silent reader

Which is what you two are doing now. You feel him shifting on the bed to hide his face on the crook of your neck.

“Hmmm…”

You look down at him and raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t lift his head from your neck for a while.

“Raph? You fell asleep or something?” you giggle softly.

“You changed your perfume?” he asks quietly, smelling your neck, rubbing his snout against your neck while his strong arms are wrapped around your waist.

“My perfume? oh, I used a different one since my sister took mine” you say, raising your eyebrow.

His arms tightened subtly around your waist, pulling you even closer into the warmth of his broad shell. He hummed a low, gravelly vibration against your throat, like a purring engine.

"I like it," he grumbled, the words muffled against your skin. "Sweet, but... different. Makes you smell like mine, even if you didn't try."

He shifted his weight, the mattress creaking beneath his muscular form, and tilted his head back just enough to fix his eyes—dark and intense—on yours. A larger, three-fingered hand slid up your arm, his calloused palm brushing stray hairs away from your jawline.

"Don't get me wrong, I like the old one," he rasped, his breath hot and smelling faintly of old leather and the rain, "but this one... has to stay."

“You like it?” you smile softly, oblivious to the reaction your perfume was making inside of him. “I’m glad you like it”

A low, rumbling growl originates in his chest, vibrating through both of you as he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't look away; he fixes you with a stare that makes the air thick and heavy, his pupils dilating to black pools.

“Glad?” His thumb traces the line of your bottom lip with rough, deliberate pressure. “I’m fucking obsessed.”

He shifts his hips, trapping you beneath his solid weight, making sure you feel the hard proof of just how much he likes the new scent pressing against your inner thigh.

“Might have to mark you with it all night,” he rumbles, his breath skimming your ear, “so every time you move, you remember who hits that scent.”

His hand slides down to grip the curve of your hip possessively, squeezing with enough force to pin you in place while he continues to taste the perfume on your pulse point.

“Raph-“

His green lips curled into a smirk against your neck, a rough tongue dragging a stripe right over the frantic pulse beating there.

"Raph" he echoed, mocking your breathless tone with a guttural rasp.

"Don't start begging yet, sweetheart."

He pinned your wrists above your head with one massive hand, the other sliding down to your waistband to bunch the fabric tight against your skin. The air in the room felt suddenly charged, electric with the smell of his musk overpowering your cheap scent.

His hips grounded into yours, a heavy friction that promised nothing but relentless, animalistic effort. He nipped at your jaw, teeth sharp enough to brand but careful enough to leave you aching.

"You wanted attention. You got it. Now stay still while I take it."

“Honey- I don’t want now, you know- stressful day, bla bla bla…” you whisper quietly.

His body went rigid, a tense statue hovering over you. The heat in his eyes cooled instantly, not into anger but a sharp, wary focus. He shifted his weight back half an inch, removing the crushing pressure but keeping his hands firmly on your wrists—a check-in, not a release.

"Alright," he grunted, the word sounded like it scraped his throat raw. He tilted his head, his snout brushing your cheek once, a silent question. "Just... tell me what you need. Or if you just want to stay like this."

You puff your cheeks and wrap your arms around his neck. “Can we just cuddle?”

Raph let out a short, incredulous huff of air, his defensive tension melting into something softer. "Cuddle? You're killing me."

He rolled off to the side, the mattress groaning under his weight, but his arms never let go. He pulled your back firmly against his plastron, curling a thick, scaled limb around your waist to lock you against his chest. A shaky exhale ruffled the hair at your temple as he buried his nose there, the scent of you filling his senses.

"Fine," he grumbled, the word vibrating against your skin. "But you're not moving an inch. You smell too damn good to let go of."

You smile pressing your back against his plastron and closing your eyes.

“Sorry for not being in the mood for sex” you apologise.

His arm tightened around you, pulling you flush against his chest. The rumbling in his chest started again, deep and soft this time.

"Don't apologize." His voice was a low growl, but it was tender, roughened gravel against your ear. "Sometimes... it's just about being close."

He pressed his forehead to the back of your head, taking a slow, deep breath as if he could inhale the scent of you and the new perfume, committing it all to memory. His hand, still resting on your hip, squeezed gently, a silent 'thank you'.

He settled his weight, a heavy, grounding presence against your spine. The rapid beating of his heart slowed to match the rhythm of your breathing, a steady thud against your back. His fingers traced idle patterns over your stomach, the scaled tips catching faintly on the fabric of your shirt.

He exhaled through his nose, a warm puff of air that stirred your hair.

"That scent ain't goin' nowhere," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Just sleep, baby. I got you."

A low rumble vibrated through his chest, a sound that felt less like a purr and more like a generator slowly winding down. His arms, like bands of warm iron, didn't loosen their grip on you.

He shifted, his bulk resettling against the headboard, creating a nest of stone and muscle meant to hold you safely.

Here's a list of all the tots included in this part :))

While Leo is going in for the kill, boyfriend here is just gonna be killing it.

I'm a firm believer that Don is Mr. Romance. And he is going to keep you on your toes. Chase you. Make you wonder…

He's gonna go from that little kiss kiss kiss to absolutely fucking manhandling you while you two are arguing.

You know the kind… 

Don is going to wait. He's going to make sure that this strange pull to you is worth risking his friendship with you. He's going to research. Calculate. He’s going to ask all the right questions and say all the right things. Tiptoeing the line of…  Suggestive… Or sarcastic? And right when he’s close enough with that flirty Don look on his face, he’s going to start speaking softer and softer so you have to lean in closer to hear him, so you’re hanging on every word and he’ll just lean forward and close the distance, brushing his snout alongside your nose to test. When you don't back away he will just barely touch your lips with his. With the lightest kiss… kiss… kiss… before he slants his mouth across yours and massages his lips against yours.

He’ll be busy. Sitting at his desk. Working on something. And while he’s interactive with you, you still aren’t his focal point. And it’s nudging at your patience.

Little do you know, you do indeed have his utmost attention. He’s doing it on purpose.

He’s waiting. Feeling you out. Seeing how long it takes until- 

Your leg stretches over his hips so you’re face to face with him, and your arms move around his neck as you lean against him. But he just dodges your head, looking around you as he continues to type lines of code. His brain working a million miles a minute, smiling internally that he has you… Right where he wants you. And it’s not until your voice goes from irritation that he’s ignoring you - to whining and pleading, that he stops mid-keyboard click and locks his eyes on yours, a smug smirk making its way across his lips. Hands abandon his coding and move to your waist as he rolls his chair forward and traps you between him and the desk. As his face gets closer to yours, he pauses and whispers, “Need me to run your lines of code too?” Then he laves the crease of your lips with a flat tongue, one of his hands moving to the back of your head to keep you still so he can absolutely devour you.

You had brought him to the rooftop of your building, having set up a date night. A blanket spread out with his favorite foods and some purple fairy lights as some romantic lighting. The pair of you sat and ate. Talking about everything. You were waiting for the meteor shower to begin, unbeknownst to him. Your smile grew wider as the time approached.

But then the clouds moved in, not only blocking your perfect view, but spitting down at you and ruining your surprise. Donatello jumps up and quickly starts to clean up the mess, but you can't stop the tears from falling along with the stupid rain.

He stops what he's doing immediately, hurrying to you.

As you vent out your frustration over the rain, he can't help but fall more in love with you, with each tear that makes its way down your cheeks.

Suddenly his mouth is on yours, coaxing your lips open, slow and firm. His tongue moving against yours in a dance of give and take.

The rain beats down harder and harder, adding some extra glide to your lips, and making him moan into your mouth the longer he tastes you.

You're out of breath and pull back, but his lips chase yours, his hands trapping your face in a cradle… because he needs more.

You had made it down to the lair before the guys got up. Peeking into the lab you see your boyfriend half asleep in his bed as he slappity-slaps at his phone alarm to stfu. Giggling, you head to the kitchen to start the coffee maker for him.

He comes out to the smell of newly brewed, fresh coffee, and follows the enticing scent to the kitchen.

Back to him, you're standing at the counter making him his morning coffee.

And something about the scene just sucks the oxygen from his lungs.

He's so in love with you.

His body moves on its own, and he quietly walks to the counter, grabs your hand and spins you like you're his dance partner. He spins you into his arms and dips you, his lips falling to yours while he holds you tight to him in that dip. Teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth for a little tantalizing suction. 

And as fast as it happened it’s ended.

A flirtatious smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he pulls back with a sultry quirk of a brow ridge, stands you on your own two feet, and strolls out of the kitchen, his coffee in hand.

He hasn't slept in days. The fate of the world is dependent upon his intellect to get them out of the current shit show.

Out of concern you tried to talk him into sleep, but he got nasty.

And a screaming match ensues.

Arms flung out and glaring as you yell back at him, you don't realize that this whole argument is doing it for him.

Your voice is strained and cracking as you bite back tears that threaten to spill, “Why are you being such a fucking assho-”

But the words die in your throat as he storms forward, crashing his mouth on yours as he scoops you up by the thighs, situating your spread legs around his hips. 

Your ass hits his lab table and he's crawling on top of you, pinning your hands above your head with a single hand while the other has a bruising grasp on your hip.

His tongue pushes through your lips only to pull back immediately with intense suction, your tongue swept into his mouth with his current of his lust. He does it over and over because he wants - no needs - to erase those dirty words from your pretty mouth. 

He never meant to get you that upset and now he needs to make up for it.

“I'm sorry for being an asshole… Let me make it up to you.”

He doesn't give you a chance to answer. He just takes those kisses from the top to the bottom, and lets his tongue love you with just as much passion below as he did above.

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

~tags~