#Dona AU

[imagionationstation]

I don’t know what’s going on with my brain but it has been AU gender swapping Donnie so hard the past few days.

I’m just going to fix the series in a few simple steps:

Donnie leaning heavily on April only because she’s the first other female that she’s gotten to interact with ever

Leo getting some female interaction so he sees Karai as a potential friend instead of immediately crushing and the later reveal isn’t as conflicting since they’re just battle besties

Casey stays decent and awesome without the “battle for April” plot making his character hard to truly appreciate

The brothers are more supportive of Donnie and her attempts to form a relationship with April & Donnie doesn’t have to talk to a jar of guts and mutagen because they know how secluded she’s been, so they’re more free with advice like hey, maybe don’t stalk her and just text her or somethin’, mkay?

Splinter visibly checking up on her activities in the lab throughout the series because he has no idea how to raise a female (he was counting on Tang Shen for that) but he does his best to let her know he cares by supporting her in other ways 💜🤎

More softie Raph moments with his sis so the haters in the audience don’t hate him as much as they unreasonably do

Mikey doesn’t need to change. He just gets to have some more of the “emotionally intelligent” moments that we were deprived off.

I can’t think straight with all these bubbling rewrites help me-

For anyone who cares, also my favorite tidbits:

Splinter not realizing that Donnie was female at first and the name Donatello just ends up sticking. Donnie will die on a hill that Donatello is gender neutral even though her family and friends know it’s not. It’s a topic that they just avoid bringing up

Her brothers use Dona when they’re teasing her

An explanation as to why canon Donnie’s figure is just so randomly different from her practically identical brothers

The shock of Irma isn’t as crippling because April still has Donnie as her devoted female bestie & now the farmhouse era is a lot less stressful and complicated for April and the viewers

Role model Leo still exists & Donnie has a crisis over him bonding with Karai and that creates tension for a while & Four Trap is actually Leo accusing Donnie of not trying hard enough because of that past debacle and “try harder” has clear purpose

Donnie gets an official ✨ big sister ✨ and that means that good-guy snake Karai exists in the series more as the reptilian mutant females bond

Overprotective brothers over their sister (and-)

The sister who appreciates it but there are some moments where she gets tired of them treating her like she’s not as capable as them (not true, but how she interprets their actions) and one episode decides to prove herself (Operation Break Out)

Potential for Casey/Donnie but currently undecided

Consistent “girls are so emotional” jokes that are beyond cringe but the viewers have to tolerate them anyway bc 2012 humor

Broken Foot actually having an affect on Karai since she almost took part in killing off her only sister

Donnie’s biggest fear is that her brothers will one day get tired of her because of how different she is/feels and then she’ll be alone & this fear is the main debacle that she struggles with through the entire series instead of the weird love triangle thing

It’s okay everyone I’ll shut up now and go sit in my corner bye ✌️

[borisnightingale]

I made some finished pieces of the Dona AU by @imagionationstation check it out, it’s basically and AU where Donnie is a girl and it is really cool and freaking awesome and I. Love. It.

Here are some sketches I made that might be made into pieces

I love female Donnie so much you wouldn’t believe. She has invaded my brain and is providing much needed dopamine.

I gave her lashes because how could I not I mean, I think Donnie deserves lashes even if she can’t grow them . Most of these are redraws of screenshots from certain episodes, tho the last one is from a fan art I found on Pinterest and sadly I couldn’t find the artist. It was mostly a sketch to get to know Donnie as a character so yeah.

If I do make that sketch a drawing I would change some things about it but it was just a draft.

Please check out the creator of the AU they are so freaking cool.

[dreamerwitches]

Magical witches for Bella Donna and Gela! These both took me two goes… im most happy with Gela because clowns just spark my inspiration

Bella Donna is mostly inspired by shells and the birth of venus painting. It was hard to mix the bright syringes with such a delicate feeling outfit so i decided to make them more organic. Her appearance might change later but we’ll see

Gela’s challenge for me was working out what to do with her body… but i think she looks very fun in the end, doesnt she? The real witch is inside, her ‘faces’ are just a mask. Shes actually a demon

[defensivelee]

had a lovely nsfw dream about William and Sunderland, but as it gave me ideas for the next Six Lives chapter I will keep my mouth shut 🤐🤐 for now

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 12: i haven't slept for days, but who's counting?

Red + Insomnia

2394 Words; Sit Still, Look Pretty

TW for implied kidnapping

AO3 ver

There had been little warning.

Dion had wandered off of the fairgrounds some time after lunch to find a payphone to talk to Gisu. He was more than old enough to do so, and Augustus trusted that he would be back well before sundown. If anything, Augustus was happy that his son was able to hold a steady relationship.

But then Dion didn’t come back.

The sky began to shift, brilliant warm hues coloring the horizon, and Augustus had yet to see his son return. Perhaps he had just missed him? Augustus made his way to Donatella, who was going over their equipment by the caravan.

He wrapped his arms around her, greeting her with a kiss on the shoulder. “Дорогая, have you seen Dion?”

Donatella giggled, turning around to kiss him back. “I don’t believe so,” she responded, “Isn’t he usually back by now?”

Augustus nodded. The horizon had been set aflame by the falling sun, and yet he hadn’t seen Dion return. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he started, “But I can’t help but worry.” Dion was strong. But with everything that had happened over the summer…

“Oh, mio caro,” Donatella put her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s go look for him. I’m sure our little bambino just lost track of time.” She set the clipboard on one of the crates.

Yes, that would put Augustus’ worries to rest. He took Donatella’s hand, then stopped.

“Wait, let me—” He raised a hand to his temple, and with a burst of mental effort—he was still getting used to his powers, still trying to wrap his head around them—he reached out to Frazie.

Солнышко, can you hear me?

This is still so weird, Frazie’s mental presence responded. But yeah.

Augustus concentrated. Watch the kids for us, okay? Your Mom and I are going on a little walk.

Ooookay. And with that, Frazie’s mental presence left the conversation.

Augustus removed his hand from his temple. “Let’s go.”

Donatella snorted. “I sometimes wonder if you love your new abilities more than you love me,” she joked.

Augustus leaned into her. “Я люблю тебя всей душой.” He murmured. And it was true—he loved his wife with every fiber of his being. It was impossible not to.

Donatella chuckled. “Ti amo anch’io.” She returned. “Now let’s go find our son.”

+=+=+=+=+

The sky had long darkened by the time they returned. There had been no sign of Dion anywhere—the payphones were abandoned.

Frazie had realized what their “walk” was for by the time they got back; Augustus wouldn’t have kept the truth from her, regardless.

Still, Augustus held hope that Dion would return come the morning. Surely, after everything that had happened over the summer, after all that the family had been through, they were at least owed some degree of luck by the universe. Surely.

But the sun rose again with no Dion in sight, and Augustus could deny it no longer—

Something had happened to his son.

+=+=+=+=+

Queepie didn’t like it.

Seven days. Seven days of that icky sticky feeling that Queepie abhorred. Seven days of it permeating the entire camp like fog, clinging to every surface.

The last time Queepie had felt like this, had felt this anxiety-nausea coiled in his stomach and making it impossible to dance, was when Raz had run away. He hated it. It clung to everything and everyone, even him.

He wondered if Dion had run away. He couldn’t imagine why, though. But Raz’ example was the only one Queepie had to go off of—he couldn’t fathom any other reason for this icky sticky feeling.

The radio blasted some nameless song—Queepie wished they were close enough to the quarry to catch K.L.O.B. Morris had been talking about getting new songs before winter—Queepie wondered what it’d sound like when the family returned.

But Morris wasn’t here, just like Dion—though at least Morris wasn’t missing.

Queepie leaned back, closing his eyes against the bright blue sky. Even up here, on top of the caravan, everything felt icky. The radio kept playing, the birds kept chirping, the leaves kept falling, the world kept turning—

“QUEEPIE! How many times have I told you not to climb up there!”

—and Donatella’s voice cut right through the air, icky sticky.

Queepie stuck out his tongue. He knew how to fall, and the caravan wasn’t even that hard to climb. If anything, it was safer up here.

(Dion had told him, once, that a bird might swoop down and snatch Queepie up if he sat on top of the caravan. Queepie had thought that sounded so cool, but no birds ever came. So even still, the caravan was safe.)

“Don’t make me come up there!” Donatella threatened. “Arquipo Galileo Aquato!”

Queepie grumbled. He started to make his way down, the radio floating down with him. He knew better than to mess around when being full-named. It was like a law of the universe, or something: being full-named meant trouble if one didn’t stop what they were doing.

Donatella scooped Queepie up the moment he was back on the ground. “I don’t want you wandering where I can’t see you, gufetto.” She murmured. “Not while your brother is missing.”

Queepie huffed, crossing his arms. “You could see me up there.” He pointed out.

“That’s not the point.” Donatella replied. “I couldn’t find you,” She explained, “And that scared me.” She pressed a kiss to Queepie’s forehead, ignoring the way he squirmed. “Don’t scare me like that, okay gufetto?”

Despite his misgivings, Queepie curled into his mother’s grasp. “Okay.”

He didn’t want to make the icky-sticky feeling any worse than it already was.

+=+=+=+=+

Mirtala squinted into the darkness. What time was it? Wayyyyy too early to be up, she decided, rolling over.

Beside her, Queepie was still asleep, blanket clutched tight in his hands. She had offered him Prince Froggington, but Queepie had refused the rabbit plush on principle. Whatever. He could have his blanket, then, and Mirtala would hold onto Prince Froggington. Even though she was a big girl, now, and didn’t need to hold onto a plushie—she just felt like it.

A few moments later, Mirtala rolled over again. Her face scrunched up, and she squeezed Prince Froggington a little tighter.

Queepie’s breathing mixed with the muffled sounds of the outside world. Mirtala tried to slow her own breathing, to relax and fall asleep—

She rolled back over. She hugged Prince Froggington tighter.

Sleep still refused to take her back into its embrace.

With a grumble in the back of her throat, Mirtala sat up. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and stood, opening up the tent flap. Cold night air washed in, and she shuddered, but still, she padded out onto the dirt and closed the flap behind her.

Mirtala made to walk over to Dee’s tent—

It wasn’t there. Mirtala rubbed at her eyes. Right. Dee had been missing for two weeks—there was no point setting up his tent when they moved to the next town. She’d heard Mom and Dad talk about returning to the quarry, where Raz and Nona were. Maybe Raz could use his secret agent skills to find out what happened to Dion.

Mirtala held Prince Froggington closer. The air was really cold out here, so she couldn’t linger. She turned to Frazie’s tent.

Sisters had to stick together, after all. Sure, Dion wouldn’t wake for anything until the sun came up, but Dion wasn’t here right now. So Mirtala went to Frazie, who was just as good. She could almost pretend that Dion was here, and she was just choosing Frazie’s tent over his stinky no-good boy tent. Frazie was warmer anyway.

(Maybe if she wished hard enough, Dion would come back.

It wasn’t likely, but Mirtala couldn’t help but hope. Dee would be back soon. He had to.)

+=+=+=+=+

Three weeks.

Dion had been gone for three weeks, and Frazie was pissed.

Where did he get off, disappearing like that? Without a trace, too. They’d just gotten back to traveling after Pooter’s big adventure, too, and now this?

Frazie wanted Dion back just so she could yell at him. Punch his stupid face for making everyone worry—

For making Frazie worry. For making her lay awake at night thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to him—

Frazie shook her head. She needed to focus. With Dion gone, all of his chores fell to the rest of the family. To her. Wherever he was, it wasn’t here, meaning Frazie had to step up and cover for his missing ass.

She was doing the laundry, now, working Queepie’s blanket cape against the washboard. Her baby brother had screamed and kicked when she’d come to take it, but Frazie took it anyway—it was disgusting. It needed to be cleaned.

Normally, it was Dion who ended up cleaning Queepie’s cape—he was the only one besides Mom who was willing to put up with the inevitable outbursts. But Dion wasn’t here. So it fell to Frazie to step up, kneeling over the basin on bruised shins.

“How much longer?” Queepie lifted himself up to lean over the side of the basin. Frazie put a sud-soaked hand on his face to push him back before he fell in.

“It wouldn’t take so long if you let it get washed more often,” She grumbled, scrubbing at a stubborn snot stain. Ugh. When Dion got back, she’d have to tell him to clean Queepie’s cape more often—this was just disheartening. He could deal with the bruised shins and the grody blanket cape in Frazie’s stead.

Queepie crossed his arms. “It doesn’t need washed.” He insisted. “It’s fine.”

Frazie made a face. “It’s disgusting, is what it is.” She scrubbed at a particularly crusty spot, trying not to imagine what it could be.

Queepie gasped. “No it’s not! Take it back!”

Frazie stuck out her tongue.

“Take it back!” Queepie gripped the edge of the basin, lifting himself up to lean forwards once again, “Take it back take it back take it back—”

The water exploded. Queepie fell back onto the dirt.

Frazie blinked. Water continued to drip languidly from her hair, from her shawl, from every inch of her down onto the dirt.

Queepie looked up at her with wide eyes.

“AUGHH!” Frazie was done. She was so done. This wasn’t even her job—but Dion just had to go and disappear without even any sign that he was still alive, like some selfish jerk who didn’t care if it stressed out the family he left behind—

She stood up, her hands balled into fists. “Guess what? Your blanket’s done!” She kicked the side of the basin. She wasn’t doing any more of this. The water was frigid, anyway.

Queepie made a face. “It’s wet!” He complained.

“DRY IT YOURSELF!” Frazie turned on her heel, not lingering long enough to see if Queepie started crying. She didn’t care. She didn’t. She didn’t care that Dion was missing or that she was soaking wet or that Queepie was probably crying by the basin over a waterlogged blanket cape and a mean older sister. She didn’t have it in her to care.

Frazie shoved open the flap of her tent and fell onto the bedroll, not caring if she got it wet. She screamed into the pillow.

Her eyes stung. It was probably just the soap. Her face was warm. (The laundry water was cold.) Her throat tightened.

Still, Frazie was fine. Everything was fine. She wasn’t crying at all.

(She’d always been good at denial.)

+=+=+=+=+

Donatella shuffled out into the morning air, pulling her coat a little tighter over her shoulders. The November sunlight wasn’t enough to warm the air, especially not at this hour—there was barely any, actually, the horizon just beginning to tint red. Still, she was out here, her hair still in its braid from when she settled into bed the night before, squinting blearily at the mailbox they brought with them on their travels, all because she couldn’t sleep.

She opened the box. A letter from Lucrecia, an ad, a bill, another ad—

Her foot bumped against something on the ground. Donatella looked down.

Well. That was certainly different.

The package was a plain cardboard box, barely half a foot tall. “The Aquato Family Circus” was written across the tape in elegant blue marker.

Donatella didn’t recognize the handwriting, and couldn’t find a return address. She regarded the box suspiciously, unsure whether she should open it.

A breeze blew in. Donatella shivered.

“Oh, fine.” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to open the package, but she wanted to bring it into camp even less. And she certainly wasn’t going to waste time mulling it over—not in this cold, and not when she hadn’t slept nearly enough.

For lack of a knife, Donatella pried the tape off with her fingers, scraping at the edge with her nails until she had enough to grab and pull. It came off with less resistance than she was expecting.

Donatella pushed the flaps aside. There was a note atop a layer of bubblewrap. She pulled it out.

What lovely embroidery!

That was it. Donatella turned the card over—nope, nothing else. Just those three words in elegant blue ink, the handwriting unfamiliar. Alright then.

Prying apart the bubblewrap, Donatella pulled out a blue vest, neatly folded. Her thumb brushed over familiar embroidery on the collar—

Donatella was wide awake now. She set the vest in her lap, pulling out green-and-white tights with patches on the knees, a red sash, brown shorts with swirls sewn onto the hems—

Donatella felt lightheaded. She needed to lie down—

She pushed aside the last layer of bubblewrap to find a pair of green boots. There was a scrap of blue fabric in one of them, and in the other—

Seven red hair ties. She rubbed one of them between her fingers—she could just barely feel the grease.

Donatella inhaled a stuttered breath. The cold air was like sandpaper down her throat—or was it the pounding of her chest that made her throat tighten so? She struggled to breathe in, to get any air when she was utterly surrounded by it—all she could see were the red hair ties in her hand, red red red filling her vision while the world spun.

When she managed to breathe again, her scream shook the trees.

[purple-the-turtle]

Donnie’s not fooling anyone (aka Mikey)

[gayest-squrrel]

'Hide, you fools!'

(psst, these little guys have an ask blog, check it out!)

[portinaris]

@yuiyuuji I did my work. Maybe find a cute Timothy for my Damien? 🤍

[fuyuteki]

This Iori oh my oh my [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] in my bed NOW

[pyrrhicpaths]

// verses tag dump!

[imagionationstation]

More- more gender swap Donnie? Please? Pretty please?

(No pressure)

OKAYOKAYOKAY- SO GET THIS!

There are a lot of things that stay very, very similar to canon, but obviously some things HAVE to change to make room for big adjustments like lack of love triangles, SO I was debating a couple of episodes and how they could be altered or fixed and literally rewrote an entire episode and OOPS MY HANDS SLIPPED AND NOW I’M SHARING BC YOU ASKED NO TAKE-BACKSIES!

Baxter’s gambit: Happens exactly the same except Fishface keeps doing those weird, uncomfortable, cringe flirty comments at Donnie and at one point he gets too far into her comfort zone and Raph punches his face straight into the ground and threatens to gut him if he ever tries that again ‘cause SHE’S A TEEN DUDE BACK OFF.

Then they bond, and he reminds him of the threat, but nicer.

Needless to say, Fishface leaves Donnie alone.

Slash And Destroy: After Spike is almost blown up, Raph wants Donnie punished, but it was an honest accident, and Splinter only warns her to keep her lab door shut. In a fit of frustration, Raph nabs the mutagen and shouts that “she only gets away with stuff because she’s a GIRL!” and then slams his door to lock himself away. When Slash is bragging later, he reminds Raph of what he said while enraged and insists that he “gave her what they both knew she always deserved” and also implies that Leo’s next.

This scene haunts Raph when Donnie opens up about her insecurities down the line and he realizes that he’s partly to blame.

Showdown: Shredder tries to get under his skin by challenging the false fact that Splinter ‘replaced’ Miwa and with a shelled freak, no less. He taunts him by threatening to kill Donnie, asking if he’d get over her just as easily. Splinter hisses that he loves both his daughters, dead or alive, and the fight leads to Karai’s reveal.

The Pulverizer: The brothers ditch Timothy with Donnie and she makes a halfhearted comment under her breath about stereotypes and “women getting left with the children” as Timothy destroys several beakers in the background and she resigns to her fate.

The Invasion, Part 1: During the argument over whether to use the bot, Donnie accuses Leo of not trusting her because “she’s a girl” and Leo insists that’s not why. When she demands an explanation, all he says is that he’s “the leader.” She’s visibly dissatisfied.

The Invasion, Part 2: While April wraps her arm, Donnie admits that she thinks Leo only separated from them because she was the one who got shot. That if she had been paying attention, or if she hadn’t picked a fight, it would never have happened. She asks if April thinks that it’s her fault that he’s out there alone. Before April can answer, a tremor shakes their building and Kirby freaks out.

A Foot Too Big Disclaimer: ERASE EVERYTHING YOU KNOW.

A Foot To Big is actually about Donnie being unnecessarily nice to Leo and Leo being too distracted by his own issues to really notice. Donnie gets distressed and confides in Mikey that he must be “really mad at her” and doesn’t listen when he’s skeptical. Raph tells Donnie that she needs to give him space, does the “you know what you need? Huh? You know what you need?” bit and then drags them outside. Leo’s already out there and Donnie’s too distracted looking his way to fight well. Raph sends him and Mikey out into the forest to put some distance between the two.

There, they run into a Big Foot. Donnie notices that she’s injured so they bring her home. She’s ecstatic to meet another female mutant that’s essentially a historical endangered species. There’s no weird love thing- only Donnie being her obsessive self and diving head-first into studying Big Foot. Leo notices that change from doting to basically pretending he doesn’t exist, and mentions it to Raph. Raph tells Donnie that maybe she should talk to Leo, and she fires back that it was his advice to give Leo space. Raph argues that he didn’t mean ignore him altogether, but Donnie doesn’t listen. They get into a shouting match that ends with Donnie spotting Leo walk out of the house and her quickly stomping off into the forest.

Later, Donnie’s sulking in the shadows when Leo finds her. Or, he reveals, Big Foot led him to her, hinting that she knows the forest really well. Donnie fires at comment about ‘betrayals’ and Leo sits down next to her, meaningfully saying that he’s grateful Big Foot did. Leo tries to get Donnie to open up, but she keeps denying that anything is wrong, more and more tense as he insists that she’s been acting strange ever since he woke up.

There’s a cliche “wait, I hear something” “what?” “shhh” “you’re just trying to shut me up” moment before they hear a shout.

They move to Big Foot’s aid, only to get knocked out themselves. Upon waking up, they realize what situation they’re in and Donnie gets an idea. She pleads with Leo to follow her lead and he does without missing a beat. They escape and fight The Finger, The Finger and Big Foot have their… moment, and then Leo and Donnie exchange baffled shrugs as they leave.

The last scene has Donnie supporting Leo on their way back to the farmhouse. Leo stops her on the porch and leads her into sitting down on the stairs with him. Donnie’s anger has clearly left her by then, and she hunches in on herself as he reveals that he knows that Raph and her were arguing about him. He pleads with her to tell him what’s wrong, and eventually she breaks.

Donnie pours out all the guilt that was eating away at her- how she didn’t listen and he ended up in a coma for three months, and how she knows he has every right to hate her but she’s sorry and going to try her hardest to make it up to him- only interrupted when Leo drops his crutch and pulls her into a tight hug. She shrivels in it, burying her face in his shoulder, and he assures her that nothing was her fault. He was being just as stubborn as she was. They could have found a compromise. None of his choices were hers to bear, and if he had to choose between protecting her or himself, he’d choose her a million times over. And not just her, all of his little siblings. He ends it with a light tease of “sorry, Donnie, you’re really not that special.”

He earns a shaky laugh that makes him smile. They separate and Donnie says that she’s going to do her best not to question him in the future, and he scolds her, saying that she better not let him make dumb plans just because she feels guilty. They poke fun at one another until the tension clears, and then Leo shivers, and Donnie frantically insists that he shouldn’t be out in the cool night air.

Her amused older brother lets her lead him inside and the episode ends with her shouting for someone to grab a blanket and to start up the fire, and then a black-and-white image of the farmhouse door.

YEAH YOU BET I JUST DID THAT

The Creeping Doom: Instead of chasing Icecream Kitty across the floor, they manage to calm Donnie down by letting her play with April’s hair. It ends up being a tangled mess of bows and hair clippings that April takes out on the way to the lab to check on Mikey, but she waits ‘till Donnie gets distracted, since it’s visibly clear that she both enjoyed herself and was proud of her ‘creation’.

The Power Inside of Her: When Donnie says that she’s okay after everything, Leo interrupts to say that she’s not. When Donnie stiffens, her older brother is quick to reassure her that if any of them were in her place, they would be far from okay.

After April thinks that “at least some good came out of this,” the scene transitions to just the turtles watching tv. Donnie says that she’s sore and headed to bed, but her brothers all visibly panic. Mikey’s the one to say that maybe they “should just hang out a bit longer?” and Raph insists that they should for Mikey’s sake since “he’d just wake them up later,” implying that he commonly wakes them when he has nightmares. Leo asks Donnie to “humor them” and Donnie gives in, lightly teasing her big, bad brothers as they scoff and crowd her, but overall looking immensely relieved.

I HAVE FIVE HUNDRED BUBBLING THOUGHTS, BUT ALSO THINGS TO DO, THE STRUGGLE! GAH!

THANK YOU SM FOR THIS ASK!

[tsbs-infection-au]

Solstice was wandering around and found Moon.

Solstice: "Are you okay? I'm Solstice, I'm from space 😊"

(Want me to describe how Solstice looks?)

Moon: oh hey there

(You may if you'd like too)

[gimmenctar]

delicious

chenle x leitora; situationship!au; smut

tags. foreplay, fingering, sexo desprotegido, reverse cowgirl, de quatro, pull out, cumplay. ✧. ┊    wc: 2.4k ┊   MNDI

a chuva torrencial acabou com seu planejamento. inicialmente, foi ao centro pra bater perna e comprar quinquilharias, na maior vibe I’m just a girl. o universo tinha outros planos.

começou como um chuvisco, parou, você andou mais, e então, sem nenhuma pena dos trabalhadores, São Pedro enviou nuvens carregadas que espantaram o movimento das ruas.

pra piorar, os ônibus e trens estão com intervalo super irregulares. o uber está com preço dinâmico e nenhum motorista te aceita. você até tenta se abrigar em alguma loja, mas pelo horário, já estão fechando.

por um momento você se desespera. como vai chegar em casa? e se não der? não consegue pensar em nada, o coração acelera, está com medo. olhando aos céus, pede ajuda ao mesmo São Pedro.

"me dá uma saída, por favor."

e ele deu mesmo.

enquanto mirava seus arredores com mais atenção, reconheceu a rua em que estava e algo como esperança lavou seu corpo. já está na chuva, o que é se molhar?

há uns meses conheceu um boyzinho no tinder. fofo, educado, respeitoso. foram em alguns dates, num deles chegou a ir até a casa dele. foi assim que conheceu essa rua. no dia, nada de mais aconteceu.

chenle, o bofe, é realmente diferente da maioria. ele não pressiona porque, além de ser um homem decente, também gosta da tensão, da conquista. por mais que seja só um lance casual por enquanto, zhong está na sua, e você também curte estar por perto dele.

você hesita em mandar uma mensagem pedindo abrigo. será que ele te acharia folgada? são tantas questões. ele também pode nem ter chego do trabalho. no entanto, colocando na balança, é melhor arriscar do que continuar embaixo de chuva forte e ficar muito doente. as roupas já estão muito pesadas, os cabelos estão grudando na pele. não pode pôr mais da sua saúde em jogo por vergonha.

na mesma hora que você está digitando, zhong chenle envia mensagens.

o porteiro te mira com dó nos olhos, também está um pouco assustado com o seu estado. sua roupa está encharcada, seu cabelo não para de pingar.

"vem no de serviço, dona, o outro escorrega."

ele abre a porta pra você e te apressa pra entrar. quanto antes chegar ao apartamento, melhor.

"boa noite, desculpa dar trabalho pro senhor." diz de dentro do cubículo.

"nada, que isso. cuidado pra não ficar doente."

o senhor fecha a porta, não antes de apertar o botão do andar correto. você ainda não acredita que realmente teve de pedir ajuda ao seu rolo, mas que bom que ele aceitou.

chenle te vê sair do elevador e seu semblante é preocupado, ele segura uma toalha nas mãos e te cumprimenta com um abraço, envolvendo-a na toalha e aquecendo seu corpo trêmulo de frio.

"o que aconteceu? não conseguiu transporte?" o cenho franzido o deixa muito fofo. você afirma com a cabeça, e ele te leva até a sala de estar. "tem outra toalha e umas roupas no banheiro, toma um banho quente e depois me dá essa roupa molhada."

"não queria te dar trabalho, me desculpa."

ele te olha sério. rapidamente anda em sua direção e, pra sua surpresa, segura sua nuca e deixa um beijo nos seus lábios. o gostinho de café te faz sentir em casa, o ritmo lento te faz esquecer um pouco do caos que viveu até agora.

"não quero que você fique gripada, vai lá logo."

pode até ser que ele esteja fazendo isso só pra ganhar pontos, mas de verdade, não parece. chenle é bom com quem se importa e não espera nada em troca.

o banho é absurdamente relaxante. a temperatura da água alivia sua tensão e você agradece mentalmente ao universo por ter te levado até ali. até mesmo um shampoo feminino tinha por ali. e, por mais que tenha levantado uma pulga na orelha, resolveu não alimentar a pontinha da boca do estômago.

ao sair do banheiro, viu chenle esparramado no sofá. ele joga o celular sobre o estofado e sorri.

"como estou?" você devolve o sorriso, dando uma voltinha pra se gabar do que está vestindo: blusa e shorts masculinos. o cheiro do amaciante exala, mas também o cheiro particular dele. é muito aconchegante.

"já te vi mais arrumada, mas nunca mais linda." rebate, sem nem tentar ser galanteador. "ainda mais com a toalha na cabeça."

vocês riem, e ele não te dá tempo de protestar antes de pegar o celular de novo e tirar uma foto.

"não é justo, apaga isso." até tenta fazer um charminho, porém sabe que não cola. ele balança a cabeça negativamente. "onde eu posso colocar isso?" refere-se à muda de roupa molhada e às toalhas.

"me dá, deixa que eu resolvo."

"nada disso, lele. você já tá fazendo muito por mim."

ele estala a língua nos lábios e revira os olhos. tomando tudo da sua mão, chenle deposita um selinho nos seus lábios e outro na bochecha. sem dizer nada, dá meia volta e vai até a área pra estender as toalhas e pôr suas roupas na máquina.

um fato muito atraente sobre ele é exatamente isso. além dos atos de serviço, ele se vira sozinho há muito tempo. independência é muito, muito atraente.

quando ele volta pra sala, você está desembaraçando o cabelo. zhong se senta ao seu lado, assistindo sua ação com carinho.

"o shampoo é bom?" corta o silêncio. "não sabia qual você usava, aí achei que esse ia dar conta."

o quê?

deu pra perceber que você travou com a nova informação.

"é que eu..." o rosto dele queima de vergonha. "quando você viesse aqui outra vez, talvez dormisse aqui, ou... enfim. achei que fosse ser útil."

"zhong chenle." você pronuncia o nome dele exatamente como ele havia dito que a mãe fazia quando era mais novo e aprontava.

"sim, senhora." ele se esconde atrás de uma das almofadas.

"até nisso tô te dando trabalho. aff." suspira, fazendo um pequeno drama. "daqui a pouco só falta pentear meu cabelo." você diz, pegando outra mecha para tirar os nós.

"você quer? eu posso."

"chenle, claro que não. não precisa, eu tava brincando."

"mas agora eu quero." ele se ajeita, sentando mais perto do encosto. abre as pernas e bate com uma das mãos no espaço entre elas. "vem cá."

"não pre-"

"vem logo."

não dá pra negar um chameguinho assim. você se aconchega entre suas coxas e entrega o pente em suas mãos.

ao te observar, ele havia notado que começava das pontas e depois penteava a raiz. então, te copia bem delicadamente.

você a-ma quando mexem no seu cabelo, é difícil não gostar. a cosquinha gostosa te faz relaxar num passe de mágica, e chenle começa a perceber. principalmente quando penteia o couro cabeludo, suspiros baixinhos deixam sua boca.

ao terminar de desembaraçar seus fios, ele resolve continuar o cafuné. os dedos habilidosos apertam seu trapézio, e começam a traçar um caminho de massagem pela nuca e voltam para as raízes do seu cabelo.

"hm, isso é tão bom." você aprova e aproveita cada segundo. "tô molinha."

"tô vendo." ele dá uma risadinha. "encosta aqui."

chenle te guia a descansar as costas sob o próprio torso, aproveitando pra estender a massagem. o cheiro do sabonete dele na sua pele fica mais evidente, se misturando com a essência cítrica do tal shampoo. ele deixa um cheirinho no seu pescoço, gostando do arrepio que causa em ti.

você repousa as mãos nas coxas dele a fim de devolver um pouco do carinho, alisa a pele macia desde o joelho até quase o topo da perna e arranha um pouco onde consegue.

inebriado por sua pele fresca, zhong não resiste depositar alguns beijinhos quase inocentes desde seu ombro até o topo da nuca. sem querer, você o aperta levemente quando ele beija o caminho de volta. de repente não é mais só uma demonstração de afeto.

outra vez mais ele beija seu ombro, mas se demora, arrasta os lábios pela área até deixar outro beijo mais pra cima. o hálito quente te dá expectativas por mais. até que, por fim, retorna ao pescoço. ali, ele faz questão de adicionar mordidas e lambidas.

"chenle..." o nome alheio sai sussurrado na sua voz.

"sim?"

"me beija."

seu pedido é uma ordem. o homem leva uma das mãos até os cabelos da sua nuca e puxa firmemente para o lado, alinhando seus rostos. aproveitando o gemido que entreabriu sua boca, ele captura seus lábios com volúpia. beijam-se como se o tempo não importasse, é lento, sensual, encaixa tão bem que queima.

seus dedos voam para o pescoço dele, afagando onde podem, trazendo-o mais pra perto. os dele, entretanto, se espalham pelo seu corpo inteiro com toques leves como pena. 

chenle acaricia suas coxas com fervor, subindo até o abdômen, passando por baixo da blusa. sobe devagar até alcançar um de seus seios e recebe uma arfada dengosa entre o beijo. de repente, você se recorda do fato de estar sem calcinha, sentindo a intimidade incômoda com tanto prazer. o sangue correndo mais rápido pelos seus nervinhos te faz sentir certa umidade, que cresce à medida que ele te provoca com a boca e com as mãos.

o volume na bermuda do homem roça na sua lombar conforme ele usa a outra mão pra te pressionar contra si. chenle tem o tamanho perfeito, você pensa. seria delicioso sentar no pau dele.

ele separa seus lábios após o beijo molhadinho e bagunçado, está sem ar, mas não encerra as carícias pelo seu corpo.

"posso te dar mais do que isso, você sabe..." diz, levando os dedos até a parte interna da sua coxa, indo cada vez mais perto de onde precisa mais dele. "abre as pernas, linda."

o short largo permite que chenle alcance sua boceta com facilidade. o indicador e dedo do meio sentem seu centro encharcado. "porra, toda molhadinha. tira esse short, gostosa."

você logo obedece. levanta-se brevemente e exibe a bunda carnuda pro homem, empina bem até a peça cair no chão. "era isso que queria, amor?"

ele te puxa de volta com urgência, te encaixando bem onde estava antes. se é possível, ele está ainda mais duro depois que se expôs pra ele.

"eu sei que você tá doida pra me dar, mas eu vou ter que te alargar primeiro, linda. essa boceta é muito apertada."

os círculos que ele massageia nos seus lábios te faz ver estrelas. e as palavras sujas murmuradas ao seu ouvido, que merda, chenle faz muito gostoso.

cumprindo o que prometeu, ele insere dois dedos de primeira. o vai e vem é uma delícia, aproveita pra conhecer onde estão seus pontos mais sensíveis. a palma de sua mão bate bem no clitóris toda vez que os dedos entram, e você não consegue guardar os gemidos.

"porra, você tá muito gostosa assim. geme pra mim, vai."

ele aumenta tudo ao mesmo tempo, o ritmo, a força e adiciona o terceiro dedo. é muito pra você, mas tão, tão, tão bom. seu quadril rebola devagarinho, roçando a bunda no pau duro feito pedra atrás de si.

"não para, lele. hmm, tão- gostoso, puta merda."

você se segura, quer muito durar mais, porém está muito perto. zhong achou exatamente o que procurava, e ainda ajudou seu botãozinho com a outra mão. os dedos escorregando na sua lubrificação emitem sons profanos, e a sensação é incomparável.

"relaxa, linda. pode gozar, goza na minha mão." ele beija seu pescoço, a voz rouca pelo próprio prazer te desmonta.

sem ser capaz de controlar mais, você chega ao orgasmo. as paredes do seu canal contraem com força em volta dos dedos de chenle, te deixando completamente vulnerável no colo dele.

ele leva os dedos à sua boca, e você chupa com afinco. puta merda, ele sussurra. também aproveita um pouco dos seus sucos, sugando os próprios dedos. prometeu a si mesmo que mataria a sede depois.

"consegue mais um?" ele pergunta, deixando selares no seu trapézio de novo.

"preciso sentir você dentro de mim, lele."

ele xinga baixinho, e você o ajuda a remover a bermuda. "vai ficar viciada em sentar." atiça ao perceber seu olhar fixado no pau dele.

a vontade de colocar na boca é muita, mas quer mais que ele te coma. você vira de costas de novo, porque notou várias vezes que chenle tem um fraco pela sua bunda. sem cerimônia nenhuma, doida pra satisfazê-lo, afunda a boceta na extensão toda.

"grande, le- hm, tá bem fundo." você rebola como sabe. frente e trás, círculo, infinito, todos os jeitos. zhong fica enfeitiçado, apertando a carne com força.

"porra, que bunda é essa."

"lele, quero mais."

você sabe como mexer com a cabeça dele. óbvio que ele vai te dar tudo o que você quiser.

ele se levanta, o pau todo lambuzado dos teus sucos, assim também o meio das tuas pernas e o sofá. você tá fazendo uma bagunça e ele não poderia estar gostando mais.

"de quatro."

obediente, você se apoia nos joelhos e no encosto do sofá. sem perder tempo, chenle enfia de novo. mais forte, mais fundo, mais rápido. uma das mãos dele apoia na sua escápula, afundando seu corpo contra o estofado. você mal consegue respirar, mas o êxtase fala mais alto.

tudo que se ouve são os grunhidos deliciosos dele, as intimidades se tocando. o tesão consome zhong, ele perde controle das investidas e te maceta bagunçado. o ápice está perto, então você o ajuda contraindo o canal e rebolando em seu encontro.

"caralho, eu quero te foder pra sempre." confessa no calor do momento, apertando e estapeando sua pele.

por fim, chenle goza e jorra bem onde estava com a marca de suas mãos, te bagunçando inteira. ele traz seu torso para colar no dele, deixando mordidinhas e beijinhos pelo seu corpo até que as respirações se normalizem.

"foi bom?"

seu cabelo bagunçado e o sorriso satisfeito falam por si só, mas ainda assim você afirma. "e pra você?"

"já pode a terceira?"

ele ri junto contigo. por mais que realmente quisesse te comer a noite toda, te daria um tempo pra respirar. o que não significa que, no banho pra limpar a bagunça que fizeram, ele não tenha te ajudado a chegar lá mais vezes. atos de serviço é a melhor linguagem do amor.

[razzle-zazzle]

1628 Words; @brain-bumbler's Dormmates AU

AO3 ver

Norma came into awareness slowly, the world melting into place around her. Sweat-slicked hair clung to her forehead, her cheek smushed into the pillow. Her throat felt raw. Her whole body felt damp, sticky with sweat, her sheets impossibly heavy atop her. Her neck ached.

Norma blinked, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the darkness before her. For a moment, she was under the impression that she needed to get up right now and get ready for the day, before she was late. But her bed was so comfy, and her eyelids so heavy—

Ugh, it was wayyyy too hot. With a groan, Norma kicked at her sheets, wiggling until her legs were free. Her neck ached, like she’d been sleeping weird.

But she needed to get up, now, before she was late. She had classes. The clock read 3:42, she needed to get up—

Wait.

It was Saturday. She didn’t have classes today.

Norma rolled over as some of the fog in her head cleared. She didn’t need to get up until eight. Her eyes started to sting in the way they always did when she woke up way too early, her throat ached, there was a drool spot on her pillow—

Oh, god, no.

Please, she thought, her mouth and throat dry as sandpaper. I just want to sleep.

But sleep wasn’t going to come, was it? She closed her mouth, attempted to swallow—

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, because her mouth was shut and her nose was blocked. Because her sinuses refused to let her have a moment’s peace, and now here she was, her throat dry and aching because she’d been breathing dry air in through her mouth all night. Ugh. Of all the awful things to wake her up before she needed to.

Norma turned back over. The clock read 3:46. The number taunted her, the soft green glow seeming to laugh at her misfortune.

Slowly, Norma sat up. Maybe her sinuses would drain long enough for her to fall back asleep in a reasonable amount of time. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and her fingers to the bridge of her nose. The trick didn’t always work, but at this ungodly hour Norma felt that the universe owed it to her.

Norma closed her mouth, and tried to breathe through her nose. She didn’t want to have to blow it—sure, her dormmate was Sam, who could sleep through bagpipes, and there were tissues on her nightstand, but still. It left her feeling gross, and Norma wasn’t that desperate.

She opened her mouth with a gasp. Okay, so maybe she was that desperate.

3:57. Norma blinked at the clock, tissue in hand. Her head and eyes hurt from being awake so early. She fumbled for the wastebasket.

Ugh, this wasn’t working. Breathing through her mouth was awful. Norma laid back down. Maybe it’d help if she shifted the way her head was resting.

She stayed like that as the clock ticked on. Tossing, turning, her frustration mounting. 4:15. 4:23. She had to kick off her sheets entirely, sticky with sweat. 4:27. 4:32. 4:36. 4:38.

Norma rolled over. She just wanted to sleep. She couldn’t breathe through her nose. Her mouth was so dry.

4:47.

4:54.

4:58.

5:01.

Oh, for the sake of—

Norma rolled out of bed with all the grace of a drunken moose, fumbling on the nightstand for her glasses. She stumbled towards her closet, lighting a small flame on her fingertips to give her light to see by.

Benadryl, cold medicine, painkillers, bandaids—there! Decongestant. In the light of the flickering little flame, she popped the bottle open, and shook two of the pills into her hand. With the way her sinuses felt, she was glad she still had some left.

She needed water. There were sinks in the bathroom, but no cups. Kitchen it was.

Flame in hand, Norma trudged out of her dorm, through the small hall to the common area. She rounded the corner, her focus locked on the little kitchenette where she’d find a sink and a cup—

The light was already on. Someone was quietly humming.

So apparently Norma wasn’t the only person up at this ungodly hour. Norma knew that Morris woke up fairly early to give himself time to build up his pompadour, but even then, she had always gotten up before him. She’d alway been the earliest riser in the dorms, able to calmly enjoy her breakfast while everyone else was either still in bed, just rolling out, or busy in the bathroom using all the hair product.

At least, she had been the earliest riser. But ever since this intrusion to their space, that title often ended up going to one Dionysus Aquato.

And there he was now, standing before the stove, scrambling eggs at five in the morning in circus tights.

Silence filled the space between them. Norma blinked blearily, her eyes adjusting slowly to the light. Dion stared back at her, his face blank with surprise. His hair was down, brown curls held out of his eyes by a pair of hair clips.

They stood there, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of frying eggs. Just the two of them, staring at each other.

Norma—and she wasn’t entirely sure what she intended to say, if anything—opened her mouth a little further, her voice starting to come out in a strangled croak—

Dion turned back to the stove, and his quiet humming resumed.

Whatever. Norma was in no mood for conversation, nor did she care to pry into whatever nonsense was going through his head. She went to the sink, telekinetically grabbing a cup from the cupboard.

She felt a reflexive spike of anxiety-distrust from Dion at the soft glow of her telekinetic hand, and ignored it. There was a reason she never tried to pry into his head—Dion’s brain was just as obnoxious as he was. Norma supposed it was fitting, that the guy who muttered under his breath had thoughts that never shut up, but that didn’t mean she didn’t dislike it.

With a grumble, Norma swallowed the decongestant, chugging the rest of the water to get the taste out of her mouth. After refilling her cup halfway and finishing that off, she reached for the dish soap and a rag.

Behind her, Dion took the pan off the heat, turning off the stove. His humming had turned to quiet muttering, small phrases popping out at Norma as she tried not to listen. She was too tired for eavesdropping, and she had long since learned that the acrobat never said anything worth listening to, either.

But her brain kept latching onto the sound; kept latching onto the words and trying to decipher them all. Norma set the cup on the drying rack and rubbed her temples. That decongestant was not kicking in fast enough. Breathing through her mouth was awful. Being awake at this hour was awful. And that obnoxious muttering was awful—

She whirled around, “Can you stop?” Ugh, even her voice sounded awful.

Dion’s muttering ground to a halt as he scraped his eggs onto a plate. “Stop what?” He asked, eyes narrowed.

Norma gestured at him. “Your mumbling.” She glared at him, “It’s so grating.”

“Sorry if I’m annoying you, princess.” He spat, not sounding sorry at all. “Why are you even out here, anyway?” He sat down at the table, his plate in front of him. “You don’t have classes today.”

Norma didn’t even want to dignify that with a response. But she had never been able to leave a conversation without the last word, so she pulled out a chair of her own, sat down, and responded, “Because I needed water.” The obviously, you fool went unspoken.

The soft clink of fork against plate was Norma’s only response, then—

“Why are you still here?” Dion asked around a bite of eggs. “You already had your water.” He pointed out.

Norma raised her eyebrows, completely intent on not saying anything—

“I couldn’t sleep.” She admitted. “But I bet you know all about that.” It wasn’t a wild guess, given the facts laid out before her.

Dion huffed, his eyes falling down to the plate before him.

Norma smirked. She was starting to feel more awake now, but her throat and eyes still burned from waking up so early. Maybe she should go back to sleep…

Some part of her balked at the idea, for no good reason. But Norma still continued to sit there while Dion ate his eggs, ignoring the siren call of her unlit dorm and warm bed. Not because she was interested in hanging around this loser, of course. She was only here because she wanted to be, obviously, completely independent of any other factors.

(Because going back to her room just because Dion was out here felt like admitting defeat.)

They sat there in silence, the only sound the soft clink of fork against plate.

Whatever. Norma didn’t feel like talking anymore, anyway. Not until her sinuses cleared, and not to Dion. That he had seen her in her nightgown was vulnerability enough, she felt. Just because the guy was rooming with her and the other junior agents didn’t mean she owed him anything.

Norma glanced at Dion’s plate. It looked like he had mixed cheese and herbs into his eggs—not that she wanted any. He’d only made enough for himself, and Norma wasn’t in the mood to eat right now.

Her sinuses were clearing up, finally. She could go back to bed. Maybe even make herself a cup of hot chocolate.

She continued to sit in silence at the table.

[sunshyni]

tem café.

notas da sun: muito louco dizer que gosto muito do Gaab atualmente por causa do Haechan? Eu sei, não faz sentido, mas alguém postou no tiktok sobre a semelhança das vozes deles e alugou um triplex na minha cabeça (te amo pessoa não identificada porque perdi esse vídeo KKKKKK). Desde então, montei uma playlist de aproximadamente 4 horas chamada “Haechan+Gaab” que tá constantemente no repeat.

w.c: 1k

avisos: muitas interrupções no diálogo (vocês vão entender quando lerem), extremamente sugestivo, br!au, se tem o Gaab, tem o Hariel, logo se tem o Haechan, tem o Mark. Aparentemente eu amo Haechan e moletom?! Acho que é isso! Escutem Gaab!

boa leitura, docinhos! ☕

morena caliente, a sua xxxxxx é um perigo.

— Não tô acreditando que tô dirigindo numa poça d'água só pra você dar a...

— 'Cê tá amargurado, hien? Tá precisando tran–

Mark Lee tirou uma das mãos do volante do uno, enfiou a mão definitivamente não higienizada no seu pacote de M&M's e colocou 4 confeitos coloridos na sua boca, numa tentativa fracassada de te deixar quieta pelo resto do caminho até o apê de Haechan.

— 'Cê não era assim, não. É culpa daquele boca suja do Haechan — Você não conseguiu conter o sorriso que nasceu nos cantinhos dos seus lábios e foi crescendo gradativamente, desviou o olhar para a janela, as ruas, os estabelecimentos, as pessoas com seus guarda-chuvas abertos eram um borrão em movimento, o que seus olhos testemunhavam naquele momento não tinham a menor relevância, só queria encontrar aquela escolha duvidosa da sua vida, mas que sempre te fazia tão bem — Tá sorrindo assim por que, garota?

— Acho que amo ele — Sentia-se uma garotinha quando admitia sentimentos em voz alta e por isso cobriu o rosto com as palmas das mãos, os cabelos castanho escuro recaindo sobre sua face, livrou os pés das amarras do scarpin nude – ficava gostosa demais com os centímetros que os saltos te concediam – e Mark quase desafivelou seu cinto de segurança, te expulsando do automóvel, quando você colocou os pés no banco do passageiro, se encolhendo toda.

— Tá insegura? 'Cê acha que não é recíproco? — Seu amigo desde o ensino médio te questionou, enquanto afastava seus pés de volta ao chão, foi ele quem te apresentou ao Haechan, numa festa qualquer que a princípio você nem iria, no entanto 'tava a fim de estrear uma sainha e viu naquele convite a oportunidade perfeita. Mark e Haechan eram praticamente irmãos, nasceram no mesmo bairro, andavam de carrinho de rolimã juntos, costumavam ser o terror das donas de casa, e Mark simplesmente não podia dizer não para Donghyuck, mesmo quando após algumas doses de vodka, ele disse para o amigo: “Me apresenta pra sua amiga gostosa, vai?”. Mark deliberou a respeito por alguns segundos, o que foi desnecessário, já que quem te acompanhou até em casa no final da noite foi o garoto da pele dourada.

— Ele nunca foi de uma só.

— Então ensina — Você colocou o último chocolate na boca, antes de Mark estacionar o carro e direcionar um olhar sério para você, que guardou a embalagem de M&Mc's no porta-luvas. Nem queria mais ouvir o que o Lee queria te dizer, mas não seria mal-educada com a pessoa que te trouxe ao seu destino, literalmente falando, pelo menos gostaria que fosse — Na moral? Nem precisa, o vagabundo tá com os 4 pneu arriado por sua causa. Agora sai daqui, vai.

Assoprou um beijinho para Mark, abriu a porta e abortou o plano dos saltos, seu amigo gritou com você quando percebeu que saiu descalça, correu pela calçada na pontinha dos pés, o que você tinha alguma experiência dado algumas aulas de balé suficientes para avançar para a sapatilha de ponta, seu coração batia descompassado no elevador do prédio, os calcanhares finalmente no chão, teria que se desculpar com o pessoal da limpeza mais tarde, entretanto novamente isso nem se passava pela sua cabeça.

— Oi — O saudou assim que ele abriu a porta, o capuz do moletom preto característico cobria seus cabelos escuros e bagunçados, combinava com o seu vestidinho minúsculo, soltinho que o fez engolir em seco e sorrir logo em seguida, transformando o rostinho sem reação em um rostinho atrevido, safado, tinha caído na real quanto às suas intenções sem demora alguma, e queria o mesmo.

Te puxou pela cintura, colando seu corpo ensopado no dele, te beijou com saudade e ternura, tocando seu rosto, separando seus lábios com a pontinha da língua, retrocedendo cegamente os passos, esbarrando em móveis que ele de repente se esquecera da existência.

— 'Cê é tão perigosa, amor — Haechan parecia embargado com aquelas bochechas quentes, alto, embriagado pelo seu corpo, pelo perfume afrodisíaco que era o seu cheiro particular, a respiração acompanhava a sua acalorada, acelerada, os olhos grandes te miravam sem piscar, te queria o mais próximo que seus corpos permitiam, sentia-se doente, febril, chapado por você e ele sempre se via querendo mais, muito mais.

Você esbanjou um sorriso doce do jeitinho que ele gamava quando o empurrou em direção ao sofá, sentou-se de frente para Haechan que não perdeu tempo em acariciar suas coxas fartas, estendendo o tecido do vestido, revelando parte da lingerie do tom do seu batom que já tinha desaparecido. Haechan respirou fundo, os olhos no meio de vocês dois, você segurou o rosto dele gentilmente, beijou-o devagar, rebolou devagar, o que serviu feito uma tortura para o homem que agarrou sua cintura, te fez olhar nos olhos dele.

— Tem algo pra me dizer? — Perguntou, e seus olhos arderam um bocado, não podia dizer o contrário, Haechan beijou suas bochechas calmamente, selou suas pálpebras com carinho, sem te pressionar quanto a resposta da questão.

— Isso entre a gente é só putaria?

— Com você jamais seria só putaria, vida — Ele capturou sua primeira lágrima com o indicador, realmente parecia um bebê chorão no colo dele, mesmo que sem perceber o tecido do seu vestido estava embolado acima do seu baixo ventre — 'Cê 'tava mesmo preocupada com isso?

— Fiquei com medo de não significar nada pra você — Haechan te beijou, daquele jeitinho preguiçoso, gostosinho em que ele era profissional, as mãos guiaram seu quadril de encontro a ele, simulou o contato, fez você tombar a cabeça para o lado a fim de maltratar o seu pescoço, beijá-lo até se cansar, e Haechan dificilmente se cansava de te dar prazer.

Ele te olhou nos olhos, admirou seu rosto bonito como se estivesse perante a uma jazida de ouro recém descoberta.

— Vamo combinar uma coisinha? Daqui pra frente, 'cê só vai chorar quando eu estiver dentro de vo–

— 'Cê é muito boca suja, né?

Haechan sorriu para você.

— E você ama isso.

@ sunshyni. Todos os chás direitos reservados.

[brightgoat]

Hey bright!! I was wondering if you had any HCs for how a meeting between Pucci and Giorno could have gone? I'm curious about what kind of dynamic you'd think they'd have! 🙏🙌

Hey Flan~ ok this has been sitting in my askbox for how long-

Uhhh... it's hard to say. I've read some fics and seen other people's HCs that I've kinda adopted theirs I think.

I've kinda began rambling in this answer so putting this under cut

I've always thought that if Giorno showed up at the end of SO, fate would've forced him to somehow help Pucci, accidentally even. At that point, fate is in favour of Pucci no matter what it seems, even when the team almost defeated him, he turned the defeat into an advantage and even said that they were helping him all along.

Mix that with the fact that the Brando Bros were also fated to aid him in some way (even when Dona tried to turn against him), and Giorno is just gonna get used I think.

Now people can argue "oh well if he has GER then that would circumvent fate" and to those I say eheheheheeee someone doesn't know how GER actually woooorks~ (but thats not that important-)

So if anything, Giorno was helping by... staying AWAY from Pucci and SO.

As for their dynamic, I think outside the whole Heaven Plan they could've actually kinda gotten along. They're both pretty smart, maybe their interactions would constantly be like a game on mental chess, them both trying to outsmart eachother, Pucci trying to find remnants of Dio in Giorno and Giorno trying to uncover Pucci's secrets (maybe about Dio) but it could grow to be something more friendly... still with ominous undertones.

I had this idea for an AU once where GER goes out of control and begins trying to overpower Giorno, so fate brings Pucci over and Pucci helps by turning GER into a DISC (a very unstable golden shiny DISC).... and then of course Pucci probably uses this for his own advantage but not before growing close with Giorno. (this is like an alternative Green Child AU to me loool)

Idk if this really answered the question but eehhhh?? That's about as much of my own stuff as I got-