TMNT x Reader Imagines // Book Two.

Donatello's Dirty Fantasies...

It was late, or rather, early being nearly six in the morning. Normally, Donatello would be working on an invention or maybe trying to fix that damn toaster agian.

But this time, he was writing.

The computer screen glowed dim in the darkness, the only sound being the soft clicks and clacks coming from the keyboard.

Was he writing a report or a journal of some kind? You could call it that.

He was writing about Y/N again.

There had always been an attraction between the two of them. Unspoken of course, but that was on him. He could barely control himself when he wasn’t around her so when he was…it was a struggle. A struggle which he choose to write about, via email.

He never sent them of course, he simply saved them, in case he wanted to revisit a specific fantasy. Oh, he had so many fantasies…and he wrote about them all.

It could be soft. And sweet.

He would write about gentle love making, the bed softly creaking. Her quiet moans filling the room as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

He would churr happily as she rode him, her breasts bouncing perfectly, almost hypnotically.  And when she whispered his name softly, he cum inside of her, saying her name too.

It would be harder too. The bed would rock, crashing into the wall as she laid back on the matress. She’d be moaning and clutching the sheets as she looked up at him.

“D-Donatello…"

Was that a request to do it harder? He hoped so. His hard thrusts sent her spiraling into passion, clutching the sheets as she came. Her pussy tightened as her juices dribbled down his cock.

“Donnie!”

But those, those were when they made love. He wrote about fucking her too.

It could be kinky, with toys and role play.

A little vibrator inside of your pussy, one that he would control. He would play with the different levels, teasing you as you got so, so close to cumming…only to have it taken away. You would twist and turn and moan loudly until he finally gave you what you wanted. Then, you would scream.

He wanted so badly to role play with you. Maybe you were the Experiment and he was the Mad Scientist who wanted to learn how much you could take before breaking.

Or you were the Beautiful Patient and he was Doctor Donatello. He could just imagine you on his examine table, naked and ready for him.

“Can you feel that?”

“O-oh!”

“Hmm…maybe a little deeper…”

“Doctor!”

Or the Professor and his College Co-ed. He loved the idea of having a secret, illicit affair. Sneaking around campus, having sex in closets and empty classrooms. He’d pull the plaid skirt up over your hips and the frilly panties down over your knees and slowly slid into you.

“Oh! Oh, god!”

“You best-ah! Be quiet, dove. We don’t want the headmaster to catch us, do we?”

And sometimes, he would just fuck you hard. Bed breaking, mind shattering, you-won’t-be-able-to-walk-in-the-morning sex. He would pound your pussy, your juices soaking the sheets as you came multiple times. Your throat would ache from screaming so much, his should would be covered in scratches created by your nails.

“Donnie!! Fuck!”

“Is that what you want? To be fucked?” he would growl.

“Wish granted!”

You would be going out of your mind with passion and lust and he would still manage to fuck you harder, until you were both out like a light. He would kiss your sweaty neck, smiling as he smelled himself in your skin.

That was what he really wanted. To be a part of you.

For his scent to linger on your body, announcing his presence and place as your lover to the world. To be able to hold you and kiss as much as he wanted to. He wrote about that the most. He apologized for seeming standoffish at times, it wasn’t your fault. But these days, he found himself fantasizing more and more and, well, that was making it harder.

Donatello looked at the screen, the mouse hovering over the save button. One of these days, he wouldn’t be able to control himself with unsent emails and his hands.

One of these days, he was going to make a mover. But for now? He clicked save.