#ninja (florentine) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

afreakingdork · 11 days ago

Text

Soft Spot - Chapter 16

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

@garbagemilkshake and I thought that something a bit more on the fan service side would be fun for this week's chapter art and I totally didn't write a whole additional scene to make it happen.

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

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.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Folate.

You were sick of spinach.

It seemed to only have two settings: crunchy or snotty. Donnie had done his best to be creative, but it was within those two confines that you were stuck. Any sort of cooking preparation reduced the leaves to slim slime. It was tolerable enough baked into Florentines or strung up through pasta, but as time wore on, eating it became a chore. You found yourself sifting through your food to gobble down the spinach first so you could have a few blessed bites without it.

The same went with salads. While there were any number of preparations or sauce options, at a base level you were eating roughage. The greens came in a litany of hues, but their flavors hadn’t ranged much. Spinach blended in while radicchio stood out, but the concept at its core was a monotonous one. The real trouble came with pesticides and bacteria. While Donnie couldn’t smell the latter, their proliferation meant he could scent when a product was off. You shopped at a number of places to get the best produce, but you were still riding a 50/50 line where the vegetables would need to be tossed, just in case, for your growing fetus’ health.

You didn’t want to hang your entire folate consumption on spinach, but the matter had seemingly been taken away from you. Fortified cereals were either too processed or blander than if you had eaten wheat straight from the plant. From there, other fruits and vegetables scaled with trace amounts except for asparagus. You once enjoyed the stalk roasted and beside a nice fish, but your body’s shifts had started.

You could no longer digest the vegetable properly.

The first time it had happened, you couldn’t identify the issue. You ate a day’s worth of food and you were awoken in the darkened early morning with stomach cramps. They persisted until you had a bowel movement and the next day Donnie poured over the causes. Your lunch was swapped out, but you ran on a meal plan for dinner which meant a repeat of the same effect. You had a snack of only asparagus on a hunch after that and the ensuing bathroom trip was a third time shame on you before you cut it out of your diet.

Calcium.

Your giant vitamin wasn’t doing enough.

It was yet another thing you had trouble noticing at first. Your legs had been achey, but there weren’t necessarily alarm bells for you. Days where you were a little more stationary at work had the same effect. You were moving into your tenth week of pregnancy and, while there certainly wasn’t enough weight inside you for those sorts of aches to build up, you figured maybe it was your little bean. Donnie had examined your gait and further reassured that you had yet to walk differently. Your hips were relatively fine, but you found that particularly in the morning, your calves pinched. Donnie rubbed them to encourage blood flow, but felt no makings of muscle tension.

It was the calcium.

You hadn’t even needed to bring it up during your eleventh week visit with Dr. Kuro.

You had simply winced when getting off the exam table and she caught the movement with flicking ears.

She promptly informed you that low levels of the mineral were often related to muscle cramps as calcium aided in contraction. Donnie’s gaze had gone glazed for missing something so obvious, but Dr. Kuro talked him down. She had seen glimpses of his intense concern over making every little thing right and put you both side by side in chairs. She spoke to the supposed rules of pregnancy and, without trying to scare either of you, specified that you could do everything right and things might not go as intended.

She perforated the fear with a teasing that if you followed all the scare tactics then you would be left with nothing to eat at all.

Dairy became a staple in your diet after that.

It wasn’t something you obsessed over prior, but it became a necessity. You had trouble downing a glass of milk straight for what it did to your intestines, but sprinkling cheese and the like throughout your dishes added the necessary pop. Your legs loosened near immediately and your required baseline of calcium was raised. That came not with a heftier pill, but a larger dosage and further blood tests. Dr. Kuro reminded you that you were finding the norms for something totally unique so there would be some adjustment. As long as nothing ever got too uncomfortable, you were safe to experiment.

You swore to tell Dr. Kuro about every single little change that happened to your body after that.

You doubted she minded.

Vitamin D.

In your uneducated days, fish had seemed like some damning entity to pregnancy. Whispers of mercury levels and haunting tales of sushi made the entire ocean into something to be avoided. It was further perpetuated by the dreaded colossal fish oil pills, which were supposedly the only substitute. Maybe because of their name, but you had always equated fish oil with snake oil in your mind. That was an issue for pregnant people you had thought before and had never minded expensive baubles that looked like edible glass.

You hadn’t had any restrictions before.

Now that you did, you found that your misconception was just that.

Fish was good for pregnancy.

Mostly.

It all seemed obvious enough until you actually began to learn about the product. In an annoying pendulum swing, what went from bad to good then apparently went rotten again. Nearly all commercial salmon was brightened to its signature orange via a color additive. Natural caught fish touted an organic brightness, but then there was talk of fishing practices. Sustainable or not was difficult to find out by design and hatcheries supposedly lost the necessary nutrition value. You were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t and all the while there were imaginary eyes on you.

It was an inkling you had because you had been there. You could see yourself, heavy with child, and surrounded by whispers about what you did or did not eat. The judgment was imminent and, though no stranger could probably tell you were pregnant, you were aware of others. You watched on as those who were perceived to be carrying had to act as if they weren’t being whispered about. People had endless things to say about business that wasn’t theirs. Others would soon think they had a say in what you did with your body and baby and you were haunted by that fact.

Donnie was both worse and better in that regard. Your mate respected you, but he was also beholden to his science. Before you were pregnant, there hadn’t been much mention toward what you consumed. Your mate had his own long stemming issues with food that he was slowly recovering from to this day. His interest in it waned with the more dishes he tried and he’d long phased out of drives to cook. He now did it for the sake of balancing household work, but his time of experimentation had passed.

Your baby was an entirely new entity.

Right when his interest had settled, he had been forced to become hyper aware of consumption yet again. A new life that was not his own depending on it and therefore he couldn’t just throw random supplements to keep it going. He wanted the best for your child and that came with knowing all about where each morsel came from or did. In an instant, he was trailing company ledgers to find out an entire life cycle of any given product. He didn’t knock his enriched foods of old, but he saw them differently. There was science to what the body could absorb and digest. He lived by your vitamins, but saw their limitations. Anything synthesized resulted in a poorer uptake of nutrients than from what he was now forced to categorize as real food and then just like with fish as a concept, so came the counter swing.

Those same labs that made the vitamins and supplements also often had a hand in the fortification of those supposedly real foods. The scare tactics around genetically modified foods was a hoax at best. He had gone on long winded tangents about how selective breeding fell under the umbrella which had been done long before the idea of intercepting genes in seeds was a concept. Unfortunately it mattered little what your mate thought on the concept as larger companies had long been pillaging the market. They affected germination only to boost dividends and destroyed small farms in the process. They eliminated competition both literally and amongst the very produce they sought to monopolize. The swinging pendulum of the good and bad of industry was exhausting your mate.

It hollowed him out for his basal attitude, which you had long known to be staunch. He voiced his opinions boldly and his current one regarded what you ate. You were fine with taking his opinion at first, since you were actually interested in those. Your interests aligned there and that was why you let him sift through vegetables. You wanted your baby to be just as happy and healthy so it was easy to let him sniff out pesticides or leaves wilting from unknown branches of E. coli, but the moment you got to fish it went a proverbial overboard.

There were many types of fish. Some were farm raised and others came from fancy fishmongers. There was preparation. There was an endless ocean of what could and could not be done to get a fish to a plate. Before you even began your discussion, you could sense discomfort wafting off of him. The factors were as endless as the unknowns about your baby and it was unsettling especially to the man who preached science as his gospel. It was the only sense he had for many years and seeing it round on him illustrated the failings of society. For every advancement in food safety, there was a greedy corporate hound there to dismantle it.

He played his own part with Genius Built. Your forkfuls were bites of a moral conundrum. Donnie approached the debate on the side of banning fish. Its industry above all others posed the greatest risk. You had landed on the side of wanting to eat it. Instead of a fight, you had both stewed in silence.

Together you had exhausted all information. You were prepared for Donnie to persuade you. Instead, he waited. He knew duality better than most. The norm was usually choosing whatever lesser evil pertained to the individual. In this area, you chose for him.

You were growing your child after all. You compromised and set a standard that would be applied to whatever foods came next. There would be a limit on how much time you could weigh the benefits of a food item. If it became a headache, then it would be thrown out. If you felt strongly about eating something, then exceptions could be made.

You would do your best and that was all you could do.

Protein.

After the limitations were set, you could tell Donnie thrived under the parameters. With a time limit, he could no longer go on adding pros and cons until it drove him mad. He had a certain window in which to research and that eased his mind. While all of it was dedicated to you in some way, you liked having him around attentively instead of distracted by research about how to do right by you or your baby.

You also stepped in. After fish had illustrated the dark side of food consumption while pregnant, you made yourself present during the meal planning. You sat down with him once a week and did your best to decide together what to eat. You picked out things you were craving and built up around that. When you weren’t particularly feeling anything, you then chose lighter fare and left days open for exploration. You used them up eating out at restaurants where the components of a dish were known. You acknowledged your privilege in getting to do so, but balanced it amongst what seemed like waning time with your mate.

There would soon be another person vying for your attention and you were more aware of it in your thirteenth week. It marked the occasion where there was a stark drop off in the chance that you would miscarry. You made the date an entire night out with your mate and he partook without reservation. Those consecutive visits that you thought might be tedious suddenly blossomed into a journey. That live feed, static cam footage of what was happening inside of you continued to grow and with it your confidence. You were going to have a baby with the love of your life and you spent a balmy July night wrapped up in that knowledge.

You then spent the next day planning meals around chicken.

It felt like a comical omen of things. For as fantastical as your world was, there was an inevitable dose of reality. Donnie’s endless pocket book did little when crafting a daily menu. You guessed the less sensible of his type of elite had someone else do this sort of thing, but Donnie had never been anything less than hands on. You owned a set of aged mismatched Tupperware like anyone else. You filled containers with a rice medley and tried to dole out even amounts even while the vessels varied in shape. They came with you as you went to work and you waited in the same line when it came time to reheat your food in the microwave.

It was grounding.

In the world where Dr. Kuro was taking notes like she would soon publish multiple prize winning scientific papers, you were still you.

You had no plans of quitting this life when the baby was born.

Donnie had more than enough time to take the role of a stay at home parent and you relished the thought. You pictured him with towels on his shoulder for spit up and the ensuing gag he’d surely make for each diaper. You bet he would fashion himself a mask to preserve his nostrils and he’d strap in with an entire suit to protect his person from fluids. There was no way he’d actually be able to subvert the dirtiness that came with babies and you bet as soon as Lady Nagami found out that she would be wringing her hands at the increased income stream coming her way.

Your husband in an apron.

Your husband with a lump that looked just like him sleeping on his chest.

Your husband exhausted in the middle of the night as he soothed a sobbing infant.

You mooned it all until someone popped your bubble with a comment about your food having long finished warming in the microwave.

You excused an additional 15 seconds to get that extra boiling temp amongst teasing groans.

You ate with your coworkers and caught up on gossip.

Things were looking up.

Iron.

Spinach was back.

In reality, it had been back.

It was your most dreaded super food.

It had been haunting you since your days of calcium.

Popeye vexed you in ways you couldn’t quite articulate.

You almost wished you could chug down a can like him in one gulp.

You would swallow your daily dose whole and be done with it.

Instead, you reconsidered your position on fortified foods. It was in your fourteenth week that you walked right up to where Donnie was sitting at his desk. He spun his chair to address you openly and you cleanly told him, “I need a break from spinach. I want to barter on juice and cereal!”

He approached the metaphorical table with folded hands in front of his mouth. “Go on.”

“You make the juice and we do a cereal taste test.”

You had clearly thought over your proposal and he dropped his act. He accepted and asked if he had forced the greenery on you. You told him that he hadn’t, but you were on your last nerve with the repetition. You both ruminated on all the benefits as a way to give spinach it's time before you let it go. You left the chance open that you might return to it, but in the meantime you ordered a juicer.

It was delivered the next day and Donnie studied how best to utilize it. The planter Spencer had sent over soon multiplied. Where one box hung ornamental flowers, another soon sat with wheat grass and additives. Actual herbs were located amongst your other vegetables on the roof and with that, you planned an exploratory trip to a farmer’s market that weekend.

The sun cooked the summer day and your large hat did little amongst the persisting heat. Even Donnie in his layers seemed worn by it and you ended up purchasing drink after drink. You found a particular blend of fresh juice and lemon ginger tea to be a hallmark amongst your sips. Donnie probed the purveyor and found him to be satisfying enough that he purchased a set of juices from the stand. You haul was then supplemented with a few produce items you didn’t grow yourself and you returned to send them through the blades of your machine.

Each morning that followed would come with you and Donnie teasing each other with concoctions in the kitchen. You made up for the loss in fiber from fruit by tossing in things like flax through the juicer. It seemed like a silly act at the time, but you and your mate both found that it mixed in well. A spice grinder soon appeared and you were putting peppery spins of drinks for the sake of it.

By the fifteenth week, you welcomed spinach back, but only if it was joined by the quintessential apple a day and a few other vitamin boosting and flavor covering pals and ground beyond its textures and into something new.

You got used to lugging around colorful sips in a handy insulated bottle and it was something you toted around. Most places cared little in the city if you had a water bottle and you took advantage of that. You found it easier to sip mindlessly while you did other activities. It worked almost as an idling method while you thought, which was something you did in front of a wall of cereals.

Donnie’s glasses were especially flared in their dual colors as he analyzed the lot and you waited nearby. You had long learned at this point not to be swayed by anything written on the packaging. You were chained to ingredient’s lists. They were the closest you could get to the honest truth of a food’s make-up and Donnie had modified his glasses to sweep through that and a company’s procedure with only a glance.

“Options!” Your mate spoke suddenly and surged forward.

You sucked from your straw and leaned against your cart as you waited.

Donnie picked things off the shelf in a growing stack.

You watched them increase to a brow raising level before he walked the balancing act over to you.

He lined them up in a standing row and swept a hand over top. “Here’s a viable selection, my dearest.”

“That’s more than I thought.” You leaned forward on the cart’s handle to overlook the bounty.

“Quite.”

“You always think it’ll all be sugary.” You refused to move and stepped up on the lower cart bar.

Donnie grabbed the basket so it wouldn’t move.

“Take out that third one. Catalina Crunch is not a cereal. They like to pretend. It’s totally just cardboard meant to be eaten dry.” You pointed.

He plucked the selection free and returned it to the shelf.

“A few of these are the same brand.”

“I selected within your taste preference.” He returned just as the cart started to roll and stopped it with his foot. “Shall we further narrow?”

You sighed as if put out and hopped off the cart. Donnie took his turn to lean as you joined his side. He watched you instead of your choices as you flipped through the boxes. You plucked two from the same brand whose names were one word off and compared them back to back. There was an odd difference in calories while all the other nutrition facts seemed the same. The ingredients list revealed little, but time crept up on you. You ended up tossing out both options and left the store with seven total cereals.

You parted from Donnie and the bags at the door when you got home. Your husband was none the wiser as he twisted with his totes and made sure everything was closed. He sauntered over to meet you in the kitchen and paused when he saw you had a litany of bowls out. He reviewed the many dishes and you turned to him with two spoons and a sparkling gaze.

“We’ll need a rinsing process or a new utensil each time for an adequate taste test.” He spoke with metered affection.

You leapt at him and he took your weight with a hefty squeeze.

You were sat down, but he didn’t leave where he was pressed to you as you dolled out cereal.

You opened a box at a time and he poured the milk with a flourished grace. You teased him about what kind of barista he would have been and he scoffed at the concept. You went on through your first bite to mention how he ground his own beans. By your third and fourth bowls you added how finicky he was about water temperature. He was darting his eyes by the sixth bowl as you detailed his organic cotton filters and his gooseneck kettle.

By the last bowl, you had two cereals chosen and an alternate line of work for your husband.

You spun a yarn about your twilight years as Donnie cleaned up. The rest of the cereal was sealed off and bound to be downed by that exact man. You would join him on a few of the options for the sake of it, but he never particularly cared to down a food as long as it was inoffensive to him.

He listened attentively to your tale about how your kids would be grown and moved out. They’d have illustrious careers and the two of you would give up city life. You’d find a lake that better mimicked Donnie’s biodome and buy it outright. He’d improve the ecosystem, set up a nature preserve, and the café on the edge of the grounds would fund it. You would live in a house connected to it and spend lazy days surrounded by nature and the sweet smells of coffee.

“Will they come to visit?” Donnie whispered as you finished up your story.

“Our kids?” You looked at him.

He nodded one anxious time.

You smiled and took your time in dusting cereal flakes from his black ensemble. “Every year.”

That response seemed too tepid for him, but you weren’t done.

“Instead of just Christmas, they take the whole last few weeks of the year off to stay with us. The oldest picks up pond study where your knees have been giving you trouble and our youngest whines about how there aren't better shops nearby. You remind them that you asked for their lists beforehand so you can order everything, but they always forget.”

Donnie slacked and came in closer.

“Then there’s the surprise visits and we lose count. One of them gets dumped and drives out and shows up in the middle of the night looking like a mess. You spend the whole night cheering them up and plotting some poor kid’s take down. Sometimes they get bored and pop in with a silly, ‘we were in the area.’ Then there’s the grandkids. They love the water and their pop-pop.”

“Pop-pop?” The illusion was broken and Donnie chuffed.

“You would want something silly like that.”

“Papa.” Donnie spoke with a sharp edge.

“Isn’t that for dads?” You teased.

“Could be for both…” He had a soft, unrelenting smile.

You guessed it was.

Exercise.

“It’s been three months.” Donnie spoke as he moved the sofa.

“Mhm.” The bundle of your mat was clutched to your chest.

“Well?”

You feigned a listless gasp.

His cheeks puffed out the slightest amount as he set the furniture aside.

“My beloved Donatello, corrupted by gossip!” You continued on and rolled out your mat.

Said man rounded toward you with his displeasure.

You laughed and spread out your hands to get the corners down.

He waited with a grouch above you.

You cutely rolled onto your back and looked up at him.

He had to school himself to keep his features annoyed.

“I know what you’re asking, but I kind of want to hear you say it.”

He frowned deeply.

You sat up long enough to locate your resistance band.

He paced mentally and it showed in the slightest bob of his body.

You flopped back down with less grace and stretched the band between your hands.

“What happened with Coral and Nelson?” He all but snapped the truth of his question.

Your grin split your face.

He dropped down to squat beside you and waited.

“You’re so cute.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Patently incorrect. I do not have enlarged eyes, rounded cheeks, or comparatively small bone structure.”

“You’re describing babies.”

He was further put out and a protesting whine caught in his throat.

“Adorable.” You told him with full admiration.

He wilted with his large arms. “Darling…”

“I’m not teasing you.” You explained. “I really do think so, Sweet. I’ve thought so since the moment we met. I thought you were handsome and then I thought you were cute.”

“Your taste…” He ushered and clearly held himself back from touching you.

You stretched with the band and brushed the backs of your hands together for the sake of it.

He churred softly.

“Okay, so the pilates move I’ve been having trouble with…” You laid down and gave the resistance band some length before hiking your legs up and tucking your heels into it.

He watched on with some gripe oozing off of him.

You would tell him what he wanted to know, but couldn’t help but drum up suspense. “So there’s a machine to do this in, but theoretically I shouldn’t need it.

You stretched out your legs and the band came with you. You wrapped the rubber around your palms for a good hold and brought your legs straight up into the air. You kept the band from snapping away with pointed toes and then tried to split your legs, but your heels caught on the rubber.

“See.”

Donnie let go of some of his complaints and his head wove in observation. “What is the machine like?”

“It has separate bands for each leg.”

“Easier to split.” He hummed.

“Exactly.”

“Socks?” He wondered.

“I can’t use them. Too much grip.”

He frowned and stood to approach your legs.

“She’s still doing the class, obviously.” You snuck in. “Coral, I mean.”

Donnie continued to examine your feet.

“I think she likes it. It’s not really a super sweaty kind of workout. I think it's fine. I get that it's a low impact exercise, but some of the ways the teacher can stretch are terrifying…! Like she’ll do a jackknife, go into control balance, and then she backwards somersault into a crab!”

“Is this how you were told to do it?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Your teacher, she’s a career instructor?”

“Yeah, after doing ballet when she was young.”

He nodded once before tapping your legs.

You brought them down and safely freed the band.

“I’m unfamiliar with resistance training, but I recognize a pulley.”

He urged you to sit up.

You did so and watched as he went for your gym bag. He gathered a toning tube and traded it out for your loop band. After stowing the other item, he returned and had you sit with your legs out. He started with your right and slipped the handle around your foot. He then wound around your back so the band stretched and pulled against the resistance to do the same to your left foot. “Now try.”

“It’ll slip when I stick my legs out.”

He openly thought. “Being on your back isolates leg muscles, but the band should compensate. Does the motion require your legs to straighten?”

It was your turn to ponder. “No…? I’m supposed to go up, out, and in to stretch the pelvis.”

“Rendering start position irrelevant.”

You nodded and laid back.

It took some adjusting to lay comfortably on a rubber cord, but you eventually managed. Once you were settled, you pulled at the band with your knees folded and were careful in raising your legs up. You soon had them extended high and rolled outward for the necessary spreading motion. The band undulated beneath you, but stayed in place until you completed one rep of the exercise.

“We got it!” You cheered and did a few more for the sake of it.

“Discuss with your teacher if this is appropriate.”

“And if not I’ll find out why.” You sent him knowing affection.

He lavished in it.

“So Coral and I have done seven total weeks of pilates. That’s three more than the three month deadline of asking Nelson out.”

Donnie’s head lifted with attention.

You held out eye contact.

His pupils darted through a few imagined scenarios before he finally looked at you.

“Their first date is next week.”

He perked up with high brows. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

“He asked her.”

Donnie got to his knees and addressed you fully. “Explain.”

You laughed and continued to stretch your legs. “They say exercise boosts confidence. Nel’s never really had that, but he’s been doing this circuit training thing since his last girlfriend or whatever. The three month deal deadline came up and Coral said she was looking for the best time to spring it on him which is so weird for her. I figured she would just blurt it out, but I guess it’s different since they’ve known each other for years. Anyway, she got home from the gym one day at the same time as him. He made them both quinoa because it’s good after a workout or whatever and boom, he served it up, told her there was a place that makes way better, and asked if she wanted to go.”

Donnie slowly took in the information.

“Oh and she did blurt out asking if that was a date. I guess he laughed and said it was if she wanted and she berated him for being noncommittal.”

“They’ll last weeks at most.” He chuffed.

“Or forever. No in-between.” You chuckled.

You folded your legs to end your exercise and watched Donnie trace the movement.

“Wanna try?”

“My prosthetic.” His gaze pinched. “I can fashion an attachment.”

“Like I’d start you here!” You playfully sat up. “I’m a bonafide intermediate!”

“I see…” He deferred to you even though he had leagues of fighting experience that made that statement particularly inaccurate and gave you an idea.

“We should remember the grip thing…” You got off the mat so he could get on. “Since you’re new and all.”

He took your spot.

“It’s better-no safer with bare skin and it would be way too much trouble for you to change into your gym clothes so you should ditch your pants…”

He saw right through your game with narrowed eyes.

You waited with excitement that would have had your tail wagging if you had one.

He was obvious in giving up for a show and arched to get his waistband. “You are the intermediate.”

“Yay!” You cheered as softly as you could before biting your lip at your husband’s chiseled form.

💜 NEXT 💜

Thank you to my beta @tmntxthings

#softspotfic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

40 notes · View notes