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afreakingdork · 1 year

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Tactical En Suite

RotTMNT Donatello x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Fucking, Edging, Fingering, Sex, Groping, Creampie, Light Knifeplay

Synopsis: After a month of training, you were ready to exact your vengeance. Now you just needed Donatello to behave long enough during a 1v1 Airsoft match so that you can actually enjoy it.

This is a sequel to Tactical Entreat: Tumblr 💜 Ao3

Also available on Ao3

As always, this would not be possible without @donathan 's incredible tactical!Donnie concept and @unknownfanartist 's brainstorming prowess!

Also, I apologize for shifting from a GN!Reader to a female one. I kept it vague until absolutely necessary if that helps at all...

PLEASE NOTE: MINORS JUST DON'T OK?! THERE'S TAGS! BE COOL AND DNI 😩

You: Rematch. 1v1. No bullshit.

He was beyond infuriating. After a short respite that day, you’d made it back to the graveyard with little issue. Much to your surprise, Donnie had conceded defeat and your team had won. Though the overall tie was unsatisfying, the conversation shifted to finishing up for the day. Having never thought to reach for your phone, you found out over half a day had flown by. It brought your gaze skyward where the clouds were maybe incrementally darker than what you’d accessed. You were fine to leave everything as it was. You’d had your fill and outlet. You were feeling better. You were fully prepared to just leave the scorching make-out session among the trees where it probably belonged. That was, until, everyone had started to head out.

About to put another cigarette between his lips, Donatello had made eye contact. He smirked and made a slow show of the action because you couldn't seem to wrench your eyes away from his mouth. His brow arched into a quirked mocking question and the move immediately reignited a flicker of the earlier flame of hatred. You would have spoken to it had he not then approached you. You watched in annoyance as he chose not to address you, but instead put on another sensual charade of lighting said cigarette and taking his first puff. Lucky for him, he chose to blow said smoke away from you. If he had chosen otherwise you would have decked him right there and then. Instead, he packed his lighter into one pocket of his vest and produced a log book from another. You caught a glimpse of strange lines of data that quickly disappeared as he found a blank page. The pad then lifted out of your vision as he scrawled something out.

“If you ever want to actually improve your skills.” He noted as he ripped out the page and handed it over to you.

You took it and reviewed the number for a moment. You had wondered if he'd meant it as some kind of innuendo until you swept your gaze back to his face. The teasing twinkle had evaporated and in its place was a cool calculating look that said your firing skills would never be on his level, but he’d take pity on you. He’d probably make you beg. You’d never give him the satisfaction.

“No thanks.” You replied nonchalantly before making your own show of crumpling the paper into a tight fisted wad. You wanted to leave him with a final quip, but nothing powerful enough came to mind. Shifting gears, you moved to the secondary language of your body. You dropped your lids and gave him a long once over with a bored expression. He reached up and covered his lips as he took another puff from his cigarette. You then gave a small yawn and curved your body into turning away. Within the first few steps away you heard the faintest clicking of tongue. It hadn’t been near enough vengeance, but for then it was enough.

Now, however, was month later and that annoyed knot in your stomach had grown to a relative ulcer of frustration. The purple bastard had wormed his way into your brain and you couldn’t forget how maddeningly annoying he was. His pomp and circumstance when it came to a stupid game. His lackadaisical peacocking as if he were the universe’s gift to Airsofting. His overzealous roaming hands. You took another shot at the target and examined how it punctured through the dead center of the paper. A smile graced your lips.

You’d stolen a rifle and that busted handgun from your friend’s sister. It wasn’t because of him. You’d found a nice empty lot and even contacted its owner to ask if you could use it for practice. His comment about your ability was the furthest from your mind. You’d studied, dismantled, and fixed the small crack in the handgun that had been causing the BBs to jam. His dopey chuckles didn’t keep you from sleep. After firing a few more accurate shots, you peeled open the vest you purchased to insert a fresh magazine. You had just picked up a hobby.

It just so happened to be perfectly suited for a hearty serving of revenge.

That was, if he would answer the fucking text.

Agitated, you fired at the target page until it shredded off its stand and hung in two flapping pieces. Releasing your rifle into its straps hold, you unearthed your phone and unlocked it. Bringing up said text chain, you found it had been a week since you'd sent the message. If you were any pettier you would have thrown your phone to take out the target stand as well. Sure, you’d neglected to introduce yourself or gone through any common courtesies, but who was he if he expected that. You crossed the lot to set up a new page.

Having combed over the possibilities a few times, you couldn’t help but review them again. One, he automatically screened out unknown numbers. It seemed possibly with his holier than thou attitude, but in that same vein, there was no way he didn’t at least see the message preview. Two, he knew it was you and was simply ignoring you. Following a similar logic from the previous point, it wasn’t something you’d put past him. This was your preferred point and also the one that stoked the flames of your hatred the most. Three, he saw the message and simply didn’t remember you. While you hated him, you despised this thought the most. It meant that your irate mania was completely one sided. A refusal on his part to even acknowledge you in his mental data banks. It was the unbridled biting insignificance. Having crossed the lot, you turned and did a quick change from the rifle to your handgun. You then emptied the entire clip into the paper, shredding it once again. You preferred option two.

You were about to reset yet again when your phone pinged. You paused and soured. The timing would be too perfect so you shoved the thought aside. Lazily holstering your handgun, you swapped it for your phone. Opening it, your eyes widened with fury. The preview text glared back at you so you opened it with a near deranged smile on your face.

Asshole: Just got back into country. Interesting proposition. Worried a team would take you down too quickly?

Part of your brain begged you not to reply right then and there. He’d know a response that quickly meant you had your phone close by and would reek of desperation. Unfortunately, any reasonable sense you’d had was shredded by his garbage attitude.

You: Or maybe I want to look you dead in the eye when I shoot you without having to waste BBs on anyone else.

Asshole: You’ll need that many shots then?

He was an unquestionable bastard.

You: I’ll need the extra bullets as payback for the bruises.

Asshole: Some of them you asked for.

Having crossed over to your target stand, you not only ripped off the already damaged page, but shredded it into tiny pieces. You had to get a hold of yourself and not give him an inch of satisfaction. You fully intended to leave him on read while you packed up. Firing more shots would help you in the short term, but you wanted to conserve that energy for the game he’d hopefully agree to. Heading back to your car, you heard your phone ping again. Scrunching up your nose, you pulled it out and raised a curious brow. The preview had a row of numbers. Opening the message, you found it to be coordinates along with a date. You sent only a check mark in response and set your sights on next Saturday.

It was only as you pulled onto yet another dirt road that you began to question your sanity. Driving out to the literal edge of nowhere to meet a man you barely knew probably wasn’t the smartest decision. At least you were armed. It would be more of a comfort if you didn’t already agree to him being armed as well. Pushing the thought down and clutching the steering wheel tight, you curved along with the road. You’d taken preliminary precautions; your friend knew your location and had bet money on Donatello beating you. It was the exact boost of confidence you knew to expect from them. They would have their own little downfall in time. You considered it a fun incentive to ensure your victory.

Another bend in the road revealed a longer stretch and odd rectangles dotting the distance. Your tires crawling along, you identified them as at least a dozen dilapidated shipping containers. Hunching forward, you stared at them curiously as you drove up. They were the epitome of displaced and you wondered who’d abandoned them out here. As far as your Maps was concerned, there wasn’t a residence for several miles. The road tapered off and a series of skirted patches of grass signaled for you to park. There was no other vehicle to be seen. Frowning, you checked your phone and found you were only a minute ahead of the meeting time. He seemed like both the type to be prick that’d keep you waiting and an incessant nag about punctuality. Exiting your car, you shrugging off the curiosity in exchange for preparations.

From your trunk, you applied your vest and accessed your gear. You’d already given everything a once over before leaving so there was little to observe. The first bubbles of irritation steaming, you leaned back and observed the sky. The cloudless blue expanse meant the sun was beaming down relentlessly. Rolling your eyes away from the insufferable star, you caught a flicker of light from atop a distant shipping container. Squinting, you watched as a black object shifted incrementally and a thin stream of barely there smoke wafted off the position.

At this point you welcomed the stoking of the flames.

You flipped off the direction of the sighting and watched as Donatello popped up from where he’d been lying down. You folded your arms and waited as he took his time putting out his cigarette. He then gathered up his gear and hopped down to the ground like it was nothing. You didn’t allow yourself to outwardly balk, but the containers were at least 8 feet tall. With his rifle slung, he strolled over lazily.

“Enjoy the show?” You bit out, moving to close your trunk with a slam.

“No. It was sloppy actually.” He responded evenly.

You craned your head back to glare at him. “Come again?”

“The back strap shouldn’t touch your neck.” Without saying another word, he slipped his hands around said tie and yanked you almost off your feet.

“Hey!” You barked and took a swing at him.

Using his handhold, he jerked you away. “You think you could take a helpful tip with some form of grace.”

“Put me down.” You ordered, reigning your limbs in.

He did so carefully and you could tell by the way he shifted his stance that he was prepared to run if you launched at him. Stewing, you settled into another scathing look.

“It can be fixed. You just didn’t position it properly.” He pointed.

“Much like your attitude.” You spoke out the corner of your mouth as you undid a buckle.

A sharp exhale of breath from him meant he’d found your comment amusing. You could just picture his smarmy face. You needed to withhold that fury until you were on the field. Undoing the vest, you lifted it and prepared to lower it when a hand stalled you. Before you could blink, the vest was back down around your torso and the straps along the side were being strung tight. In the time it took you to move your pupils to make eye contact, the resounding click of the buckle signaled he was already done.

“It's faster that way.” He tossed over his shoulder and began to head toward the containers.

Gritting your teeth, you unholstered your handgun and pointed it at the back of his head. You watched him for several paces before lowering it. It wouldn’t be much longer. You filed in a frustrated line after him. As the first container approached, he did an about face and his posture snapped straight.

“Chest shots are automatic deaths. Four limb shots are the same. Any preference in rounds?”

You glanced at him before donning your goggles and a ball cap. “One and done seems a little too fast.”

“Let’s say three deaths is an out then.”

“How did you get here?”

“Pardon?” He didn’t falter, but tipped his head up gradually.

“There’s no other car in the parking… area.” You gestured back to where you’d come from.

“I stashed it.” He nodded towards the tree line flanking the west side of the field.

You looked to where he gestured and then back at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”

He folded his arms in a manner that said he wasn’t.

“So you’re this anal with everything.” You waved over his form.

“You mispronounced cautious.”

“You mispronounced paranoid.” Your quip came out so fast that you got to watch his expression in real time.

Instead of lining up another insult, his gaze seemed to darken instead. That had hit some kind of nerve. You shifted not out of discomfort, but from the sun’s stifling rays. “I’m assuming you agreed to ‘no bullshit’ rule already by coming out here?”

“The stage itself should prevent that.” He twisted his gun around into his hands.

“No getting on top of these things like you were earlier.”

“Fine.” He gave a tight nod.

“Then let’s play.” You shifted your weight in preparation to take off. “Two minute to positions?”

“I’ll even let you have a head start.”

There was a fraction of a second where you were almost grateful for the return off the asshole amidst his stuffy attitude. That was until you saw that damn cocky smile of his. Regardless, you took off to the right and heard the faint trailing of his laughter behind you. You were going to shoot that smile right off his face. Weaving around aged metal, you took note of the layout. Some of the containers were whole and others were warped; there were worn ones that had weathered to near collapse and some that were outright halved. Of the intact metal rectangles, none of them seemed to have accessible doors and were welded shut. It was nice to note a safety precaution in an otherwise abandoned setting.

Mentally ticking down the seconds, you steadied yourself as the timer ran out. You’d taken position near one of the farther blue containers not on the perimeter. Underfoot, sun bleached grass made the softest crunch that you needed to watch out for. Swallowing, you evened out your breathing and let the sounds come to you. Bugs buzzed, but the air was otherwise still and sticky. Raising your rifle, you peeked out from behind your cover. Seeing nothing, you jogged for the next container. There was the unmistakable echo of footsteps that seemed to be trying to mask under yours. Eyes narrowing, you pegged their position and twisted around the container to head for it. Leading barrel first, you jumped out from behind the container and found no one there. Drooping for a only a moment, you were forced forward a step when a single shot hit the dead center of your back.

Spinning around to the spot, you heard the faintest chuckle as he disappeared. The one on one parameters shifted the game in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Ducking behind another container, you reevaluated your strategy. It would be a jockeying of who moved first and then a series of reactionary actions. Scooting along the container, you dropped down low. Obviously listening for him was a fool’s errand since he could somehow throw his steps. You’d just have to move and try to keep him on his toes.

Darting out, you almost collided with him. Though he fired first, your proximity wasn’t something he accounted for and only one of the bullets hit your arm. You, on the other hand, fired directly into his chest.

“I see.” He remarked with a knowing tone before disappearing behind the container you’d just left from. Twirling around, you ran, putting distance between the two of you. Sweat began to gather on the back of your neck. Repeating the mantra of ‘keep him on his toes,’ you swayed to a halt and tried to picture how he’d adjust to your blind running. Smirking, you turned and immediately backtracked the exact line you’d run. Hearing the sharp reverberating of a body hitting an empty container, you twisted around and shot before your eyes hit the target. The spray hit Donatello across the chest and he glowered back at you.

“Be seeing ya!” You gave a punctuated wink before disappearing around another container. “In the grave!” You tacked on, twisting away from the direction you’d sent your voice. You were up, but it wasn’t time to get cocky. You had to keep shifting your strategy or he’d be able to gather his bearings. Without stopping, you made for the perimeter and kept a jog along it. The sun overhead beat down relentless on your gear. In a veritable pressure cooker, you neared the bottom half of the field and made a sharp left turn. A spray of bullets hit a container you passed and you returned fire. Refusing to stop, you listened above your own pants for a sign that he’d realize where you were headed. It wasn’t long until until his jogging boots thudded after you. You spun around and opened fire in a wide arch across the area behind you. You stilled, waiting as the container’s resonance to quiet.

It took several long moments before Donatello emerged with his hands up. As soon as he appeared you jumped into the air, letting your rifle drop from your hands.

“I did it!” You landed and pointed at him. “How’s it feel, dickhead!?”

He lowered his arms and evaluated you.

You straightened from where you’d bent a knee to gloat and watched him warily.

His eye lingered along your sweat soaked collar.

You stiffened against your will. It was hard to identify exactly what was off about his gaze, but it unsettled you. The sweep was near clinical, but being done through the scope of half-lidded eyes felt menacing. You were trapped and as soon as he caught wind of it, that smirk tugged at his lips. He took steps to close the distance between you and with each footfall it seemed to spread across his face. By the time he reached you, he was a tower of egotism. You’d won, so what did he have to gloat over?

“Don’t tell me your going to nitpick my performance?” You managed to bring your brows down in an approximation of a scowl.

“No.” There was an airy quality to his voice.

“Then what?” You felt tightly coiled.

“Want to play a round where I don’t hold back?”

This time the muscles contracting in your body were done in an attempt to hold yourself back. Your lip curled back and you instinctually bared your teeth. He’d gone lower than you’d even thought possible. “I get the feeling your bothers are the only ones who can stand to be around you out of sheer obligation.”

He gave a single dry snort. You didn’t think it was possible, but that damn smirk of his somehow grew.

“Laugh it up now…”

“We’ll even the odds.”

You had long reached your boiling point. “If you think-”

“I commend your playing. You unequivocally won, but you have no idea what you’re up against.”

“You bas-”

“If you can land a single hit…” He bent at the hips and brought his face up to yours.

You resisted the urge to spit in it immediately just to see how much saliva you needed to pack.

“…anywhere on my person, then you automatically win.” He gave a calculated tilt of his head. “As a reward, I’ll humiliate myself how you see fit.”

That was enough to give you pause. “In your whole life, has no one ever popped that horrific confidence bubble of yours?”

“Oh, they have.” He reached up and ran a finger down the scarring along his jaw. “But it’s been a long while.”

You watched the digit’s excruciatingly slow trek before realizing what he had done and snapped your gaze back to his. Amusement danced in his eyes and you turned your head slightly away.

“Fine. I’ll play, but you better be ready.” You set your own cocksure grin to as high a degree as you could muster.

He gave an satisfied nod before straightening.

Something about it gave you pause. “What do you get if you win?”

“I’ll have won.” He said simply, gathering his rifle.

His mere existence brought bile to your throat. “Two minutes?” The faster you could clear this, the faster you could garner your reward.

“Sure.” His nonchalance was somehow even more antagonistic.

You turned but refused to give him the satisfaction of running. You sauntered until you cleared the first container and then picked up your pace as you again started a mental countdown. Finding a sliver of shade, you held back your rifle and weighed your options. He was surely taunting you to a point, but there was more to it. For one, there had been Mikey’s comment from the last game about humans. It was easy enough to acknowledge mutant prowess, but their abilities could fluctuate so wildly. You didn’t have a the best handle on what Donatello’s were. Of the few tastes you’d gotten, the one that stuck out to you was when he adjusted your vest. You undoubtedly would have to contend with that speed. If he could keep up that pace, then you were outmatched.

With the last seconds timing out, you refilled your rifle’s magazine. You only needed to land a single shot so laying down cover fire was your best bet. Shifting, you inched down the container and spied the next. It was one of the dilapidated ones where part of it was missing. If you could nestle yourself into the leftover corner, you’d only have to cover your front. Nodding to yourself, you mad a dash for it and felt several nips at your heels. It caused you to skid into your destination and whirl around wildly.

“Two shots to the legs.” His voice floated in with no discernible source.

You aimed your rifle and scanned the best you could. From your far right you felt a single shot hit your shoulder.

“One to the arm.”

You turned your head to where the BB had come. There was no one there. You grit your teeth. Turning back, you found him standing right next to you.

“Boo.” He said simply before pulling the trigger into your right arm.

You bit down on a scream and instead twisted to swing your rifle at him.

He leaned away from the action and caught the butt of your gun with ease.

“How…?” You hadn’t meant to voice your surprise.

He leaned his head to the side and gave a smile that had a malevolent edge to it.

It made the hairs on the back of your neck rise up.

You also couldn’t help but stare at the way it showed off one of his pointed canines.

“Shall we call this off?”

“Isn’t it still to three?” You were almost glad your gun was creating space between you.

“Yes, well…” He trailed off and shifted his grip. You glanced down as he returned your rifle to you. Hugging the gun close, you brought a wary eye back to him. “I figured I’d give you an out.”

“Think your smoke and mirrors play scared me?” You tore your eyes away and off to the playing field.

“I know it did.” He replied, taking a languid step back.

“Sneaking up on someone doesn’t really count.” You set your jaw to keep from glancing after him. “If I’d done the same to you, I bet you would have jumped.”

He gave a little hum as he pondered your assertion. “I suppose I would find it surprising.”

“There you go.” You inched your neck towards him, but kept your eyes down. The silence wedged itself between you and you examined his boots. “You take off this time.”

“Fine by me.”

You lifted your eyes to watch as he took a single step back. You weren’t sure if you blinked, but within the next second he simply vanished. Your jaw didn’t drop, but your lips parted. Super speed didn’t seem like a severe enough descriptor. That paired with his insane reflexes meant whatever chances you’d even considered were quickly dwindling. Having had no luck in your current position, you turned and peeled off. Outrunning him was out of the question, so you pivoted hard enough to carve out a divot in the field. Twisting around you made it a few more strides before repeating the action. A bullet ricocheted off a container you neared.

You smiled and fired your rifle over your shoulder. You were pretty sure it uselessly shot skyward, but it was a warning. Twirling, you continued to rhythmless scurrying. Pushing your limbs to the limit, you heard the nicks of BBs piercing the soil around you. He wasn’t calling strikes so your unpredictable movements were at least partially doing their job. It wasn’t something you could sustain, so you started to fire your gun in a similar haphazard nature. Whizzing discharge kicked up a cacophony of sound. It was only matched by your palpating heartbeat as it began to thrum in your ears. Overhead the sun watched your display with merciless criticism. Feeling the rays nearly piercing your blood vessels, you made hexagonal footwork to the edge of the field and rounded the cover of a container.

You dropped to your knees as soon it afforded you shelter. Immediately the labored breaths forced their way past your lips and you fisted dried matchsticks of grass. You watched as several beads of sweat fell from your brow and were instantly absorbed by the cracked soil.

“I applaud you.”

Hearing his voice from above, you rolled over onto your back and took aim at him.

His hands raised up in armistice as you spotted him on top of the container.

“Is that how you’ve been getting around?” You went limp and your gun teetered on your chest.

“No.”

“You’re not cheating? You said you wouldn't get up there!” You wouldn’t admit it to him, but it was nice to have a moment to catch your breath.

“I agreed to the terms. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He stared in a way that said to check his last sentence.

You sneered at him. “You know what I mean.”

“It isn’t often that I get to see something new. I wanted to acknowledge that.”

“New?” You’d humor him if only to prolong your break. Snapping open one of your vest’s pouches, you retrieved a handkerchief and wiped your face.

“No, there’s been a lot of attempts to weave from my bullets, but that was quite the spectacle.”

You made a show of giving a fake laugh and replaced the dirtied cloth into its pocket. “I guess we’ll call it a preview.”

“You’ll be able to do it again?” There was a mixture of doubt and mirth swirling in his tone.

You shot him a glare and snapped to your feet. Even under the intense heat, you could feel the flicker of that angry fire in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about it. It was about time it showed back up. “More like a preview for when I beat you.”

“Oh ho!” He disappeared from sight and you heard him drop down heavily on the other side of the container. You instantly knew it was a signal that the next match had kicked off. Your blood pressure dropped as you twisted around the container, gun ready. He was unfortunately correct. There was no way you could put on the same dodge tactic again. Not unless you lost the vest to free up some extra movement. Deciding against it, you came around the side of the container he’d landed and laid down a line of fire. Spinning around, you then fired off a line of shots where you’d come from and glimpsed his form duck back out of sight.

You waited in hopes to hear his voice, but were met with silence. “Your elusive ass will call it if I hit you, right?!”

“You’re wasting your breath.”

You understood it as an affirmation, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Parting a glare at the sun, you continued the back and forth spree until you glimpsed his form far to the right. Spinning, you slipped right back to whence you had come and prepared to start the process over again. What you weren’t ready for was him to materialize behind you and firing a handgun shot straight into your back.

“I take back my earlier applause.”

In two steps, you danced around and, against the unwritten rules of the game, you fired your own handgun where he had once been.

“You're being unsportsmanlike.”

“You’re one to talk!” You were on the move before you could process where your feet were carrying you. A scatter of shots followed your heels as you slid behind another container. Your back slammed against it and the heat from its sunbathed exterior wafted through your vest. Refusing to linger, you were on the move again paving the way with a spray of pellets. The much needed adrenaline was finally pumping through your veins. Somehow skirting another burst from your opponent, you returned fire. The blazing determination to crush Donatello made every step feel like scorched earth. Keeping your back to another container, you fired straight down to the end of your clip. You quickly exchanged magazines before realizing you were in the same alcove where you’d taken your first loss.

Suddenly on guard, you dove to the right on pure instinct and heard several shots echo off the dull metal. Lifting onto your palms you swiveled your head to find him out in the open, his gun trained on you. Even the bugs seemed to fall under the hush as you winced for the oncoming shot. Instead, you were met with the harsh click of an empty barrel. Blood rushed to your limbs and you made for your hand gun. You could feel the counter of each nano second as the gun slipped into one hand. Your other pushed off the grass. One leg swept outward and the other slid up on a knee. Rolling through the motion, you glimpsed him scrambling to replace his magazine. A smile bloomed on your face as the realization that you’d outpace him came. Blades clipped at your feet as you stood and your arm brought the gun up to position. You watched as the magazine seemingly slipped from Donatello’s fingers while yours pulled back on the trigger.

The resounding gong of your back slamming against the container was so loud your hearing was temporarily muffled. Dizzy from both the impact and subsequent sound, you stared weakly at your opponent. Still in the same place across from you, Donatello had his arm stretched out in your direction. Confused, you squinted at him and looked for your handgun. It lay at your feet so you moved to grab it. The immovable tug of your vest came first. Then the searing pain. In a way it was sobering. You barely needed to turn your head before the hilt of a large knife came into view.

“Did…” The words were on your lips but it seemed too absurd. “…Did you stab me?”

“Technically one needs to have a grip on the object for it to be a stabbing.”

“Asshole!” You reached up with your free hand to grab the knife.

“Stop!” He was moving towards you, but you refused and wrapped your fingers around the handle.

You were about to tug when your wrist was harshly pulled away. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Would you listen for just one second!?” He pulled your free wrist further and leaned in to examine the blade.

“Hard to when there’s a KNIFE IN MY SHOULDER!” You screamed directly into his ear and kicked at him.

Instead of dodging, he twisted into the motion and used his own legs to pin yours against the container. He then flipped his grip on your wrist and slammed it into the metal as well. Putting all the rest of your anger into a heated glare, you watched as he shifted out of focus and his forehead butted up against yours. When he spoke, his voice was lethally low. “Be quiet like a good girl for once in your damn life and let me fix this.”

He let his gaze wither you until he turned his attention back to the knife. With only one free hand, he studied the object and tested the vest around it. You preemptively winced as he pressed down, but the pain didn’t come as you anticipated.

“It just nicked you. You’ll barely need a bandage.” He grabbed the hilt and in one swift movement pulled it up and out. Slumping down, but still caught by his body pining yours, you watched as he surveyed the blade.

“Oh no, did my body hurt your precious knife?” You fluttered your lashes and feigned a pursed lip.

“Considering the position you’re in, you think you’d know when to shut your mouth.”

“Position?” You nearly gagged on the scoff.

You heard a low rumble of curiosity thrum from his chest as he put more of his weight onto your pinned limbs. You shot him back a bright smile that he narrowed his gaze at. With your newly freed arm, you shot up to swat at his face. Reflexively, he disarmed the move, but seeing as his only free hand was the one with the knife in it, the blade stopped millimeters shy of your cheek.

Your eyes flicked from the blurry black steel to his.

“Understand yet?” He warned, the blade just barely skimming your flesh.

You swallowed down your racing heart beat and mustered a scowl.

“You’ll never learn.” He gave the knife a light press until it was just biting your skin before removing it.

“Maybe because you’re a shit teacher.”

From where he was slipping the knife back into his vest, the corner of his mouth downturned.

For every bit it descended, yours rose.

“Ask nicely and I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Get fucked.” You nearly spat.

“If you insist.”

For a moment his body left yours and it felt like gravity double as your weight returned to your feet. Swaying from the shift, you barely raised your head when he returned. You could hardly focus on the rest of his body as his hand snaked up your throat. Between a thumb and finger, he squeezed your jaw bone. The move tipped your head back and he hovered over you threateningly.

“Well?” He urged, his breath hot against your lips.

You let your lashes slowly descend and focused on carefully sneaking one of your arms between your chests. As your lids rose from the blink, you fisted the front of his shirt and yanked. In the sliver of time before your lips collided you watched with satisfaction as surprise painted his features. You almost wished you could savor it longer as your eyes instinctually closed and his mouth moved harshly against yours. He still had a grip on your throat and it made anything other than the hand you beat against his chest useless.

Dipping down, he pressed your head against the container’s wall until the metal creaked in protest. It freed up more space between your chests and you fought a blind battle of trying to capture one another’s limbs. Down an arm, you prevailed and twisted your fingers underneath his glove. Finding his pulse point, you dug your nails in and he hissed into your mouth. Breaking the lip lock, he pulled back and flicked your hand away. You watched until he brought his gaze back up and gave him a coy smile.

“Absolutely infuriating.” His voice seethed, but his hand curled away from your jaw to grip your head. You watched the way his chest heaved with mounting excitement.

“You agreed to the rematch.”

There was a flash of irritation in his eye that all but caused your stomach to flip. This time when he attacked, you were ready for him. You strung your arms around his neck and met him with a similar crushing force. Your tongues tangled and in time your knotted your limbs to put pressure onto his shoulders. In return, he scrapped your waist for your hips and pulled you up by your ass. You awkwardly raised your legs for a moment until his knee dipped to give you leverage. Once you got them wrapped around him, he easily hoisted you up and crushed you against the metal. That knot of fury had morphed into one of enraged need and every fervent contact was not enough to satisfy. You started clawing at him in a desperate attempt to quell the feeling.

In one swift move, he broke the kiss and threw his head back so it crushed your fingers. He then tipped forward incrementally with a punctuated glare.

You flexed your stinging digits and returned the gaze twofold.

“Now you’re quiet.” He snipped, bringing a knee up to balance you.

You pressed down hard on your lips to keep from responding. Instead you watched as he freed up his hands and undid his vest. He shrugged the armor off and crowded you.

“Better?”

“I could take it or leave it.”

He growled as he captured your lips again. Free from its halter, you grabbed at his shirt again and bunched the material up. When he leaned down, you assumed it was to pull the fabric off. You followed through with the motion, but when he arose he was both shirtless and your own vest dangled on your shoulders until he made a show of flicking its last toe hold off.

“Stupid nimble fingers.” You ground out.

He chuckled into your ear as he bit down on the lobe. You gasped and ran your nails along his newly exposed flesh. His lips trailed scorching kisses down your neck and you were about to plot your next move when he nosed the collar of your shirt. Pausing at the sensation, your muscles contracted as his tongue languidly trailed flat across your jugular and back up to your ear. You hadn’t realized the moan had left your lips until the tail end of it reached your ears. Emboldened by it, he dipped down again, this time taking the scruff of the fabric by his teeth. You were about to inquire about the move when his hands left you. You craned your neck to catch a glimpse, but only the sound of a clean slice through taunt fabric followed.

“H-hey!” You barked as the fabric around your torso loosened.

He surfaced only long enough to show you his pupils were blown wide with lust.

Partially stunned by the glance, you shivered at the sensation of the fabric being peeled from your body. You hadn’t realized how sweaty you had gotten until that exact moment. The stagnant air didn’t do much to cool you as Donatello seared hickies and bites into as much of your skin as he could get his mouth on. Rapidly losing ground, the moment your arm muscles even twitched, he had your wrists pinned. You whined in frustration until your bra slipped off your shoulders and slid down until it was trapped around your waist.

“You-!” Was all you could get out before your words were strangled by his teeth biting into your left breast.

Left without much to do, you uselessly bucked your hips, but found with him bent over laving at your chest meant his were arched away. You wanted to scream, but again the sound was squashed as he turned his attention to your other breast. Whimpering, you squirmed and in doing so writhed until of his hands loosened their grip. You snapped it free and heard the wet pop of him extracting his mouth from your body. Moving out of pure spite, you pinched the top of his bandana and pulled it clean off his head. Holding the fabric high and away, you glanced down at him victorious, but found a partially annoyed expression instead.

“Your…” You looked up at the fabric and ran a thumb over the drawn on black lines. “You-!” The elation in your voice was turned into a small scream as you were jerked from him and spun around. Jarring under having your weight on your legs once again, you wobbled as one of his hands traced down your sternum and straight to your pants line. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder and he placed nippy pecks along your jaw. His other hand massaged at one of your shoulders and under the guise of kneading flesh, he guided you into arching your back. His body slotted heavily against yours and he undid your belt with one hand. A faraway thought cursed his nimble fingers again, but it never reached your lips.

In another set of deft moves, your fly was down and his fingers slid down into your heat. You fumed at a hitch in his movements, knowing he was taking into account how wet you were. You could feel that smug smile on his lips as he pressed them into the small cut on your shoulder. It took until his the tip of his finger coaxed your clit that you realized he’d left your arms free. You brought them up and groped at the back of his head for leverage. He sped up the digit and in turn you ground you ass back into his hips. He gave an appreciative snarl and pushed forward until his fingers slipped into your folds and his thumb took steering duty.

You nearly thrashed at the sensation, but his free hand kept you pinned as he massaged at any available skin. Shifting automatically, you squatted down in an attempt to open up for him. It made your cheeks burn more than the stifling heat. For once, he didn’t take the time to humiliate you and instead rewarded you by finally slipping a rugged digit inside. The moans escaped you in time as he finger fucked you. His arm jerked rapidly and the sloppy sounds would have been mortifying if you had the mental capacity to acknowledge them. Amongst the onslaught, your underwear and pants relinquished their hold on your hips and your voice peaked. In a repeated mantra your mind narrowed in on your eminent release. With the crest rapidly approached, you limped back into him to finish you off. As soon as you did, he all but disappeared.

A strangled yell ripped from your throat in anger as gravity tugged you down. Rotating an arm, Donatello hooked you around your waist. You dangled limply from the move as you grappled to get your body to obey.

“What…” You panted, anger bubbling up over the arousal and winning out. “What the fuck!?”

He didn’t respond and actively kept you from getting a glimpse of him.

The fury manifested into flailing and soon you were on your feet. You pummeled his arm the best you could even though you knew he was still holding you in case you weren’t ready to take weight on your stems. When your feet were confidently planted, he retreated. You immediately attempted to chase the limb back to its infernal owner. Instead your vision blacked out for a moment when your vest suddenly dropped down around you.

“What-!” You protested as best you could, but his speed and strength soon had your arms slotted through their correct holds. “Is-!” You tried to kick out your feet, but your pants were still pooled around your ankles. “Wrong-!” The side straps tightened so rapidly it almost knocked the air out of you. “With-!” He gave your shoulder straps a final testing tug and then, once again, you were left to your own devices. You heard the telltale thud of a belt hitting the ground. “You!?” You spun around and were met with a carnal gaze. You knew how you must look; clad in almost nothing but the vest and desire leaking down your leg. He was admiring his work.

“Asshole.” You breathed near silently, but it still brought a smile to his lips. Amongst a blink, he was on you and then out of sight as you were spun back towards the container wall. You had another biting remark on your tongue when his hand slipped through the back strap of your vest and you were off your feet. Your hands flew out useless and smacked against the metal with a resounding gong. You waited for your hips to swing forward, but his arm hooked around them. He then shifted you until you were horizontal with the ground.

“Donatello?” You despised how meek your voice sounded.

With one arm threaded through your vest and the other around your hips, you felt like you were being brandished like a Minigun. Degrading didn’t even come close to enough word for how it felt.

“Another game…” His voice sounded thick and he seemed to be struggling to form words. “I’m going to fuck you.”

It was such a obvious point that you wanted to scream about it, but instead your lips continued to betray you. “No-”

“Not like this?” He questioned, his voice like syrup. Adjusting your hips, you felt his scorching tip line up with your core.

With one hand pressed flat for a modicum of leverage against the wall, your other flew back and caught his limb at your waist.

“Try to resist me.” He ordered and a mewl slipped out as his cock began to press in.

Your fingers encircled his forearm.

“I’ll go in little by little.”

You felt yourself being incrementally split by him.

“If you say so or push me back even the slightest bit, I’ll stop.”

You opened your mouth to protest but only a loud moan escaped.

“Go on…” Even amongst the desire, he managed a teasing note.

It brought indignant tears to your eyes. Torn between humiliation and yearning for him to fill you, they trickled down your cheeks.

He seemed to just keep going.

You cried out at the tenuous pace.

“Almost…”

“Please-!” You managed, but its inflection was completely wrong.

You’d begged him.

He still drug out the process at the same speed until you could only tell he was completely sheathed inside when his plastron bit into your ass cheeks.

For what seemed like a long moment, he stayed there with the only sound being your panting against his agonizing length. You weren’t sure if he was letting you adjust, but just as the fringes of your mind returned, he pulled back and rocked into you in one sharp buck. You screamed out as he continued the pace in excruciating rhythm. At first you helplessly cried out with each stroke, but the sound echoing off the metal brought one of your hands back to cover your mouth. He slowed as soon as you did and poured himself over you.

“Don’t worry, you can enjoy this to your heart’s content. No one else is around.” He adjusted his stance and you seized as he twitched inside you.

“Almost…” You gasped. “… like… you… planned… this…”

“And you called me paranoid.” There was an edge to his voice.

Even with all your neurons firing wildly, it brought back something you’d made note of. “That’s… what touched… a nerve!?”

You incredulous tone hit another because he pointedly began fucking into your g-spot. It left you a howling mess. The arm around your waist shifted until he could reach your clit and as soon as it made contact your voice hit a high you hadn’t know was possible. Keeping a brutal pace, he thrust into you until the edges of your vision began to black out. Your voice stopped reaching your ears. Distant breathy gasps were all around you and the slick from both your sweats commingled into one continuous fluid. You crest rushed in with the speed of a roaring wave and the shift in his pace said he also knew it was coming. With the last shreds of your sanity, you mental beseeched him to not edge you out again. You weren’t able to be pleasantly surprised when the orgasm hit because it mangled any coherent thought.

Lolling back, it felt like par for the course when gravity seemed to rotate around you. Your vision faded to fuzzy snippets. When you came too, you found you were sitting reverse cowgirl. Staring up at the faint lip of the container, your lips were parted and you quickly closed them as drool threatened to leak out. You weakly siphoned as much oxygen as you could when a heated blast shot up in your belly. You choked on a groan as he pulsated inside you. The little tinge after thrusts felt like a rocking boat and only his hands around your waist kept you upright.

Dizzy, you leaned forward and the uncomfortable fabric of the vest made itself known by chaffing your nipples. You were about to try to put that into words when you watched one of his hands snake up and unclip your vest. You dumbly marveled at his ability to read minds as he undid the straps and pulled the piece from you. You craned your head over your shoulder the best you could to get a look at him. You couldn’t really see him, but he seemed to be struggling with something.

It elicited a small chuckle from you.

“Something funny?” His voice was hoarse.

You shook your head and he sat up. It caused you to clench around him and your eyes widened as you realized he was still semi-hard.

You made a noise of surprise and he seared a kiss into your injured shoulder. You wilted under it and an arm snaked around your front. You watched it curiously and in your weakened state you didn’t notice when its partner joined. The first hand curled under your chin and a thumb slid up over your bottom lip coaxing your mouth open. Tipsy, you allowed it and the second hand popped something into your mouth. A protest immediately wormed its way up your throat, but his hand snapped your mouth shut.

“Calcium Carbonate.” He said as if that answered everything. “I need you to stay conscious.” One of his hands disappeared before quickly returning with a canteen. Your arms didn’t seem to obey and he helped you drink down the cool liquid.

Blinking, you came to a realization; you were going to have sex again.

Trailing more kisses along your upper back, you whimpered as he tipped you over into the grass without ever pulling out. Now on your side, you turned to say something when his mouth slotted over yours. Whether it had been a protest or an affirmation, the kiss stole away the memory. He didn’t start pounding right away, but instead shallowly rocked against you while coaxing your knees up to give him better access. It helped ease you out of your previous orgasm, while building up a foundation for the next. As soon as you found some strength to fight back against his tongue, his hands moved to tease your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and in return his cock plunged deeper into you. You weren’t sure how he did it, but without breaking stride, he somehow maneuvered you onto your back and moved one of your legs out of the way to fuck you missionary.

Coiled around one another, you both confined to protest against the tenderness of the position. You clawed at the back of his head and he left new sets of bite marks along your collarbone. Each kiss was a renewed contest of dominance and even though you were beyond overstimulated, you’d routinely rock into his hips which earned a hiccup in his labored breath every single time. With both your second orgasms in eminent collision, he broke away from your lips and curled his head into the crook of your neck. It might have been the position you were in, but you were overcome by affection. Lifting your nails away, you cradled his head to you with one hand and flatly palmed the spot between his shoulder blades with the other. His thrusts became more erratic and some words found their way into your mouth.

“Come for me.”

He obeyed and between the scalding spurts of cum you felt yourself unravel once again. What followed was discordant breathing and limp collapse. Slowly, he eventually peeled his body off of yours and you nearly gagged at the sweaty plastic wrap sensation of it all. He didn’t make it far and propped his head up as he lay beside you. You continued to lay on your back and stared up as you counted your still quickened heartbeat. Eventually, the exhaustion and omnipresent heat pulled your head to the side and you looked at him. His lids were low, but the fondness there was palpable.

“Going soft on me?” You asked, your hand drunkenly reaching for him. He caught it with his free one and held it close to his chest.

“Technically...?” He mustered a small grin.

You groaned and closed your eyes.

“Since I’ve already put you off, may I add to it?”

“Why not?” You retorted dryly, though there was an upward tugging at the corners of your lips.

“There will never be a good time at this point so here goes: I never did get your name.”

Your eyes snapped out in righteous fury.

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