#raphael headcanons

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You first met Raph through April, and to be honest, it wasn’t the smoothest start. He was standoffish at first, side-eyeing you like you might be another problem he’d have to deal with. But after April vouched for you, and you showed you weren’t scared of him—or his temper—he slowly warmed up. The turning point probably came during a night out with April where you stood your ground against some thugs before Raph even stepped in. That kind of fire caught his attention, and from then on he started treating you like someone worth sticking around. Over time, the two of you built a friendship on mutual respect, blunt honesty, and a shared love of sarcasm. He’d never admit it out loud, but you became one of the few humans he trusted fully. As a best friend, Raph is fiercely loyal and protective—sometimes to the point of being overbearing. If anyone so much as looked at you wrong, he’d be ready to throw hands before you could even blink. He’d drag you into crazy situations (usually involving fights, pizza runs at 3 a.m., or impromptu training sessions), but he’d also be the first to sit with you when you’re upset, even if all he does is sit in silence. Raph’s friendship comes with a lot of teasing and sarcasm, but beneath the tough shell, he’d treat you like family. To him, you wouldn’t just be “a friend of April’s”—you’d be his best friend, and that means you’d always have a place in the family he protects with everything he’s got.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Raph isn’t the type to admit it out loud, but yeah—he does like to cuddle. He won’t ask for it though, not directly. Most times, it happens when you’ve had a long night or he’s still wound up from a fight. He’ll flop down next to you with that gruff scowl of his, pretending he’s just “resting,” but before you know it, his massive arm is hooking around your waist and pulling you tight against his plastron. His strength makes it impossible to wiggle away—not that you’d want to. You’ll feel the steady beat of his heart under all that muscle and armor, and even though he’d never say it, you know it grounds him as much as it comforts you. When Raph cuddles, it’s all about closeness. He likes to keep you tucked under his chin or pressed into his side, your body shielded by his. He’s protective even in the smallest moments, always placing himself between you and the door like some natural instinct. Sometimes he’ll grumble about you being “clingy,” but then his grip tightens if you shift away. He isn’t big on soft words, but the way he absentmindedly rubs his thumb across your arm or lets his tattered mask tails brush against you says enough. With Raph, cuddling is less about sweet talk and more about making sure you feel safe in his arms—and making sure he knows you’re still there when the world goes quiet.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

When it comes to settling down, Raph’s instinct is to scoff and pretend like he isn’t the “white picket fence” type. But underneath all the bluster and bravado, you can tell he craves stability more than he lets on. He’s tired of losing people he loves, tired of battles that never seem to end, and the thought of coming home to you—someone who grounds him—hits him harder than he’ll admit out loud. Raph doesn’t picture a quiet life where he does nothing, but he does imagine a safe place where you’re waiting for him, maybe a couple pets running around, and a sense of normalcy that keeps him anchored. He’d still argue, still storm out sometimes when his temper flares, but he always comes back. Settling down, for him, isn’t about giving up the fight—it’s about knowing he has someone worth fighting for. Domestic life with Raph is messy, but surprisingly warm. He’s not the best cook; most of his “meals” are variations of scrambled eggs, burnt toast, or pizza reheated with way too much hot sauce. Still, he tries, especially if it means seeing you smile. Cleaning is another battle—Raph has a tendency to shove laundry into a corner or claim the mess “ain’t that bad,” but if he sees you struggling, he’ll roll up his sleeves and help without complaint. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s fiercely protective of making your shared space feel like a home. Even if he’s got battle scars, a beat-up mask, and a temper to match, you’ll always find those green eyes softening when you catch him doing the dishes just because he doesn’t want you to.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Raph ever had to break up with you, it wouldn’t be clean or easy—he isn’t the type to just walk away without a fight, especially when it comes to someone he loves. He’d pace for hours beforehand, working himself up with muttered curses and half-finished sentences, because as tough as he is on the battlefield, the thought of hurting you would tear him up inside. When he finally sat you down, he’d struggle to look you in the eye, fists clenching and unclenching like he was gearing up for a fight with himself. His words would come out raw, unpolished, full of gruff honesty—he’d tell you it wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much and didn’t want to drag you into his dangerous, chaotic world anymore. His voice would break when he said it, and if you cried, it would kill him not to pull you into his arms. But he’d force himself to stand, jaw tight, shell heavy with guilt, because deep down Raph would believe that letting you go was the only way to keep you safe—even if it shattered him in the process.

F= Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

When it comes to commitment, Raph surprises you. Sure, he acts like the tough guy who doesn’t want to talk about feelings, but deep down, he craves loyalty and stability. Once you’re his fiancée, he takes that role seriously—protecting you, standing by you, and making sure you know he’s in it for the long haul. He doesn’t throw the word “forever” around lightly, so when he gives you his word, you know he means it with every ounce of his stubborn, hotheaded heart. Raph may not always be the best with romantic words, but his actions—being there for you no matter what, putting himself on the line—are his version of a vow. As for marriage, Raph wouldn’t want to drag his feet. Once he’s sure of his feelings (and he is, the second he puts that ring on your finger), he doesn’t see the point of waiting years to tie the knot. In his eyes, you’re already his family, so why wait? Still, he wouldn’t want it rushed either—he knows commitment is serious, and he wants you both to have a ceremony that feels right, even if it’s small. So while Leo might suggest patience, Mikey might want a huge party, and Donnie might insist on over-planning, Raph would probably look at you and say, “Let’s not wait too long, babe. I already know I want this. I want you.”

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionaly?)

When you first meet Raph, you’re almost startled by the contrast—you expect nothing but sharp edges from him, yet when his calloused hand brushes against yours or when his heavy arm settles around your shoulders, there’s a surprising restraint, a gentleness that doesn’t quite match his bruiser reputation. Physically, he’s careful with you, fully aware of his strength and always pulling back before it can overwhelm; emotionally, it’s rougher around the edges—his words can be blunt, his temper fast, but beneath the growl there’s a rare tenderness that slips through in quiet moments, in the way he listens when you’re upset, or how he’ll awkwardly but fiercely try to fix things just to see you smile again.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Raph’s not the type to go around handing out hugs left and right. He’ll act like he’s “too tough” for that kind of thing, brushing it off with a sarcastic comment if you ask. But the truth is, he does like hugs—he just won’t admit it out loud. He saves them for the moments that really matter, like when you’ve scared him half to death in a fight or when the weight of the world finally cracks through his armor. When Raph hugs, it’s usually sudden and tight, almost desperate, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold on hard enough, you might slip away. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, it’s because he needs it just as much as you do. Being wrapped up in Raph’s arms feels like being pulled into a fortress. His shell presses solidly against you, his strength almost overwhelming, but he’s careful—always careful, even if he doesn’t look it. His hugs are warm and grounding, a mix of fierce protectiveness and vulnerability he’d rather no one else see. If you’re upset, he’ll mutter something gruff into your hair like, “Don’t cry, tough stuff… I got you,” while his grip only tightens. For Raph, hugs aren’t casual—they’re promises. Promises that he’ll be there, that you’re safe, and that no matter how much he growls and scowls, you mean the world to him.

|= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Raphael isn’t the type to throw around the L-word lightly—in fact, with you, it takes him a while to admit it even to himself. He feels it early, way earlier than he’ll ever let on, but he fights against the weight of saying it out loud because vulnerability terrifies him more than Shredder ever could. You’ll probably notice it in the way he lingers a little longer when patching up your wounds, or how he growls at anyone who so much as looks at you wrong. When the moment finally breaks through—most likely after a heated argument or a near-death scare—he blurts it out raw and unpolished, something like, “Because I freakin’ love you, alright?!” He says it fast, like ripping off a bandage, but once the words are out, there’s no going back. From then on, he doesn’t shy away from it—if anything, he says it more often, in his own gruff, fiercely protective way, because now that you know, he never wants you to doubt it.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Raph’s jealousy comes hard and fast—he’s not the type to quietly stew in the corner. You’d see it in the way his jaw tightens, his green eyes narrowing like a storm brewing behind them. If someone so much as stands too close to you or makes you laugh a little too much, he’s already sizing them up, his hand twitching toward his sai. He doesn’t do subtle; he gets loud, brash, and territorial, putting himself between you and the “threat” like a living wall of muscle and shell. He might snap at you at first, demanding to know what’s so funny, but deep down it’s not about trust—it’s about fear. Fear that someone could take away the one person who makes his rough edges soften. When Raph’s jealousy really boils over, he channels it into action. He’ll challenge the other person, either verbally or physically, because fighting is his first language. You’ll probably have to drag him back before he throws the first punch, his mask tails whipping as he growls under his breath. Afterward, when he’s cooled off, he tends to feel guilty—jealousy isn’t something he likes to admit. That’s when his softer side cracks through. He’ll mutter an apology, rub the back of his neck awkwardly, and pull you close into one of those bone-crushing hugs only he can give. In the end, Raph’s jealousy isn’t just about anger—it’s his raw, unpolished way of showing how much he values you.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Raph’s kisses are exactly what you’d expect from him—intense, full of heat, and sometimes a little rough around the edges. When he pulls you in, it’s not soft or hesitant, it’s demanding, like he’s claiming you and making sure you feel just how much he wants you. His lips are firm and passionate, sometimes leaving you breathless, and he’s not shy about holding you close with those strong arms of his. He likes to nip at your bottom lip just to make you squirm, smirking when you shove at his plastron in mock-annoyance. For Raph, kissing you isn’t just affection—it’s a release of everything he feels but doesn’t always know how to put into words. When it comes to where he likes to kiss you, your neck is his absolute weakness. He loves brushing his lips across the curve of it, trailing heat down to your shoulder until you’re giggling or shivering. He also kisses your temple and forehead more than he’ll ever admit—it’s his quieter way of showing you he cares. As for where he likes to be kissed? His jaw and the corners of his mouth drive him crazy. A quick kiss on his scarred plastron near his shoulder chip can melt away his walls in seconds—he’ll act like it doesn’t get to him, but deep down, it reminds him he’s loved for all of his scars, not just despite them.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

You’re crouched down at the edge of the playground, holding your little brother’s hand, when Raphael strolls over, green eyes scanning the swings and slides with a surprisingly soft focus. At first, he looks like he might growl at the chaos of screaming kids, but then one of the toddlers drops a toy near his foot, and he picks it up with a reluctant smirk, handing it back like it’s some sort of grudging honor. You notice the way he’s careful not to step too close, letting the little ones approach him at their own pace, and when one brave kid tugs on his sai for fun, Raph crouches lower, pretending to be intimidated before ruffling the kid’s hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture. He cracks sarcastic jokes to make them laugh, and when a kid falls, he’s instantly at their side, offering a hand and a teasing “Watch where you’re going, little dude,” but there’s zero bite in his voice. Around children, Raph’s usual hotheaded, ferocious self softens just enough that you realize this hulking, tatted-up turtle with a battle-scarred shell has a heart that’s fiercely protective and surprisingly tender.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Morning with Raph is a chaotic mix of tenderness and tension that somehow feels like home. You wake up to the soft scrape of his sais against the floor as he stretches, shell creaking, green eyes blinking sleepily before fixing on you with that trademark smirk—half-grumpy, half-proud. Sometimes he grumbles about having to make breakfast, insisting pizza counts as a morning meal, but you catch him stealing bites just to see you laugh. He’s protective even in the quiet moments, nudging you out of harm’s way if you’re too close to the edge of the rooftop or teasing you mercilessly if you try to sleep in past him. Despite his rough exterior, Raph’s mornings are full of little gestures—an arm draped over you while you both sip whatever hot drink he scrounged up, playful pokes with the pommel of a sai, and the rare soft “Don’t let anyone mess with you,” muttered low enough that only you hear. It’s messy, unpredictable, sometimes frustrating—but every sunrise spent with him feels charged with his strength, warmth, and that stubborn, impossible-to-ignore love he never outright admits.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You step into the lair after a long night of patrolling with Raph, and he’s already leaning against the wall, sai in hand, smirking like he’s been waiting for you. “Took you long enough,” he mutters, his voice rough but teasing, eyes glinting green in the dim light, the lightning-shaped chip across his plastron catching a faint gleam. As you both get ready for bed, Raph insists on grabbing a few extra pillows—“don’t get all cozy without me”—and you can’t help but chuckle at how gruff he acts even in these quiet moments. He sprawls out, one arm lazily draped over you, tail brushing your legs, and his warmth radiates against your back. Sometimes he grumbles about the day, sometimes he just listens as you talk, but no matter what, his presence is solid, protective, and comforting. Soon enough, he lets his head fall back, muscles relaxing, breathing evening into sleep, and you realize that nights with Raph are loud in personality but soft in intimacy, a careful balance of rough edges and quiet trust.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Raph isn’t the type to open up all at once—you’d have to earn that. At first, he keeps things close to his chest, showing you pieces of himself in his actions rather than his words. You’ll notice it in the way he shields you during a fight, or how he lets you see the softer side he usually hides behind his temper. He’ll reveal little things here and there, like joking about how he uses his sais as pizza forks or letting you catch him painting in his room. For Raph, trust doesn’t come easily, so the fact that he lets you in at all is already his way of showing you that you matter. When it comes to the heavier stuff—the anger, the scars, the doubts about his role in the team—he waits until he knows you won’t walk away. Those moments usually happen late at night, when things are quiet and his guard finally drops. He won’t dump everything on you in one go; instead, it comes in layers, like peeling back armor piece by piece. Sometimes it slips out in frustration, other times he admits it in a rare moment of vulnerability. Slowly, you become the one he trusts enough to see beyond the hothead, the one person he can be completely honest with without worrying about looking weak.

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With Raph, it doesn’t take much to set him off—you could breathe wrong near him and suddenly he’s bristling like a live wire ready to snap. His temper is short, sharp, and explosive, and you learn quickly that the smallest jab or teasing remark can send him storming, fists clenched and jaw tight. But while he does flare up easily, you also see how fast it burns out once he’s gotten it out of his system, especially when you ground him with a steady look or remind him you’re on his side. His anger is as quick as it is fierce, and though it can be intimidating, you recognize it’s fueled by how much he cares and how deeply he feels every slight against himself or the people he loves.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Raph’s memory when it comes to you is kind of a paradox—he doesn’t always remember the tiny, casual things you mention in passing, like what brand of tea you like or which movie you watched last week, but the things that matter to you? Those stick in his head like they’re carved into stone. You’ll casually complain about a scar you’re insecure about or mention that your favorite star is hard to see from the city, and months later, Raph will bring it up—whether it’s him shielding that scar from someone’s rude comment or dragging you to the rooftop to point out the exact constellation. He doesn’t take notes, he just files away the stuff that hits his heart. That said, he’s not perfect—Raph can be forgetful with small details, especially when he’s distracted with training or trying not to lose his temper. Sometimes you’ll roll your eyes when he completely blanks on the snack you told him to grab or the name of that one band you love. But the trade-off is that the things he does remember are always the things that count the most. He remembers your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, the words you use when you’re nervous, the way you smell after being out in the rain. To him, the big stuff—the stuff that makes you you—is unforgettable.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Raph’s favorite moment in your relationship isn’t one of the loud, chaotic ones you’d expect—it’s the night he came back from a brutal fight, bruised and scowling, and you just sat with him in the quiet, patching him up without judgment or questions. You didn’t flinch at the scars across his shell, or the fresh chip in his plastron, and when you brushed your thumb over the edge of it, he saw nothing but calm in your eyes. For once, he didn’t feel like the hotheaded screw-up of the team, didn’t feel like the one who always went too far—he just felt safe, seen, and wanted. That memory burned itself into him, and no matter how many battles he fights, he always circles back to that night as the moment he knew you were the best thing he’d ever have.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Raph’s protectiveness is fierce and instinctive, almost like a shield that never falters when it comes to you. He doesn’t just stand beside you—he positions himself between you and anything that looks remotely like a threat, daring anyone to even think about trying something. His temper fuels that protectiveness, and while it can be overwhelming, it’s also comforting to know there’s no scenario where he’d let you stand alone. If someone insulted or touched you wrong, he’d be in their face before you had the chance to blink, ready to throw down without hesitation. To him, protecting you isn’t just a responsibility—it’s a natural extension of how much he cares, even if he plays it off with a grumble or sarcastic remark. But deep down, Raph craves a different kind of protection in return. He doesn’t need you to step in front of blades or fists—he’s built for that—but he longs for the kind of safety that doesn’t come from brute strength. When his temper burns too hot or the weight of his anger feels like too much, he wants you to be the one who grounds him. A hand on his shoulder, a quiet word, a look that says you’re not afraid of his rough edges—that’s the protection he needs. Raph won’t admit it out loud, but being cared for in those soft, steady ways makes him feel stronger than any fight ever could.

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

If you were dating Raph, you’d quickly realize that he throws his whole self into the things he cares about, which includes you—though he’d never say it outright. For dates, he’d put in just enough effort to show he’s serious without losing his edge—grabbing your favorite pizza, dragging you on an adrenaline-filled rooftop chase, or sneaking you into a secret spot in the city where he’s trained alone, proud to show you his world. Anniversaries? Expect something practical but thoughtful—a custom-made piece of gear, a hand-painted portrait he knocked together in a few hours, or a day spent doing something active that reminds him of your bond. Gifts aren’t flashy, but they carry weight, like a rare comic, a signed pizza box from a famous parlor, or something tied to an inside joke only the two of you understand. Everyday tasks, even chores or errands, are his way of showing care: he might grumble through them, but he’ll always take your side, fight off anyone who bothers you, and make sure you’re fed, safe, and laughing at least once a day. Behind the sarcasm, the smart-mouthed remarks, and the hotheaded “I don’t care” attitude, he’s fiercely loyal, utterly protective, and ridiculously proud to call you his, willing to go to the ends of the city—or the sewers—to make sure you’re happy and safe.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Raphael has a tendency to let his temper dictate his actions, which often turns even simple tasks into arguments or brawls; he’s stubborn to the point of refusing help, interrupts others when he feels he knows better, and can be incredibly sarcastic and abrasive just for the sake of it, making it hard for him to admit when he’s wrong. He also has a bad habit of rushing headfirst into situations without thinking, whether it’s combat, a prank war with Michelangelo, or even just a plan the team is trying to follow, and he sometimes uses his brute strength destructively, breaking things around him without noticing. Raph can hold grudges, act impulsively when annoyed, and frequently teases his brothers to the point of irritation, all while masking his softer, caring side, which makes it hard for people to read him or get close emotionally.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Raphael doesn’t obsess over his looks, but he’s not completely indifferent either; his battered shell, tattered mask, and battle scars are badges of honor rather than flaws in his eyes, and he takes a quiet pride in the toughness they represent. He isn’t the type to fuss over appearances like Michelangelo might with style or Donnie with gadgets, but he does notice when he looks sharp—or more often, when he doesn’t—and can get a bit gruff if someone insults his “hard-earned” exterior. Vanity for Raph isn’t about looking pretty; it’s about projecting strength, confidence, and the image of a warrior who’s been through hell and come out swinging, and if that scares a few people along the way, well… that’s just a bonus.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Raphael would feel undeniably incomplete without you, the way his temper and strength are only part of his story until someone grounds the chaos he carries; your presence is like the calm beneath his storm, the anchor that keeps his ferocity from tipping into recklessness, and even when he’s snarky, stubborn, or lashing out, there’s a part of him that only relaxes, only truly breathes, when you’re near—he’s the fighter who charges into every brawl, but with you, he knows some battles don’t need to be won with fists, and that knowledge, rare as it is for him, makes him feel whole in a way nothing else can.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Raph secretly loves making little origami turtles for people he cares about, hiding them around the lair for you to find later—a tiny, unexpected piece of his softer side.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Raphael absolutely cannot stand laziness, whining, or someone who overthinks every little thing instead of acting. He’s turned off by pretentiousness, endless planning without action, and anyone who belittles or mocks his brothers or pets. He doesn’t tolerate dishonesty, cowardice, or people who can’t hold their own in a fight—or even in a heated debate. Basically, if you’re soft in spirit, flaky, or overly delicate, Raph will roll his eyes, snark, and maybe push you just to see if you can handle it.

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

With a flick of the wrist, a few falling petals joined together to form two wreaths that impaled themselves on your horns.

Rolan calmly walked over to you, a smile and a triumphant attitude to his gesture as the elf seemed to blush with shame.

“If you're trying to charm someone who's worth more than anything your miserable centuries of existence have brought you, you'd better crown her like the queen she is.”

The elf didn't even say a word, glaring at him before leaving with a hasty step, Rolan watching him until he disappeared behind the tower doors. His gaze fell once more on yours, who also looked as triumphant as ever.

“Like the queen she is, hm?” you repeated.

Rolan's cheeks turned from poppy to cherry, the shelves and tiles in the tower suddenly looking very interesting.

“He had no right to take you for a fool,” he muttered.

You smiled, taking one of the crowns on your horns and placing it around one of his. You cupped his face and kissed him lovingly, pulling away from his lips to look into his eyes.

“All the other wizards may try, only you can enchant me.”

You kissed him on the forehead, moving to the reception desk to greet a customer as you said: 

“Oh and,” you pointed to your flower crown, smiling, “I like these rings,’.

Rolan covered his face with his hands as he turned redder than ever.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ raphael : 

Raphael knows that he has nothing to worry about when it comes to being jealous, because you're faithful to him and he only has eyes for you.

However, he's well aware that the fact that you're his partner can lead to a few mischievous people trying to get at you for various reasons.

The first, of course, is to use you as leverage for Raphael. They think you're his weakness, and while that's not entirely untrue, he doesn't want to involve you in his affairs.

Others simply want to push him to his limits, pester him until he loses his temper.

And others try to get close to you to try to influence you and get Raphael to do things for them. They know that in his darkest moments you're the light that holds him in place, and they try to play on that.

But he knows that no matter how hard they try to make him flinch through you, it's futile.

However, he can't help feeling annoyed when, once again, when Mizora is visiting him on business, she keeps ogling you.

Every visit was like that, with her making undisguised advances towards you, observing every outfit you wore and remarking on those you'd worn before, telling you that she'd buy you some better clothes to suit the beauty you were.

Raphael wanted you to be well dressed; he presented you with a variety of outfits and it was up to you to choose them. It didn't matter to him, you looked stunning in every outfit after all. But it was insulting that Mizora tried to tell him how his taste was awful through her advances to you.

He watched Mizora's insistence from his desk, her behind you, grabbing you by the shoulders to whisper something. Her tail wrapped around your waist, and that was too much.

"Mizora, I think your business here is finished for the moment, I'll study the file you've brought. I've got things to do for now, and I suppose you've got a busy schedule yourself. I'm not showing you the way out, you must surely know it by now."

Mizora gave a dry huff, looking Raphael up and down with annoyance.

"Perhaps your little love could show me the way back ?" she teasingly suggested, looking at you like you were her next meal.

"Don't you have other tortured souls in need of help to care to ?" he sighed, unamused by her comment.

She hummed, frowning at him before disappearing in thin air.

Raphael was about to say something, his lips parted, but you cut him off.

"By the Nine Hells, I thought she'd never end," you sighed loudly in annoyance, slamming the book you were clutching brutally and putting it back on the shelf.

To say that Raphael was surprised was an understatement; he looked at you, mouth agape and eyes wide as you approached him.

"To think she can defeat the master of charm at his own art, in his own house," you said, one of your hands resting on his chest as your middle and index fingers mimicked two legs going up to his shoulder, "devils truly think they can win it all, can't they?’’

He smiled, one of his hands coming to rest on the small of your back to press you closer to him. His free hand came to grip your chin, his thumb caressing the skin of your lower lip.

"I did win it all, didn't I, my little mouse ?"

You smiled, kissing just the corner of his lips without ever touching them.

"I could say the same, my devil."

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ haarlep : 

To think an incubus would be jealous would be ironic, especially for Haarlep. They have taken so many lovers, are not attached to anyone, and their very nature generally isn’t used to making attachments that pull that hard on the strings of their desire-red heart.

Except you. You’re obviously the only one that matters to them, the only one that actually considered them as something more than an object of lust but as a real being.

This connection is something they want to protect, to keep as theirs, as the only thing they ever considered they could have for themselves.

So obviously they are not much of a fan of the fact the Archivist is trying to hit on you.

Being stuck in the House of Hope, they spend their time like they can, and most of the time they spend it with you. Not just because they love you but because you’re the best company they had in an eternity.

And this idiot thinks he has the right to come near you like that.

They see him, trying to have your hands touch when you’re reaching for a tome in the archives. They see how he tries to get closer to you to show you an inscription in one of the many books in the stacked shelves of the room.

However their patience runs thin when you climb on the ladder to get to the higher tomes, and he keeps it steady while his eyes are shamelessly on your ass.

“Little one ?” they call, “why don’t you come over here and read to me ?”

Without questioning them, you go down the ladder under the confused eyes of the Archivist. You walk up to Haarlep, sitting next to him as you open the book, but he stops you before you even start.

“Come on, love, you know you’ve got a much better sit than that.”

They pat their lap, and with a little smile you sit on them. They lace their arms around your waist instantly, pressing their cheek against your neck as they hug you and you start your read.

They keep their eyes planted in his as they press a kiss on your neck that makes you giggle, placing pecks on your skin and making you laugh.

“Are you even listening to me ?” you ask, turning to them with a smile.

“Of course I am,” they assure you, one of their hands coming to caress your cheek before softly kissing your lips. “Please, continue.”

As you set more comfortably against them and continue reading, Haarlep’s eyes go back to the Archivists who’s biting the inside of his cheek.

You’re too immersed in the tome to notice how Haarlep is glaring at the Archivist, their tail circling around your ankle.

It’s silent, Haarlep wouldn’t dare to interrupt you again while you’re reading, but their eyes speak for it all : Mine.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ karlach : 

Karlach isn’t jealous that easily, she trusts you more than anyone in this world after all. she knows you care for her, more than anyone ever did, and most importantly you’re the person she trusts the most.

she has more complicated matters to worry about than you being interested in someone else, such as her heart problems. so naturally, she is not jealous that easily.

One evening, however, you were staying in an inn for the night. You had gone to the counter to collect your orders, as the old couple running the inn had become less adaptable and lively and were no longer serving the food. 

There were quite a few people there that evening, and the little children helped them as best they could. It was while you were waiting at the counter that another tiefling struck up a conversation with you.

Karlach was watching you from afar as she sat at your table, seeing you smile, then laugh as the stranger chatted with you. 

Suddenly her heart felt cold. It was obvious that the man was trying to flirt with you, whispering something in your ear, and you were doing almost nothing to interrupt him or push him away.

The orders finally arrived, and you came back to the table smiling.

"You won't believe the conversation I just had," you began excitedly.

Karlach thought you were going to dwell on the fact that he was funny, funnier than her, better than her in your eyes. 

“Oh yeah ?” she asked nevertheless before taking a sip of her freshly arrived ale, never wanting to break your happiness.

“Yeah! He tried flirting with me, and when he asked if he could buy me a drink, I told him I was taken already.”

Karlach’s shoulders untensed instantly, whatever fear or doubt she had about herself vanished in the air.

“As if he had a chance with you,” she laughed along.

“You don’t know the best part yet,” you leaned towards her to lower your tone, “he asked me if the one I was with was the super hot tiefling lady at my table.”

Karlach blushed as she heard that, hearing from the mouth of other people that she was hot - other than literally hot - always felt so unusual.

“What happened next ?” she asked, leaning towards you as well to hear you better.

“I said yes, and he came to whisper to my ears,” you leaned towards her until your lips were grazing her ear, “would you two be interested in a threesome ?”

Her mouth fell open, the sensation of your lips on her ear like so and the lust-filled suggestion whispered to her was almost enough to make her forget about her previous worries.

You pulled back, grabbing your fork and knife to start your food. “I gently pushed him off, that doesn’t interest me, especially when I have the best partner I could ever wish for. He’s gonna have a hard time being better than best.”

Karlach’s heart was ablaze again, fueled up for the entire night, hells, the entire week.

“I can still make sure you get your ride tonight, sweetheart.” She suggested, tilting her head to the side.

“Finally an offer I can take,” you smiled, bringing your cup of wine to your lips as your eyes set on hers.

“How long till you’re done eating ?”

“Five minutes.”

Haarlep gets less respect than a dildo, because at least a dildo gets cleaned afterwards.

You'd be hard pressed to find a kink that would be a hard no for him. Tentacles and illithids maybe.

But when it comes to favourites, it's humiliation, degradation, fear play. And a corruption kink, of course. His whole life is a corruption kink.

Has strong hunting instincts, which he generally finds BENEATH HIM, but absolutely cannot resist when they kick in.

His sperm burns. Not the nice warm fuzzy feeling, it burns. Not to the point of actual damage, but to the point where you're screaming for him to finish somewhere else.

Doesn't care much for virgins. Like, it's nice, he definitely wouldn't turn them down, but it's much more important that they have a SUCCULENT soul.

Don't ask me about the chamber pot guy, I don't want to know and you don't want to know either.

On a totally unrelated note: he doesn't find things (fluids, excretions) that we humans find repulsive so repulsive; I suppose sulphur smells pleasant to him, and sulphur smells like… yeah, go smell some sulphur yourself.

He actually likes to curl up around something, tail and wings included, and press his weight against his bed partner. It's hot, uncomfortable, leaves you with a high chance of suffocation, and again, a 'you' problem.

Aftercare? What aftercare? He is a busy man, he has more important things to do. Haarlep can do it, they don't have shit to do anyway.

Unless it's mind games and the purpose is to break you. Then okay, he might have five (5) minutes to caress and praise the poor mortal.