afreakingdork @afreakingdork - Tumblr Blog

Jul 17

Soft Spot - Chapter 76

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie seems a bit tied up in this week's chapter art by @shardkn1ight

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages, Depression, Postpartum Depression, Anal Sex, Intimacy Near Child (No Child Harm)

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Remember how I took requests at one point in time? I still honor those even if it seems like ages pass from when I ask for them and when they actually make them into the story. This one goes out to @scarllet-ani who requested some accidentally dropping which I got quite creative with 😏

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

You mopped square by square around the bedroom. The systematic moving from one wall to the next and working your way backward had you oddly mapping the room. With the furniture out of the way, you had a clear space to work and with it you swept side to side. The damp residue caught the light in not necessarily an appealing way, but the streaks let you know exactly where you had scrubbed. With routine checks over your shoulder, you eventually found the wall to your bathroom and worked into it where you had already set your water bottle and phone.

You dropped the toilet seat, sat on the lid, popped the top of your flask, downed a gulp, and got ready to scroll while the floor dried.

Today marked exactly two weeks since you returned home from the devastation of the Hamato family and their home. That was a night you certainly weren’t going to forget and its endcap was all too calm in comparison. When you returned home, your baby was still asleep. It was not quite yet dawn and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fussed physically since he had no technological awareness of your husband. Donnie refused his help as he seemed downright refreshed from his fluids and nearly removed his splints before a quick scan from his eldest said there were still fractures left to mend. The two lightly bickered and the tone of recovery for your family was set.

What followed was immense normality.

Your baby, unaware of all that had transpired, continued his own agenda which circulated mostly around mobility. He appeared to only hobble in little walks when forced to ambulate as such. His rolling became more refined, but crawling was more of a pulling action for him. The scooting, as you called it, was a lesson in how flat the front of his plastron was. The strength training that still helped his limbs empowered his legs. You watched him over the course of several nights as he learned just how exactly to lay flat and flail his legs. He garnered forward momentum until he mastered a power slide that reminded you a lot of a penguin's.

He had no idea his father had suffered any sort of injury.

The bulk of Donnie’s convalescence lasted three day’s time. He ditched his splints at the 24 hour mark once cleared, but lingering sensitivity had him resting about the house a little more than usual. He spent most of his recovery time languishing with his son and navigating a deaf world with a baby. Once he had a handle on maneuvering and creating a system of flashy alarms to signal him to what need be, he then found comfort in dedicating time to the creation that was necessary.

In between his house husband duties, he tooled around with new cochlear implants. Technology had continued to progress since his last update, but he had always been one to surpass even that. Prowess was a tool in his kit and a part used to upgrade. He amassed research, drew up designs, implemented tests, and made a few visits to Lady Nagami for scans that assessed his brain damage.

A bulk of the biological talk was lost on you, but you knew that the three total implants in Donnie’s head needed to be replaced in various capacity. The first two were the cochlear implants which hadn’t caused much damage. Your mate told you that due to his mixed morphology, he had an elongated middle ear that appeared to make up his lack of a human outer. Due to this space, little damage had accrued around their the microphones and transmitters. The problem lay mainly with the neural implant, the one that aided in the seamless use of his technology. From it’s place in the back of his neck, it had apparently been long overgrown by tissue. Its delicate placement by his brain stem meant the components could not be removed, but that was all knowledge Donnie already possessed. The issue was that that tissue had gathered some scarring from the Arcane Nullifier and, though it was minimal, it created a compilation that Donnie called adhesion. The damage had caused fine layers of his brain to become fused together in a very tiny pocket and your husband wanted it removed as there was a chance that, down the line, it could cause compression of his nerves and blood vessels along with the possibility of restriction to his neural tissue.

You were worried.

He was not.

Brain surgery was the least of his concerns. In his mind, quite literally, he had suffered a far greater injury. His mutant body was far too hardy for the usual infections, bacteria, or blood loss maladies. He only needed a steady hand and the trust of precision that came with both his preferred physician and his first built son. Lady Nagami was mostly supplying location and support while S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. took up the main bulk of the surgery itself. Donnie reexamined his son’s programming in preparation and a date was set.

Yesterday.

Your husband had successful brain surgery one day prior.

It didn’t make sense for you to be there.

Not with your son.

Your mate was assured and it wasn’t like Lady Nagami’s place had a waiting room.

You were still wracked with worry.

Coral heard your steady complaints and eventually offered to take Othello on the grounds that you would be too distracted.

You admonished her, but eventually agreed.

Left home alone, you deep cleaned.

It was the only thing that made sense.

Othello would turn one year old in two days’ time.

His birthday party was set.

People were coming over.

Donnie’s hadn’t rescheduled.

He had brain surgery three days before an event, but hadn’t bothered to adjust the date.

You should have trusted that as yet another sign that everything would be fine.

You couldn’t help but be unsettled.

You had to do something.

You turned your attention to the cleaning bots.

They were still doing their job, but, over the course of the weekend, it felt like they weren't.

You moved furniture.

Went through objects.

Sorted.

Cleaned your house to cleanse your mind.

You looked up from your phone to find the shine lines across your bedroom floor had dried.

You discarded your socks and stepped out on bare feet.

You could feel the cleanliness despite the fine layer of sweat that had built up through hard work. The faintest stick of your not as clean flesh to the sparkling floor gave your footsteps weight as you walked across the room. You saw it for what it was, empty, and what it would eventually be. You knew you had talked about moving with Donnie and that date felt like it was approaching sooner and sooner each day. Despite your husband’s incredible organizational skills, you had a null amount of space left over. Othello was going to keep growing and with it, his clothes would too. You were teetering on outgrowing your familiar apartment and this weekend with it, alone and not of your own volition, felt parting, in a way.

You tapped a few steps on the balls of your feet and smiled, amused, to yourself.

Your bed was currently shoved into the living room on furniture movers. You caught part of the frame and tugged. Much like Othello, it slid across the floor and picked up momentum as you got it going. It passed the threshold between rooms and slid back to the wall where it was supposed to go. Behind it, the rest of the furniture that had been moved away came further into focus. With a fine sheen glossing your face and probably catching the light like the floor once had, you pulled piece by piece on their little foam and plastic stilts until everything was back into some level of accordance.

You had cleaned the living room the day prior and plopped lazily on the arm of the couch.

Your space was clean.

Your headspace was sparse.

You walked a line towards the kitchen where clean dishes had dried.

Most of them returned to their homes, but one item, a pacifier, stayed in hand and you held it as you trailed toward the crib.

Donnie would soon need to make a bed in place of the crib.

You tried to map how that would fit in the space.

You needed to start looking for a long term home.

As you held out a hand in feigned measure, your phone rang.

You heard a clatter as you went to fetch your device from where it was echoing in the bathroom.

You answered a swipe through your husband’s name. “Hello?!”

There was a beat of silence, a little breath as he acknowledged your continued nerves despite his every texted reassurance. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey…” You disarmed and slumped against a nearby wall. “You sound…”

“Alert?” He allowed the question to hang.

Your eyes closed.

“I am fine. A sentiment shared both the night prior through a similar means and several texts.”

“You sounded tired when we talked yesterday.”

“Latent sedative in my system.” He reminded you.

You kept yourself from repeating your own words of how his cranium had been peeled open. “The new implants still sound alright?”

“We did additional tuning today. You sound far clearer, though I prefer unobstructed, which…!”

There was an insinuation there. “Where… are you?”

You felt yourself standing.

The clean bedroom felt ominous.

“Well…”He led once again.

You passed your bed.

“It sounds as though you will find out soon enough…”

You rotated around the partition.

The door opened on command.

You picked up speed.

He prepared himself with open arms.

You hugged him.

He nuzzled the side of your head and smelled of fresh linens and iodine. “My heart…”

“Let me look.” You pulled only slightly out of his grasp to examine his head.

He had no bandages.

You turned him one way, then the other.

His aged scars were there.

You felt that only awareness made you think you saw additional marks.

His pupils chased you.

You felt your feet flatten out and coaxed him down to check the back of his neck where the still barely there line was etched.

“Dearest…?” His forehead was to your shoulder.

You chanced thumbing over the little fold of healed skin.

“Unobstructed?” He tried to remind you.

“Welcome home!” Your voice was too loud.

He seemed to like it and swept you up and to the side. “Regale me”

You giggled as you floated around the sofa. “In what?”

“Your time. You’ve cleaned.” His eyes didn’t leave you.

“Yeah… I know I didn’t need to, but I had to keep busy. Coral was right. I would have probably been too obsessed with Oats if he was here. I would have made him anxious too! And don’t get me started on the idea that he could have been here while I was cleaning. I would have taught him how to scrub the grout before he said his first word!”

Donnie placed you on your feet and searched you with adoration.

“You think he’d be more of a dish cleaning baby or a floor mopping baby? I’m thinking floors. We just need to strap one of those dusting slippers to him and watch him go!”

Donnie shook his head.

“You really had brain surgery yesterday?” You almost felt like he wasn’t real and palmed his cheek to check.

Warmth and his weight fell into your hand. “I did. Incisions like such encourage swift cell regeneration and wound closure.”

“What kind of encouragement?”

He hummed a tiny churr. “Clean cuts paired with my genetic makeup. Quick sutures. Minimal disruption.”

“So if the cut was clean, it heals easier?”

He nodded lazily. “Care before and after. Incision and quick healing factor. If a severance has minimal laceration and is dually treated, one could press a wound shut and begin to see marked adherence.”

“Is that what your suit was doing when April cut…?” You couldn’t say it and traced his scalp.

“An approximate. She had no blade and thus the damage was far more rudimentary. When in battle, my suit, and battle shell in this instance, work through extension. I thought of sealing said affliction and it responded.”

“Can your battle shell do that right now?”

“Not quite.” He stretched out a wrist. “The tuning, I mentioned.”

You turned against his torso to look.

Pieces of gnarled metal were in his palm.

You watched as his fingers twitched around it until you swore you saw the slightest bend and smoothing of a single dent of one particular chunk.

Donnie exhaled with effort.

“Reminds me of what I had to do that time you were stuck hacking and I tried to mentally tap into your tech.”

“The brain-machine interface…!” His expression fell in thought.

You watched him.

“Yours will be out of date… Another system to update.” He didn’t exactly grouch as much as verbally add it to some list.

“Pesky machines.” You joked.

One of his brows bounced. “Not dissimilar. The neural link and programming for it are both new. I’ll learn. Slow, but productive.”

“Like your ninpo.”

“The new system has full integration with such.” A little excitement colored him. “There is an advantage to overhauls.”

“Your new neural link works with your ninpo? How do you even code for that?”

“Of the standards of physics...” A ninpo duplicate of the thing he had in his palm appeared. “Data itself is not energy, but information coded using physical systems of electrons and light.”

“Makes sense.” You poked that flat bit he manifested.

“Exactly. An arrangement of energy that I code with my mind. My new neural implant’s coding revolves around the concept. The programming allows space so my tangible technology can form with gaps in which my ninpo can fill. The two work in tandem.” There was a little shift of light before a ninpo version of the twisted metal in his grasp ghosted over the real one.

Once applied, the light seemed to agitate before several more dents were more quickly pulled smooth.

“The remains of my gauntlet.”

“That’s your tech gauntlet?!” You repeated.

He gave a microscopic, but solemn nod. “Its reformation will be a benchmark of my progress. As of now I could reshape it, but the circuitry inside will prove more difficult. Once it reaches full functionality, I will consider that a sign that I’ve attuned to the new neural link.”

“Gotcha…”

The ninpo popped and he looked for a high shelf to put the remains of his gauntlet on. “I’ll need additional audio tuning as well.”

“I thought it was better than last night?” You lingered nearby.

“Ah, but…” He swept back to you with a snug arm around your waist. “Hearing such sweet melodies in a prolonged fashion! I want to align with your frequency and Othello’s.”

“Ah, yes. Turn that radio dial to baby screams.”

Donnie made a little noise that said he was aware. “I have no preferred order, but with my hearing, the scale should shift a particular direction.”

“I’m not saying you have to suffer like me, but…!”

“Misery and company.” He shrugged. “When shall Coral return him?”

“A little later?” Your phone was dangling in your hand and you checked to see if there were any new messages.

There weren’t.

“This evening.” You decided.

He nodded genially. “You’ve done well.”

He hadn’t looked, which made you sneer. “I wasted my time cleaning. I hear you.”

“No.” He came close. “The cleanliness is more than sufficient. The effort…”

“I know all of this could have been done with your little platoon of cleaning bots. Which…!” You headed towards his side of the bed. “I found out where you finally keep those little scrubby things!”

“Yet another discovery.” He trailed after you with a light air.

“They are-!” You meant to point out how his nightstand had a false bottom where the Genius Built branded Roombas could both be deployed from and stored, but you spied a colorful ring. “-Ah!”

“Hm?” He hovered above.

“I was mourning one of Oats’s pacifiers.” You knelt down. “I think I dropped it.”

Donnie was too close as he wondered. “Mourning? A defect?”

You tried to bump him a bit out of the way, but his legs were their usual trunks so you had to bend your arm at a strange angle to snag the binky. “No, I was thinking about how we’ll have to-”

Your elbow scraped the underside of the mattress and there was the clink of what sounded like chain link.

“Are you kidding me?” Your head dropped to the floor. “Is there a single underside of anything in this house that isn’t also…?!”

A series of black rings were stored almost imperceptibly along the bed frame.

“Oh…!” You went to grab one, but part of the set was connected and came along.

Until one released and dropped its three partners on the ground.

You held a string of at least five of the link rings in hand. “I haven’t seen these in a while!!”

Donnie finally dropped to squat beside you. “I’d almost forgotten…”

“Yeah?” You offered the chain to him.

A single ring came off in his hand. “I’ve been preoccupied, as you are surely aware.”

“Oh, for sure. Baby, previa, anal. It’s all been so distracting. It’s been so hard to find time for hardcore fucking.” You tapped your rings to his, but they didn’t connect.

“As I recall, our last foray was through persuasion of our anniversary. Affectionate terms.”

“Our only foray and as I recall, you were going to integrate them into B.E.D.F.A.S.T.” You teased.

There was a sucking click as the two rings joined. “Done.”

“Right.” You got that pacifier and wondered how exactly to return the rings to their spot.

“You don’t believe me?” His head tilted.

“About what?” You gave him the set.

He took them and used the circles to gesture toward the panel on the wall. “I’ve done so.”

You blinked up to B.E.D.F.A.S.T. “Oh.”

“I wonder if there is anything I’ve yet to follow through on.” One of his knees went down to steady himself as he leaned into your arm.

You chuckled. “Fair. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He kissed your cheek.

“I know it seems spontaneous…” You murmured, ready to push him back.

Your nerves were fried.

Normalcy hadn’t come easily.

He had just had brain surgery.

“We have a few hours, but I kind of just want to be with you.”

He retreated without a thread of woe. “Of course.”

You wiped the pacifier off with your thumb despite the floor being immaculate.

Donnie gathered the other rings and readied to replace them in their cubby.

“How’d you do it?”

He reached beneath the bed. “Our greatest consequence was load bearing weight. The unreliable nature of the ring’s magnetism meant suspension proved risky. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. along with tweaked applications alleviated danger.”

You couldn’t picture whatever he was talking about and watched attentively.

“Shall I demonstrate?” He smiled.

Your head dipped down, wary.

“Technical demonstration on myself.” He emphasized and reeled his arms back in to find he had two rings, which surprised him. “Serendipity. Will you allow me?”

“Sure.” You were curious.

He hummed a few simple notes that often played from one of Othello’s toys and lifted the bed out of the way by a post.

When he was faced with B.E.D.F.A.S.T., without anything else blocking it, he hitched.

“My implant…” He ground out before he put a hand to the machine. “I’ll have to use verbal command. Mark user Donatello. Suspension formation with link ring functionality.”

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. clicked on a few inner adjustments before it unfurled attachment points that had rings of their own, but in more recognizable metal shades.

“There are various positions, but one might…” He applied a ring to each of his wrists.

They shrank down to cuffs which he brought up to an attachment point far above his head.

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. animated, apparently ready with the loops on its end, and threaded them through the cuffs.

They then locked into place.

“Now if the pair-!” He began and there was an audible click as the link rings magnetized to one another.

He chuffed with a grin.

“I am not suspended by them.” He pulled lightly to show it wasn’t the link rings, but the loops that connected them that kept him to B.E.D.F.A.S.T. “I am bound up here, but if they were to release, I would not be.”

As if three times would be too convenient, the link rings chose then to not disengage.

He stood for a long moment, and then looked at you anew. “Well.”

You laughed into his body. “You’re not stuck though! You could get B.E.D.F.A.S.T. to let go.”

“Yes… Release!” B.E.D.F.A.S.T. obeyed and Donnie showed you his now literal cuffs. “However…”

You couldn’t curtail your laughter. “Oh no!”

“These pesky…!”

You lifted the clutch of his wrists up into the air.

He accommodated the movement with a little grunt.

You ducked down, slotting yourself between his arms and let them fall.

He watched you with a growing expression as his arms encircled you.

You stared up at him.

From a wide glittering to a low-lidded shade, he dipped down to kiss you.

You met him in a little pull.

The rings pressed into your back as he held you.

One kiss turned to two and the third was a lingering peck.

He lightly brushed his beak to your nose to maintain space.

You stayed there and opened your eyes to his blurry vision.

“A fine demonstration…” He sighed dreamily and retracted his limbs.

You watched his satisfaction as he removed one ring.

His gaze said he was sated.

It was enough for him.

Any of you was.

He was always like that.

Kind.

Sweet.

He removed one cuff and you intercepted.

He caught you curious and tilted his head.

You slipped the link ring on your own wrist and brought it to his.

The two rings didn’t connect.

You stared at them with a sullenness you couldn’t mask.

“Would you like to see more?”

You felt the same as you had before.

The weight of recent events and ones over a year in the making floated around.

You felt moored and not as you looked at him.

“Without pretense.” He added honestly.

You nodded slowly.

He rounded the bed to retrieve all the rings.

“Link ring accessible technology.” He called out to B.E.D.F.A.S.T. as he returned.

A plethora of straps shot out like lines of rope.

You saw various attachment rings which Donnie fastened to link rings. “These might, for example, attach to the thighs and waist to splay you.”

He pulled three straps that appeared to be the makings of a sex swing.

“There’s also…” He let those straps go in exchange for another that seemed more bundled.

He applied ten rings into what, with the link ring structure, seemed to make a body harness.

“This is reminiscent of your outfit from that night, however the added fabric redistributes weight…” He pointed out how in little tugs.

It was hard to conceptualize since the link rings had a bit more of a standardized shape when not in use, but there appeared to be a crisscross pattern that would go through your legs if you were looking at it correctly.

“I have a version I added various handles to both fitted for link rings and not…” He swapped once again for a bulkier set of straps.

“Handles?”

“Grip was an issue.” He seemed to recall by looking up then back down. “I employed several materials. This one is made of soft leather for skin contact. Some of the support straps are made of Industrial polyester webbing. There’s cotton padding.”

“Can I see?”

“Which?” His head turned to you as he was amongst a net.

“The handled… one for you.”

“Yes, but of course.” He removed his jacket and tossed it back to the bed. “Leather for my comfort.”

He pulled a weighted belt that appeared to be missing a center strip and fit it around his body. He then jostled the pile of rings until a single one came loose and he stretched as it did with contact around his body until he could encourage it to circle his waist. With his fingers hooked to keep it from closing, he fit it into that slot in the leather harness and it perfectly melded once he let go.

It shrank his sweater tight to his slimmer waist. “Here…”

He rotated where looped handles hung on both of his sides.

“And on the back.”

He continued to spin so you could see a slot where another link ring could be attached.

“There’s one in the front as well. Tucked in.” He demonstrated as he faced you once again. “Can be attached to wrists, a crown, or another cinched belt.”

You reached out for a handle at his hip.

He cocked a little so you could more easily get a grip.

As you touched it, you came in close enough that your hand was suctioned to his waist as the link ring cuff you forgot you were wearing activated.

His tongue clicked. “This highlights projects from practice. A longer handle will be applied to a future model…”

He seemed to think.

“Unless we remove anklets then this could be a proper foot hold.”

He measured you with his eyes.

“If you were to ride my face in reverse, I think you’d be able to use them as stirrups which-”

He held no heat, but you pulled him down to an inferno of a kiss.

He startled a soft chirp against your lips before succumbing to it.

A warbled one chased it when you broke apart.

“I hope-”

You kissed him again.

He allowed himself to be cut off until you gave him space. “-you did not feel pressured to reciprocate.”

Your hand came away from his person and you threaded it through what looked like the closest approximate arm hole.

“That’s not-!”

A link ring somewhere in the mix fastened to your upper arm.

It felt strange over your clothes.

Not exactly restrictive, but snug.

You pulled the tangle towards Donnie as he tried to catch you. “Dearest, actually-!”

You dodged in the form of a dive that caught a link ring around your throat and upper body.

“I will not walk back my decree on spontaneity. I appreciate yours. However, the addition of B.E.D.F.A.S.T. implied a level of scrutiny!”

You avoided him through one more strap before he caught your back and some link ring connected to the one on his wrist.

In a weave that wrapped a leash of sorts around his forearm, he lifted you clean off the ground.

The many straps either unraveled or pulled tight, leaving you dangling and bound around your torso in front of him.

“Now.” He brought you up so high that you were eye level with him. “You voiced how long it had been, but that does not mean we forget proper precaution!”

“I’m not!” You blurted out.

He stared at you firmly.

You rotated ever so slightly as you were hanging. “All our clothes are on anyway…”

“Better reason to mind-”

“I’ve been worried.”

He didn’t lower you, but his irritation ebbed.

“You were attacked, threatened, you needed surgery…”

He held stern embers.

“I…” You tried to pull, but your arms were still pinned somewhere behind you. “I just wanted to not think. I… don’t even know. There’s no room to not know. We had way too much of that already. There’s no more lies, but we also know way too much now and I feel like I’m suffocating on it all.”

You heard him exhale, but it wasn’t with force.

“We’ve been here before, but it feels different.”

He lowered you until your toes touched down.

“I’m jumbled up.” You confessed and it was the magic words as your hands unhooked and dropped to your sides.

You rubbed the link ring you already had and examined the one you had somehow acquired.

Donnie’s hand, sans cuff, covered your own.

“Allow me to untangle you…” He ushered you to do a small twirl.

You got half a rotation in before you realized Donnie’s other hand was still stuck to your back.

You puffed with some tired amusement, but he ran a hand along your neck. The trail of his warmth tickled your flesh and your chest rose. He ran a firm line that didn’t tease to your link ring choker. Once it was within his reach, he tucked a nail into the back of it with a come hither flick. It disrupted the magnetic fields keeping the ring close to your body and loosened it. With a single hand, Donnie rocked into the circlet until it opened up enough that he could bring it above your head.

The cuff at the small of your back released.

With both hands, your mate avoided the link ring around your chest. Instead, he trailed along some straps cutting crosses on your left arm and examined them. He found some sort of pin point amongst the wrap that he pulled. With it, the wind loosened and you watched a coil drip down your limb. A rogue link caught your wrist just before it fell, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he drew a line across the link just above your breast and down to a coil that had the weight below.

There was no obvious mechanism here to get this part to release, so he rotated you. There wasn’t the same whimsy involved. His hands stayed with your person to mitigate the turn. You felt the warmth and weight in them. Each tridactyl set was worn. Fatherhood had softened the calluses, but there was still wear around his nails. He typically couldn’t stand a hangnail so there were no pricks like that, but pressure had layered his skin. Up close you could see ridges, smooth but visible, that spoke to the small work he did, usually on components these days.

He had built all those new implants.

He did so when you were at work so you rarely saw the work other than what showed on his body or became relevant to you.

One hand lay large on your chest. You momentarily thought he might be feeling your heart, but he rarely did that with the tips of his fingers that were now hovering over that space. His palm focused on the link ring itself. He traced it around your person where he seemed to find something on your back. It was there you found a nail lightly piercing your spine. It caused you to correct your posture. A little wriggle sent his digit between the strip of your shirt and that ring. His finger sank down in the line parting of your mid back to find purchase for itself.

Once he could, he encouraged the link ring to loosen and, when it did, he followed it around to where it had trapped a strap. You could sort of see over one arm how several nylon strips fell away. One caught something wrapped around your hip, but most of the spool hit the floor. You traced the coil and found your mate’s hand still flat and inviting as he waited a moment for whatever reason.

You tipped your head back to view him. The move caught his attention and he met your eye. You watched interest expand there. There was nothing unreadable or so overt. He was attentive as you looked at him and you cocked your head for some kind of question. He didn’t have an answer, but he did have a smile. He offered it with a small peck to your head, which you accepted with closed eyes. You could feel him staring long after he had left his kiss and a few minutes more until he continued.

There wasn’t much around your hips as you had mostly tangled your torso.

He removed the strap that had caught on a dangle before he gathered up the pile. With an armful that reminded you of a fresh load of laundry. He heaped the straps aside and looked at you anew. He was still wearing that svelte number around his waist. It must have been as comfortable as he mentioned since he appeared to have forgotten he was wearing it. He studied your form for a long moment before his hand extended. Judging by his reach, there wasn’t anything still attached to you where he was heading and contact revealed such.

He let his knuckles rest against your clavicle.

You dropped from watching him to stare at his hand.

He needed to only move a few inches over to touch the link ring still around your upper body, but he wasn’t over that. Your heart still sat on the opposite side. By all accounts, there was nothing there, except his hand. He pressed lightly, your flesh cushioned the move, and he rotated so his fingertips were targeting more accurate points.

You ran through a list of his gambits.

He always seemed to have some ulterior motive.

You wondered if there was some kind of pressure point there, but eventually decided there was none based on solely how little he offered. You reached up and held his wrist for the sake of it. His lips parted and closed in a little gasping motion. He didn’t appear to be searching for breath, but a word or comment just out of his reach. You wondered if it wasn’t there or if he didn’t feel as though he could give it voice.

His fingers dragged as he propelled his hand to one side. Those worn nail beds didn’t exactly catch the fibers, but they didn’t move as smoothly as another texture might. Little scales embedded in his skin hooked microscopic filaments which he led over to the link ring. There he traced down, feeling the metal and leading down your belly. There was more touching there, but none with exact need. It was as though he was feeling you for the first time and you watched the curious trek with your own intrigue.

“The sounds.” He eventually remarked as he hit the fabric of your pants.

His voice blended in and you wondered what he meant instead of asking so.

“I can hear each fabric and its different pitch.”

You recalled then what he had mentioned about turtles not having a language, but instead noises that conveyed emotion.

“I need to adjust my implants…” He fanned his fingers out as his pads skimmed the cloth around your thigh.

“It’s too loud?” You tried not to whisper as that felt harsh, but you kept your voice low.

The frequency caused him to shudder and it warbled the happy lines of his mouth.

You prolonged a hum.

He had to lean away.

His hands flapped.

You let your words dip deep in your throat. “Seems like you like it…”

His teeth appeared in a giggly sort of grimace. “The tone is causing vibrations…!”

“So you’re into ASMR now?” He was close and you wiped a flat hand against his sweater.

The flighty feeling imbued his plastron. “I don’t-!”

“It’s…!” You pulled the contraction through honey.

It coaxed his lips apart in a quake.

“Tingles…” You led again through the darkness.

He nodded as furiously as his hands moved.

You lifted your fingertips so stroking his top would be louder. “… from sound. Good feelings. They're supposed to start in the brain and move…”

You reached up.

“Down your neck…” You traced his scar and further down.

He shook against you.

“Into your spine…” You hiked a leg up against him and begged whoever would hear it.

Your chest link ring did not connect to the one around his waist.

It allowed you to hook your foot into one of those hip handles and lift yourself up high enough to rub clean down his shell.

He cheeped right beside your head.

That meant you were close to tympanum.

You leaned in.

Were slow to part your lips.

He warbled on an anxious buzz.

You heard it then.

It was a little too much.

You dotted a kiss and minded a smack around the crook of his jaw.

He settled the slightest bit, though he was jittery.

You kissed a few more times in a leading line down.

You stepped out of your stirrup.

He helped you get more easily to your feet.

In his crouch, you smiled at him.

He returned it with a bit of a walloped one.

“Donatello.” You poured his name on thick.

You saw it strike him.

His color drained.

Your face fell.

His did the same.

Down.

It took you a moment to follow where.

He was quick to turn and too obviously adjusted himself.

“Did you drop?” You asked in a normal voice.

A thin noise came out of him.

You waited.

“Yes.”

You stifled a giggle.

“Not the time.”

“You love your name.”

“Well-!” He went to busy himself with the discarded straps.

You stopped him with the faintest brush to his arm.

His shoulders bobbed around the sound. “D-darling…”

Your eyes met his. “I know what would sound better.”

“It’s alright.”

“It is...” You gave your touch weight.

He softened.

“I want to.” You edged closer. “I want to make you feel better. In your brain and more.”

“Just after surgery…?” He clearly teased.

You reached with deft fingers and pulled his zipper down in a loud splitting of the chain.

His knees almost gave out and you held him.

“You-I-We-!”

You stroked over the material of his pants searching for the telltale bulge.

“Okay, this is happening.” He dumped the bit of harness he acquired and turned to you in complete offer.

“So quick to change your mind.”

“A fool doth protest.”

“Trying to make another kid, Shakespeare?”

“You cannot add to this.” His eyes flashed.

Your heart skipped.

He heard it and its effect was immediate. “Two proclivities at most. Please!”

“What’s turning you on? The sound and…?” You found his cock, not that it was hard to miss, and rubbed his member roughly.

His arms swiveled, looking for something to grab onto.

Your pupils flicked to the pile.

He located a specific strap set which he encouraged you to slip on like a coat without any structure.

It clipped to your link ring binder and straps crossed your back.

He immediately threaded a hand through them to hold on.

You peeled open his already spread fly.

“You.”

“Hm?” You turned to palm the bottom of his plastron.

“You’re the other-!” His voice pitched.

You urged him close.

His head hit your shoulder. “You. It’s you. You turn me on.”

“Thank you.” You found him in a sticky pile of his own drippings.

He nodded his sensitivity.

“Gotta get these down…” You retracted and grabbed each side of his trousers with a hooked thumb.

His free hand came to one side to help.

“Ah.” You warned.

His fingers hung, confused.

You dragged with a pull to one side of the fabric.

To you, it made a little shifting sound of high quality cotton against fine scales.

To him, it was cacophonous and he rumbled a thick churr around you.

The sound was too much even though it was coming from him and you heard him stall out.

You tipped the weight to the other side.

The process repeated.

He pulled so hard on your harness that you felt the link ring start to dig through your layers.

That too had volume and he whined.

In a quicker shimmy, his pants released to pool around his knees with a slack his entire being took on as his cock hit the cold air of the apartment.

You gripped him.

There was a squelch.

One of his eyes twitched.

That was not a pleasant sound, you guessed.

You grasped him more heavily in your palm.

There was a slicker sound as you stroked.

It was better but not as good based on the tension his form held.

You rubbed him as silently as you thought you could.

Two kinks were the max he could currently tolerate, he had been clear.

You and the tingling from his cochlear implants being too loud was what fell into those slots.

He needed deeper tones and to feel them.

You pulled on his hold.

He was leery.

You did a turning motion with your neck.

He rotated you long enough that you faced away from him. One there, he immediately dropped his forehead back to your shoulder and tangled a hand into the front of your link ring harness. You grabbed your own waist band, attached to a pair of loose and comfortable bottoms that you usually wore these days when you either cleaned or when Othello was being particularly messy.

He was staring down and clearly paused with brow raising interest. “Y/N…?”

You hummed a playful two-part refusal as you similarly shimmied your pants down.

The fabric was lighter and swished.

It floated up to his tympanum favorably and he tried to churr as lightly as he could.

Your ass emerged and he lost out.

The sound echoed.

He vibrated and recoiled.

One of his hands slammed into your hip to steady himself.

With the other limb still firmly holding your front, it caused you to bend.

Present.

He stared where he was looking down the slope of your back.

A curious hand pulled your shirt tight to your spine to give him a clearer view.

“Use my thighs.” You told him.

He almost grunted as he clearly tried to look at you without lifting his head.

You squat and spread some.

His jaw hung and out came a rattled breath.

“Well, Donatello…?”

His hand returned to crush your hip and he hauled you up and onto his cock.

You snapped your legs together both on instinct and because that’s what you had been waiting to do.

He strangled a chirp as his member was momentarily squashed.

“Move!” You commanded.

He thrust with a sharp snap.

You muffled the churn of fluids and his tip barely poked out the other side. “Again!”

He focused a little more.

The third motion was his own.

He groaned for as long as it had been since he felt a version of your warmth.

He pushed so hard against your chest that you felt your ribs flatten.

Your back arched painfully.

He fucked between your legs.

His plastron flattened your ass.

It stung.

He felt good.

Signs of it thundered around you.

The wet gasps of his breath.

His sweater against your top.

The drag of fabric.

The rustle of the link ring.

His whiteknuckled scales.

The routine sort of drip of the pendulum through your legs.

It grew louder.

His pants.

The drag.

His cock.

Dribbling pre-cum found your knees.

The pair clacked as you forced them together.

To create suction.

To smother the sound.

He felt good.

You could hear him.

You could feel him.

Louder and louder until it was everything.

Until he controlled your breath with his palm.

The movement of your body matching your heart.

The strain of your muscle fibers pulling tight.

When he came it was with a jerk snap and all his saliva.

He stuttered to keep his jizz from fully emerging.

Flutters pulsated through packed thighs.

He filled the cavity he himself carved out and wrapped you up in a hug.

You wrenched your hands free from where you had unknowingly caught one of his handles and covered his hand which still held your chest.

“Thank… you…” He slurred into your form.

“Of course, sweet.” You bumped his head.

He returned the gesture.

You giggled.

He liked the sound.

Your phone rang.

Reality expanded along with the faint light of what had to be the setting sun.

“That’s Coral.” You knew.

“My son…!” He strung out happily, unable to do much else.

A sop was dripping as your legs weren’t really made to be leak proof.

You saw cum disappear into your pants and probably drip onto the floor.

“I just cleaned…” You grouched.

“Again… Again…” He twirled out, clearly lightheaded.

“It never ends, hm?” You kissed the plump of his cheek and knocked him back to properly tidy for your baby’s arrival.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #softspotfic for updates)

I wonder if I've been talking to my betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup more about my work or desc's lately... Who's reading Symphony No. 4 in Eb Minor, Op. 16 "Of Heliotropium"?