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April ONeil's Sexy Ninja Incounters.	By : Menydragon5 Category: S through Z > TMNT - Movies Views: 52 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer I don't own any main charater in this one-shot. And I did use AI to help write this.

Chapter List
- 1-Ageha
- 2-Aimu.
- 3-Amane.
- 4-Aria.
- 3
- 4
"That's a hell of a costume," the man in the too-tight Shredder mask said, his fingers brushing against April's bare shoulder like he owned it. His breath smelled like stale whiskey and poor decisions. "You really *commit* to the role—right down to the..." He let his gaze drag down her body, lingering where the emerald fabric clung to her sweat-slicked cleavage.

April forced a laugh, tilting her head just enough to catch the glint of moonlight on the warehouse roof behind him. "You think *this* is commitment?" She leaned in, letting her gloved hand trail up his armored chest, the ridges pressing into her palm. "I could show you what *real* dedication looks like." The lie slid off her tongue like honey.

His fingers tightened around her wrist—too tight—and for a heartbeat, she felt the ghost of panic flutter in her ribs. Then he smirked. "Prove it."

The bass from the hidden speakers throbbed through her boots as he pulled her deeper into the crowd. April let her hips sway. Every step sent a jolt through her—the humid air sticking to her thighs, the way the body suit clung where she was hottest, the electric prickle of being *watched*. Someone here knew more than costumes. And they were waiting for her to slip.

"Hey, wait up!" Aria's cymbals clanged softly against her hips as she ducked behind a papier-mâché tree. The redhead—no, brunette in disguise?—was being led toward the old maintenance shed by Shredder Guy. And *whoa*, were those three more Shredders slinking after them? Her fingers twitched toward her squeaky nose. "Okay, *that's* sketchy as hell."

The first Shredder's grip shifted—thumb pressing into April's pulse point. His voice dropped. "You're not as slick as you think, reporter." Her stomach flipped. *Busted*. But the sting of his grip, the sweat slick between their skin—it all sharpened into focus. She could *use* this.

Aria's sneakers scuffed gravel as she slid behind a trash bin. The shed door creaked. Shadows moved inside. The last Shredder glanced back. She froze, heart hammering—then his mask tilted down. Right at her discarded squeaky nose, rolling in the dirt. "Shit."

Aria is looking around at all the people in costume as she eats a dumpling. Aria thinks to herself. "Everyone looks so damn good tonight! Where should I go next?" She stops mid bite and her eyes are drawn to a woman in a Poison Ivy costume who is walking away with a guy in a Shredder mask. Aria's eyes are locked on Poison Ivy's hips as they sway hypnotically side to side with each step. "Damn, that is one fine ass." Aria mumbles under her breath as she licks her lips. She notices a few more Shredder masked guys sneaking behind them and she arches an eyebrow. "Hmm, something isn't right here." Aria tosses her half eaten dumpling aside and decides to follow them to see what's going on.

The crunch of gravel under her shoes seems deafeningly loud as Aria tries to quietly trail behind the group. She ducks behind a tree when the Shredder guy leading Poison Ivy glances back. Aria peers around the tree and sees the masked man pull Poison Ivy closer to him, his hand sliding down her back to rest possessively on her ass. Poison Ivy doesn't pull away, instead she leans into him with a sultry laugh that sends a shiver down Aria's spine. "What the hell is happening here?" Aria whispers to herself as she creeps closer, her curiosity burning hotter with each step.

The group stops near an old maintenance shed and the lead Shredder pushes the door open. The dim light from inside spills out, illuminating Poison Ivy's emerald green costume and the way it clings to every curve of her body. The other masked men form a loose circle around her as the lead Shredder says something too low for Aria to hear. Poison Ivy throws her head back with a laugh that sounds equal parts nervous and excited. One of the men reaches out to run a hand along her thigh and Aria's breath catches in her throat. She grips her cymbals tighter as adrenaline pumps through her veins.

Outside of the shed, April's stomach drops as the lead Shredder pulls off his mask. His smirk is razor-sharp and cruel. "You really thought you could sneak in here and get your story?" Another man steps forward, knife glinting in his hand. April's pulse pounds in her ears as she realizes just how deep she's dug herself. She barely manages to keep her voice steady. "You boys sure know how to show a girl a good time." Her fingers twitch toward the hidden recorder in her glove—if she can just stall them long enough...

The first swing comes with barely a warning, the knife flashing toward April's ribs. She twists away, but the second man grabs her wrist and yanks her back. Then—CLANG. The sound echoes throughout the area like a gunshot as one of Aria's cymbals slams into the attacker's head. He crumples. Aria lands in a crouch beside April, her other cymbal already spinning. "Wow, you really pissed these guys off, huh?" Her grin is wild, eyes alight with adrenaline. The remaining men hesitate just long enough for April to plant her boot in the nearest one's groin.

Aria doesn't wait for them to recover. She slides forward on her cymbals like a deranged ice skater, ramming into the next attacker with a bone-shaking impact. April grabs the lead Shredder by the collar while he's distracted, driving her knee up into his stomach. The metallic taste of fear is still thick on her tongue, but now it's mixed with something hotter, sharper—something that makes her fingers tighten in his hair as she hisses, "Who sent you?" Aria's laughter rings out behind her, bright and unhinged, as another body hits the floor.

The leader staggers back, blood smeared across his teeth. April barely has time to register the shift in his posture before his arm locks around her throat, dragging her against his chest. His knife presses into the soft underside of her jaw. "Drop the fucking cymbals, clown girl," he snarls. Aria freezes, her breath hitching as April's pulse thrums visibly against the blade. The air is suddenly too thick, too still—April can feel the sweat cooling between her breasts, the way her body suit sticks to the small of her back.

"Let Poison Ivy go," Aria demands. Her fingers twitch around the cymbals' straps, but her voice doesn't waver. The leader just laughs, dragging April backward toward the shed's rusted metal door. She claws at his forearm, her gloves catching on the rough fabric of his sleeve. His breath is sour against her ear. "You're both dead." April's vision starts to blur at the edges—then Aria moves, faster than any of them expect. She throws one cymbal like a discus, its edge catching the leader square in the temple. His grip loosens just enough for April to twist free, gasping as fresh air floods her lungs.

Aria doesn't give him time to recover. She's already airborne, her second cymbal raised high. The leader tries to block, but she shifts mid-air—her knee slams into his solar plexus instead, knocking him into the shed wall with a hollow bang. April watches, still panting, as Aria lands lightly beside him. The girl adjusts her little clown nose hat with one hand while pressing the cymbal's edge against his throat with the other. "Now," she chirps, her smile all teeth, "let's talk about why you're cosplaying as discount Shredder, huh?"

The leader groans, his eyelids fluttering—then his head lolls forward as he passes out cold. Aria rolls her eyes so hard April hears it. "Weak," she mutters, nudging his limp leg with her gold shoe. Then she turns, suddenly animated, bouncing toward April with her cymbals clattering against her hips. "Hey hey hey! You okay? That was *totally* not cool of them!" April catches the scent of sugar and sweat as Aria leans in too close, her purple eyes flickering over April's throat where the knife had pressed.

April rubs at the tender skin, swallowing against the lingering ache. "Yeah, I..." Her voice cracks. She clears it, tries again. "Thanks for that." The adrenaline crash makes her fingers tremble; she curls them into fists to hide it. "Who the hell are you?"

Aria beams, twirling a strand of her ponytail ribbon around one finger. "Me? Oh, I'm just..." Then she freezes, her gaze locking onto April's face properly for the first time. Her mouth drops open. "Holy *shit*," she breathes, stepping back like April burned her. The cymbals slip from her hands and hit the gravel with a dull clang. "You're... you're *April O'Neil*!" Her voice climbs an octave. "From Channel Six! The... the one who did that exposé on the..." She gestures wildly, nearly smacking herself in the face with her own pom-pom. April can practically see the realization dawning in those dilated pupils: *the reporter she'd figered off to three times last week.* Aria's throat bobs as she swallows. Hard.

April barely has time to register the recognition before Aria lunges—not for an attack, but to throw her arms around April's neck, her legs locking around April's waist with surprising strength. April staggers backward into the shed door, the impact knocking her wig askew. Aria's lips crash into hers before she can protest, hot and insistent, tasting like cherry soda and adrenaline. April's gloves scrabble against the rough wood behind her, splinters catching in the fabric. The kiss isn't gentle—it's desperate, messy, all teeth and smeared lipstick and Aria's ponytail ribbon tangling around April's fingers. When Aria finally pulls back, panting, her clown nose on her little hat squeaks. "Sorry," she gasps, not sounding sorry at all. "I just *really* needed to do that."

April's pulse hammers against Aria's collarbone where their bodies press together. The lingering fear from the knife-edge fades beneath something hotter, sharper—the drag of Aria's thigh against her hip, the way their sweat-slick skin sticks where Aria's crop top rides up. April's breath comes short. "You," she manages, voice rougher than she intends, "are *insane*." Aria giggles, high and breathless, her fingers tightening in April's wig. The red strands slip further, revealing a glimpse of April's real hair beneath.

Aria's pupils are blown wide, her lips swollen from the kiss. She doesn't move to disentangle herself; if anything, she presses closer, her legs locked around April's waist . "Insane? Maybe," she murmurs, her breath ghosting over April's jaw. Her thumb swipes at the smudged lipstick on April's mouth. "But you *kissed back*." April's stomach drops—because it's true. Her hands, she realizes, are gripping Aria's hips hard enough to leave bruises beneath that ridiculous ruffled outfit. Somewhere in the chaos, instinct had overridden sense. Aria's grin turns wicked. "So," she whispers, nose nudging April's ear, her voice dropping to a purr that sends heat straight to April's core, "what else you got, reporter girl?"

April opens her mouth—to argue, to protest—but Aria silences her with another kiss, deeper this time, her teeth catching April's bottom lip. The sudden shift in balance sends April stumbling backward, her boots slipping on loose gravel. Aria's fingers tighten in the fabric of April's suit as they trip—straight into the sagging vinyl wall of the abandoned bouncy house left near the shed. The material gives way with a grotesque squeak, swallowing them whole. April lands hard on her back, the air knocked from her lungs, only for Aria to straddle her waist with unrepentant delight.

The dim light filtering through the vinyl casts odd shadows across Aria's face—her clown face little hat askew, April's lipstick smeared like war paint on her lips. She doesn't hesitate. Both hands fist in April's wig, dragging her up into another bruising kiss. "You taste like danger," Aria murmurs against her mouth, her hips rolling deliberately against April's. The friction makes April gasp, her body arching without permission. Aria's laugh is low, triumphant. "And *you* move like you want me."

April's pulse is a hammer in her throat. The vinyl walls press in around them, trapping the scent of sweat and vinyl and Aria's cheap cherry soda. She can feel the heat radiating between their bodies, the way Aria's thighs tense as she shifts—deliberately slow—grinding down again. April's fingers dig into the vinyl beneath them, the material buckling under her gloves. Aria's breath hitches when April finally snaps, twisting them sharply to flip their positions. The bouncy house groans beneath them, the world tilting. Aria's startled giggle is swallowed by April's mouth as she pins her wrists against the vinyl. "Shut up," April breathes, her voice rough. "And stop moving."

Aria smirks up at April. "Buy the way... the name is Aria. Aria the Amazing, in case you were wondering." April barely registers the words—until Aria bucks her hips hard, flipping them both with a rubbery squeak. Suddenly April's back hits the vinyl, Aria straddling her waist with a victorious grin.

"See?" Aria rolls her hips—slow, deliberate—grinding down against April's lap. The friction makes April gasp.

Aria leans in, breath hot against April's ear. "Your body suit is *so* in the way," she purrs.

April's groan is half frustration, half want—her fingers digging into Aria's hips as the fabric between them drags against her clit. "You're *not* helping." The vinyl beneath them creaks with every roll of Aria's thighs.

Aria laughs—low, breathless—her nose nudging April's jaw. "Oh, I *absolutely* am." She shifts just enough to press harder—their bodies separated only by stubborn fabric, heat building where they can't quite touch. April arches beneath her, cursing under her breath. "Fuck, Aria..."

The clown girl grins, wild-eyed. "Say it again." Her hands slide down April's arms, pinning her wrists against the vinyl as she rocks harder. "Say my *name*." The vinyl groans. April's pulse thunders where Aria's thigh presses against her hips—too close, not close enough.

"You're..." April's breath hitches as Aria leans back, letting gravity drag her down harder. The bodysuit stretches tight over April's breasts with every ragged inhale. Aria's own chest bounces freely beneath her ruffled top; April can see the outline of her nipples hardening against the fabric. "Fuck. You're *impossible*."

Aria's laugh comes out breathless. Her hips stutter—deliberate—dragging the seam of April's suit right where she needs it. "Nah." She leans in, teeth grazing April's earlobe. "*You're* the one who's impossible." Her voice drops to a whisper. "Dressed like *this*? In *here*?" Another roll of her hips. April's back arches off the vinyl.

The air reeks of sweat and heated plastic. Aria's thighs tremble where they bracket April's hips—April can feel the muscle twitch against her own skin. The clown girl's breath comes in sharp little gasps now, her chest rising fast beneath that ridiculous costume. April watches, transfixed, as a bead of sweat slips between Aria's breasts. "Christ," April murmurs. Her fingers flex against Aria's grip. "You're *dripping*."

Aria suddenly stops mid-rock, her entire body going still. April blinks up—only to be met with those wild purple eyes, pupils blown so wide they swallow the color whole. Aria's grin is all teeth. "Ohhh," she breathes, "you *noticed*." Then, without warning, she sits up straight on April's lap, her knees pressing into the vinyl on either side of April's ribs. The shift makes April groan—the sudden pressure against her clit is electric. Aria's hands slide up April's arms, fingers tracing the damp fabric of her gloves before settling right under the cups of April's bodysuit. Her thumbs press into the swell of April's breasts. "Tell me," Aria purrs, leaning down until her nose brushes April's, "you didn't wear a bra under this. *Please*."

April's breath stutters. The vinyl squeaks beneath them. "That's..." Aria's thumbs drag higher, teasing the underside of April's nipples through the fabric. April's hips jerk. "*Fuck*."

Aria's laugh is dark, triumphant. Her fingers curl under the emerald fabric, nails scraping lightly over April's skin. "That's not an answer." The bodysuit stretches taut as Aria tugs—just enough to reveal the shadow of April's bare breasts beneath. Aria's breath hitches. "*Fuck* me," she whispers, her voice raw. April can feel the tremor in Aria's thighs where they press against her ribs. "You... you *aren't*." Aria's grip tightens, her fingers digging into April's flesh as she leans in, her lips brushing April's ear. "You *wanted* this." It's not a question.

April's throat works. The air between them is thick, suffocating. Aria's hips shifts—just enough to press herself harder against April's core. April's vision whites out for a second. When it clears, Aria's grinning down at her, her clown hat crooked, her lips swollen. April's hands fly up, grabbing fistfuls of Aria's ruffled top. "Shut up," April hisses—and yanks. The fabric tears with a satisfying rip. Aria's gasp is swallowed by April's mouth as she surges up to kiss her, tasting sweat and cherry chapstick and something dangerously close to *want*.

Aria's C-cup breasts spill free, bouncing lightly with the force of April's pull. The ruffled scraps of her top dangle uselessly around her waist. April barely has time to register the softness of Aria's skin before Aria retaliates—hands sliding beneath April's bodysuit, nails raking down her ribs. The emerald fabric peels away with a slick sound, April's D-cups bouncing free, as Aria drags the suit down past her hips. April's breath catches. Aria's fingers pause. "*Holy shit.*"

The bodysuit pools around April's ankles, forgotten. Aria's gaze drags down—slow, deliberate—taking in the damp curls between April's thighs. April's pulse kicks against her ribs. Aria's fingers twitch where they hover near April's hipbone. "You *planned* this," Aria breathes. Her thumb brushes April's inner thigh—light, teasing—and April's legs tremble.

April's laugh is rough, uneven. "Maybe." She leans back, letting Aria look her fill. The vinyl creaks beneath them, sticky with sweat. Aria's tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip. Her fingers curl, nails biting into April's skin. April's breath hitches. "Problem?"

Aria's grin is sharp. "Nope." Her hand slides higher. "Just impressed." The first brush of her fingertips against April's clit is electric—April arches off the vinyl with a choked gasp. Aria's laugh is low, triumphant. "And *very* motivated."

April's fingers tangle in Aria's ponytail, tugging hard enough to make her yelp. "Pants," April rasps, her voice rough. "Off. Now." Aria scrambles to obey, shimmying out of her ridiculous split-leg trousers with a wiggle of her hips. Beneath, her panties match the indigo and red of her ruined top—ruffled edges clinging to the curve of her hips. April's grip tightens. "Christ. You're *ridiculous*."

Aria leans in, her breath hot against April's collarbone. "Gloves stay," she murmurs, nipping at the sweat-slick skin. "Boots too." Her hands slide down April's arms, tracing the damp fabric of her long green gloves before gripping her wrists. "I *like* them." Then she surges forward, burying her face between April's breasts with a groan. The scent of sweat and synthetic vinyl is overwhelming—Aria rubs her cheek against the soft swell of April's left breast, her nose nudging the underside. "Fuck," she breathes, "you *smell*... good" Her tongue flicks out, licking a hot stripe along the curve.

April's back arches as Aria's mouth closes over her nipple—sucking hard, teeth grazing the peak. The sensation rockets straight to her clit, her thighs trembling. Aria's fingers dig into her hips, holding her still as she switches breasts, lavishing the same rough attention on the right. The vinyl creaks beneath them, sticky with sweat. April's gloves scrabble for purchase, fingers curling into fists. "Aria..." The name comes out strangled. Aria hums against her skin, the vibration sending another jolt through her. "God, *yes*..."

"Thought you wanted me to shut up?" Aria pulls off with a wet *pop*, grinning up at April with swollen lips. Her fingers fumble with the clasp of her own bra—indigo straps tangled around her ribs. The fabric gives way with a soft snap, her big C-cups bouncing free. The air between them is thick, humid—April can see the sheen of sweat glistening between Aria's breasts. Aria's hands slide down her own torso, slow and deliberate, hooking into the waistband of her ruffled panties. "Better?" she breathes, shimmying them down her thighs with a wiggle of her hips. The fabric catches on one boot before falling away entirely.

April's breath hitches. Aria's pussy—bare, glistening—is inches from her own. The scent of her arousal mixes with the vinyl and sweat, heady and primal. Aria's knees press into the vinyl on either side of April's hips, her thighs flexing as she shifts forward. "Now," Aria murmurs, her voice rough, "let's *fix* this." She rocks her hips once—slow, testing—the first brush of skin against skin electric. April's gasp is sharp, her fingers flying to Aria's waist. "Oh *fuck*..."

Aria doesn't give her time to adjust. She grinds down harder, their wetness mingling, the slide dizzying. The friction burns just shy of *too much*—April's vision whites out for a second, her hips lifting to meet Aria's next thrust. Aria's moan is ragged, her hands braced on April's shoulders for leverage. "Feel that?" she pants, her breath hot against April's collarbone. "Feel how *fucking* wet you are?" April can only nod, her throat too tight for words. Aria's laugh is breathless, triumphant. "Yeah. *Me too.*"

The next roll of Aria's hips is slower—deliberate—dragging her clit against April's in a slick, torturous arc. April's fingers dig into Aria's thighs, blunt nails leaving crescent marks in the soft flesh. Aria hisses, but doesn't pull away—instead, she leans in, her nose nudging April's ear. "Tell me," she murmurs, her voice rough with want, "how bad you *need* it." April's answer is a broken moan as Aria shifts—suddenly, perfectly—aligning them just right. The pressure is electric, unbearable. April's legs tighten around Aria's waist instinctively, dragging her closer. Aria groans, her hips stuttering. "*Fuck.* Just like that."

Then Aria moves—harder, faster—her knees bouncing against the vinyl floor as she fucks April with reckless abandon. The bouncy house responds to their rhythm, each thrust sending them higher, the vinyl squeaking beneath their sweat-slick bodies. April's back arches off the floor with every impact, her breasts bouncing freely as their wetness mixes—hot, slick—between their thighs. Aria's laughter is breathless, unhinged. "*Look* at us," she gasps, her fingers tightening around April's wrists. "We're *flying.*" April barely has time to register the words before Aria bucks her hips—hard—sending them both airborne for a dizzying second.

The world tilts—April's vision blurs—and then they're crashing back down, Aria landing atop her with a force that knocks the air from her lungs. Their pussies slap together wetly, the sound obscenely loud in the confined space. April's cry is sharp, ragged—her body tightening around nothing as pleasure coils impossibly tight in her gut. Aria's breath is hot against her throat, her hips grinding in tight, desperate circles. "*Come on,*" she growls, her voice cracking. "*Come with me.*" April's body obeys—her orgasm slams into her like a freight train, her thighs trembling as she clamps around Aria's thigh. Aria follows with a strangled shout, her cunt pulsing against April's as they bounce—once, twice—before collapsing in a tangled heap.

The vinyl groans beneath them, still vibrating faintly from their frantic movements. Aria's forehead rests against April's collarbone, her breath coming in ragged gasps. April's fingers twitch where they're tangled in Aria's ponytail ribbon—looser now, but still holding on. Aria lifts her head just enough to meet April's gaze—her grin is slow, satisfied. "*That,*" she pants, "*was amazing.*" April doesn't argue—her body still humming with residual pleasure, her limbs loose and heavy. The scent of sex and sweat hangs thick in the air between them. Aria's nose wrinkles playfully. "*And* we totally wrecked this bouncy house." April laughs—soft, disbelieving—her chest rising and falling against Aria's. Aria's grin widens. "*Worth it.*"
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April ONeil's Sexy Ninja Incounters.