you were hanging out one night and a notification popped up on your computer, the word caught his attention.

"What is a... 'Monsterfucker?'"

You're not sure sure if anyone has ever died from asphyxiating Dr. Pepper, but you wonder for a moment if you'll be the first.

When you can once again breathe, you look up at him raising a brow at you, "You good?"

"Yup," you croak out with a nod and a thumbs up, clearing your throat, "good."

He gives you a moment to catch your breath, "So... You gonna answer my question, or...?"

Damn. You were hoping he'd suddenly magically forget that he asked.

You've been holding off on coming clean to the guys about this particular personality quirk. You're conflicted because, while it would do wonders for their self esteem, it would more or less be the equivalent of wearing a big sign around your neck that says "HEY RAPH! I'M INTO YOU!" You're still trying to figure out how to approach him about it, and whether or not doing so would ruin an already amazing friendship.

Apparently, you aren't going to get a choice.

You clear your throat, procrastinating, and looking down at the Halloween coloring book you've been working on so you don't have to meet his eyes, "Well..." You clear your throat again, "... a Teratosexual... or... 'Monsterfucker'... is someone with more... exotic... preferences," you cringe internally.

"Exotic as in...?"

"Exotic as in... non-human." You say, making an attempt at sounding casual, suddenly very focused on the cat you're coloring.

That was not the answer he was expecting.

The longer he's quiet, the louder the heartbeat in your ears.

"So you're... not... into humans." He ventures hesitantly.

"Not generally, no..." You say, still not looking at him. Your face is burning.

"Oh..." He says, sitting back and attempting to process, "So what kind of, uh... monsters, I guess... are you, um..." He can't believe he's actually asking this question.

"Depends," you say, thankfully without your voice squeaking.

"On..."

"On... who they are as a person," you say, "just like anyone."

He's quiet again, and you resist the urge to look up at him. He's running through moment after moment with you in his head. The looks, the touches, the gentle words, all those times he kicked himself for reading too much into things...

You tense as you hear him get up and walk over to your side of the bed. the mattress dips as he sits down beside you, and a hand comes up to still the hand coloring. You look up at him, heart thundering in your ears as his thumb brushes over your wrist.

"Now, I could be way off base," he says softly, "and if I am feel free to tell me and I swear I'll never bring it up again... but sometimes I feel like you and me, we..." He takes a breath, "What are we? Friends? I mean, Donnie's your best friend, but you spend all your time with me, and... um..." He trails off.

"Is that what you want...? Friends...?" You ask, hesitantly. You're talking about it. Everything the two of you have both very purposely avoided talking about. The time, the touches. You're talking about it, making whatever the hell this is real. Which means the next words out of his mouth could either build or break you.

"Honestly, at the risk of possibly ruining the best thing that's ever happened to me... No."

"Honestly," you say, breathless, your heart doing backflips, "me either."

"So... If not friends, then... what do you want?" He asks, holding your gaze.

He watches every one of your reactions closely. Any sign of unease or discomfort and he's going to bail. But there aren't any. He's pulled to you, and he closes what little distance there is, a blush blooms across your cheeks and chest.

"Honestly..." You whisper, "you."

He inhales sharply, and looks down at you in awe for a moment, heart pounding behind his armored chest. Exhaling, he cups your face with his other hand, brushing his thumb over your jaw before sliding it back slightly and tilting your head up to him.

"You sure that this... that I'm... what you want...?" He's vibrating. Everything in him is screaming out to take you. Claim you. You're right here. You're giving yourself to him. Anyone else would have just kissed you by now. But he isn't anyone else, and this isn't exactly a normal situation. He has to be sure.

His soft caress is sending sensations rippling down your arm, and you can barely breathe for the ache in your chest. The night they met, Mikey had been injured. Badly. So badly, that they had to drop in at April and Casey's even knowing there was a stranger there.

He stood in the corner and watched you like a hawk. You were new, and new was dangerous. He watched you jump in to help Donnie with whatever he needed, eyes clear and calculating.

In the moment, you were too focused on making sure D had what he needed to save his brother's life, but the memory set your skin on fire.

"Pretty much since the beginning." You whisper, nodding.

He wastes no more time. You've wanted this as long as he has and that thought sends a surge of heat through his bloodstream. He releases your hand and slides his around your waist, pressing his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap, and as flush against him as he can. He's been dreaming of this since the moment you met.

It feels right. Natural. Like you should have been doing this all along, but the moment the hand against your cheek slides into your hair, gripping it gently, and you can feel the rumble in his chest within your own, any whispers of regret are forgotten.

All too soon, he pulls back, both of you needing a moment to catch your breath.

His forehead pressed to yours, you look up at him curiously when he starts laughing softly.

He beams down at you, "You know, on the list of shit I though was gonna happen... ever..." You smile up at him, laughing gently as well. He looks at you with elated, if not confused, eyes, "You got any idea what you're signing up for."

"Pretty sure, yeah," you grin.

They all tried so hard to be human, but it was the hardest for Raphael. Whether it was a result of his mutation, his wildly inconsistent emotional states, or some combination of the two, he was the closest of the four of them to their primal nature.

That night, and the hulking figure in the corner, like some kind of ancient sentinel watching over his charges, was a memory you had come back to so many times you're pretty sure you could recreate it perfectly, not that you would want to.

You pull back slightly to look at him, and bring your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. You look down at his lips, brushing your thumb over his scar, you've always wondered what it felt like, "... and I think I've been handling it pretty well, so far." Your eyes meets his like the period at the end of a sentence.

Looking at you as if you were the only thing he's ever really wanted, he presses his lips to yours far less tentatively this time, growling into the kiss.

You rest your hand on the back of his head as he kisses down the curve of your throat, nuzzling against it and leaving traces of himself on you. You don't miss the significance of being marked as His and something warm and grateful fills your chest.

He works his way back to your mouth, kissing you deeply before pulling back. He looks down at you, still in almost disbelief.

"I want to see you..." He says, breathless, running a finger just under the hem of your tank top. He looks down before meeting your eyes once again, and you would shudder if you weren't pinned down by his gaze.

You smile, pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the ground. You had no idea what you thought his reaction would be to finding out everything, but this was way better than you could have hoped. Gooseflesh scatters across your skin, though you're not sure if it's from the change in temperature, or the way his eyes laser focus on on every inch of you. They light your skin on fire, but he doesn't move.

"You're allowed to touch me, Raphael..." you whisper. His eyes shoot up to yours, "I want you to." He inhales sharply, fingers already tingling, he hesitates for just a moment before a calloused hand brushes tentatively over an already hardened nub, making you shiver.

His hand covers your breast and he squeezes gently, the sigh that ghosts from your lips emboldening him.

When he dips his head and captures the other in his mouth, circling with his tongue, the whimper that escapes you as your eyes fall closed is nearly his undoing.

One of your hands rests on the back of his neck, while the other guides his hand lower. As he caresses your waist, his mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same treatment and leaving your pulse racing.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, and from the way his churr has deepened, it's evident he can smell your arousal. His fingers play at the waistband of your shorts, but no further.

"This doesn't have to go any farther than your comfortable with," you reassure him.

"It's not that, it's just..." His cheeks darken, "I'm not... um..."

"Human?" You venture, with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah..." He says before laughing softly, still not entirely able to process that this is happening, "But, I guess... that's not really a problem for you, is it?"

"Nope," you say, offering him a wicked smile which leaves him swallowing hard.

You smirk and reach up to tug at his paldron. "Feeling a little one-sided here, Red," you say looking over all the clothing and equipment he still has on.

He exhales, a permanent smile of disbelief resting in the corner of his mouth. Him. You want him. You climb off of him, laying back on the bed, and he stands. He sheds his gear and clothing as you look on hungrily, reclined on the bed like a God damn empress. His tail twitches. You aren't just letting him have you, you want him right back, and that is doing amazing things for his ego.

As he's removing the last of his clothing, he glances down at your shorts before meeting your gaze with a brow raised in expectation.

You narrow your eyes and smirk, pushing yourself up and standing beside the bed, before pushing your shorts from your hips and letting them slide to the floor. Now it's your turn to look at him expectantly as he tosses his red mask on top of his gear and takes the few steps towards you.

He looks down at you as if you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and if you ask him, you are. With fabric no longer impeding, he is glutting himself on your scent and his head is swimming as it takes everything in him not to drop right there.

Your eyes roam over his body greedily, drinking him in, something you previously could only ever do in secret, and he shivers. You can't help it, you reach up a hand and hesitate for only a moment before placing it on his chest, following the labyrinthine whorls and channels in his plastron. He's cool and hard under your fingertips, and rough in many places where the keratin has been damaged.

"You know what kills me?" You ask softly, fingers tracing a particularly deep scar, "You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are," you step forward, pressing your lips to the deep groove. You're rewarded with a sharp inhale and the rumble in his chest against your bare skin.

His hand slides around your waist and he pulls you into him as you kiss upward along the length of the scar. Your softness caresses him, and warmth pours through his shell, filling all the parts of him starved for sunlight. A deep hum reverberates inside of him when you reach the divot in the top of his pectoral scute, and kiss the scarred skin just above.

You look up at him, whispering, "Will you let me show you?"

He looks down at you, and he looks terrified. But he nods. He trusts you.

You take his hand and walk to the end of the bed. You close the door to your room, the light flashing in the full length mirror on the back of the door.

"Sit," you say with a gentle squeeze of his hand, leading him to the side of the bed facing the mirror. He does as he's told, and you climb into his lap, also facing the mirror.

You take his large hands in yours and guide him, showing him how you like to be touched. He watches your reactions to every movement closely, and it isn't long before he's confident enough to explore on his own. His fingers trail lightly down your side, following the line of your hip slowly inward. He stills, waiting to see if you're going to stop him from moving forward.

You don't.

He holds your gaze, watching your features change as his fingers slip into your folds. You gasp as he teases you slowly, and it isn't long before you're near trembling.

You're eyes fall closed, and your mouth falls open as one finger finally pushes into your soaked center. You lean back against him, whimpering as his finger curls, brushing against the soft part inside of you, before pulling out and pushing back in. He repeats the action, slowly, and again, slowly. He feels you clench around him, writhing impatiently, and looks up at the mirror.

Flush and trembling in his arms, one hand nearly covers your abdomen, the contrast of your smooth skin and his pebbled scales looking almost intentional, color and texture complimenting each other perfectly. The other continues disappearing inside of you and drawing from you the most exquisitely frustrated sounds. And it's him. He's doing all of it. His oversized, inhuman hands are creating this moment.

There is no other word for it than "beautiful..."

Your lust blown eyes open to meet his as you whimper and twist in his lap. "f-fuck..." he shudders as he drops, gripping you tighter.

The corner of your mouth turns up slightly as you meet his reflection's eyes. Trembling, he angles himself to rub against your sex, coating himself in your slick, pulling a small sound from your throat. You're already so wet and ready, and when you tilt your hips and capture his spade-tipped head, you are very grateful for that.

The burn as you stretch around him is glorious. He's bigger than you were expecting (and you were expecting), and a deep moan is pulled from you as you sink down on him slowly, your eyes falling closed.

You still once he's buried to the hilt, both of you needing a moment to adjust. When you open your eyes, his are still closed. His arms hold you tightly around the waist, and measured, trembling breaths ghost over your shoulder.

He needs a minute. This is new for him and the worst thing he can imagine right now is for this to be over before it starts. You are so soft and warm and tight, and he can feel your heartbeat pulsing in the walls around him, and if he doesn't get some kind of control, he's going to bust right here.

After a few moments, he opens his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror. His fingers find your clit again, and he strokes it slowly, groaning, his head falling back, when you clench around him.

In an involuntary search for friction, your hips rock against his and he gasps, his other hand tightening around your waist, and he's never been more grateful for years of training in meditation.

He breathes heavily for a few moments, and once he feels like he has his bearings, he holds your gaze and tightens his grip on your hips, pulling out of you slowly before pushing back in. You can feel his churr inside you and you shudder as he sheathes himself again, feeling the vibrations of his desire scatter outward from your center, leaving your fingers and toes tingling.

You move together in a slow rhythm, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He's going to remember every single second of this for the rest of his life. Whatever happens next, this is his. This moment. This feeling. He's wanted a lot of things in his life - peace, acceptance, love -, and for this one shining moment, he has all of them. For this once shining moment, he has you.

This beautiful, brilliant goddess of light and mercy is with him, wants him. You are watching him in the mirror as if he is something sacred. Divine. This broken deformation of something that isn't even a man, held in reverence, and he is filled with something indescribable.

His head falls to your shoulder with a deep moan, as a fire ignites inside of him. Not the one he's used to, there is no burning rage. No barely contained fury. This is not the fire of battle, but the fire of a forge.

Red hot iron burns in his veins as years of doubt and insecurity are boiled away. They didn't matter anymore. Every weird, unacceptable mutated turtle thing he had to deal with. Every scream of horror at his terrible visage. Your light. Your heat, is burning it away. Allowing him to make something new. He leans back, lifting you and bucking up into your harder as that heat fills him, and with every thrust, something in him is reshaping itself.

You could see it in his eyes. That fire of creation. And if you thought he was beautiful before... He holds your gaze with open purpose, unsure but ready for anything, pouring that fire into you. The catalyst of his recreation. And for the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he deserves something good.

And, Gods, you felt SO good.

A smirk turns his lip as he stands, growling, and you brace against the door as he shows no signs of slowing. His large hand comes to cover yours on the door, wrapping around it. Eyes no longer fixed to the mirror, gaze downward, watching the way you stretch around him as he disappears into you, he can feel his release building as your body flexes around him.

He's transfixed, his hand reaching around to find your clit again, moaning as his mouth descends to your neck and shoulders. Needing to pull more of those exquisite sounds from you. Every one of them ringing through him like a struck anvil.

The fire roars under your skin as his speed and strength increases, capturing every sight, sound, and scent, and tossing them back into the flames.

You're beyond language at this point, grunting and whimpering with every thrust. You can feel him in every part of you, until there is nothing left in the world but him and the burn of him filling you completely.

You can feel the pressure building as he growls low and sparks shoot up your spine, his hot breath crashing over your shoulders in waves as he is lost to you. He wraps his arm around you, leaning back and pulling you flush against him as his eyes fall shut.

You are consumed by the flames, arching against him with a cry as white fire streaks through you, the pressure breaks, and you are undone. Raphael follows with a roar, gripping you tightly as he buries himself in you. A second wave crashes over you when you feel him spill himself inside of you, your body milking him dry.

Trembling and breathing hard, you sit back and hold each other as you come down together. You meet his eyes in the mirror, and he's looking at you in reverence and gratitude, like you're his own personal miracle.

Because you are.

He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his head in your shoulder and breathes deep, pulling your scent into his lungs as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty. Glancing up, he watches himself drip out of you, staining the rug below. You are flush and exhausted, but smiling as your heart rate and breathing slow.

After taking a few moments to clean up. You crawl back into bed together. He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You smile up at him, happy, truly, actually happy, for the first time in... ever? That can't be right. It feels right. All you know is you've never been happy like this.

It won't last. It can't. He's too special. And now he knows he has options. "Just think, when you get bored with me, there's a whole community of people that will also find you hot." you chuckle softly. It was only a matter of time, right? You were nothing special.

His smile disappears.

How could you think...

"Y/N, I don't want anybody else." He says softly, sure.

"Raph, you haven't met anybody else." You counter.

"Fuck anybody else. Everybody else. I got it in one, and I ain't about to question that." He presses his forehead to yours.

You smile at him in patient, loving, disbelief. "Okay, Red."

He raises his head to look at you. "Want me to prove it? Fine. Give me a few years, I'll have you convinced."

This gets him a laugh. "Years?" you really like the sound of that.

"If I'm lucky," he says. You look into his eyes as he smiles down at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. "You better be prepared for me not to be able to keep my hands off you," he says with a smirk.

You grin up at him. You really, really like the sound of that. But moments later, you cringe hard and start giggling, a clear sign that your brain has interrupted with something ridiculous. "Okay okay okay, I'm gonna say it. I have to say it... I've created a monster."

"Y/N..." He groans and covers his face with a pillow while you cackle.

"No wait, see? Now you can't hate that word anymore because it will remind you of sex!" You chirp delightedly.

"You can't possibly be fucking serious right now..." He says, muffled by the pillow.

The next several minutes are spent with you vehemently defending your joke, while, delightfully annoyed, he quietly admits to himself that being a Monster might not be all that bad.

...

Happy Pride Month, my Monster. I love you. ♥️

...

Tag list

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