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raphaelsrightarm · 5 months

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Watch pt 2

Part 1

Uh ohhhhhh

Words: 1653

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only

Tags: @lovelyladylavie @auggiemty @serpentinefairy @miranexx @drowninghell @monsterroonio

He is a tidal wave.

Moving and moving, sweeping along anything that may get too close.

His hands found your waist without faltering for another second. His fingers twitched as he struggled to keep his grip loose. He wanted to touch you, he’s dreamed of touching you. Now that you’re standing before him with nearly as much need as him he’s worried he’ll do it wrong. That he’ll hurt you.

That he’ll scare you away.

You pressed yourself against him, tracing the pathways of his scales as his breath quickened. You felt the skin of his arms, his shoulders, tracing the border of his plastron. He pressed his lips to your neck as you explored him, the evidence of his want hardening against your stomach.

You moved to meet his gaze. Your face was only inches from his, and you felt any sense leave your brain as you closed the distance. He was stunned for a moment before you felt his arms wrap further around you. Strong hands splaying out on your back, desperate to have you as close to him as he could manage.

He broke away from you only to kiss your neck again, madly inhaling the scent of your skin before releasing a low groan. A grumble coming from his chest followed soon after, your heart raced at the intensity.

You thought back to how he had touched himself just moments ago. The image of him stroking himself slowly, twisting his fist as the head that will now forever be imprinted on your mind. You mimicked him as you wrapped your hand around his cock. He let out a strangled gasp, and you realized how sensitive he must be.

His eyes shut for a moment before returning to meet yours. Deep pools of malachite lit with the fervid flames of his lust. There was something else there that you couldn’t place. He watched you

You figured it would be best to move slowly at first, since he had just cum moments ago. It wasn’t long before you felt his hips buck against you, urging for more friction.

“Needy,”

“You have no idea,” He whispered against your cheek before he kissed you again.

Your hand moved faster, twisting at the tip just as he had done, as his lips traced your shoulder until he was met with the neckline of your shirt.

There was the sound of stretching fabric until you felt your shirt tear completely. You gasped his name as the fabric slipped from your body and you felt him smile against your skin. His hands now roamed along the skin of your back, tracing the shape of your spine, the curve of your hips.

You felt his legs twitch as you began stroking him faster. His restlessness grew with each passing moment of your hands working on him. He wanted more. He has wanted more for so long that it has turned itself into an unforgiving blade wedged into his side.

Touching you, the feeling of you touching him, were the only things that eased it. Even in his frenzied state he was still in awe of you.

So he allowed his hands to roam over your body. He wouldn’t last much longer with your hand working him the way it was, and he didn’t want to cum yet. It would feel too much like a waste.

He felt you gasp again as his hand slid down the front of your leggings, toying with you through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your pace faltered slightly, burying your face into his shoulder as he formed circles over your clit.

“Don’t get shy now,” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of your skin was set ablaze the moment you arrived. But words slipped away everytime you tried to form them, too focused on his hand between your legs and yours between his. How the two of you moved together like you’d done this hundreds of times already.

His free hand moved to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh against his palm. “Now.”

Your heart pounded as desire rolled through you like waves. “It’s so good, Raph, please,” You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, but just after he pushed your panties out of his way, his finger slipping between your folds to continue his work on you, savoring each whimper and moan that he pulled from you.

Your hand left from between his legs and flew to his shoulder in an attempt to steady yourself. Though he ached from the sudden lack of pressure, he was too caught up in your breathy moans and pleas for him to make you cum for him to care.

You were feeling yourself nearing the edge. Your heart pounded like you were running as you ran your hands down his arms, feeling the thick bands of muscle underneath his skin.

He groaned into your hair. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” His voice almost sounded pained, desperate.

You fell.

Effortlessly, he held you against him as your knees buckled. His endless strength was something that had left you stunned a hundred times over by now.

Your hips ground against his hand as you rode out your orgasm, eyes clenched shut, your fingernails no doubt digging into the back of his neck.

He was breathing as hard as you were as you came down. His lips traced the curve of your neck. His hand slipped from between your legs, fingers covered in you.

He inhaled deeply, tasting it off the tip of his finger. The fire inside you sparked back up.

“Raph,” His name had never sounded more beautiful. “I need you, please.”

He was already helping you slide your pants down, your underwear following soon after. With the fabric in his hand he had the sudden impulse to keep them, just so he could breathe you in whenever he missed this. Though there was a bit of guilt, he dropped them behind him, separate from the rest of your clothes.

You were weightless as he lifted you, bringing you to rest your head on his pillow. He kissed you hungrily, settling on his elbows over top of you. You pressed your knees to his sides, spreading for him as far as you were able in an attempt to make your desperation clear.

He entered you slowly, his other hand holding a firm grip on your thigh. He watched closely as your head fell back and eyes shut as you took all of him in.

He knew now that he would never be able to replicate this. His fist would never be able to make him feel the way your cunt is, his body shuddering as he bottomed out.

He couldn’t think straight, his mind melting from the heat of your velvety core. The churring from his chest had gotten deeper, and already he felt his end drawing near.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. His hand slid between the two of you to run circles over your clit. Slowly, he felt you begin to relax around him.

He forced himself to go slow. Every inch of him was begging for another release, to cum inside you and claim you as his. His mind was so clouded with the scent of you and the strength of his own urges

He waited until you began lifting your hips to match his thrusts to start moving a bit more freely.

“You’re fuckin’ tight, I’ll make you feel so good.” He felt like he was floating, lost your scent and your whines. “You’re mine.” His body twitched as you tightened around him. “Say it.”

“I’m all yours, Raph.” You tried saying more, and you would have if it didn’t feel so good. Your brain was empty of all thoughts other than his movements. His hands gripped your thighs with enough force you knew it would bruise and didn’t even care.

Part of you wanted it to.

He watched every movement you made, like he was memorizing you as intensely as you were trying to do to him.

His thrusts picked up, falling out of the rhythm he had created.

“So good,” He breathes out almost to himself. “So fuckin’ good”

He moved faster. The change of pace nearly made you see stars as his hand continued toying with your clit.

He watched as your back arched as you met your second release. You held onto him so tightly as your legs shook against his sides. He could feel you pulsing, clouding his vision.

He breathed you in one last time before his head fell back as he spilled inside of you. He lifted your legs up to his shoulders before he could convince himself not to. He held you there for a minute, kissing your ankles and rubbing your legs, whispering praises of how good you felt before he laid beside you.

You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his body. The feeling of your bare skin pressing against him was something he never wanted to part with.

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, and he couldn’t force himself to care either. He had your breath against his neck, your arm draped over his stomach.

The moon could fall from the sky at this moment, and the only sorrow he would feel would come from him never again being able to see how the light would fall against your skin.

It hit him harder than it ever had before, the realization of how important you had become to him. He thought back to the days before you had entered their lives, and they all felt incomplete.

You nuzzled your face closer into his neck and immediately, almost instinctively, his arm tightened around you. With a light sigh, he accepted that he was absolutely fucked.

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayversetmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt raph 2014 #part 2

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hotheadedhero · 2 months

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In Unrequited Love - Part 2

AN: When I say that writing this part had me feral, I don't mean it lightly. This part ended up being over 2000 words, blimmin heck. It had me losing sleep, losing sanity, and my grasp on reality and going insane. All in good ways of course! It got angstier than I originally intended but, man, I'm a sucker for it. I think you guys are too ;)

Part 1 - Part 3

Warning: angst for reader's lacking self-preservation, silly dummy, but Donnie is also a dumb-dumb, so you're as bad as each other really.

Donatello x Reader

Every explanation you can come up with to try and disregard your feelings for the tallest of the turtle brothers has only been met with more anguish. First, you theorised it to be some kind of miscommunication with your emotions, that you had merely misread a deep level of friendship as a new crush. Then, you tried to reason with yourself that it was a rebound - a re-focussing of such feelings onto someone else who likes spending time with you. Neither holds enough weight to get out of this funk, however. You’re chain-bound.

Then begged the question: what are you to do about it? Realistically, what can you do about it? Not once have you had the courage to even try and say something to Casey, so what makes you think this is any different? If anything, it’s worse. Not only because Donatello is so helplessly in love with April, but because you are so much more hopelessly in love with him. Even the way you used to feel about Jones wasn’t this overwhelming.

You hate it. You hate it so damn much and, yet, you can’t stop yourself from spending most of your free time in that forsaken laboratory. There’s a saying that keeps coming to mind whenever you find yourself aiding him with inventions and experiments: fool me once, shame on you - fool me twice, shame on me. You certainly feel the fool and more so after a particular incident. A word used candidly but it felt like an incident at the time. The details are foggy but you believe it had something to do with the daughter of The Foot - Karai - and a new robotic toy of hers. Donnie had come in and saved the day, earning a kiss on the cheek from his crush by the end of it. To say that it stung is an understatement.

Nothing appeared to change after that day other than the joy your new infatuation must have been riding on since. You hadn’t even taken note of how it’s affected you. You don’t take notice of it at all. Yes, you still regularly visit the lab but less so to help out. As of late, it is you who is being helped. A habit which has become the norm where the purple-clad turtle finds himself patching you up. Almost every time you see him, there’s a new bump, bruise, or scratch that needs tending to and every time he does what he can to make it better.

Today is no different. If anything, it has to be the worst of your afflictions that he’s seen to date. The first few times were viewed in mild hilarity but he’s not finding these frequenting successions of being your first aider funny anymore. He currently has you sat in his desk chair, knelt down and worriedly looking over your ankle. The pigment of your skin is only slightly discoloured but it’s clear from the way you hobbled in a few moments ago that it can’t handle much weight right now. Carefully, he holds a cold compress against the affected area, earning a jolted hiss from your person. He winces himself and mutters a quiet apology. Some silence follows until he decides he needs to know exactly what you did to warrant such a bad injury.

“What happened this time?” he asks as he continues to inspect the contusion, making sure nothing is broken beneath.

“I just slipped whilst I was coming down the ladder,” you admit casually. “Think there’s been some rain recently, so it’s my own fault for not wearing grippier shoes.”

Your answer is marginally concerning for two reasons: it hasn’t rained for at least a few days now and he’s seen the way you work - how careful you are when you’re helping him with mechanics or measuring various chemicals. This isn’t like you. Retrospectively, he hasn’t known you long but he likes to think you’ve hung out enough for him to discern that you aren’t typically this clumsy. He’s even detected a drop in your mood. You don’t crack out as many jokes with him, nor have you spoken much about Casey. The band of his mask creases over his furrowing brows and he slowly looks up at you.

“Is everything okay?” he inquires carefully, mindful of the potentially sensitive question. “You seem… out of sorts lately. If it’s something to do with Casey-”

“It’s not Casey,” you interrupt, rather abruptly he notices. Sighing, you quickly attempt to correct yourself and slump into the seat. “I dunno. It might be. I think I’m just done with all the love stuff at this point.”

You end on a bitter cadence, one that has Donatello sinking. His heart breaks knowing that yours has been taken away and trampled on by this mess. It well and truly hurts him to see you this way, to hear that you’re energy has been depleted because of this. Then, like a jab to the gut, it all comes to fruition. The ugly canvas decorated with the hard, cold facts paints this horrifying image before his mind: your physical pain is a manifestation of that from within. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s still an alarming prospect. Swallowing past the nausea permeating and rising into his throat, he takes a moment to reflect on how best to help you. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell you that you should keep pursuing that ragged hockey puck-lover but he also doesn’t want to see you in such disarray. He can’t bear the thought that you might get hurt worse than this.

With a steadying breath, he takes your hands in his own and smiles up at you sympathetically. “Don’t say that. You never know. There’s still time for things to change in your favour.”

If only he knew how much that gaze of his torments you; how his hands make yours burn cold. You silently beg of him to not look at you with such warmhearted affection, that the very thing he believes to have ruptured your heart is not Casey but is him. Part of you wishes that you could get angry and blame this on him for being so sweet, funny, and an overall joy to be around but that wouldn’t be fair. The reality is that you can’t blame anyone, not even yourself. Feelings can’t be forced nor can they be changed. Your eyes drop to the two sets of hands that rest on your lap, knowing you can’t stand to stare into those puppy-dog maroons much longer.

Unenthused, you hum, “Guess so. Seems like you’re a little more on the hopeful side after that kiss on the cheek, huh?”

He glances away with an awkward smile. Everyone may assume that his head must have exploded when that happened and it would have done were it not for a certain change of circumstance. April kissing his cheek was ironically what led to him realising he loves you. At first, he was entirely confused. Why didn’t he get that round of butterflies? The heart palpitations? There wasn’t even a wild glee that he would have expected with something that monumental happening. Maybe there wasn’t supposed to be. He would have to look into it, he thought, and test it to figure out what was going on. An experiment that didn’t even make it to the drawing board.

No more than an hour later, Donnie’s tending to a burn on your arm after you spilt boiling coffee on yourself; the first domino to fall in this onset of injuries he would serve medical attention to. Seeing you hurt struck something fierce within him. He had this sudden urgency to protect you, care for you, and look after you. Then, followed a quick daydream of holding you in his arms, close to his body and safe from any and all extraneous variables that could threaten you. It flashed before his eyes with such volatile ammunition he almost stumbled over the dressing work he had been so carefully wrapping around your forearm. That’s when he realised and, boy, he couldn’t look you straight in the eye for the remainder of that day.

Perhaps, in a way then, your words ring true. He likes to believe he’s more hopeful. He likes to think he stands a better chance with you with how often you hang out and how well you get along. That’s why he doesn’t want you to give up on love. Regardless of where your sights are set, if you’re done with love, that’s his chance gone completely. He wants to keep that hope alive in you as well. Even if it’s for someone else, he doesn’t want you to be devoid of that sensation. It can hurt but it’s still a beautiful experience in his eyes.

Realising your smaller fingers are still overlapped in his, he blushes - a blush you assume to be the result of your conversation. He finally withdraws his grasp lest he risks you experiencing the backlash of his suddenly clammy palms. It’s about time that he secures your ankle in a bandage, anyway.

Ignoring your question altogether, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. “Well, the good news is that nothing is broken. Most of the fall was taken by your ligaments, though, so you won’t be able to walk properly for a few days. My recommendation is you rest at home in the meantime.”

You toss your head back into the chair and groan out lethargically, “If only I could replace it with a robotic one, hm?” Along with your overly attached, love-sick heart. “Would make things easier.”

“As long as you know to come here for repairs. Robotic limbs need just as much care and attention as organic ones.”

Glancing away, your lips turn up at the sides bashfully. There’s a smile. A genuine smile. He’s been waiting all day - a few days - to see one of those. What a dork. You can only hope your ankle does a fast job of getting better. At least that means no school for a few days but it’s still a bother. Simultaneously, that means no visits to the lair until you’re healed up. The thought is upsetting but you can’t help thinking it might do you some good; a bit of distance to calm the erratic, painful ache of the suffering muscle that sits behind your ribcage. Distance and distraction. On the topic of distractions, a particular object of interest has caught your eye from across the room: a small, rectangular mound hidden beneath a thin layer of cloth.

“Hey, what’ve you got under this?”

You don’t even wait for an answer, opting to propel yourself over to his desk with your good foot. The office chair glides along the floor and, before he can stop you, you’re already pulling the tarp from this mystery item. For someone who’s just injured their ankle, you’re annoyingly quick to feed curiosity’s temptation. Your snoopiness would reveal a narrow box, that which you open too, further revealing a slim sliver of chain with a charm sitting comfortably in the centre of it. Said charm is a purple turtle and you don’t have to think hard to figure out that this is a gift for a certain red-head. It’s magnificently crafted if not a little corny but you can commend his boldness.

“I’m sure April will like it,” you say sweetly enough that it masks the disdain bubbling in your throat. With a quiet sigh, you return the necklace to its resting place, fingertips brushing over the top of the box. “If she doesn’t, though, I… think it’s beautiful.”

Truthfully, that’s the only appraisal he’s looking for, especially seeing as he’s made it for you. He should take the opportunity whilst he’s riding on that high. You like it. He should just say that it’s for you. Get it out there and proclaim his feelings if not at least allude to them but the melancholy behind your eyes chokes him out of trying. It’s not the right time. Your heart is fragile - far too fragile to be here any longer, you’ve decided.

“Thanks again for helping out,” you mumble, swallowing past a lump whilst you attempt to stand. “Better make a start on resting, huh?”

Quickly, he holds an arm out in case you need to grab onto it, face scrunched and brows raised from the middle. “H-Hey, wait! Can I at least walk you back home? That manhole cover is gonna be a struggle let alone the ladder to get to it.”

Cursing the kindness of this tall terrapin would be cruel but he just makes it so darn difficult to not fall more victim to your feelings. You would love nothing more than to take his offer. Wholehandedly, you would within a quarter of a second. There’s just one teeny tiny problem, however.

“I appreciate the offer, Donnie, but it’s still daytime,” you remind him.

In his overzealousness, he had missed that fact. A seemingly obvious detail that he wouldn’t typically forget were he not so worried about you. He is not letting you go back to the surface alone in your current condition - both the physical and mental. Wishing to be human isn’t a naturally occurring thought but it’s currently a prevalent desire. How is he meant to ensure a safe trip home if he can’t go topside? Just as begins formulating a plan, a certain dark-apparelled miscreant passes the lab. Donnie can’t believe he’s actually going to do this but it seems like the only option.

“Casey.” He raises a hand dilatorily to catch the teenager’s attention. “Any chance you could escort (Y/n) home?”

Casey takes one look at your wrapped ankle and throws out two finger guns with a wink. “Jones is on the case.”

He understood the assignment quickly enough at least. Hooray for him. Donatello is prompt to smile when you cast him an estranged glance. You reckon he’s trying to wingman you, which is almost hilarious. If only he knew. Your “escort” temporarily donates you his hockey stick as a makeshift crutch and places a hand between your shoulder blades as extra leverage whilst walking you out. Donnie may have been lying to himself before. He doesn’t want you to be devoid of love but he doesn’t want your love to be directed elsewhere like he had initially tried to come to terms with. It should be him. He wants it so badly to be him. Pitifully, he watches you leave, hearing Casey remark something along the lines of “you’re in safe hands” before the two of you are out of earshot. Such friendly, flirtatious comments from your prior crush would have had you in a tizzy but, weirdly, you find comfort in them. It’s a short moment of silence for your incessant pining.

Now, all there is to do is hope that your forced rest isn’t met with bedridden wallowing for the oncoming days.

I know the first kiss on the cheek moment doesn't really fit with how it goes in the show but that's the point of fanfiction, is it not? :P Hope you enjoyed! I'm gonna lie down now, holy jeebus

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #donatello #donnie #2012 donnie #tmnt x reader #x reader #donatello x reader #angst #part 2 #casey jones #april o'neil

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