What up! I wrote this self indulgent, meandering mess of PWP because no one stopped me (I freaking ship these two dorks, man). It's a two parter, first part from Donnie's POV and second from April's. Donnie and April are 18 and 19 respectively.

Fact: Donnie loves April.

Like, seriously. Donnie. Loves. April. 100 percent eternal, unconditional, head over heels would-die-for-her-in-a-heartbeat love.

He loves her bravery, her dedication and strength of character, her scientific curiosity and that big, beautiful brain of hers, her sharp wit and sense of humor, her laugh, her voice, her freckles, the cute pouty face she makes when she's annoyed about something, anddd the list pretty much goes on forever.

And if he was being honest with the world, the force-of-one-thousand-Hypergiant-class-stars love he harbors for April meant that she also, well, "really got Donnie going," if you will. She got his DC Series motor a'runnin'. Made him hot under the collar - er, shell. Fired up his insides like patties on a grill on the Fourth of July. Insert some other lame euphemism for sexual attraction here. It had never mattered to Donatello that April was a human and he was not; he was perfectly capable of feeling that way about her. Always had been.

Oh, man, the dreams he used to have when he was a bit younger, and much more naive. He almost wants to laugh thinking about them now (not that he doesn't still have those dreams about the redheaded Kunoichi, they're just much less 'embellished' these days).

Many of Donnie's younger teenage dreams would begin the same way: he'd catch her alone after a successful world-saving adventure together, noticeably suaver, braver, and cooler than he was in real life; inevitably there would be some epic, mutual confession of love, then he'd lean down with all the confidence in the world and kiss April senseless, with lots of tongue, and she would moan into his mouth and hop into his arms, her strong, perfect legs wrapped around his shell, her arms tight around his neck so their bodies were practically molded to each others', and then they'd… er, etcetera etcetera.

Put frankly, post the age of five, the most intelligent and reserved of the turtles had never had a problem with ruining his bedsheets as he slept - that is, he'd never had a problem with it until he met April O'Neil.

But even though April makes Donnie feel hot all over and his stomach flip-flop with excitement way more easily and frequently than he would ever care to admit, he's kind of been forced to get pretty darn good at hiding it. What with all those years of one-sided pining over his best friend, Donatello has (sometimes very narrowly) dodged and weaved his way around plenty of awkward boner situations — a notably high percentage of them concentrated within the last month or so of his life, whaddaya know — but miraculously, even with Donnie now holding the (unbelievable, incredible) title of "April's boyfriend" (boyfriend!) for the last 7 weeks, 2 days, and approximately 22 hours, so far he has managed to avoid scarring her for life with his weird mutant anatomy. Which is a very good thing.

It's getting a little hard for Donatello to keep this up, however, given the increasingly heated kissing that's been occurring between them lately (pretty much always initiated by his very assertive girlfriend - he's not out to push his absurdly good luck, here). And Donnie hasn't totally figured out how to cope with this new, equal-parts-exciting-and-nerve-wracking development in his and April's romantic relationship, yet. And they sure as heck haven't talked about it yet, or even come close to approaching the awkward subject of sex - AKA, the awkward subject of the inevitable lack of any sex in their relationship. Because he is a giantmutant turtle, obviously, quite literally a freak of nature, so... obviously April is never going to consider doing anything like that with him, never going to want him like that, which is entirely, heartbreakingly fair of her, because… well, see beginning of sentence.

Making out is one thing. And with (lots of) April's encouragement, they've even managed to fumble around second base a few times without Donnie getting so overwhelmed he passes out, but… April actually seeing him down there? Allowing him to get anywhere near her with it once she realizes exactly what she's dealing with? That is a whole other… thing.

It hurts a little bit to think about, yes, but he's just being realistic, here. Besides, he's had years to come to terms with it. He'll be forever grateful that this beautiful human girl (who could easily be with any guy she wanted!) still wants to be with him at all despite the assured lack of intimacy on that front, man, she has no idea. And honestly, any form of sex with April had always been such an outright impossibility in his mind, it feels pretty normal to him that it's going to stay that way, in spite of their relatively new status of being "official."

Donnie is unbelievably happy with the way things are now; seriously, having the love of his life actually returning his feelings is a total dream come true.

But. There is still the matter of the fact that Donnie is half turtle, and he does not wear pants, and when he reaches a certain level of arousal there is absolutely NO way for him to hide it much to his chagrin, and he's discovering that it takes a hell of a lot of physical and mental stamina to literally "keep it in his shell" when his insanely beautiful girlfriend with a bangin' highly-trained-Kunoichi body has a habit of plopping herself down in his lap, grabbing his green cheeks and smushing her lips against his whenever there are no teasing brothers, Kirby O'Neils, or Casey Joneses around to see.

Take tonight, for example. It had started with a standard movie night at April's empty apartment to celebrate her finishing her first round of university midterms - Donnie had helped her cram every night for a week - but halfway through the movie, April had wordlessly climbed into Donnie's lap, taken his face into her soft hands and gazed at him expectantly with those big baby blues, and Donnie does not expect he will ever know what happens during the second half of this mediocre romantic comedy, no sir he will not.

Donnie shivers as the stunning girl straddling his thighs places slow kisses along his jawline, all six of his fingers curling into her t-shirt where they hold onto her waist. Holy toledo, April is being extra handsy today and it's already rumbling to life, his little problem, and Don is trying his hardest not to let it worry him, to stay in the moment as she lightly drags her fingertips down his plastron. But that is definitely easier said than done. He feels her draw a teasing circle on his pulse with her tongue, and can't hold back the breathy, needy sound that follows, his stomach giddy with heat.

After swiftly removing his belt and elbow pads, April leans back, her arms disappearing into her shirt to grapple around inside of it. Donnie's mouth dries up, his heart beating faster, because this time around he knows exactly what's coming next. Soon she'sdragging both yellow t-shirt and black sports bra over her head, carelessly tossing them away, and even though they've gone this far twice before, Donatello still feels his tongue start to salivate the second her unbearably lovely breasts come into his hyper-focused view.

His hands reach for her before his chivalrous brain can catch up, and he stops halfway to his goal, his eyes darting sheepishly up to hers.

"Ah, may I?" He flashes her his signature nervous-but-eager gap-toothed smile, and she giggles, the airy, musical sound of it sending pure happiness coursing through Donnie's veins.

"Uh, yeah, ya may."

April grabs the back of his hands and unceremoniously closes the gap between his speckled palms and her chest, pressing them firmly against herself with a grin.

They share a quiet laugh, both falling silent as Don carefully cups her in his oversized hands, his eyes half-lidded. He'll never be able to get over how soft she is. He brushes the flats of his thumbs back and forth over her nipples, openly fascinated by the way they harden at his touch, then gives them a gentle pinch.

"Donnie," April hisses in a sharp exhale, and that's all the encouragement he needs to dive forwards, the tails of his mask trailing in the air behind him. His wide tongue darts out to thoroughly caress a nipple before he delicately sucks it into his mouth. Her arms snake around to cradle his head against her chest as he lovingly kisses and suckles her, both of them starting to breathe hard. She cooes approvingly against the top of his head, and Donnie can feel himself growing hard.

"My god, you are so gorgeous," he whispers shakily, dropping kisses along the tops of her breasts, trying to convey his own words to her with every ounce of his heart behind them.

"Mm. You're such a smooth talker, you know that?"

That's highly debatable, Don thinks as he feels her slip a hand beneath his chin, tilting his face so he's gazing up at her. Donnie's breath hitches audibly in his throat, because April O'Neil is a damn vision, kiss-swollen pink lips stretched in a coy little smile, her mussed up hair backlit by the movie still playing at a low volume behind them, her blue eyes glinting fondly in the dim light, freckles spattered across her blushing cheeks, chest and shoulders. Forget beautiful - she's ethereal.

April laughs at what must be a truly dopey, lovestruck expression on his face. "Man, it's kind of unfair how cute you are. C'mere…"

Donnie's heart skips a beat at hearing April call him 'cute.' The concept of April actually liking the way he looks to some extent has been a hard one for the tall turtle to grasp, even though she's said as much more than a few times by this point.

He wraps his arms more securely around her, dwarfing her in his vast embrace as he catches her parted mouth with his, heads tilting until they're at the angle they've learned is most suited for deep kissing with their differently shaped profiles. And oh, how Donnie loves it. Could never, ever get enough of making out with April. The feel of her tongue gliding into his mouth to run along his own, her nails scratching over the divots and patterns of his carapace, her bare breasts squished against his front as she hums out little noises between the passionate smacks of their lips, oh, gosh… this still feels like it has to be some out-of-this-world fantasy that his lovesick brain cooked up, even as he's living it in real time. How he got this lucky, Donnie will never understand. It'll always be one of those unexplainable phenomena of the universe, and believe him, he doesn't accept the idea of unexplainable things so easily.

When April releases an undeniable moan into his mouth, exactly the way fantasy-April always did in his accursed wet dreams of yesteryear,Donnie feels the awkward boner situation escalate from 'high alert' into 'critical' territory. Oh, no, no, no... ugh, this is pathetic, they're only kissing! Well, she is topless, but still...

He tries in vain to calm himself down - Come on, Donatello, you got this. Don't freak out, don't be weird, don't make her think anything's wrong! Think of Mikey burping the alphabet in your ear at breakfast this morning. Think of Raph wearing that stupid fedora he insists on keeping. Think of physics. Katas. Casey farting. Tigerclaw in a clown costume. April half-naked and moaning in your - wait, no!

Donnie winces and switches mental gears, somewhat desperately considering the worst-case scenario for a moment. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world? They've been dating for almost 2 months now, maybe, maybe he could somehow ask her, if it'd be okay for him to...

His brain echoes with a harsh laugh before Don can even finish the thought. Get real, genius! She'll take one single look at you, and it'll be all over.

The old mutant-mushroom fueled hallucination, the one that always felt eerily like a real memory, rears its ugly head again: April but not-April pointing at him savagely, not-April's cruel, cutting voice, her teeth razor sharp as she spits the words at him like venom - MUTANT, WEIRDO, 3-FINGERED FREAK-

Donnie forces the non-memory out of his head, but that shameful wish hits him again (the one he could never in a million years admit to having, especially to his brothers), the wish that god, why couldn't he just be a normal human guy with normal-looking junk, who would be able to wear pants, and be free to kiss and touch his girlfriend without having to worry himself to death over stuff like this, every time. Gah, he'd give anything to be that normal guy right now, not this mutant hybrid freak who not only can't comfortably wear pants, but who also possesses bodily physiologies enabling him to literally smell just how aroused his girlfriend is becoming right now - come on, how is that at all fair?!

Donnie manages to shift around beneath her and press his legs together without April noticing, but this only delays the issue. He won't deny it, he's overwhelmed, overstimulated and overthinking all of it; he knows he's starting to freak out, and that awareness is only making him freak out more.

His arousal attempts another twinge to freedom, and Donnie groans as quietly as he can through gritted teeth, the frustrating agony of keeping his erection hidden beginning to take its toll on his resolve. He feels April's paint-chipped nails scratching over his trembling shoulders, her strong thighs squeezing his between them, her soft curves pressing tighter against him than he can ever remember her being before - and then the smoothest, most perfect lips ever press a hot, wet kiss to his pulse point, and when she catches an inch of his skin between her teeth in that no-nonsense-April way, Donnie thinks he might cry, or die, or both. He squeezes his thighs together as hard as he possibly can, sucking in shallow gulps of air through the gap in his teeth.

"Mm… Dee…"

Donnie shudders with a breathless sigh at the sound of his nickname, his eyes shut tightly enough to form deep creases in his purple mask. Her hips do this faint wiggling motion and Donnie reels, hardly able to comprehend what's happening.

Woah woah, is she…!

His wide eyes immediately seek out April's, and her mouth tugs into a sweet, shy smile before she rolls her hips into the bottom of his plastron again, striking up a tantalizing rhythm as she leans down to kiss him.

Okay, yup, April is definitely grinding on him. Darwin's. Beard.

Donnie is dying. He must be dying, he's sure of it by the sheer force with which his heart is furiously pumping blood, his skin beading sweat all over, his shell unbearably tight. He does his best to kiss her back properly, like the way she deserves, but it's hard when he feels like he can't breathe, not to mention he's deathly afraid of making one single movement underneath her, absolutely certain April will come to her senses and the moment will be ruined if he moves so much as a muscle. He fights to swallow down all of the embarrassingly overwhelmed sounds welling up in his chest, but a few soft whines break free anyway.

Just - the feel of April's body moving that tiniest little bit, like that, against him, even if it's only an imitation of making love — god, it just sets him on fire, his entire body aching for her, pleading for him to just let go, his mind trying to distract him from the dire situation at hand by recalling in droves the many many April-and-him-together fantasies that coincide almost exactly with his current reality.

Don grips either side of her plush hips as tightly as he dares, trying frantically to keep it together, to find the resolve to slow her down and figure a way out of this situation, and to maybe stop sweating so damn much while he's at it. But another blasé roll of his gorgeous human girlfriend's hips, and another nearly painful twinge between his legs later, he can feel himself on the cusp of sliding out, right out into the slightly humid air of the room for all to see, for her to see - and that's when the realpanic sets in.

She'll scream. There's no way she won't scream when it just appears out of nowhere and she sees what she really signed up for. She's going to think you're pushing her for sex, she's going to hate you, she's going to think you're disgusting, she'll never want to touch you again, she'll finally get wise to the fact that this is too much, that it would be too much for anyone, and it'll be all over, you idiot, why can't you just get a damn hold of yourself you stupid, stupid, stupid idiot -

April's hips pick up speed, and Donnie feels his swollen tail give a dangerous twitch.

Oh god, oh god, not now, not now, oh godgodgod say something, you have to say something now!

Hating himself, Donnie forces himself to remove his hands from her hips, opens his mouth, and braces for the worst.

R.I.P. Donatello ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 2 aka the longer, smuttier part to come soon (so I can move on with my life lol). Comments are mad appreciated, thanks for reading!