Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Raphael 2012 の小説・ストーリー

Raphael said. "Just a minute, I'll heal you!" said Raphael. He put his palm on Nara's wound. Rafael's energy moved and began to heal the girl's wounds. Nara accidentally looked at Rafael's handsome face. Her sharp nose, thick eyebrows and sexy lips made her heart suddenly beat very fast.

Tellie says to Bella “Sorry Babes,” Bella shows Tellie her empty bowl. Tellie takes her three chips to the front of the tv and sits down. “Okay I think Bella is Leo, Ryan is Michelangelo, I’m Donatello, and Raymond is absolutely Raphael,” Justin says. “I see it,” Ryan agrees. “I am not grumpy and mean,” Raymond protests. “Tellie,” Ryan asks getting her attention. “Who is Mr. Grumpy?” “Ray ray,” Tellie says with a baby giggle.

Raphael growled, his eyes still fixed on his laptop screen like I wasn’t even worth looking at. I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just greeted you, man. At least courtesy demands that..." "That you get the fuck out of my office before I blow your brains off," Raph snapped. Everything happened too fast. The sharp pull of his drawer. The quick movement of his hand. And the next second, a gun was already in his grip—lifted, aimed straight at me, fucking cocked like he didn’t need a second thought.

I swear I saw a change in Raphael's eyes, but his face remained still and calm. He definitely was different from his brother, I thought. He took one elongated claw and sliced his hand open. “Drink.” Raphael said, as he held his hand out. I looked at him with confusion in my eyes. In an instant, the room plunged into darkness, and an unholy chill descended, colder than anything I'd ever experienced. It was as if the very essence of cold had seeped into my bones, leaving me shivering.

Raphaël entered, two tablets under his arm and a coffee in his hand. “Mon ami (My friend), the old man’s servers are better protected than the Bundesbank vault, but…” He stopped when he saw me, his gaze following mine to the magazine. “Ah. The masterpiece of family propaganda. Are you admiring yourself? It looks good, I admit. You clean up well in photographs.” I ignored the comment. My attention was still trapped on the page. “Rapha…” My voice came out lower than usual. “Look at the boy.”

Raph grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, dragging me forward. “Let go!” I yelled, struggling against his hold. Raph snarled at me, his canines out. "You don't belong here, human." “Then let me go!” I twisted, bringing my knee up, catching him in the stomach. He grunted, loosening his grip just enough for me to break free. I stumbled back, feeling the hot rush of adrenaline as I raised my fists, my breath coming fast. I knew I didn’t stand a chance against them in a fight, but I wouldn’t go down without trying.

Raphael said sarcasm dripping off his tone. "You're just as boring as they come." Raphael made his way to the backyard and Tank followed along with him. "So what's next now?" That question of Tank's answered itself as Raphael pulled out a tissue wrap from his pocket. He unfolded it the tissue revealing a syringe which he picked with his right hand as the wrap fell to the floor, Raphael bent on his knees and placed the syringe on the ground. Tank edged a bit closer and stood over him, miraculously or rather magically the liquid in the pot had turned transparent, having no difference to normal water.

The way he looked, the way he carried himself, so simple, yet one could tell he was a billionaire. He had long hair, the same length as Ian’s, only his was blonde. That’s when Fatima noticed the shape of his nose, straight and pointy, just like Ian’s. It was like looking at Ian’s twin brother. “My name is Raphael. But you can call me Raph. Nice to finally meet you,” he introduced himself, taking Fatima’s hand to his lips, which she hadn’t even realized she had given him, as she was too shocked just looking at him.

My tits bounced and swayed with the desperate struggle. “Raphael! You fucking monster — let me down right now!” Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. Raphael appeared shirtless, his powerful, magnificently sculpted torso gleaming with sweat under the weak light. His black pants were open, his massive, veined cock already rock-hard and curving upward, the fat head glistening with fresh pre-cum again. In one hand he held the long hunting knife; in the other, a thick black leather belt. He looked utterly spectacular, a dominant god of sin and flesh.

The tiled walls echoed with faint music and the distant clinking of glasses from the bar. “Raphael,” Jace muttered, frowning. “What are we doing?” Raphael turned and locked the door behind them. His grin widened, wolfish. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two syringes. Jace froze. “What the hell is this?” “You said you felt like crap on the phone,” Raphael said, voice low and smooth. “So, I came prepared. Something special. Something that’ll make your brain sing, bro.” “With a needle? Are you out of your damn mind?” Jace barked.