#I���m just rotating through old interests

[the-insomniac-emporium]

She's The Skeleton In My Closet (Mia Winters/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil/Resident Lover Genre: fluff? and whatever is a step down from smut Rating: T? not quite horny enough for M. Warnings: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of death/bloodshed, and relatively minor choking in a sexual context (it's more of a hand position than actual choking). Reader is referred to as a girl once by a side character. Summary: It's the end of another loop, and Mia allows herself to get closer to you... through a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven. Notes: Inspired by two pieces of art by @vivi-ness, specifically this and this. If you want to skip to the part of this fic that actually takes place in the closet (aka the making out part), start reading after the second section break -----. I did not mean for the lead-up to be as long as it ended up being. Also might make a part 2 with actual smut?

Alone. Curled up with the brazen darkness wrapped around her like a blanket, Mia’s eyes straining, as she glanced over her notes by candlelight. Less than thirty feet away raged a party fit to shake the heavens. As with every semester, the Umbrella Sorority felt inclined to celebrate the end of exams. Blaring music, countless games on rotation, enough booze to drown the world (or set it all ablaze). Even the theatre kids know to defer to the sorority for this evening. Normally, Mia would not hesitate to join in, downing shots of whiskey and kicking ass at every other game, all the while keeping keen eyes on interesting people.

Ah, but not tonight. Not with the reset looming in the distance, date preselected. Another loop on death row. There was plenty of work to be done, mostly preparations for the ritual, but Mia’s focus was on… other matters. Scanning through old tomes, searching for something that may prove useful in the next rotation. Maybe not enough to finally end the cycle, no, of course not, just something to influence it. Push it in the right direction, despite Miranda’s many protests regarding “interference”.

But there’s a knock on the door, and Mia pauses, unsure if it was simply the bass speakers thumping the walls again. A beat passes before the knock repeats, louder this time. Off-tempo. Quickly, she places her journal aside without marking her place (she remembers, of course, that it is page 28), then blows out the candles. Even as the darkness swallows the last sanctuary of light, her movements are smooth, flowing. In one motion she flips the light switch and unlatches the door.

“What’s up?” She asks, sickly sweet and every bit faking it, staring down at the unexpected visitor. They’re a sophomore, she thinks, a small woman whose name starts with an A. Or an E, maybe. Most loops have her just barely in Mia’s peripheral, sharing a single class but never really interacting. Definitely not the person she would have wanted to come knocking at her door. Only a brief moment passes before the woman replies, her gaze briefly (and unsubtly) scanning the room, voice filled with the unironic enthusiasm that made her grate on Mia’s nerves.

“Well, we’re one person short for 7 Minutes in Heaven- we had enough people, technically, but a few left after Cassandra got picked early, you know how it is- and so I was wondering if you’d join? It’s so weird not having you at the party, anyway, really feels like we’re missing an integral piece of the vibe, you know?” Alissa (if that was her name) says, offering a lopsided smile. Faint pink dusts her freckled cheeks, only some of it being makeup. One of her hands starts to reach for Mia, to rest a flirtatious hand against her shoulder, but the flash of something darker in her expression makes Alissa pull back.

“Oh, I would love to play, but technically my exams aren’t finished,” Mia answers, sporting a half-assed pout, dragging the words out. She lets her tongue click on the t in technically for emphasis. It’s not the best excuse, especially considering Elise (or whatever her name is) also still has one final left. All because the student council took one day too long to remind a certain professor that he couldn’t force students to complete a ritual as part of their exam. Not that Mia would have minded a little school-sanctioned bloodplay, especially since she knows (from experience) that the ritual Dr. Wesker had in mind wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Mia, we both know you don’t need to study for our Occult Sciences class; you could probably teach it at this point!” Anna (Áine?) chimes, grinning wide, blissfully unaware of the true accuracy of her statement. Mia could teach the class, far better than the actual professor, although at that point it would be considerably harder to keep the university’s secrets. But that doesn’t mean she has any interest in joining the party.

Her reluctance must show, because the shorter woman (whose name may or may not be Enya) squints, lips pursing before she abruptly straightens up and switches tactics.

“Besides… your favorite person is playing,” she adds, leaning in to stage-whisper, glancing down the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Despite the confidence in her voice, Mia stares at her blankly. As much as she definitely has a favorite, the one her very soul is bound to, she finds it unlikely that Eliza would know… right? It’s not like they’ve even spent that much time together this loop. Surely she’d been able to keep her cards close to her chest; it’s not like Eliza was terribly observant anyway. Unfortunately for Mia, her thoughts get cut off by another high-pitched exclamation. “Don’t play dumb, Mia! The girl with one earring, roommates with Angie and the youngest Dimitrescu?”

Well. Fuck. So much for being subtle…

-----

Turning down Anamaria (no, not that one, the other one) became impossible the second Mia’s eyes lit up, all at the mere mention of you. Within a minute she had relented, murmuring a few choice words under her breath, allowing herself to be all but dragged to a crowded living room. It takes all of her willpower to maintain a guise of boredom, lips drawn tight as she scanned the partygoers for familiar faces. A slight tension formed in her chest as she intentionally avoided looking at the center of the room, having caught a glimpse of familiar clothing, saving the sight for last. 

Caldwell is by the back corner, playing some complicated boardgame with a mildly enthused Stanley (and a confused but nonetheless supportive Jasmin), positioned where they can keep an eye out for trouble. All three of the Stans could be found hovering by the alcohol, debating whether to leave now or wait for Cassandra to inevitably grab a refill. Somehow Anamaria (yes, that one) was half asleep, tuckered out from one too many party games, curled up against a blushing Livia. Both were chatting with Angie, who was perched precariously on the back of the couch. The only thing keeping the short girl from falling off was a hand clutching one of her belt loops, pulling as necessary to rebalance her.

As Mia’s eyes traced the hand to its owner, she inhaled sharply, the slightest flare to her nostrils. There you are. Eyes crinkled at the edges while you laugh at one of Daniela’s jokes, the sound barely audible past the music, your mouth open in a genuine, shameless grin. Mia allows herself a single moment to admire the view. Luck plays a trick on her then, your gaze suddenly shifting to her, eyes widening when you meet her stare. Immediately you look away, warmth in your face contrasting the way your shoulders tense.

If Mia hadn’t torn her gaze away, flinching like she got burned, she would have seen the way your friends reacted, the way they jumped at the opportunity to tease you. Instead, she lets herself get tugged over to a spare chair by the woman hosting the game.

“Damn, Iris, I didn’t think you’d actually convince Mia to play,” Nicoletta says, trailing her eyes up and down Mia, appreciatively, before turning to the one who had dragged her here. Guess her name doesn’t start with an A or an E after all, Mia thinks, before shrugging off the attention. None of these people know her terribly well, beyond reputation, and she can’t be bothered to unpack why they wanted her here.

“I mean, I kind of had to, with how hard Iris was begging me,” Mia says, pointedly ignoring their gazes in favor of inspecting her nails (short, smoothed over, no polish today). Protests stream from next to her, while a few chuckles rise up around the room. A smirk crosses her lips as she makes eye contact with Iris. Before the woman can explain that Mia only agreed because you’re playing, she speaks up again, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she does. “So, are we drawing names from a hat or what?”

“Close, half of us already put a trinket or whatever in the bag. Anyone who didn’t put one in gets to draw one at some point,” Iris explains, eager to move past the embarrassment from Mia’s lie. “Since you had to be… convinced, you can go ahead and be the one to draw next. Once the lovebirds in the closet are done, that is!”

Nodding, Mia withdrew into herself again, content to sit in silence until her turn. Why had she agreed to this, exactly?... It’s not as if she’s ideologically opposed to party games, but she’d always been more of a fan of the ones that involve drinking. Maybe spin-the-bottle, if she was in the mood for it. But Seven Minutes In Heaven? Too time-consuming, and absolute torture if one got stuck with the wrong partner. What were the odds she’d even get paired up with you? Was that even what she wanted?

Something about this particular loop was messing with her head. Every other one so far involved you falling in love with somebody, even if it ended poorly. But this time?... She had been sure you’d end up with Daniela or Angie, with the way you pushed studies aside for parties, never officially joining the sorority but being a frequent guest at their dorm. Living it up, only getting serious when you helped break Daniela’s curse (not because you loved her, but because you love her, the same way you pour your heart into loving all of your friends).

That’s why the reset was looming overhead, of course. Your faith in Miranda lay shattered, if it had ever existed in the first place, your distrust a crime she considered worthy of oblivion. Any life where you would not love her was, to Miranda, a life unfit to continue.

Mia gets pulled out of her thoughts by a door opening, old hinges squawking in protest. Two flustered women readjust their clothing as they exit the closet, both sporting bright red cheeks, utterly oblivious to the fact that they had swapped shirts. Naturally, they are not allowed to remain ignorant for long, a chorus forming of drunken cheers and teasing remarks. Not everyone focuses on the couple, however, and Mia feels the weight of someone’s gaze on her.

Once more she looks to you, just in time for you to look away, although this time she notices something odd: You aren’t wearing your earring. How interesting. Suddenly she finds herself itching to take her turn, but she suppresses her thirst, not wanting to earn any gentle ribbing from the others. Another minute passes before the paper bag actually gets passed to her, Iris winking as their fingers brush up against each other. Maintaining eye contact, Mia reaches into the bag, offering a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

There are still five or six items inside, some of them in familiar shapes. A watch with a cracked face, one of those tiny skateboards (a Tech Deck, maybe?), a basic bracelet… None of them interest her, but it only takes another second for her to grasp her target, the cool surface smooth under her touch. Carefully, she retrieves it, ensuring the earring doesn’t snag on any of the other items.

With a triumphant smirk, she holds it up in the light. Although disappointment shows in Iris’ face, Mia can’t help but notice the way Daniela nudges your side with a knowing grin. Even Angie turns to whisper something in your ear, almost tumbling off the couch with how hard she laughs at the instant flush to your face, exasperation clear in your posture. Nonetheless, you rise on shaky legs, not meeting Mia’s gaze as the two of you move towards the unoccupied closet…

-----

“Have fun in there! Seven minutes starts when the door closes,” Iris chimes, having readopted her mask of overexcited joy, all but pushing you in after Mia. There’s a sharp click right after, the door settling into place. Another click, softer, and the small space becomes sparsely illuminated. You blink a few times to adjust to the dim lighting, glancing up in time to see Mia… on her phone? Before you can question her, she taps a button and sets it down on one of the shelves behind her, and you catch a glimpse of a timer on the screen.

“Six and a half minutes,” she says, as if that was all the explanation needed. Then she’s leaning forward, expression blank, hands reaching out to-... put your earring back where it belongs. It’s an oddly intimate experience, feeling out of place in a game that focused on a different kind of intimacy. If only it lasted longer than a few moments. Once she pulls away, there’s a noticeable flush to her cheeks. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch us in a compromising position, right?”

Despite her words, Mia makes no further moves to touch you. One hand fiddles with the hem of her jacket, the other tucks her own hair behind her ear, the movement awkward in the cramped space. It’s easy enough to mistake her countenance for a kind of nervousness. Playing wasn’t her idea, after all, and you feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited about getting paired with her. Could she tell? Was she worried by the thundering of your heart, by the warmth of your presence?

Internally, however, Mia is struck with the sudden urge for her favorite brand of intimacy: Violence. Of the last eighteen times she was this close to you, with your breath just barely ghosting her skin, sixteen of those meetings had ended with homicide, attempted or otherwise. Gods, it was her curse, to only know your touch when she initiated it with heavy hands. To be so well acquainted with the feeling of your blood on her skin that it has become more familiar than her own. When was she last able to touch you without the many promises of pain? Can she even trust herself to love without consuming?

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I know you probably weren’t planning on this tonight,” you say, softly, offering a weak smile. Now you’re the nervous one, rubbing your arm as if the sensation might smooth out your anxiety. It’s not until you feel Mia lean the slightest bit forward that you dare to meet her gaze. Something haunts her expression, lying beneath the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Before you can even blink, she’s brought her hand back up, cupping your chin and making sure your gaze never leaves hers.

“And if I do want to do something?” Mia whispers. One of her fingers shifts, gently tracing over the front of your throat. If only you knew how excited she got by the feeling of your heart racing beneath her fingertips. In contrast, she is all the more aware of the way your breath hitches at her touch. The way you look up at her with dilated pupils makes her every bit hungrier. Just one taste, she thinks, eying your lips. How was it fair that in all these loops, she had never once gotten to kiss you? “Tell me you want this. Say it, or I go right now, game be damned.”

She knows it’s not fair to put that pressure on you, to make you choose that very second. But she doesn’t care, not at all, not when she knows you’re already on the brink of giving in.

“Please, Mia,” you say, voice almost whiny from sudden need, a hand moving to clutch her jacket. More words get stuck in your throat, a part of your mind still keenly aware of how swiftly the mood has changed. Had Mia ever been nervous? Maybe, maybe just not the way you had interpreted her to be. No traces of hesitation can be found in her expression as she slides her hand lower, fingers resting on either side of your neck, only enough pressure for you to really feel her. A silent urging for you to spill the rest of your plea. “I want you.” You swallow hard, trapped by her touch, yet desperate for more. “I want this. Please. Please kiss me.”

In an instant she’s pulled you forward, lips crashing against yours; her hand on your throat is the anchor tying her to you. All other thoughts are crushed under the weight of her messy embrace. There’s just her. Instinct drives your movements, all of the desire that had built up this semester coalescing into a kiss, into the way your hand ends up fisted in her hair, the other sliding beneath her jacket to grasp at her shirt.

Mia’s fingers never tighten around your neck, never put any pressure on your windpipe, yet they still hold power over you. It’s her movement that changes the angle, that deepens the kiss until your lips part for her. You swear you can feel her hunger, the need radiating from her, and yet you have no idea how much she is truly holding back. Every bit of your hunger was matched and exceeded by her.

Your feelings, hidden until now, had gnawed at your heart for half a year. Hers had hounded her for countless loops. The hand on your throat is a warning to herself, arm a barrier to keep her from coming any closer. It’s not enough, her free hand itching to touch and tug, to begin unraveling you. Mia presses the hand to the wall behind you, clenching it into a fist. That might have done the trick… if not for the way you shift a moment later. As soon as your thigh starts to slot between her own, she throws out any sense of caution, giving in to this one chance to be with you.

“So eager for me,” Mia murmurs, having pulled back for just a moment, finally pulling her hand from your neck (you miss it, miss the warmth, miss her guidance). There’s a split second where you think you see love in her eyes- and then your back is flat against the wall, both her hands on your hips, her mouth pressing open kisses along your jaw. A tug encourages you to move your thigh again, letting her seek out that friction she so desperately needs. “So fucking good to me,” she whispers, breath hot against your cheek.

Then she’s practically nipping at your throat, relishing your gasp, only to eagerly soothe the skin with gentle kisses. Something like a growl leaves her as she starts to grind against your thigh, grip on your hips growing tighter. Each moment has the kisses growing more intense again, paired with more soft bites, making it harder and harder to keep yourself from moaning. When her hands start rubbing circles against you, it becomes impossible to stay completely quiet.

Both a blessing and a curse, your sound comes at the same time that Mia’s phone starts to vibrate, signaling the end of your time together. Instantly she’s peeling herself off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, muttering a few swears in between shaky breaths. Following her lead, you try to smooth out your clothing and collect yourself. But that’s much easier said than done, neither of you satisfied at leaving things here, both itching to finish what you started.

“You should stay,” Mia starts to say, shrugging off her jacket. Each word sounds like she has to force it out. “After the party ends. I could… I could use the company.” This time the words come easier, accompanied with a crooked grin, and she doesn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders, covering up the marks she definitely left all over your throat. More than that, it’s her way of making sure everyone knows that you’re with her tonight.

The door swings open before you have a chance to respond to her offer. For a moment the light feels blinding, and when you reopen your eyes you see that Mia’s already started walking away, ignoring the reactions of other partygoers. You would be disappointed… but this is the first time you’ve seen her without a jacket, and now you find yourself with a new appreciation for her arms, already picturing yourself getting pinned beneath her. Something to look forward to later tonight, you suppose.

[evilwickedme]

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

[ghulehunknown]

Teach Me Tonight

Primo x F!Reader

Day 7 of KINKTOBER is {finally} here! 🎃

**WARNING - EXPLICIT/NSFW**

“Teach Me Tonight”

Summary: You’ve been shadowing as Primo’s intern in the gardens for weeks and share your affections with him. After opening up, you realize that he could teach you a thing or two about watering your own garden.

CW/Tags: teacher/student, age difference, F!Reader, reader is somewhat inexperienced, vaginal fingering, CMNF, semi-public nudity and sex, sex outdoors, praise, mutual masturbation, handjob, dry humping, oral sex (M receiving), P in V sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 3600

.

For several weeks you were shadowing Papa Primo in the gardens. Truth be told you only had a normal-sized interest in plants, but you marveled at the thought of alone time with your favorite Papa.

“So,” he had said after many days of near silence. “What is your interest in plants? Surely you could have picked a more exciting adventure for your future career here, fragolina?”

“Who better to learn things from? I’ve always admired the work you’ve done at the Ministry,” you had said shyly with a smile, the first full sentences you formed other than your name when you first met and “Yes, Papa” when given instructions.

“That is refreshing to hear. Most young folks are here for the youthful, more energetic Papas and they fall into a certain ‘party’ lifestyle when they arrive, and burn out quick.” Only this silly old geezer would be calling his brothers “youthful,” and it brought a smile to your lips.

“It might not be exciting work what we do here, cara, but I can assure you that your time with me will be fruitful and rewarding,” he continued.

You could have melted when he said that - did he know somehow, that you had fancied him since you were a girl? Did he know the candle you held close in your heart for him, always lit?

The weeks went by and you would chit-chat as you gardened. He would tell you tales of his time as a young Clergy member, how he used to party like his brothers. Then things changed as he grew older and weary, and he found solitude in the quiet greenhouses.

His touch with the plants never wavered - his hands were always steady when carefully snipping the vines on the pumpkins, trimming the hedges, or snipping off dead leaves. Your interactions were always harmonious and polite, with the occasional brush of the hands - his strong, yet delicate, hands.

But today was different. Sister Imperator would soon be rotating the Siblings’ work responsibilities based on productivity or “fit,” unless either their respective Papa or ghoul specifically asked for them to stay as an apprentice.

Today you walk into the gardens, head held high, a confidence you had never felt before now surging through you. He wouldn't make the first move, you think to yourself - as it should be. Imagine the complications then, if there was ever the slightest implication that your job was on the line all because Papa wanted your affection. No, it has to be you.

You work together in silence again for most of the day, focusing on mixing the right compost for the flowerbed soil.

“Papa, I want to discuss something,” you say.

“What is it, bambolina?” he asks, finishing up.

Those names! How he makes your heart flutter with just his simple words. Even though you hardly know what he is saying half the time, you know his words are sweet and genuine.

He gestures to the water spigot and watering can and instructs you to fill it up. You shake yourself to get out of your daydream and nod, walking over to the side of the greenhouse and filling up the can.

“Well, Sister…she’s giving all the new Siblings their performance reviews soon, and I was just wondering…if, well, if you were happy with mine.” You waddle back over to the table with the watering can, a little too heavy for you to carry.

He picks it up with ease. “Sì, I have given you all good marks. You are very studious and I have enjoyed your help here.”

“Oh - erm, grazie Papa. So will I be continuing to work with you in the gardens?”

“If that is your wish, then yes.”

“Oh good, good. That’s…good,” you say awkwardly, scratching your head.

“Mm, it is,” he remarks gently, not pushing the subject any farther. He begins watering the smaller plants on the tabletop.

“I’ve been enjoying my time here so much, Papa. And I need you to know, the real reason I came here was to get to know you better.”

He pauses, listening to you intently, then continues tending to the plants.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat then continue. “I have gotten to know you, for who you truly are, and I…I want to spend even more time with you, in a more intimate setting.”

“Hm - me, donzella?” he says, still watering the plants on the tabletop, though he does not sound surprised. “No, non è possibile. You do not want this old fool.”

“You aren’t a fool,” you say, stepping closer. “Though you may be a bit…advanced, in more ways than one.”

He eyes you from his peripheral, and you aren’t sure if he’s giving a warning glance or teasing you.

You gulp nervously. “I just meant, Papa…that you are very wise and…experienced.”

“Sì, cara, I have lived a full life. Some things I would rather not remember, and others were…” He pauses in thought, then says with a smile, “..hmm, fun.”

“And what about having another fun time…teaching me something else?”

He flashes you another look, this time setting the watering can down and raising an eyebrow while glancing your body up and down, perhaps unsure of your intentions. “Have you not explored the pleasures of your own body before, coccinella? Have you not lain with another?”

“I have, Papa…but I’ve only slept with one other before. I know how to make myself feel good, but…” You pause, trembling. “I was hoping you could show me what true pleasure feels like,” you blurt out the rest - knowing if you didn’t, you could never say it. You can’t believe what you just confessed to Primo.

He ponders for a moment before saying anything. He removes his gloves, revealing his long and slender fingers, slightly leathery and the top of his hands wrinkled - and your mind immediately goes to where he could put those fingers. He takes off his gardening hat as well, and you notice a few age spots on his bald head. None of that matters to you, though. In fact, he’s just your type. You can’t explain it, but the very fact he has lived a long and full life before your very existence turns you on. Like a forbidden romance, but also the thrill of experiencing what he’s done so many times before you.

It’s not about what he can do for you - it’s about being with him, to be chosen. To feel special in an otherwise unspecial world and push beyond whatever limitations you had put on yourself before, all in the pursuit of an orderly and plain life. If everything went just the way you had planned, nothing could hurt you. But what kind of life was that if there were no surprises?

He gathers a couple of blankets typically used for covering the delicate plants during frost or other harsh weather, and lays them down on the ground and over the pumpkin patch. He turns on the space heaters on the patio then takes you by the arm towards the pumpkins.

He lays you down in the patch - the leafy fronds and plump gourds surprisingly comfortable. A medium sized pumpkin fits the arch of your back perfectly. He lays down next to you, propped by pumpkins so he is laying on his side. He reaches over you, his hand grazing over your breasts to caress your shoulder. You swallow another lump in your throat as your nerves get the best of you. You haven’t experienced this sort of feeling before, but you think it’s…thrill.

“Are you comfortable, Sorella?” he asks, massaging your upper arm.

You nod quickly - too quickly.

“Are you sure? We do not have to do this,” he says soothingly, pausing as he begins to retract his hand.

“Wait, Papa -” you begin to say, then pull his hand back over your body, lightly touching your chest again before reaching your shoulder opposite him.

He strokes your arm again, this time pulling your sleeve past your shoulder, revealing your bra strap. He takes the strap in between his fingers and gently grazes the fabric. “Pesky thing,” he says, then looks into your eyes.

“It hooks in the back,” you say with a gulp.

He continues looking you in the eyes, then holds your face in his hand. You close your eyes and exhale. He won’t make the first move, will he? He has to know you want this, truly want this - and that you aren’t at all uncomfortable with the dynamic. At least, that’s the only thing you can surmise. Afterall, he is Papa and you are merely his intern.

You lean in, tilting your head - but falter before reaching his lips. Fuck, what is it? Nerves? The undeniable shame you know you’ll have to battle later - the kind of shame that only a former Catholic schoolgirl would know in the late hours of night?

But that one move is just what he needs; he needs your invitation. Still holding your face in his hands, he pulls you in close, and kisses your lips.

Suddenly, even if just for now, your ex-Catholic guilt subsides. And all you want is here before you. You kiss him back and your arms find their way around his shoulders. You place one hand on the back of his head and feel the smoothness of his scalp in your palm.

He kisses the side of your face and down the crook of your neck, trailing his hand there and then down your back. He unzips your gown halfway, then slips it down your shoulders. You pull your arms out of the sleeves, revealing your upper body. He cups one breast in his hand over your bra, massaging while continuing to kiss you.

You quietly moan under your breath, feeling your nipples harden at his touch. He slips his hand inside your bra, exposing your nipple to the crisp air, repeating the same motion to your other breast. He softly pinches your hardened flesh between his thumb and index finger, massaging you with the palm of his hand. He alternates on both sides, kissing your lips - working up the friction between your legs.

“Mmmn, Papa - ” you gasp, breaking away from his embrace. You look around frantically, suddenly remembering you were in the gardens, where the Cardinal and Imperator often liked to stroll. Occasionally you had even seen Terzo’s legs entangled with another Siblings’ through the bushes. “Won’t someone see?”

“No one will bother us here, bambolina,” he says assuredly. When you still seem skeptical, he explains further. “There is Mass tonight. They will all be in the Abbey.”

Relief washes over you. You could only handle one new experience at a time; perhaps exhibitionism and voyeurism would come later.

Still looking beyond the gardens towards the stained glass windows of the Ministry, he turns your head gently to face him. “We do not have to do anything you are not comfortable with - capisci, Sorella?”

You nod, and lean in to kiss him again. “It’s okay Papa. I’m ready.”

“Ecco una brava ragazza,” he says with a comforting smile, while reaching behind you and unhooking your bra, placing it beside you. Your nipples harden again at the sudden cold (though they were already halfway hard), goosebumps all over your body now.

He slowly lifts the skirt of your habit up past your hips, revealing your pink lacy panties. The chilly autumn air stings, but his hands give you warmth. “No one should ever touch you without your permission cara, is that understood?” You nod, your teeth chattering in your mouth. “Good,” he continues. “In that case…is this alright?”

You nod again. “Yes Papa,” you whisper.

He pulls your underwear down past your knees, tantalizingly slow, then finally past your ankles. He tosses them to the side, landing on the stem of a nearby gourd. “Che bel fiorellino,” he remarks upon seeing your trimmed cunt, running his hand over your body. The space heaters’ warmth finally reaches you and you stop shivering.

“It should be easy to find your g-spot,” he says, gently entering his middle digit into you, moving around for a few seconds until you coo. “Ah, there it is,” he says, grazing the soft, raised spot inside your walls. “And already so wet,” he remarks. “Sei la brava ragazza di Papa.”

Your back arches and you curl up next to Primo’s chest, hand clutching onto his chasuble. Your mouth opens in an “Oh!” as you exclaim while he brushes along your walls.

He massages inside you for a few moments while keeping his other hand over your abdomen. “You should be relaxed and molto, molto bagnata before going any farther.”

He continues to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, curling upwards and petting your sensitive spot when he re-enters. “You are still quite tense,” he says matter-of-factly.

You blush - you could tell now that you were involuntarily seizing up around him, your whole body clenching as if preparing for pain. You didn’t think he could, well, feel that.

He smiles warmly down at you, still curled up into his chest. “Non preoccuparti, cara mia.” He kisses along your neck, along the curve of your collarbone. He moves down to your chest, then sucks on your nipple - and you moan quietly again. He alternates breasts until his finger slides inside you more easily and your shoulders slack, your muscles no longer holding tension.

“Are you ready for another finger, la mia bambolina, mm? I think you are,” he says, sliding another finger inside you. You cry out, feeling the stretch, your body inviting him much more easily this time. “Such a good little thing, you are doing so well,” he coaxes.

He pumps in and out of you several times, then brings his fingers upwards to your clit - covered in your slick. He slides around your bud in small, slow circles. You sigh happily, your hand moving down his chest closer to his navel.

“What are you doing, fragolina?” he asks.

“I want to do something for you, Papa,” you whisper.

“I am not worried about my pleasure, pet.”

“I want to,” you say as you continue down his body. Your hand hits his erection and you begin to palm him through his robe.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and breathing heavily through his nose. His gentle circles in between your legs falter for just a moment as you begin to stroke him, but he continues, your breathy sighs now matching in rhythm.

You turn to face him, dangling one leg over his so you are straddling his knee. You begin to grind on his leg, his bony knee providing you relief between your thighs. He removes his hand from your entrance, then holds your waist by both hands and guides you along, helping you build friction on your throbbing clit. You place both hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

He grabs you and places you over his clothed erection, sliding his prodding member in between your folds. There’s a dark spot on his knee from your arousal. A few times he almost enters you, the soft silk catching inside you, rubbing a new sensation. Your back arches again and you reach around you to gather up the fabric of his robes. You lift it over his hips - and to your surprise, he is wearing nothing underneath.

The sight of his throbbing cock bobbing towards you sends a chill down your spine - right to your core. Christ, he really is as big as everyone rumors. He’s long and slender just as you imagined, with an upwards curve that you know will be able to hit you just right. He’s pale just like the rest of his skin - with a pink tip, a bead of precum resting in the slit of his hood.

You get on all fours before him, looking up at him from beneath his cock, a hunger in your eyes.

He looks at you while running his hand through your hair, then gently pulls you towards him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking slowly from base to tip, thumbing the head on the way up. “That’s it, Sorella. There’s a good girl,” he says.

“Ahh,” he sighs as you lick the precum off his tip, delicately dancing your tongue around. He puts his hand over yours, guiding your hand up and down his shaft as you lick around his first few inches, not knowing how in hell you’ll be able to fit all of him inside you.

Sensing your hesitancy, he pulls his hips backwards. “That can be enough for now, cara. We do not have to go any further. You have done very well this evening.” He pats the side of your face.

“I want to go further,” you insist, crawling up to him closer.

He pauses. “Coccinella, I do not have a condom with me. Unless we go to my bedchambers, we -”

“I’m on birth control,” you blurt out, inching closer to him. “I’m ready.”

“Condoms do more than prevent insemination,” he adds, forgetting you are not completely ignorant in the world of sex.

“Papa, I have not been with anyone else in a while,” you assure him. “Have you? - I mean, shit I’m sorry. That was way too forward.”

He rubs your arm soothingly. “I assure you, I have not been with anyone else as of late. And I do not think I will be…for some time,” he says, looking at you after his pause.

Oh. Does he mean…? That he never wants to be with you after this, or that he won’t be with anyone else aside from you?

He says your name, and looks you in the eyes while holding your chin in his fingertips. “Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso.”

What the fuck does that mean? He sounds so sweet saying it…

“You are the reason for my smiles, bambolina. You are the reason I keep getting up everyday. My life lacked purpose until you reminded me that I am needed here. I have felt cast aside for years now, withering into a shell of my former self. You,” he says while rubbing your chin. “You are my reason.”

“Oh Papa,” you say, crawling up into his lap and holding his face in your hands, kissing him. “You’re very important to me.”

“E anche tu sei importante per me…”

“I need to feel close to you…” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and straddling him again.

He tucks your hair behind your ear. “Così bella,” he whispers breathlessly as you stroke his cock once more, rubbing yourself against his shaft. He lifts your hips over his, lowering you over his tip.

You stand yourself up on your knees to ready yourself for his length. You wince as he enters you slowly.

“Careful, cara mia,” he says gently, holding you up firmly as your knees begin to buckle under you. “That’s it, brava ragazza. Slowly now.”

You tremble as his first inches enter you, stretching you much more than his fingers did earlier. He grabs onto your rear, massaging your cheeks and gliding you up and down, not going past halfway down his shaft. Your legs start to shake uncontrollably and he lifts you off of him easily like a doll. He gently places you down on your back, propped up by the pumpkins.

He glides over top of you, entering you only as far as you went before. He is carefully holding himself up so as not to enter you fully.

“Papa, is that comfortable? Will you be able to get off if you’re not um, fully inside?” you inquire.

“Your comfort is much more important than my pleasure, cara.” He slides in and out very carefully, kissing you. “I assure you, I will enjoy myself. But at your pace.”

You feel your walls stretch to accommodate his size, his cock grazing against your g-spot perfectly the way he’s angled. Your chest rises and falls, each breath getting heavier and heavier. He dips his head down to suckle at your breasts while he pumps in and out of you, now moving quicker the more you moan. He reaches down to massage your clit as he thrusts, every sensation in your body now overwhelmed.

“Oh fuck,” you moan - a little too loudly this time, as your pleasured sounds echo off the patio tiles and into the courtyard beyond. Every few thrusts he adds another inch inside you, slowly filling you completely - until finally, you feel his hips meet yours, his balls hitting your nethers.

Without realizing, you squeeze around him, and he groans out loud.

“I’m sorry Papa, did I -?”

“No, no cara that feels so good, please continue. You can practice contracting your pelvic floor muscles - Gesù Cristo! Ahh, that’s it Sorella, don’t stop!” He pants, riding through his building orgasm.

He continues massaging your clit, your climax coming soon, with his. He’s timing your breathing patterns perfectly - you feel so close. Your mouth opens but you can barely make a noise as your vision starts to go hazy. He pumps into you a final time, grunting into your shoulder. You both moan, panting, coming down from your peak, and lie exhausted in one another’s arms for a few moments.

“Should we go inside?” you ask, breaking the silence and looking up at him from resting your head on his chest.

“Let’s stay out here a bit longer,” he says, looking up at the stars above you while stroking your hair.

Italian to English Translations

- fragolina (little strawberry)

- cara (dear)

- bambolina (little doll)

- grazie (thank you)

- donzella (damsel)

- non è possibile (it’s not possible)

- coccinella (ladybug)

- capisci (do you understand)

- Ecco una brava ragazza (There’s a good girl)

- Che bel fiorellino (What a pretty flower)

- Sei la brava ragazza di Papa (You are Papa’s good girl)

- molto, molto bagnata (very, very wet)

- Non preoccuparti, cara mia (Don’t worry, my dear)

- Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso (You’re the reason for all my smiles)

- E anche tu sei importante per me… (And you are important to me too)

- Così bella (So beautiful)

- Gesù Cristo (Jesus Christ)

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Twelve

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3587

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You were sitting at your desk, cleaning your gun. You had two different guns and they had to be 100% functional if you needed them in the next few days... What a stupid thought, you were a member of one of the largest and most dangerous crime syndicates in all of Japan and your weapons should always be well prepared. 

Eyes around the head... 

You have been given permission to deal with the Uchiyama family, but on the condition that you bring both spouses to the place where you usually interrogate people who threaten Bonten's interests. 

Yes, it was more often the case that you didn't take people to such places and instead visited them in their places of residence, but this time Kisaki decided to make an exception. Especially since you didn't know what was in the Uchiyama family house. 

You weren't happy about just one thing. Shuji Hanma insisted on accompanying you. You had to take care of everything within a week without Yuu realizing what was going on. Additionally, at a similar time, Mochi must deal with the arrest of Nagano and Nagasawa, and Kakucho must deal with Akira. 

All four must be caught at the same time... 

Five. You couldn't forget that Emiko is also involved in this. In your head, she was a completely separate matter, and you knew that you were based on old grudges in thinking that way, and that was a mistake. You couldn't lose control of your emotions. 

You checked that everything is well oiled. The gun better not jam, right? 

Five? Since Akira and Sato are connected, maybe it would be better to wait for Sanzu, Ran and Rinodu... No, you couldn't wait. Otherwise, everyone might smell something and run away. Too much risk. 

Through the open door to your room, you heard some screams and loud conversations coming from somewhere downstairs. You lowered your hands, which still held the gun, and listened with a raised eyebrow. You were sure that one of the voices belonged to Mochizuki and another to some woman. It was high-pitched and almost girly-sounding. 

You put down your gun and left the room, you saw Kakucho in the corridors, who had apparently left his room and was also listening to the noise. You walked up to him and looked at each other in surprise. 

“Mochi is fighting with some whore?” You asked uncertainly, and the black-haired man shook his head. 

“He never lets them raise their voices at him. It's too early for the girl rotation, so I guess he brought Miss Yoshioka.” 

At the same time, you moved towards the stairs and looked down, leaning slightly over the railing. “I hope they don't upset Mikey with this noise.” You whispered and immediately felt someone's presence behind you. 

Kakucho apparently did too, because he turned around with you. Before you stood a man of slight build, with a very tired look in his coal-black eyes. His hair was bleached white, neatly styled, and his pale skin was clearly yearning for the sun. 

“Mikey?” Kakucho said quietly and your companion slowly walked over to the railing and looked down at the source of the noise. 

Mochi and the woman were still arguing about something, but due to the constant shouting over each other, you weren't able to figure out the topic of the argument. 

“Is she connected to the case of traitors?” Your leader's voice was impassive, as was his expression. 

“Yes, but we don't know to what extent.” You also replied, looking down. “Mochi was supposed to bring her in for questioning, her boyfriend is one of the traitors.” 

“Hmm…” Mikey straightened up and started walking down the hall again in a direction only he knew, leaving you two alone at the top of the stairs. “Silence her, Kakucho. Her voice is too shrill.” 

“Of course, Mikey…” The other replied and started walking down the stairs to silence the arguing people, and you immediately followed him. 

Kakucho stopped at the bottom of the stairs, you 2 steps above him, and you both watched in amazement as Mochi was attacked by a woman with a stature that reminded you of Rosie. The difference was that she had strong, colorful makeup and her very light hair was streaked with colorful highlights. She was dressed in a short, ruffled, brightly colored skirt, an equally bright top and stockings, and on her small feet she had black patent leather wedges. 

She shouted something unintelligible at the man towering over her, hitting him with a small bag shaped like a teddy bear's head. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You asked quietly, snapping Kakucho out of his shock, who quickly walked over to the girl and grabbed her wrist, pushing her away from Mochi, who you could have sworn was holding back from hitting that colorful flea. 

“Let me go! I will kick his big ugly ass!” The girl screamed, trying to get away from the black-haired man, so he also grabbed her other wrist so that the girl wouldn't think of hitting him with her purse. 

You involuntarily smiled to yourself and when the little one kicked Kakucho in the ankle, you had to turn your head to avoid bursting into laughter. 

You calmed down and walked closer to them. 

“Calm down, miss…” Kakucho said, starting to lose his patience. “We just want to talk, I guess you willingly came here with Mochi, right?” 

"Well, so what? I changed my mind!" She jerked several times, giving both men an icy glare. 

“Junko…” You started calmly, still smiling. “Mikey would like you to stop starting fights and start behaving obediently right now.” 

The girl froze and looked at you with wide blue eyes. “Huh?” 

“As already mentioned, we just want to talk…” 

"I know." She replied more quietly and puffed out her cheeks like an angry little child, stopping struggling from Kakucho's grip. “I'll be good now.” 

"Thank you. Let's go to my office and explain the situation calmly, okay?" Said the black-haired man, releasing the girl's wrists.  

She nodded, gave Mochi a haughty look and, rubbing her wrists, followed the first man down the corridor.  

“Fucking slut.” Mochizuki muttered, straightening his suit. “I should leave her to you and take care of this guy, Yuu.” 

You looked at him, amused. “What is she so mad at you about?”  

“I commented on her choice of underwear.” He said, giving you a quick glance. “She's 24 and she wears teddy bear panties like a kindergarten girl.”  

You laughed, but when the bigger man made a more menacing face, you held back. 

“You were only supposed to bring her here, not look up her skirt.”  

“You have no idea how she got into the car. I urged her to ride in the front, but she climbed into the backseat almost on all fours. There was no way I wouldn't see her panties.” 

“Did she take any drugs?” You asked as you were already walking to Kakucho's office where you could hear the girl's cheerful chirping, apparently her mood had changed.  

"No. At least not with me, but we had to stop at a cafe for coffee and donuts.” Mochi growled dissatisfied. “I'll have to clean up the car later. Entire seats covered in crumbs and powdered sugar.” 

"You could have just threatened her and not followed her orders. She's a pimp's girlfriend, not your boss." You shrugged, but Mochi gritted his teeth.  

“And then bother trying to get her to tell us anything? Can't you see what she is like? She doesn't give a damn whether someone hits her or not..."  

“That's right, she beat you with her purse…” You joked and in the blink of an eye, Mochi grabbed your shirt and your back hit the wall with a thud. 

“Say one more fucking word, L/n, and I swear I'll forget for a moment that we're working together and-”  

“Don't worry, it's okay to make a mistake.” You raised both your hands, showing him that you had no intention of fighting. “It's just that Yoshioka is quite an interesting person, isn't she? She's either stupid or brave.” 

The taller man's eyes bored into your soul, but after a moment a small smirk appeared on his lips, and he let go of you.  

“Maybe both. I'll let you off for now."  

He walked into Kakucho's office, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you..." 

“... and then my Jin-chan said that orders came from the gang leader to sell several girls to private clients and other brothels! Competing brothels!” The girl spoke as you entered the office and closed the door behind you.  

“No such order was ever given.” Kakucho said, putting down the phone he was apparently talking on a moment ago. 

"I know that! It would be totally stupid of you." The colorful flea was gesturing lively with its hands as it walked around the room. “Completely idiotic idea, but…” She shrugged her slim shoulders, walked to the mirror hanging on the wall and started fixing her hair. “Who am I to argue with people higher up than me?”  

Mochi tensed in his seat, ready to counterattack, but Kakucho stopped him with a slightly raised hand. 

“Jin-chan got such orders not directly from here, but from Toad Nagano and Ugly Akira.” She puffed out her cheeks, striking a few poses in front of the mirror before turning towards you and looking at each of you with a judgmental look. “Jin-chan doesn't like them, he's a terrible coward.”  

“So, Nagano and Kuroda run it?” Kakucho asked. "Which of them..." 

“Is more important? Hmm…” She tapped her cheek with her finger. “Akira. I think so."  

She walked to the small sofa and started rummaging in her purse, from which she soon pulled out a small bottle and waved it at you. You immediately knew what it was and realized that Junko's behavior reminded you of Sanzu's phases. 

“Do you want some candy?” She asked, and when each of you refused, she swallowed one powder pink pill. “They are great, the world immediately becomes colorful.” Her high-pitched voice took on a cheerful tone, and she stood at the desk and leaned her elbows on the counter. She shook her upturned ass slightly and smiled sweetly at the black-haired man. “So, when is the tea? I hope it will be with raspberry as I wanted and there will be cookies.” 

“Yes, someone will bring it in a few minutes.” Kakucho said without taking his eyes off the girl's face.  

You watched this with a raised eyebrow. First Mochi, coffee and donuts, and now Kakucho, raspberry tea and cookies... What was going on here? How on earth did this flashy flea with a complete lack of tits have such an influence on your companions? You had nothing against flat-chested girls, but you knew... Even her attitude didn't appeal to you... Maybe her ass, slim legs and small feet, but... 

Big blue eyes landed on you, and you immediately knew Yoshioka was trying to figure you out. You had no intention of following her orders. You already had one junkie who was a very important person to you, and this flea isn't going to do that. Even if she resembled Sanzu even more and took all the pills she had with her...  

“You're from Haru-chan, right?” She asked in a sweet voice, an even sweeter smile appearing on her face that was very reminiscent of Haruchiyo's... 

Stop! Don't you dare compare them even more. Junko Yoshioka is not as good as Sanzu.  

"And what about this?"  

“Do you know when he will have new stock?” 

“In the next few days.” You answered truthfully. “Are you running out of drugs?”  

She nodded. “Could you tell him that I would like to buy some more?”  

“If you tell us everything, I'll give you a bonus.” You said in a serious tone. 

“Y/n…” Kakucho spoke, looking at you surprised.  

"All right. We have a deal!” Junko giggled and unprecedentedly sat on your lap, surprising everyone present, but probably you the most. “You're cute, Y/n-chan!” 

Your body didn't move even a millimeter, completely frozen by shock. You looked at the small figure who was swinging her slim legs happily and running her fingers through your hair. Her sweet, but not overpowering perfume entered your nostrils and for a split second you wanted to move your nose closer to her slender neck so you could inhale it more. She won. The colorful flea won. 

“Hmm, so…” Junko said, making herself more comfortable on your lap and shifting her gaze to Kakucho. “It started a little over a year ago. Our girls..."  

"Yours?" Kakucho interjected. 

“Yes, mine and Jin-chan's... So, our girls started reporting to us that some guys started coming up to them regularly to try to convince them to change their pimp... First small amounts of money, then larger ones... A few girls agreed and ran away from us, but the rest came to Jin-chan and complained about it. Working for Bonten doesn't pay that badly, so loyal whores got small bonuses for their loyalty.” Junko started playing with your tie and you placed your hands on the armrests just to avoid touching the girl in any encouraging way. 

“I understand that's when Nagasawa decided to inform us all, right?” Kakucho took a few short notes, but stopped in surprise when he heard the answer. 

"Nope." The girl's voice sounded calm. “I did it on his behalf, but I didn't say a word to Jin-chan. He insisted that we cannot interfere in this because it will end badly for us. At that time, Ugly Akira visited him more often. He once told my Jin-chan that he had to get rid of Kitty because she wanted to give him away.” She made a sad face and placed her head on your shoulder. “Then the whores started disappearing, sold to other brothels or, as I mentioned, to private clients as sex slaves... And some of them started to be simply killed as a warning to those girls who were rebelling.” 

“How much did Kitty know?” You asked, trying to control your heartbeat.  

“Oh, almost everything. Kuroda was first her sponsor and then became her pimp. She was cool, almost like an older sister..." 

There was a knock on the office door and Kakucho signaled that they were welcome to enter. One of the prostitutes in the hideout came in, holding a tray with a teapot, cups and a plate full of various cookies in her hands, at the sight of which Junko's blue eyes sparkled like a small child's. 

“They're here! Oh…” She got up from your lap, which you greeted with obvious relief, and leaned down to look at the sweets. “Kaku-chan! They look delicious, and the tea...” The prostitute filled her cup, and the pleasant smell of fruity tea filled the room. “It smells wonderful! Thank you, sweetie!" She smiled sweetly at the girl serving her, who responded with an equally happy smile, then bowed to the men and quickly left the room. 

Your eyes involuntarily fell on Yoshioka's ass, and when she bent over more, revealing panties that actually had a teddy bear theme, you saw something strange... More than once, you had a similar sight before your eyes - girls' and women's butts in various underwear, but this time... Something didn't suit the pattern.  

The girl took a sip of tea, put the cup on a saucer and put a few cookies on a small plate. Then she handed everything to you, which you obediently took in both of your hands and... She sat down on your lap again, making you an armchair and a servant... 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mochi's amused look as he lit a cigarette, and your face flushed with embarrassment. What this colorful flea was doing was a gentler version of what Sanzu was doing to you. 

“Do you know anything about Nagano and Yuu?” Kakucho asked, slowly turning his gaze away from Yoshioka and focusing back on the sheets of paper in front of him.  

The girl nodded and took a bite of the cookie. “Mmmm! Yummy! Yes, I know that Nagano hired his old friend from the gang they used to be in together. Yuu is the guy who deals with disobedient whores.” She shrugged and in a fluid motion she opened your mouth and pushed the rest of the cake inside before calmly drinking her tea again. 

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and you wanted to spit out the sweets, but seeing Kakucho's warning look, you started chewing slowly. Sanzu could wipe the floor with you, and you would still love him with all your heart, but at that moment you felt humiliated. 

“Yuu has an accomplice, but I don't know anything about him. He never introduced it to us. Maybe that's a good thing.” She shuddered and reached for another cookie. “All I know is that the guy has some connections to the garbage incinerator, so that's why the police still haven't found most of the bodies. Kuroda has his bitches buried mostly, but that can be easily discovered, which is why my Jin-chan is working more closely with Hideki.”  

You swallowed the chewed cookie and Junko opened your mouth again to stuff another one into it. She closed your mouth and held it so that you wouldn't under any circumstances try to spit it out. She looked deep into your eyes, and when you saw something dark in them, you started chewing. The girl smiled sweetly and drank tea. 

Once your mouth was empty again, she placed a cup under it, encouraging you to drink from it. You did so, trying not to look into the blue eyes, and Junko giggled, setting the cup down on the saucer you were still holding. “Haru-chan trained you well.” She said cheerfully and Mochi laughed softly, obviously having a great time. 

For a moment, the girl fluttered her long eyelashes and looked back at Kakucho. “What will you do with me and Jin-chan?”  

“I guess you know what awaits him, Junko. I'm not sure about you. It all depends on our leader.” The black-haired man said honestly, spreading his hands. “You are Nagasawa's closest accomplice, but I must admit that talking to you clarified a few things and confirmed the rest. You are helpful.” He thought for a moment and placed his hands together on the desk. “Do you have any other function... Other than running a brothel?” 

“I distribute drugs in various nightclubs.” She said in a calm tone and reached for another cookie, which she ate herself this time.  

“Is that why you know Sanzu?” Mochi spoke for the first time and the girl confirmed with a nod.  

“Maybe I can somehow convince you about Jin-chan? He is stupid and easy to manipulate, but he will certainly be willing to make up for all his sins..." 

There was concern and something else in her voice. Your first thought was that the girl must have loved her boyfriend. If someone was worried about the guy, maybe he wasn't so bad after all?  

“Junko…” Kakucho sighed.  

“Why do you care so much about your pimp?” Mochi asked and the colorful flea kicked him in the calf. “One more time and I will break your legs with pleasure!” 

“Jin-chan is not my pimp, donkey. I already told you that.” She growled, getting up from your lap and walking closer to Mochizuki. “I guess I made myself clear enough then, didn't I?”  

“Watch your words, miss.” Mochi's voice became sharper, but the girl paid no attention to it. “Nagasawa allows you too much, maybe he should give you to some customers to show you your place!” 

“My Jin-chan will never do that because I'm not one of his whores.” Junko's voice became less shrill and became less girlish with each word and that's when you knew. “Any guy who tries to get at me, I will chop off or bite off his penis. Only Jin-chan can fuck me in the ass and suck my cock!” Junko shouted, lifting the front of her skirt and thrusting her hips forward, almost straight into the larger man's face.  

Now everything confirmed your suspicions and every element fell into place. You were already 100% sure why there was something wrong with the sight of the colorful flea's upturned ass. 

You looked at the shocked, pale Kanji and asked, amused. “Hey, Mochi... How did you not notice the balls when Junko got into the car?”  

There was silence in the room as Yoshioka went back to her purse and took another pill, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply. 

Mochi's face began to turn redder, understanding, anger and embarrassment appearing in his eyes. You put the cup and plate with cookies on Kakucho's desk and saw that the black-haired man was as embarrassed by the whole situation as his friend from the previous gang. 

“What the fuck is going on here lately?” Mochi mumbled and lit another cigarette. “Everyone's fucked up. With no exception."  

You looked at everyone with amusement. You no longer felt any resentment towards Junko Yoshioka, but you had to admit Mochi was right. What kind of people start showing up at Bonten's hideout and are connected to the prostitute case was starting to feel like a comedy.  

You hoped Sanzu was having as much fun as you were. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[underdark-dreams]

Can you please talk about your writing! how you write and revise and where you get your inspiration you are just so amazing! I could use some tips to get my writing to the next level. maybe some fic recs you find inspiring as well? only if you want too.

I sat on this ask for a while to mull it over, so thanks for your patience! I can definitely talk about my general process and link some fics that have inspired me.

I've also answered some other asks about writing process and technique. You can read those here if you like:

Emotional and feelings-focused writing

Writing descriptively

Fic writing: general process

First, it's good to have your opening and your ending in mind before you start. Even if it's just:

OC walks into Sorcerous Sundries

Rolan and OC fall asleep together

If you have the bookends, it's a lot easier to find the story's beats in the middle. (Or decide that you can't find the path from A to B after all & need to change one of them around)

Once I have those two down, I usually write out the main beats of the story next. These will be the parts that excite you most as a writer!! Like, they make you giddy to write about! Getting these down on paper has ALWAYS given me a burst of momentum to get through the drier/connecting bits.

So I encourage you to write out the story events/scenes that make you most excited first. Exposition will come later! Don't worry about 'setting things up' right now, unless you really want to start there. Remember that your first draft only has to make sense to you.

Inspiration

Damn if I could bottle the answer to this one, I'd be set for life! lmao

A lot of people start writing first and find the inspiration along the way. It's a valid and effective method!

I usually wait for ideas to come to me first, and they usually come when I'm totally disconnected from my writing computer. I swear, my strongest ideas for a fic setup or interesting scene always come when I'm at work or vacuuming or some crap

Best advice I can give is to keep a notes app on your phone or something similar. Rotate your characters around in your mind while you're doing other random life things, and good ideas will usually come to you. Jot down the framework or some dialogue or whatever strikes you before you forget it, then revisit it when you have more time.

Revising and editing

I'm one of those writers who edits a ton as they go, instead of drafting out a story and revising in one go. So this part is kind of difficult for me to answer...the two processes are unfortunately so interconnected in my head!

The main thing is to make sure you give yourself a few days between writing and doing your final edit. Even if you've been revising along the way, taking some time away from your fic lets you gain a fresh perspective.

I will admit, I also keep thesaurus.com open in a tab at all times. Like. I am addicted to finding just the right word

As with all of the above, your mileage may vary! The right technique is the one that gets you writing and creating. 💯

Fic Recs

Here's a list from back in December! Still in love with all of these!

Also:

Deeply and Immovably So by Cometra / @dutifullylazybread - Absolutely required reading for any Rolan x Tav fans! Tav is AFAB/she/her. Darcy's worldbuilding and imagery is incredible, very deep and meaningful. Just all-around excellence!

verso by aes3plex - Zevlor x m!Tav oneshot. This story like...made me understand who Zevlor was as a character. I don't know how else to describe it. Really wonderful backstory threaded through a present-day encounter with some of the best prose ever. Love!

But I will admit, I grew up reading Trek fics, and those stories and writers have stayed with me longer than anything else. I think old fandom + huge universe + writers with sheer decades of experience in fanon have a lot to do with the quality of writing there. Not relevant to BG3 but has definitely shaped how I write today!

[andalasia]

hellos. dusting off my old sideblog to throw up this request bc that feels like a good idea. i've responded to a couple other searches, so i'm realistically not looking to take on too many more. little bit about me, i'm a 29 man, live in the central timezone [ i think technically it's cdt bc it's currently july... but don't quote me on that ], used to consider myself a reader reader but me and the books have been beefing these past few months so that isn't occurring as frequently. maybe because i've been giving rp more attention. i've been rping since at least 2009, but most of that has was on forums like proboards/invisionfree/jcink. i have only recently really been a discord rp girlie

really only looking for m/m plots at this time. mayhaps one day i will go back to doing hetero ships, but for the time being that's not really something that interests me. i don't have a robust collection of muses that i pull out of rotation, that's just never been how i rp... if you see a guy on my main blog [ blakegallo ] the odds are that i would use them as a face. because i cut my teeth on forums i do typically only use actors, musicians, and the occasional model as faces; i typically steer clear of people who social media people. it's really just a matter of personal preference. i am willing to consider a fandom based rp, but would prefer something that is more oc x oc.

as far as preferences go i do write in the third person past tense. i don't really have any interest in breaking the discord message character limit for replies. i would never do a one liner, but a nice well developed paragraph or two is usually good enough for me. i like there to be something to respond to and get a nice back and forth going. i've seen a lot in my decade plus in the rp community and i've definitely done responses that are what the girlies call novella length now and that's just not something i'm super invested in returning to at this time. i don't have any interest in rping in dms, i think that things are just more organized in a private server. i also prefer for new threads to be individual channels just because i find that easier to scroll back through than one general channel, but that's me. i am a tupperbox girlie... and so i do have a slight preference for using them. it's not a requirement by any means, i have more 1x1s that don't use them currently than do, but just throwing that out there. i also find that doing something mumu is just easier for me with the tupperbot, but we can make it work if you aren't for it.

as a sidenote, i also do really love text threads. in my time perusing the the tags i'm not sure if this common because so many of the requests i see are for the novella level girlies. but sometimes i might have time for some quick banter between our characters. i also find that characters texting leads to where a next thread should go. as a vibes girlie i just like letting the characters sort things out sometimes than us as muns going back and forth figuring out where the plot should take them next.

plotting for me tends to be more organic. i really don't like to get too far ahead of ourselves. to me it's like writing a romance novel, we know these characters are eventually going to get together, but the journey to that destination can be whatever we make for it. so the ups and downs and angst along the way is what makes it fun. obviously i'm all for tossing ideas back and forth about how we think we should handle something or where we should go next, but i don't really have any interest in outlining the whole journey and then just hitting the beats.

so please be 21+, 25+ honestly would be even better and like this if you're interested. i might read the occasional high fantasy book, but that's not a thing i am all that interested in. i might be up for something vaguely paranormal, but i'm really more a regular person writer. give me the lives and the rich and famous or mess happening in suburbia... i'll reach out from my main blog in tumblr dms and we can go from there if we think it could be a good fit.

[rose-tinted-vision]

Fic: Comfort in familiarity

Relationship: Ning Yuanzhou & Yu Shisan, Ning Yuanzhou & Yuan Lu, (past) one-sided Ning Yuanzhou/Yu Shisan

[read it on ao3]

It had been a good day, Ning Yuanzhou thinks. They had managed to set up camp, put into place their guard rotation, and he just had a fruitful conversation with Ruyi.

He had settled next to Yuan Lu under the shade of the tree, soft rays of moonlight filtering through its leaves painting a soft pattern on the ground before them. It is a peaceful night, one of those rare ones that he appreciates.

“But if you like Ruyi-jie, then what about Shisan-ge?” Yuan Lu asks out of the blue, startling Ning Yuanzhou out of his reverie. He'd thought that the other had fallen asleep already.

“What about Shisan?” He replies, momentarily blindsided.

“Don’t you like Shisan-ge too?” There was a slight accusatory bite in Yuan Lu’s tone, which Ning Yuanzhou chuckles at. This kid, ever protective of his Shisan-ge.

That was something he had gotten over a few years ago, when he realized that Yu Shisan really meant it when he said that he would continue to fly, never once stopping for anyone. He knows it's Shisan’s own way of coping with death constantly hovering over their heads, and he understands, would never ask him to change himself for him.

Having Yu Shisan’s friendship is more than he could ask for.

“Your Shisan-ge, he’s like a wave, a natural force of nature. Have you ever heard of waves stopping? Only a fool would wait for it to stop,” he sighs, ignoring Yuan Lu’s wounded, kicked-puppy expression.

“Maybe if you asked-”

“That would mean asking him to change himself for me, and I wouldn't ask that of someone I truly liked,” Ning Yuanzhou explains, looking over to see Yuan Lu frowning in thought, “the best I can do is to try and understand them.”

Yuan Lu nods slowly, contemplating his answer. He knows that the boy may not truly understand, not yet. But since he had asked, Ning Yuanzhou would answer as truthfully as he could.

It felt freeing to let it out, anyway.

Seeing Yu Shisan in all his flamboyant glory after so long had felt like a punch in the gut, reopening old wounds that had since scabbed over.

Apparently he was not as over it as he had thought.

“Do you know the thing that your Ruyi-jie and Shisan-ge have in common?”

Yuan Lu scrunched his nose, shaking his head in answer, “those two are like day and night, what could they have in common?”

“I think the reason why I liked Shisan back then, was because he understood me more than anyone else,” Ning Yuanzhou says slowly, trying to put his feelings into words, “he understands why I did what I did, why I have to make certain decisions. He knows how I think, my reasonings, sometimes even before I see it myself,”

“With Ruyi, she may not fully understand, sometimes, but she tries to,” Ning Yuanzhou feels a small smile forming at the thought of Ruyi’s blunt yet innocent questioning, “and more importantly, she knows, too. She knows how it is like living the kind of life we live, the ghosts we carry. She has seen what it's like, maybe even more than we have.”

It was partially why he and Officer Pei never ended up together, despite her obvious interest. He had too many demons in his closet, could not fully open up to her about them, did not really want to expose her to the horrors he dealt with on the daily.

When it came to relationships, Ning Yuanzhou preferred comfort. Familiarity. Not everyone liked it that way- Yu Shisan being an example- which he understood. It was the reason why he had let those feelings for the other man fizzle out, kept it close to himself, tightly under wraps.

“Anyway, why are you nosing around?” Ning Yuanzhou frowns at the boy, who let's out a sleepy yawn, “young kids shouldn't gossip about stuff like this.”

“‘'m not a kid,” Yuan Lu protests, but his words are too slurred with sleep to hold much weight, “I'm…eighteen…”

“You'll still be a kid to me, even if you're eighty.” Ning Yuanzhou says, feeling a fond smile take over his face as Yuan Lu's head falls onto his shoulder, gently snores escaping in his sleep.

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

OUGH OK HI

this is kind of mostly for @chases-main-blog because you're probably the only one besides toff who'll read this but everyone's welcome xx its abt my ocs and just newsies in general btw babes so if you aint interested dont read it

ok so i got back from an airshow in my city (yes yes i know government propaganda galore, planes are cool ok) because my dad was in the air force for twenty-odd years and is a huge nerd, which he has passed on to me and my brother slightly

my point being!!

the entire tme i was thinking of. uh. basically a top gun au. of newsies. OK BUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUTTTT

(im gonna use some terms that if you didnt basically grow up on an air base like i did you might not understand but bear w me ok)so you need to trust your squadron with your life, right? what do the boroughs do? exactly. and they have callsigns in the AF (not sure abt any other branches, lmk if you have that info but i dont think they get callsigns hah boring losers >:P) WHAT DO THE NEWSIES HAVE??? STUPID NICKNAMES THAT DONT REALLY MAKE SENSE!!! DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!!

so consider

theres no war because i say so and theye all just goofing off on base as all the different squadrons (OHGOHGOHOOHO BROOKLYN WOULD SO BE HELICOPTERS OMGGGG) and they just have a jolly old time until they get this super important super top secret mission where they all have to work together and it would be so cool

ok wait now i gotta

manhattan-F-16s, little guys that go NYOOOOM n shoot stuff

brooklyn-HH-60G pave hawks, theyre big helicopters, search n rescue (hey manhattan the calvary's comin WHO) and pararescue but they also have turrets i think and obvi everyone on board is armed so theyre like super cool

queens-A-10s cus they get to blow stuff up but theyre really slow so pick your poison, i think they'd do A-10s in the field and hang back to train on the T-38s but i know queensies would love A-10s cus they have a rotating gun on the front that shoots super fast and is just an all around cool plane ALTERATIVELY they would also be F-16s because go nyoom shoot stuff

bronx-T-38s, trainers for the big jets and only used sparingly (sorry bronx xx) i think they'd be ground control as well

harlem-C-5 galaxy, MASSIVE jet used for transportation of troops and cargo n planes n stuff and when i say massive i mean m a s s i v e like they drive wholeass tanks and jets n stuff in there, and the nose swings up aswell as the back hatch so you can just. drive straight through this giant plane, its so cool

long island-F-35 theyre pretty fast and can go pretty high so all around a good jet, not much else to say

can you tell i basically lived on base until i was like eight?

ive had a scene for if i actually wrote this stuck in my head all day abt eel n shoe and i just ughhhh ok now i have to write it but i'm gonna put a read more so if you dont want to read it you dont have to xx

a crackle and a ding came over the intercom, soft breathing following. "heya harv, it's just me n' you right now." eel rasped. harvey swallowed, bile threatening to rise in his throat.

"no no no, please-" another burst of static in his ear. "hey this is monkey to shoe, are you ok? i know-ah shit!-sorry, there's a lot goin' on, but no one was talking to ya before-?" monkey trailed off, waiting for shoe's answer. he blinked back the tears he knew were going to come, tilting his throttle up to get him higher. "i-uh, it's- it's fine, i-"

"harvey, i ain't got a lot of time, i ne-i need you to listen." eel's voice wavered, but it was still strong in harvey's ear. he nodded. "m' listenin'."

"monkey to shoe again, are-" "gimme a second, blake?" shoe snapped, maneuvering around the sky as projectiles screamed past him, missing him by mere meters. using the first name in the field was a big no-no, but it made monkey shut up, though shoe could hear him over the comms talking to the other pilots, asking if they had heard shoe as well.

his comms were messed up, he realized; he was supposed to be on a private channel with eel, and it had glitched and made it so only he could hear eel, but the entire squadron-and everyone on the ground, he thought-could hear him.

he drew in a shaky breath. "i'm here, zeke. talk to me."

eel chuckled dryly. "don't go all top gun on me, you'se the one makin it out of here."

harvey's heart seemed to stop, the air around him seeming to compress in and choke him.

"what?"

eel sighed and sniffed, the shuffling from his end telling shoe he was moving his helmet around, wiping tears. "harvey, my engine's blown and we're on enemy territory. i'm miles away from everyone else on orders from boss, it was s'posed to be a sneak attack but they got to you faster than cowboy thought-" "no, do not say what-" harvey interrupted. "harvey liam sellers, will you listen to me for once in your stupidly beautiful life?"

shoe sobbed quietly, watching his radar on his display, praying to any god who might still have love for him that it would pick up anything but the others in the squadron and the MIGs.

"we both knew deep down when we got orders i wasn't coming back from this one." eel sounded surprisingly calm for a guy who was talking about the possibility of his own death. "no, please, you can't do this to me right now, what about-" shoe sniffed, knowing he was arguing with a mind made up.

"ground control to phantom four, are you alright?" it was comforting to hear another familiar voice, the message poker carried not so much. "peachy, ground. i- everything's just kosher." harvey knew he sounded extremely far from fine, and hoped his friends on the ground wouldn't comment.

"your comms seem to be malfunctioning, i'll get saz on that asap, but are you sure-" poker seemed hesitant, like he didn't want to push buttons but was genuinely worried.

"fine, poker." shoe flipped the manual switch to cut comms with ground, before flipping it back on a moment later.

"still there?" he murmured, knowing full well there was at least twenty people besides eel who could hear him if they listened.

"never left, sweetheart." harvey almost started crying at the sound of eel's voice, and the knowledge of what he was going to say next.

"you gotta listen here, harv. you n' i both know i ain't gettin out of here alive-no, do not argue, i know you want to i know, sweetheart-you have to get home to charlie and fia, you gotta-" he swallowed, the sound audible through the headset. "you gotta tell them what happened to me, and tell them-"

the scream of a missile and the unmistakeable sound of an implosion blocked out eel's voice.

harvey's heart stopped.

"eel? eel, are you there? this is phan- phantom four to ra- raven two, are you-" the panic in his head and the pounding in his ears made it nearly impossible to see. he tried to breathe like eel taught him, but his throat seemed intent on making him stutter and practically asphyxiate.

"hoarder to shoe, what is going on? are you alright, do you need backup?" his friend sounded alarmed. for good reason, thought shoe through his panic.

"ground, i ne-i need co-ords on- on raven two, i-i've lost comms with-"

"ah, merde! harv, i'm here!" the sound of eel's voice was garbled, but it was there.

"eel? ezekiel cattaneo, where t-the hell are you? give me your coord-coordinates, i'll be right there." the relief that flooded shoe's body was instantaneous, but short lived.

"no time! they got my other engine, i've put them post on standby and i'm usin' the propellors, but they blasted those too. i think there's three MIGs, but it's hard to tell."

the sounds of the entire rest of the squadron and ground control trying to get shoe's attention faded as he absorbed the information his lover gave him.

"i know i'm goin out, so i'll say this before i die.

"harvey 'shoe' liam sellers, you are the most incredible and amazing soul i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. my life has been so much better since i had you in it, and i know charlie and fia can say the same. i need you to tell the kids i love them, and i need you to remember to take deep breaths when you get overwhelmed, okay? can you do that for me, tesoro?"

"ez, i-i-"

"i love you, you know that? you're the first man i've ever truly believed that i've loved, and the first to have loved me back." eel was clearly out of breath and choked up, but shoe could hear him as clearly as if he was standing next to him, despite the delay on the comms and the static overlaying eel's speech.

"zeke, ple- please, y-you gotta tell me whe- where you are, i can get th- there in t- time i promise, please-" harvey was sobbing. he knew he couldn't reach his lover in time before his engines failed completely, and the risk of hitting the canopy on ejection was so high there was such a slim chance of survival it was almost laughable, if shoe had felt like laughing.

"i love you, ok?" screaming missiles and static filled shoe's ears again.

he sat in shock.

"eel? c'mon, y- you c- can't do thi- this to me, baby, i-i can't..." silence and more static.

"g- ground, y-you got a- a locat- a location o -on raven two?" he muttered, his brain feeling like mush.

"negative, lieutenant."

[pink-writer-girl]

A Moth's Pursuit

Commission I did for Friend on Instagram Rotating Dendro

Warning ⚠️: Has non-explicit nudity and violence

Alfred sat in his dark Murcourt home for the longest time, nervously questioning the steps he was about to take. The auburn-haired man spent his days solving crimes and using his inheritance to finance his research. After his humiliating encounter with a Mirage cryptid, he couldn’t help but develop an obsession with them. What were they? Where did they come from? One foggy morning trolly ride would end up answering his questions. He’d never left London before, let alone think of ending up somewhere like Pale City, where the technology was so advanced. The atmosphere was shrouded in mystery and he thought his dreams were finally coming true. Eventually, Alfred found out from the other locals about how this place brought those who needed to be there to it.

Though it took him a while to get used to the new tech, he found that many cryptids that lived alongside other humans. Usually, he tried to avoid social situations unless it interested or benefited him, ‌but fish out of water had no such luxuries. The thought of mixing with the uncultured and annoying folk filled him with dread, regardless. It was then he realized that coming to Pale City was a one-way trip, well, sort of. Someone had warned once him you left ‌the trolley might not return unless you were a cryptid. He couldn’t risk going back to his mundane life.

Living in a different realm posed unique problems, lack of access to his family’s fortune being one of them, so he offered his services to the local police. Thankfully, Alfred’s consultant skills were in demand. Something about a renowned detective called “M” or whatever. He didn’t pay attention to as long as he got paid. It wasn’t enough, and the pittance barely lined his wallet. He needed to live how he used to, so he tried his hand at investments and business deals, like his father did. Unlike his father, it seemed he wasn’t very lucky in the business outlook, however. He owed people money… a lot of money.

Last week, one of those “associates” sent a brief message to pay up, which ended with him getting a black eye and bruised ribs. Even legal investments were biting him in the ass. So, being the desperate man that he was, Alfred looked for other options. After some extensive research, he found an old urban legend of a creature of shadow that lived in the woods. This creature was not to be trifled with unless you wanted to make a deal with it, which he did. Considering his precious life was on the line, he had no qualms about the price.

The man ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. It was now or never, looking at the circle and deer skull in the middle of the room. Bringing a lit match towards the circle, he dropped it in the skull, enkindling the rotting cedar wood and nightshade within. “From the shadows, I call you forth” was all he whispered as the embers changed to green and purple. He blinked, taken aback by the color, as the blackening smoke floated up until it formed a suspended shadow. Alfred retreated back as his caution grew. “Oh dear God…” he said under his breath.

“Now I wouldn’t consider myself that,” Alfred was filled with terror as an eerie voice echoed in various pitches and tones. “But a devil? I think might be the right definition,” it chuckled right behind his ear. The Englishman quickly spun around to see a dark figure resembling a rotting buck of sorts. Nervous sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to find words. “Did you lose your voice along with your reason for summoning me?” the creature said, moving across the room and looking around.

“Y-You’re a wendigo?” Alfred stuttered.

The creature just scoffed. “No, those are spirits of the damned who feasted on the flesh of their kind in life. I was never mortal.” It was clear by its irked tone that it had been mistaken for one more than once. “You’re trying my patience. If you summoned me for idle chit chat—” I need you to kill someone!” the auburn-haired man said, cutting it off curtly. “Well, a couple of someones.”

The deer creature’s dark eyes blinked before it grinned. “The same old sin? Very well,“ the creature laughed. “But you know,“ the creature said before getting in the man’s face, “my deals always come with a price.” Its gaze grew intense as it stared him down. “I know, I know,” Alfred nodded while trying to lean away. “What is your price?” The creature hummed, looking over at the computer. “Not anything too extreme, don’t worry. I’m feeling very generous today because I’m been so bored,” the creature said, walking toward the computer. “I want to try something new, and you will shelter me while I have my fun.”

Alfred’s eyes widened at this. “Wait what?!” He gasped as he watched horrified as the shadow creature morphed into a pale man with dark hair. The process wasn’t quick though, and he even heard the bones and viscera crack and bubble I disgusting way it did. “Ah, that’s better.” A young man’s voice replaced the distorted one as it cracked its knuckles. It turned back to Alfred, who was left without words.

“I’m sorry sir—”

“You can call me Liminal,” the now-man said, standing before him. It was then it occurred to him Liminal was naked. The human averted his eyes as the naked man ransacked his drawers. “Liminal, why does someone as powerful as you need shelter?” he asked as the naked man sat cross-legged on the man’s bed lazily. “There’s those in this town who have an army can destroy me. I alone can’t defeat an army of cryptids,” he said grimly. “Are you talking about M and his group? They’re gone. They disbanded after he and his right-hand man disappeared,” Alfred said with a raised brow.

Liminal glared at the wall, hearing M’s name. That bastard was the reason he had to hide in the woods for so long. Isolated because of his strict restrictions, he had almost gone insane from it. “Yes, but his followers are still strong and have revived with his assistance.” He turned his head to Alfred, who was still looking away awkwardly at the naked man. Liminal smirked, amused. “Like what you see?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Can you please put clothes on?‘’ Alfred begged.

In the heart of Pale City laid the heart of Dog Head headquarters, a division for crime investigation. The lingering remnants of those who believed in the laws of M, since his disappearance. One of those was raised by his orphanage was Murgatroyd, a cryptid of mysterious origin with a body of a man and head of a German shepherd. Since technology advanced in the real world and Pale City, rogue cryptids had been running wild, violating M’s number one rule: ‘keeping the balance.’ They understood no cryptid could always keep their base instincts at bay, but the threat of exposure hung overhead if they would get out of control. Their city—no, everyone would be in trouble.

Murgatroyd rubbed his brows as he walked along the desks of agents busy at work. The task force had been pulling all-nighters for weeks now, because of the recent ‘computer virus’ case. Ten people had been found dead so far, their faces mangled and distorted. It was clear it couldn’t be the work of any human. At first, it seemed like something targeting businessmen who were involved with investments or under-the-table loan sharking. They had thought this curse had something to do with a former client or a poor investment. But once the next string of bodies broke the M.O., they’d hit a dead end.

“Can no one tell me what the fuck is going on!” The dogman raised his voice as he turned around to face them all. “Sir, we’re trying to track the strain, but the encryptions change every few seconds. Like it is actively protecting itself, somehow,” one of them said. “What do we have then?” He asked. “From what we can tell, the virus curse is being spread by prize email. It’s somehow able to outsmart the spam blockers of multiple ESPs.”

“Ugh, Sylphie, what do you have?” Murgatroyd asked his best agent. When he didn’t hear a response, he blinked, looking over at her area. There sat a voluptuous woman, wearing designer brands and a full face of makeup with sparkly orange French-tipped nails. It was clear she had not heard a thing her boss said. The dogman shook his head while Sylphie continued taking selfies of herself, the camera flash bouncing off her long cream-colored hair.

The older man shook his head before going over to her desk. “Sylphie, grow your vanity project on your own time,” he told her in a serious tone. “Oh hey, Chief,” she said, just realizing he was there. “Were you able to crack the encryption?” He asked again. It was the fashionable girl who leaned over and began quickly typing on the keyboard. She might not of looked it, but Sylphie was the best seasoned IT agent they had. “I was able to redirect my little virus back into the source code, sort of like echolocation,” she said as her long nails clicked against the keys.

Sylphie pulled away to face Murgatroyd, who had bent over to look at her monitor. "Hmmm, good work. Does that mean you pinpointed where it’ll strike next?" he asked, nodding. “It was tricky, but whoever it is hiding in the older buildings on the outskirts of town. I could only pull the general surrounding area,” she told him, wheeling her swivel chair back and forth. “Sylphie, you’re Mothman’s cousin, right? Why don’t you use your powers to ‘see the future?’” one coworker asked, wondering why she was making things more complicated.

The cream-haired cryptid looked at the man and deadpanned. “Ok, for one, nimrod, I’m not related to him. Yes, we’re the same species, but he’s of a different clan. Two: I don’t have premonition ability.” Sylphie was a moth cryptid, having lost most of her family and clan at a young age. She had to resort to a life of crime to survive. No one had been harmed by her, not intentionally, anyway. Usually, she used her mind manipulation to scam people out of their money. Only a few of her species were gifted with abilities of premonition. She, unfortunately, didn’t inherit it, which is also why there were very few left of her kind. Humans had hunted them to be used as a tool for their gain. Too blinded by greed and ignorance to know only a few possessed such abilities.

Her boss hummed in thought, “Sylphie, I want you to check this area. Maybe you can locate the location of the signal if you are closer,” Murgatroyd told her before leaving. This caused the moth girl to blink, then nod in agreement.

It didn’t take the curvy cryptid long to find the place. From what she found from town records, someone lived out here, in the house far off from the abandoned buildings. Pretty smart to hide in plain sight in what most thought was abandoned. Sylphie had used a program on her phone to track the signal, grumbling that her feet were killing her. Of all the days to wear heels. “I’m going to murder whoever the culprit is if my Prada heels get ruined,” she hissed under her breath as she slammed the door open of the house.

“Oh c’mon, that’s not very nice,” a voice said, coming up from the top of the stairs. Her face contorted into a frown when she saw a young man leering down at her. “Thought I was going to have to ask your ‘nightly rates’ with you looking like that,” he chuckled as he started down. She glared at him as she covered her chest with a hand, noticing his wandering gaze. “You pig,” she hissed.

“Oh, more like a demon, my dear.” His eyes seemed to radiate darkness as he spoke. The moth woman’s antenna popped out in alarm at this. She couldn’t help but sense an eerie tension in the air. “You… I thought your kind was gone,” she said as her wings slowly revealed themselves. He blinked, taken aback by her appearance, but quickly smirked. “And I thought yours was extinct,” he chuckled. “Tell me, did you predict I would be here?” he said, interested. “I don’t have premonitions,“ she told him simply. “Hmmm, pity,“ he then said with a bored look.

“You need to leave. Your activity is causing too much ruckus and messing up the balance. You’re going to get us all exposed,” she told him seriously as he walked around in circles. “You know as well as I that once I’m in a contract, I can’t do anything until I fulfill it,” he said as shadow manifested into his hand, only to reveal a boba drink. "But why should I care either way? I’ve been so bored for so long now. Why not have some fun?" he smirked darkly.

“I’m not like your kind, who made their abilities known and were hunted down like dogs. Is that what happened to your family? Were they are drawn to a pretty flame?“ Sylphie could no longer contain her rage as her human form was lost to emerging claws and fur. “Bite your tongue,” she hissed in an unnatural tone, eyes darkening.

Liminal blinked for a couple of seconds before he found his body moving by itself. He began slowly biting down on his tongue, harder and harder, until he could taste blood. His eyes widened in shock, causing Sylphie’s lips to curl into a satisfied smirk. “Bend yourself backward,” she ordered. He did without question, causing a sickening crack followed by a loud groan of pain. “You have mind manipulation?” A deep laugh accompanied his statement, leaving her perplexed.

“Very clever,” he said, pulling himself straight up, shocking her. “But I’m much older and much more experienced than you, my dear,” he said, charging at her. Both of them crashed into each other, with Liminal using shadows and teeth to swipe at her. Sylphie hissed, trying to use her manipulation again, but realized his mind was too strong. She did her best to get out her phone with the kill-switch, struggling to reach her knocked-away purse. She barely missed it by millimeters before being able to grab it. With a quick press of buttons, she activated the code, which let out a high-pitched creepy sound. It caused Liminal’s shadowy form and voice to distort as he stumbled in pain. “You whore!” He yelled madly, his body melting into a puddle of mush.

“I prefer bitch,” Sylphie said, sitting up wiping the blue blood from her lip while trying to fix her hair. “You deserved it after the trouble you caused, disrupting the balance. Do you realize what you’ve done? There’s so little of us left!” she said, grabbing at his rendered body. “M is gone! He was the only one keeping cryptids from going extinct, yet you had to cause trouble,” she yelled. “You have no idea what it’s like to face extinction! To lose everything!“

Liminal glowered at her. “I don’t know what it’s like? You know nothing, you brat!” My kind has been here longer than most cryptids combined. The forests were our home, guiding the souls of the damned to their fates, helping keep the balance. We got our strength from the spirit of nature!” He yelled at her, panting furiously. “But you know what happened… Man happened. They were still stupid, no doubt, but they grew more resourceful and greedy, cutting down our forests! Capturing us to make deals or use as attack dogs. We had to adapt to a new way to survive! Making deals with humans to do their sins…” Liminal said, looking down as he closed his eyes. Anger and sorrow wracked his frame as his hands shook. “It didn’t matter, though. We lost not only our home but our strength to where everyone in my clan withered away.”

Sylphie let go, looking at him for the longest time as his human form reassembled. “Why don’t you get a new purpose, then?” She said, earnestness clear on her face. “Work for my organization. If you do, you’ll be free. Do you want to be trapped in contracts to survive forever?” Liminal raised a brow at that, blinking before he let out a sigh. “Whatever. It’s this or death, so I think I’ll choose the alive option.”

-Fin

[caocao-caokie-blog]

@zumizumi1254

Isagani Christiano Ligaya Dacanay / Kentaro Momoaki 健太郎 桃秋

Dorm: Ramshackle

Age: 18

Grade: 1st Year

Birthday: August 21

Favorite Class: History of Magic

Worst Class: P.E.

Club: Board Game Club

Skills: Not much. Most stuff he knows is easy memorization and video games. He and Idia are butting head to head playing M*rio Ka*t, Sm*sh Br*s or something. I feel like the club has rotating D&D DM’s and at least 3 different campaigns going on, then a special one every other Saturday of the week because SUNDAYS ARE IMPORTANT IDIA -By, Isagani probably. ^ - ^

——————————————————————————————

From a young age, young Isagani was always ill. His family abandoned him in a far off ranch home they never visit, so he has only met the few locals around the area. Usually, his cook, Bryson, talked with a lady, trading food and small talk. His nanny Amélia was around, but not much of a talker. His tutor Max never stayed around to long, preferring to stay with his family.

He always looked to his tutor and wondered how it was like to spend time with your family. Whenever he tried to talk to the few kids he met, they ignored him. Now, he hypothesized it was because of rumors about the house, but that was a story for another day. He conversed with Bryson, which was mostly one sided. But, the lady that gave them fish and meat talked and conversed with him a whole bunch. Nadia was great company for him.

She was like his second mother, and became his cheerleader for most of life. Although he doesn’t talk about his past much, he speaks of her fondly. She was the one to tell him of the world outside the mansion, the one to teach him of how to storytell, and the one to inspire him to go to Japan.

He left his old home for Okinawa, to live with a nurse who only visits to check up on him.

Living alone for the first time was difficult. Bryson never taught him how to look, and the lessons he took with Nadia weren’t enough. He was deeply unprepared. But, he pulled through, and survived in Japan.

He took classes online, and was taught by a private tutors for the morning to mid afternoons. After, he went and continued writing in his book, creating more and more stories for himself.

He met both Kauê and Takeo one day when he started to get faint once again due to the oppressive sun. He was found collapsed by the two, and brought to Takeo’s home, where he was taken care of by both of them, to various levels of effort.

Today, he would laugh at the story at their first meeting proper, but, they visited him every day. Made sure he was alive. Checked up on him, talked with him, and gave him comfort. They became his first taste of friendship.

He remembers when they were taken like it was just yesterday. They were having one of their usual late hangout sessions. Takeo had his nose in a botany book, Kauê was watching a rugby game, and Isagani was beating someone in a game. They all eventually slept, with Isagani being the last one to rest. He felt something wrong.

He eventually ignored it in favor of shut eye.

Not before seeing the black carriage mind you.

——————————————————————————————

Kauê & Takeo: Sticks to them like glue. Very, very, rare if they are all separated, usually since Isagani acts both slothish and squidish, he latches on to either of them. If they are all together, at least something will happen. Something someone somewhere somewhat somehow knew about the event. Even something small like raking leaves could cause a calamity if the universe plays it’s cards right.

Idia: Buddies in antisocial personalities and avoidant interest. They get along well if they don’t have a need to talk, but hearing their conversation can come off a bit…frustrating.

“Um, hey-“.

“Uwwah! Isa-kun. W-what do you want?”.

“…Um, well I needed help with…”

*Silence*

“Some stuff…”

“Y-yeah…sure…”

Azul: Would be constantly wary and avoidant over this man. Absolutely scared shitless the first time they met. Isagani was just like “Hey-“ during one of his briefings, and since then, has made the twins check his office to make sure he isn’t there. Why was Isagani there. Wouldn’t you like to know reader. (´⊙ω⊙`)

Floyd & Jade: Buddies in crime. Even with his weak constitution, he is able to cause havoc safely while ruining the perfect days for people like Riddle and Azul. He set’s up whipped cream traps for them to trigger and cake the person head-to-toe. Has gotten collared before.

Yuu: ^_^ He likes Yuu. Nice, friendly, devious, helpful. Nothing suspicious. Nothing. Nothing.

Yuuken: No opinion just yet, but is amicable to each other.

[inapat16]

On cannibalism in Raw (Julia Ducournau, 2017) : "a punk act against establishment"

The metamorphosis in Julia Ducournau's work is a strong and feminist gesture against social and sexual determinism. In the movie cannibalism represents a transgression of the standing conceptual categories of the culture. Ultimately, Justine’s cannibalistic tendencies allow her to grow from her old self into a new « liberated » self. Cannibalism is associated with sexuality in the movie, to a new kind of sexuality, a transgressive one. The coming-of-age theme is most usually associated with a female’s movement from adolescence to womanhood, a ritual which is in turn as deemed by societal convention, correlated to a woman’s progress towards maternity. Certainly, Grave’s treatment of Justine’s desire for flesh coincides with her budding sexual maturation. Progressively Justine’s desire for flesh transforms into a desire for human flesh through the sexual act.

Instead of sexualizing female bodies in the film, Ducournau sexualizes men bodies as object of desire. No longer women, but men, are the objects of Justine's predatory gaze. Justine’s observations of Adrien playing soccer in one scene is of particular interest. Adrien's bare-chested body is filmed in all its movements in this scene. The camera zooms, twirls, and follows Adrien's almost dancing body, detailing his muscles and firm skin. The shots on the young man are interspersed with shots on Justine's face, the bearer of the gaze. Justine is alone in the shot, set back from the scene, spying on her prey. A predator-prey relationship is installed in the image. Her desire no longer holding, blood flows from Justine's nose, as if to announce her future pleasure. The scene that follows is also of particular interest. As Seline Naqi explains in her study of the film :

The camera finds itself positioned behind Justine in her bedroom, as though the viewer is intruding into a personal space. Justine is turned away, facing her mirror and we observe her from behind as she dances, stiffly rotating one leg. As the dancing ensues, her body begins to loosen and thus, becomes more fluid with a movement generating from her legs up into her arms as though she is in a trance. The camera turns, and the viewer takes the position of the mirror, facing Justine and once more, her gaze. As Kaja Silverman describes in her text The Acoustic Mirror, the acknowledgment of one’s self within a mirror is an acknowledgment of subjectivity. Subjectivity, as Silverman suggests, « from the very outset is dependent upon the recognition of a distance separating self from the other – on an object whose loss is simultaneous with its apprehension. » This moment, in particular, recalls the lunch scene in which Justine tells Adrien, « monkeys are self-aware. They see themselves, in a mirror, right? » Here, Justine finds herself in a position of self-alteration where the differentiation between human and animal reveals itself to be non-existent; it is as though she is seeing herself for the first time. As Justine dances, she is listening to a song by two female twins, Orties. The song is called « plus putes que toutes les putes, » which translates to « sluttier than all the sluts. » The lyrics detail a libertine description of commands that refer to sexual dominance in the most animalistic and debased of ways. As the song develops the lyrics develop as a sort of manifesto against the male, and sexual freedom through necrophilia and cannibalism.[1]

« I’ll leave you even if you're handsome

my love, "coco" is not "pig" you're always in my bed "guys" plus "me" equals "nothing”

I'm sick of 69

I just want 666 I suck your bones, lap it up you would choke on the cum, dear

I like to bang the dead. »

While the song continues, Justine puts on lipstick intensely, gaining speed in time with the beat of the music until it is smudged around the entirety of her mouth. Conventionally, women use mirrors for a private moment to recompose their image, most often to fix their faces for the outside world. The way in which she puts lipstick on in this scene really heightens the way in which she rebels against the notion that the mirror is used to attain perfection, an idealization of one’s own image. The camera then moves in on her and cuts between viewing her in front of the mirror to being behind the mirror. She rubs her lipstick onto the mirror and kisses it, coalescing with and consuming this new, messy reflection of herself.

Justine's nascent sexuality would therefore be the expression of her freedom. Through sexuality, the young woman will achieve her true self. During the movie her cannibalistic sexuality is seen as decadent from the exterior gaze of the others. In another scene, she is forcibly locked up with a young man in a room. The hazing masters threw paint at them on their bodies: Justine is covered in blue, the young man in yellow. They are ordered not to leave the room « until they are not all green ». The scene becomes sensual between Justine and the boy, but Justine bites him on the lips to the point of tearing off a piece. The boy comes out bloody. The others look at her and judge her as « sick »; when they are the ones who pushed them into this dangerous game of seduction. This shows that even an anarchic society has its rules in terms of sexuality...In this respect, what is worse? The violence generated by social and sexual determinism of power instances or becoming cannibal?

If Justine's cannibal metamorphosis is liberating, it also locks her into an internal violence: choosing between succumbing to her hereditary cannibal passions as her mother and sister did or choosing to detach herself from family determinism and her monstrosity. She chooses not to succumb to the weight of heredity. Like the road she takes against her sister's direction when Alex wants to initiate her into murder or when she tries to vomit her after swallowing her finger. Justine doesn't take the easy way out but tries to find a solution, as her father rather pathetically advises her at the end of the film: “but you, I'm sure you'll find a solution, honey”, as if to emphasize the difficulty of becoming oneself.

[1] Consuming Raw: Cannibalistic Transformation in Julia Ducournau’s Raw (2016), Seline Naqi, UCLA Capstone Projects.

Léonie Pessey-Magnifique

[blueper-saiyan]

Thank you for answering! I like this take on them! I agree with what you're saying about Vegeta and Goku's respective roles and characterizations. Goku is far more laidback and I have trouble seeing that dominant characterization without some external plot device. Meanwhile Vegeta is constantly trying (and failing) to take control of everything around him, much to his eternal suffering.

You're right that there's also so much angst potential in the imbalance of their respective feelings. There are 3 whole people in the universe (technically 4 if you count Trunks and Future Trunks as different) that Vegeta would do anything for, and Goku is one of them. And I'm not even sure Goku is aware he's on that short list. The list of people Goku cares about is much longer, and I think Vegeta is in the same category as Krillin and Bulma. I don't think it would be a doomed relationship by any means but some character development would be required and hurt feelings would be inevitable. Vegeta is far more emotional and reactive.

I also feel like I'm not sure what would manage to start a relationship between them. For Vegeta to initiate it, Vegeta would have to admit that he wanted Goku in any way, and that he needed him for something, which he really doesn't want to have to do. For Goku to start their relationship, he would have to feel strongly about Vegeta, label that as romantic, and be able to interpret that Vegeta reciprocates, but he's never been amazing at reading his own or Vegeta's emotions, and Vegeta actively tries to put up a front that he's not interested. So there's a bit of a stalemate. I still like rotating them in my mind though, since there's always the possibility of an external force.

I do also think that the fandom is far less bad about just typecasting either Goku or Vegeta as "the submissive one" than an average fandom though, which is why I asked for clarification about the default. The balance I've seen in fic has been relatively even, and I honestly couldn't say which way it skews without collecting data. I've seen plenty of the "bow to your prince" type of fic. They also don't get slotted into the standard fandom archetypes people will force onto characters anywhere near as often as other m/m pairings I've seen, especially given how old the ship is. It's been refreshing honestly. Even if I suspect it was just because back in the early to late 2000s when putting pairings into standardized roles was at its worst, fans were unable to come to a consensus because Goku and Vegeta both have too many traits that could fit either role. This spared both of them as characters. I don't want to discredit your observations though. There could be a bias in the popularity of fics that have Goku as dominant, since at this point I've kind of just gone through the whole tag on AO3 without paying strong attention to the amount of interaction the fics got. I also don't know how fanart and doujinshis skew. I've sought them out less, so maybe there's a stronger bias towards Vegeta being submissive there. I could certainly see the visuals of Vegeta being the smaller one contributing more strongly to how fans write/draw them together.

Anyway, thank you again for answering! I really like hearing your opinions; I love the way you write analysis and your takes are always interesting!

Hopefully this isn’t too stalker-y, but I’ve noticed you say a couple times that you don’t ship Kakavege the same way as most of the fandom. Would you be willing to talk about how you see the pairing and how it’s different from the “default”? Obviously no pressure if you don’t want to talk about it, but I love seeing different interpretations of their relationship (whatever form it may take)

Not too stalker-y! If anything, I'm flattered that anyone would be interested in what I might think about stuff, haha. That said, all of the following is just my personal headcanon. There are lots of fun and valid interpretations of this pairing, and mine is but one of them.

First to clarify: When I'm thinking of the "default" (which is, of course, a very loose term, as the fandom and the shippers are obviously not monolithic at all!), what I have in mind is how Vegeta is constantly put in a submissive and/or bottom role where he gets his absolute shit wrecked and gets all sobbing and unraveled. And while Vegeta getting his shit wrecked is definitely up my alley (lol), I feel like the journey to get to that shit-wrecking doesn't vibe with how I personally interpret each character.

I think a great deal of it has to do with the fact that I don't see Goku as a very sexual person. I think he's very sensual in that he loves physical activities like fighting, eating, etc., but that like, sexual DRIVE just isn't there in the same way that it is for fighting. He probably has a libido, sure, but there's a difference between having a physical urge and being preoccupied with sexual desire. He doesn't really think about sex in the moment unless it's happening to him. In canon, he's often shown to be oblivious or not to understand things involving sex. Not because he's stupid or he can't pick up on things (because he definitely does and even plays dumb to mess with people for fun!), but because he's just on a different wavelength. Things that occur to "normal" people just don't occur to him.

And to me, all of that doesn't really line up with his being characterized as a dominant top most of the time, lol. Someone who exerts his desire upon someone else. (Which is not to say you can't have a submissive-leaning top---you definitely can; I think that is *cough* how Vegeta is with Bulma *cough*.) Now there are definitely situations where I can see Goku entering this headspace, though. Namely, say, if Vegeta nurtured that feral side of Goku's saiyan nature and encouraged him to get in touch with and act upon it. Exerting it on others.

Which brings me to Vegeta's characterization. I don't see him as particularly nurturing, lol. He sees Goku as a rival---someone he wants to tear down, not someone he wants to build up. He's obsessed with and angry at Goku for besting him. And I feel like one of Vegeta's responses to this would be to dominate him in any way he feels that he can. Unravel and defeat him. Even if it's just a pathetic attempt to feel superior or to shove down his real feelings and longings. (Because I think, deep down, Vegeta longs to let go of his NEED to fill a particular role, play the prince, be the best---it's a cage for him, and laying down his desperate desire for power and reveling in weakness would be freeing.)

On top of this, Vegeta strikes me as a person with far more dark, sexual energy. He's repressed as fuck, of course, but he's just BRIMMING with pent up feelings and desires. It even comes out when he fights. When he's dominating someone in battle, he gets really into it. He gets really intimate and personal about it. And considering his past, he's seen some fucking shit out in space. He's not innocent or oblivious even if he is a prude who tried to stay above it all. He knows what sex is, he knows what sexual desire is, he knows what sexual violence is, and he feels all of it intensely even if he doesn't let himself act on it (probably plays into why he's so ANGRY and frustrated all the time, lol). Not to mention the fact that Vegeta wouldn't have to stop and explain to Goku how to fuck him, lol; he'd just fuck him himself and show him what's what (or even sexually dominate him by bottoming from the top, so to speak).

All in all, in my mind, Vegeta would be far more likely to exert sexuality onto Goku vs. the other way around. Act his desires out on Goku. Dominate him in one of the few ways he can. Even though it's pathetic! And perhaps not even what he truly wants (to let go and have his responsibility/power stripped from him). But it's what he would do, and what he'd tell himself he wanted.

All that said, this leads to a "default" dynamic where Vegeta is more sexually dominant than Goku is. Which is against the more common fan interpretation. "Kakavege" is definitely more popular than "Vegekaka." (Even though I personally don't like when people get obsessed with who bottoms or tops... I'm a queer man, I'm messy as fuck, and I like when my ships are messy and complex like me, haha).

Even so, as I mentioned somewhere else before, there are definitely still situations where I can imagine Goku topping and/or being more dominant. Particularly in AUs where he's a lot less innocent and didn't get conked on the head, lmao. I LOVE when Goku snaps and goes feral like he did when he first transformed, though. I also LOVE when Vegeta lets go of his pride and gets his shit wrecked. But I feel like not a lot of people get either character to those places in a way that satisfies me personally when they write the pairing. Takes into account all the little subtleties and complexities of their characters. So it results in me being very picky with my shipping content for the pairing.

And THEN, on top of everything else, there's the issue of the imbalance in their feelings for each other. Vegeta feels far more intensely about Goku than Goku does about Vegeta. Vegeta is fucking obsessed. Whereas Goku has lots of rivals, and Vegeta might be one of his favorites, and he might even have a special bond with him as a saiyan, someone who understands him in a way the others might not, but he's not obsessed with Vegeta. Vegeta is always going to be angsting about what is effectively a situation of unrequited love. The pairing, at least to me, is an extremely angsty and doomed one for that reason. Vegeta just wants so desperately to be noticed and cared about the way he cares about Goku (see: the Majin Stunt). And a lot of people write the ship to be a lot less angsty than this. But I'm all about the angst, lol.

Vegeta really is the more "emotional" of the two despite insisting how little he cares for anyone or anything. Despite Goku wearing his heart on his sleeve more. Or being outwardly affectionate and comfortable sharing his feelings. Vegeta feels for Kakarot deeply even if he doesn't express it outright. Whereas Goku may love Vegeta as he loves everyone---his general love for life and everyone he meets kind of way. But it's not the intense, dark, emotional, romantic obsession that Vegeta has. The two characters are extremely different despite being two sides of the saiyan coin and sharing many important things in common.

I hope that sheds a BIT of light on how I see them? There is so much nuance to these characters. I love hearing other people's thoughts too. There are lots of really cool and interesting reads on them that are different than mine. Thanks for the ask!

[jiessicas]

07.13.23 - 07.16.23 japantown, poem & dance, & the circus, & more dance

07.16.23 (sun) afterglow; work hangout; missing sf art bookfair

 overslept and just listened to music from last night, which was very nice n leisurely

i was so worried this week but it was all good 😭😭 / grateful to live let live be alive 

marveling at the liveness of the last three days / how chronically late i am to everything

found the last piece of a lil puzzle and paced around in incredulity

went to j's to work on kernel mag, poems as machines, revisited

showed up to book fair after it closed ;-; an old coworker m recognized me from the back as he was crossing the street by my headphones, we talked about potentially moving to LA, their roommate search

met up with m who ran into c, who i met in passing at s's park hang a monthish ago; got coffee and then wine, a fun rotating seats convo about obsession, books, other things

took an uber home and the person driving said someone going to the grateful dead concert and left their phone in his car

exhausted but content; phone remains an object of obsession, swapped out twitter for instagram -- so content and so relieved to be done with some big things

himbo and baby are states of mind

grateful, feeling like i'm knitting myself together; series of miracles this week, feel like a more effective gatherer, calendarer; was late to it all, love arriving, hate leaving, saw so many friends in passing, feel turned inside out in a nice way

happy happy, feel relief coming home after being outside

body is happy humming, vibrating buzzing contently, wonder if i will look back on this and consider if i am being cruel in how much pleasure i have been having; i have felt more self-concerned than usual but also proud of what i got to do with/for others

thinking about what it is like to be the youngest child... ie what my sister who is the youngest of three feels like as the object of babying from parents... interesting to consider this a potential fantasy of an eldest child though its not one i've actively harbored

07.15.23 (sat) circus; dance & poetry; in the club before 11; machinedrum

a literal circus in the afternoon

a moment of gratitude for s & i sending me their art <3

toxic trait, being late to my own event; felt a shiver of delight in having friends (h, f, l, s, j!) come through

[so many incredible things that happened during the perforamnce]

cheeseboard; walking around berkeley at golden hour

got the sweetest clown prints from l :'')

yosemite fresh watermelons

sf symphony looks like a space ship

i love lil puzzles, turning things over idly, making peace with not having immediate answers

learning about writing groups, the little delight of realizing different artists i admire are connected with one another; of course; like the editor who told me years ago at a journalism conference in texas that people rise together in cohorts

in admiration of asian femmes who take on roles that are not easily afforded to them; noticing i have been misidentified as jasmine by so many white people,,,

dance is fascinating to me because of its wordlessness, conversely the dancers i'm working with wants to find mediums that make slightly more permanent what is otherwise an ephemeral thing

*play "in the club before 11 o'clock" - made it to the club early and got to people watch, which was very fun before moving on to catch machinedrum

got into a veryyyy nice sync with the music, which always gives the afterglow of a job well done (it felt like finding a rare gem of a show, the kind of night where it all feels so intuitive during the moment then bewildering after the fact; always fun to make my way back to that feeling, always happens in due time)

07.14.23 (fri) poem dejavu; rehearsal at the dojo; eug @ bpt

looked up a bunch of sleep poems; read a bunch of them to myself

i am calendar man; lil itinerary every weekend; every weekend a fest

now reading poetry submissions for kernel to narrow them down; did some pairings to share with jess

feeling thankful to be alive, looking back on march/april, which were so sweet. may/june/july; they were blurs; hanging out is the whole point / all i need is a place to sit in the sun, then the shade

"go be free young one"

spent a bit of time just reading poems on twitter ~

poem dejavu - lucille clifton & morgan harper hichols; marcelo hernandez castillo

practice / rehearsal w sarah bush at dojo; collecting the materials in a notes app; a poem in passing

hinges and tangents; the tangest that can only happen with unhinging; a poetics of unhinignig; a poetics of unraveling, surrendering, undoing,

morgan harper nichols - - - -

bar part time w eug; a bodega cat and watermelon juice after that

07.13.23 (th) japantown w k!

"forgive me i did not grow up with the trees"

wanna write about tumblr poetry; wanna discern between commitment and constraint; wanna scheme usb club; want to reply to texts x_x

sliced some nectarines; slurped some porridge

sat under the pagoda w k, then got lunch on the bridge; So Many Things talked about... [jk i have all these notes!]; a pigeon sat near us :)

some reflections on the talk;

pigeon clutch, dreaming about her

scrolling rabbitholes: amazon, wellfound

[strayed-quokka]

mother knows best || lee minho

» summary: you hate weddings. even more when it’s for your sister. your mother won’t stop reminding you that it should be you. you’re older, so what’s your excuse? although dreading the day, you realise it may not be as bad when you’ve peaked someone’s interest. and he didn’t bring a plus one. 

» pairing: lee minho x tattooed reader 

» rating: NC-17 which means under 18s do not interact

» genre: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, happy ending (very cheesy), porn with an attempt at a plot but i abandoned that idea when i realised where it was going

» warnings: readers mother is very condescending, alcohol consumption, swearing, explicit sexual content, sex at a wedding (which takes place in a church), morally probably very wrong (don’t do this, it's religious grounds like respect please), oral sex (m receiving), brief fingering, chocking, light bondage (minho is sick of his tie, whoops), creampie (wear a condom, don’t do this either), nipple piercings, minho is rough, but safe word and gesture exists, if i forget anything let me know because i probably did

» words: 6,409

» a/n: i love minho. there’s not much else to say. i was rotating between a few works to post first in-between my series but this one won in the end and was completed before the others. also first smut, so bare with, but i wanted to indulge. i can't be blamed...

i'll be making a masterlist tomorrow as my wips grow in size 😅

The sun creates a warmth on your skin through the gap in your curtains. It would be a wonderful day to sleep in, if it weren’t for the alarm shattering those hopes and reminding you that today is the day. 

You could’ve waited longer. Whilst your younger sister was practically bouncing on her toes ahead of the big day, you wanted it to take as long as possible to arrive, or better yet, not arrive at all. Though now that it was here, you just wanted to get it over with. 

The biggest problem, really, was your mother. 

You were deemed the failure in your family. You’d rebelled when you were young, slept around in your late teens into your early twenties, and gotten multiple tattoos and piercings before you were technically old enough to do so without parental consent. 

Though you’d mostly learned better from your youth and matured, there was one thing you hadn’t managed to do that your sister had done. Whilst she had had a similar wild phase, it was all forgiven the day she announced her engagement. She’d learned clearly, for one man wanted her for the rest of his life. 

Your mother had been ecstatic. You, not so much, because now everyone looked to you as someone no one wanted, that wasted away even though you were still so young yourself. Hell, you weren’t even out of university, and yet she treated you like you should be well on your way to carrying your third child. 

Your father didn’t necessarily agree with your mother, but he also never argued with her. He’d tell her once, maybe twice if you were lucky, to go a bit easier on you, but he’d give up the minute she’d argue back that it wasn’t good enough. 

You weren’t doing good enough. Who cares about your degree and your ability to live alone and manage financially for the most part with your job on the side? It didn’t matter to her, because it wasn’t what she’d wanted for you.

“Isn’t your sister's wedding today? Why’re you in bed for?” your best friend, Hyunjin, peaks into your room that you hadn’t bothered shutting for the night, aware that you had to be up early and awake himself.

“I’m working on it,” you groan, pushing your body up with the little energy you can muster, staring at your best friend who’s wearing a matching pyjama set, holding a worn mug of hot coffee with his newly dyed hair completely disheveled.

“I’m sorry I can’t come,” you sigh, getting up to pat his chest in a way that’s almost condescending.

“It’s okay. You have a life. Besides, if I brought you as a plus one, my mother may start feeling hopeful,” you laugh, and Hyunjin shakes his head in amusement as he follows you into the kitchen. 

In your first year at uni, you’d been stuck in a small dorm room, but the minute you met Hyunjin, the two of you clicked like two missing puzzle pieces, enough to make you not think twice about sharing a flat with him close to campus. 

Your mother still thought you lived in the dorms. Not that she had to know. She knew of Hyunjin, of course, but she’d be mortified to hear that you lived with a man such as him. He was handsome but a mischievous influence that slept around as he pleased. You didn’t mind it, as long as he warned you ahead of time, and he always respected you and allowed you to tell him no, not one today. 

“She really isn’t giving up on it, huh?” you shake your head, pouring a capsule into the coffee machine for your own, much needed kick of caffeine. 

“Not even a little,” sighing, you turn to look at your friend as he chews on his lower lip. He’s thinking, you can practically see the wheels in his head turning and know him well enough by now to read every expression on his face, “what?”

“So… since you won’t be back late, I can bring someone over tonight, right?” Hyunjin smirks, and you wish there was a pillow close enough to throw at him whilst he hides his laugh behind his mug. 

“I hate you,” you turn away, noting Hyunjin’s presence only when he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’ll have her out before you’re home.”

“You better. Or I’ll break your dick,” the blonds grip around your waist tenses, and even if he knows you never actually go through with your threats, the very thought of this one makes him vary enough. 

“She’ll definitely be out.”

You’re thankful for one thing. The wedding isn’t far out of the city. A three hour drive and you leave just a little past seven, set to be there before eleven, which left more than enough hours to get ready yourself, maybe console your panicking sister if you were in the mood, and on top of it, get some alcohol into your system whilst facing your mother. 

The church was beautiful, old stone making up the exterior with colorful glass panels that you couldn’t see through, and even though you could never see yourself getting married in this location yourself (if you ever got married), you did see it’s appeal. 

Besides, you knew your sister was trying to get into your mothers even better graces by choosing the same location that your parents had married in maybe twenty-five odd years ago. 

“You’re here! Thought maybe you’d decide not to come,” your mother was an eccentric woman, dressed in a horrid bright blue colour with too much jewelry and make up, but it kept her happy. She drew a lot of attention this way, but you’d gotten used to it and realised as you got older that really, she just needed those extra glances to boost her own low self esteem. 

You still hated it though and you often made sure that she knew how she embarrassed you by drawing so much attention to herself even on the simplest days of running every day errands.

“I’m perfectly early.”

“You can never be too early for your sisters wedding,” she tsks, dragging you by the wrist to the building connected to the church, where you knew the reception would be held. The two were connected, bound together by an exterior hall that surrounded itself with flowers and well maintained shrubbery, “anyway, you’re here. We need to make sure you look the part. I’ve seen so many handsome me-”

“Mother, you cannot be serious. It’s a wedding!” 

“So? There are no rules as long as it’s not the groom little lady,” you groan, following her like a stomping child that’s frustrated as she drags you around. 

“Here, in you go,” she shoves you inside a room, one you note has your little sister sat in front of a mirror in her wedding dress. She does look beautiful, but it’s further a reminder that you’re so out of place, “you didn’t get another tattoo did you?”

Your mother scoffs, raises your arms up and lifts the sleeves of your jacket to examine you. Shaking your head, you sigh, “no. Thanks for checking.”

“I’m so happy you’re here! I can’t do this, y/n!” man, you were never going to get ready on time, were you?

It took you two whole hours to get your sister to a point in which she felt confident enough in herself and the dress she’d chosen to no longer be second guessing every little detail of her wedding. 

It took another two for you to get ready whilst your mother hovered over you in your navy blue bridesmaid dress, scoffing at the amount of tattoos that laid on display. The dress was sleeveless and cut inwards at the waist, exposing skin and creating the illusion of a smaller figure, but it also showed the colours on your ribs.

Your mother was not happy.

“Do we have a long one? Why didn’t you get her more coverage?” 

She made you feel terrible. You didn’t mind your body, but it was simple things like this that made you doubt everything you saw in the mirror. Maybe she was right. Hyunjin told you otherwise, but maybe you really were just single because you weren’t feminine enough for suitors. 

“God, you have to cover these things. It’s not very church like or ladylike,” your mother comes back a few seconds later with two bandages, holding them out for you to take, “here. one for each nipple.”

Normally, you’d fight it much more. But it was only a day and she’d been exhausting you with ridicule for the past four hours to no end, complaining and nitpicking down to every little detail and you were just so tired of it. 

She’s having me cover my nipple piercings, help. 

You message Hyunjin, though your face is frowning as you attempt to humour yourself whilst writing to him. Not a second later comes a reply. 

Tell her to fuck off. Took a lot of balls to go through that pain. Like to see her suck it up.

You chuckle, putting your phone down as you debate just doing as she says, and in the end she wins. 

Only for today. If you’d please her just for today with this, then you wouldn’t have to see her for a while and could do as you wished. 

You look good. 

He reassures you, and you wish you could call him to feel a little better. 

Thank you. Gotta go before she takes my phone. Love you.

You feel your phone vibrate a minute later, Hyunjin writing the same two words back to you with a heart and you quickly hide it away. Your mother was one to hover over your shoulder any chance she could, and she’d never shut up if she saw your screen now. 

It would probably take you a whole day to convince her that you were only friends with Hyunjin. And then another day on top of it in which she’d ridicule you and wonder how you could be friends with a young man without feeling attracted to him.

It was going to be a long evening. 

Standing at the altar as a bridesmaid now had you realising that you actually didn’t know your sisters future husband well at all, which also bled out into his circle of friends. You couldn’t say you recognized a single one of them, but god, if one hadn’t immediately caught your eyes the second you saw him. 

He was unreal, with sharp brown eyes that looked colder than you would assume he actually was, brown hair parted in the middle and a dark suit similar to your shade of dress, maybe a few tones darker, hugging his clearly very lean and built body. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him and he’d noticed it too. 

As soon as he saw you walk down the aisle ahead of the bride, you’d locked eyes and he felt weaker. Never in his life had he seen someone so beautiful to him, for you were unique, he could tell just by the way you carried yourself and the way your skin bled into an array of colours on your arms and the little he saw on your ribs. 

He wondered what else you hid under your dress, and quickly scolded himself for even going there. 

He was at a wedding as the best man to one of his closest friends. This was not the time to be thinking of a beautiful stranger that likely was related to who his friend was marrying. 

Not good. Yet he couldn’t control himself, for his eyes suddenly only found you.

Though whilst you caught his stare, with the way he looked and carried himself, you could only think two things.

One, there's no way he came alone.

And two, you hadn’t had sex in months and it wasn’t something that usually bothered you, nor was it something that you usually thought of, but now it was the only thing on your mind. Your whole body was telling you that you were desperate. 

Honestly, you were relieved that you’d let your mother force those bandages on you, for they also hid that you were just a little bit more on the edge of arousal than usual. 

“At least dance. Find someone. There’s plenty of single men,” your mother comes up to you, a drink in hand whilst you were on your second glass of wine and not even a little tipsy. 

“Not in the mood right now,” well, to be honest, falling into any man's arms right now may be dangerous, though you kept looking for the same one. He was laughing with a girl, though his body language was somewhat stiff, as if he didn’t want any part in the conversation. 

He only confirmed it when the girl walked away and he visibly relaxed, having a sip of his drink before your mother dragged you out of your gaze by clicking her fingers before you. 

“This is ridiculous. What did I do wrong? Your sister turned out perfect,” well, you had many stories that said otherwise. 

“Why is it so bad that I’m single? I’m still doing so much with my life. You just won’t acknowledge it,” sighing, you rest your hand on the table, earning you another distasteful scoff. 

“Don’t be like that. You can’t have kids forever. Nor will you stay this young. Men will lose interest. Now… how about that one?” 

She points at a random man, one that is staring at the drinks assortment by the open bar in a way that tells you he’d bore you. He knows nothing about his liqour.

Pass.

“Fine, maybe that one?” 

A handsome choice, you admit, but something puts you off. 

“He seems boring.”

“They’re all boring to you,” she snarls, getting up in what is a sign that hopefully she’ll leave you be. 

You should've known better.

“Your mother tells me you’re in desperate need of a husband,” your ears perk up whilst you let your pointer finger run along the rim of the wine glass. You haven’t seen the man, but his voice has a calming effect, running smooth and elegantly as he speaks to you. 

He’s leaned close, you can tell in your peripheral by how you can make out the colour of his suit, “tell her to fuck off.”

The man laughs, and it sounds almost like he’s mocking but not towards you. It’s bitter and sarcastic, enough to have you curious when he takes a seat next to you unprompted. He’s not put off by you, in fact, you’ve intrigued him. 

“Well, she insisted I speak to you. Handsome man as myself. At least she claims-”

“Look-” you’re about to give him an earful, but the second you turn your head and see him, all words leave you and you feel like you’ve lost your breath. 

Fuck, he’s even better looking up close. His skin is incredibly smooth, his eyes a warm colour though they still seem to hide something you can’t make out. And he’s smirking at you, as if teasing you knowingly, because he knows with confidence, why you held your breath. 

“Good lord, who sculpted you?” 

“My parents sacrificed their first born for a do over. Me,” he jokes, and you feel a similar ease that you do with Hyunjin, though you’ve only just met the man. 

“I can see that. They must be proud,” the man nods, resting his elbow against the table as he gazes at you. His stare is intense, maybe it’s the eyes, but your confident enough to not look away. 

“I’m Minho.”

“Y/N. I’m the sister,” the very single one. 

“Ah, well, I’m the best friend. Of the groom,” he clarifies, and you find yourself easing into this conversation quite quickly, “another drink?” 

You nod at his offer, and Minho gets up to move to the bar as you watch his retreating figure. You’d definitely be telling Hyunjin about this man when you’d get home, that’s for sure. 

“I see mother sent someone over,” your sister grins, making you turn your head to see her stand there with a knowing look. 

“She did.”

“You should go for it,” you could. Hell, you definitely should, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually hit on someone. 

“I want to take his clothes off. I really do,” his hands move around the two glasses of wine that you know he’s bringing over, and you hate how quickly your mind thinks of his fingers wrapping around something else. 

It really has been too long. 

“Please, no sleeping around at my wedding. Ask him out instead. Civilized!” 

She walks away and Minho comes back not a second later, not questioning you on the brides appearance, “didn’t know which red you had. I just got us the cabernet.”

“I’ll drink anything anyway. Cheers?” You raise your glass and he smiles at you, doing the same as you clink them together. 

“Cheers.”

You don’t know how many glasses you were down, but you know Minho far more intimately now during the hour you’d known him than you knew some people after months or even years. He was interesting and unashamed, answering any question honestly and you decided to do the same in return. The two of you were in a corner, in your own little world, laughing whilst his hand had started to rest on your thigh. 

“Please, you actually pretended to catch him cheating?” Minho was near tears and so were you, laughing at your best friends predicament in which he’d brought a girl home that simply wouldn’t take a hint, and Hyunjin had practically begged you to leave your lecture early and save him as a pretend girlfriend. 

It had worked brilliantly. 

“I am indeed, a hero,” you chuckle, the man in front of you leaning closer while he laughs, shaking his head. 

“That’s brilliant. I could learn a thing or two from him.”

“He’s a manwhore. Doubt he has anything useful for you,” the two of you calm down, and you don’t miss that his eyes briefly flicker down your body, down to where his hand rests under the table. It’s not discreet, but you know no one would catch it unless they looked. 

“So, what else can you tell me about you then?” 

“Depends on what you want to know,” you shrug, and the man before you thinks for a minute, leaning back in his chair. 

“I want to know about…” he trails, removing the hand from your thigh as he slowly lets it drift up to where your ribcage is slightly exposed, hovering over your tattoos, “what else you’re hiding under here that I don’t know about?”

Your brain short circuits, and he doesn’t miss the way you adjust in your seat, his cold fingers making you shiver yet igniting you just the same, “you mean my tattoos?”

“Not just,” it would be too easy to kiss him, but the two of you aren’t in a particularly discreet place, and you know your mother would have your head for causing a scene. She may want you off the market, but not kissing strangers at your sister's wedding.

“I have my nipples pierced,” really, that’s the first thing you think of?

Minho perks up, curiosity getting the better of him as he studies the endless jewelry in your ears. It made sense to him, that you’d be hiding more under your clothes, but he didn’t entirely expect it either, “I’ve never actually seen that on anyone.” 

You shrug, but your head feels like it’s spinning and the room feels hot, “I like them.”

“Show me?” 

Slipping away had taken a few tries. Mainly because you knew your mother was somehow always hyper aware of where you were or where you were headed. That, and the two of you had alternated between bumping into people who were eager to talk to you both. In the end, you simply dragged Minho behind a wall that led into a hallway that no one was currently in, though you couldn’t say for how long that would be. 

“I swear my mum has a tracker on me,” you sigh, just about tipsy enough to flash your nipples in a very public hallway that was just round an open archway to everyone else. 

You were surprised with yourself, how much that risk turned you on. 

“You have me curious,” he licks his lips, taking his fingers and letting them brush over the fabric, right over your left nipple. Your entire body shakes, and it would almost be embarrassing how turned on you were by him if you hadn’t noticed how his eyes darkened. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, quickly fiddling with the bandages under the fabric as he watches you in amusement, “she made me cover them.”

“Gee, your mum really doesn’t want you to be your own person, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” Minho looks at you again, hovering over you as he traps you between the wall, and you honestly would risk everything in this hallway now if he asked you to, “now, where were we?” 

His tone is lower and he’s not hiding the way he stares at your covered breasts, feeling the fabric between his fingers as your breath hitches. Your nipples harden under his touch and he feels it along with the metal, making him smirk. You don’t know what he’s going to do, and the anticipation is killing you to find out. 

You push your legs together, hoping he doesn’t notice as he loops his fingers around the fabric of your top and pushes it to one side, exposing your left nipple to the cold air. You have to catch your lower lip between your teeth, biting back a moan that makes him chuckle. 

“I like it. A lot,” his breathing is heavier, you notice it now that he’s so close to you, “fuck, I can’t believe how sexy you are.”

“Me? Please, I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you.”

“I noticed,” you hit him lightly on the arm, though he’s entirely unphased, “I really, really want to do things to you right now that I don’t think your mother would agree with.”

He pushes the fabric towards the center of your chest on the right side, releasing your right breast to the cool air as well, both of your nipples exposed for him to play with if he wanted to, “be quiet.”

The demand makes you want to do the opposite, watching him bend down and take your left breast into his mouth, teasing the nipple and running his tongue along the metal, squeezing the other one with his hand whilst you try not to cry out. You’re convinced without a doubt that the man before you is the sexiest person you’ll ever have the luck of meeting. 

And he for some reason, is incredibly eager for you. 

A loud moan leaves your body before you can urge it away, making Minho stop as he gazes up at you. His eyes are dangerous, and you know he’s in full control of the situation and how he wants it to play out. He’s twisted your body around in seconds, pressing you into the wall with his chest against your back.

“You’re needy as hell. How longs it been?” you aren’t sure, but even if you’d just had sex yesterday, you think the effect would be the same, for he’s intoxicating to you. 

“We should go somewhere else,” and you’re inclined to agree. His hand wraps around your throat, pushing you back into him, making you arch slightly as you feel his hardening cock against your ass. He swallows one of your moans by clamping his hands over your lips, but your eagerness doesn’t get lost on him.

“I take that as a yes.”

The church was eerily empty, near abandoned for the evening aside from the decorations that everyone had left behind, and Minho quickly lures you inside between heavy kisses and fingers digging into your exposed flesh. He leads you up the balcony overlooking the seats and front where the priest usually stands, and morally, it’s entirely twisted and you know certainly that if there is a god, you’re being sent straight to hell. 

“Here? Really?” 

“Well, I don’t like public bathrooms and no one’s gonna be in here. Ceremony already happened,” he’s right. Technically, people are more likely to walk into the bathroom as well.

“Though if you say no, we don’t-” you shut him up with a kiss, laying down on the bench and pulling him on top of you by his tie. He grins, his hand on your thigh that he pushes to the side to pull himself between you. 

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” he’s panting, and even if he’s seemed perfectly controlled until this point, you know he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him. 

Kissing him again, you work on unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his tie, causing him some frustration as it gets caught around his neck. He sighs, yanking it off him and stripping himself out of everything but his underwear, standing before you with obvious intent to rip you apart. 

And you want him to. 

“Are you gonna behave and be quiet?” He’s testing you and you almost want to see him snap and lose all reserve, watching your every move as you undo the back of your dress by your neck, standing just to let it pool on the floor. Only your thong is left on you, showing so much to him, you may as well be naked. 

“Fuck,” he groans, losing all inhabition as you get on your knees. The floor is cold, an uncomfortable old wood but you don’t care enough, looking up at him.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” and how could he say no? You looked so pretty, your naked body on near full display aside from the thin string barely covering your labia, and he quickly gains an idea and picks up the tie he’d discarded on the floor.

“Trust me?” 

He’s asking, and even if you should maybe reconsider, you nod far too quickly. He hasn’t given you a reason not to. 

“If it’s too much-”

“I’ll blink three times quick or say red. Easy,” it’s almost charming and strangely cute, how you trust him, and his heart swells just a little at the way you do. He forgets all too quickly though, bending down to bring your hands behind your back, tying them together by the wrists.

“Good?” 

“Good,” you give him the green light, and he strips himself off the last item of clothing he’d been wearing. 

Based on the bulge in his pants, you’d expected him to be above average, but his cock ends up being bigger than you’d thought. You felt your thighs clench, the wetness between your legs clinging to the fabric you wore.

“Don’t just stare,” he grabs your agape jaw, bringing the tip of his cock onto your waiting lips, and it’s near embarrassing how eagerly you swallow his precum, taking the head into your mouth and moaning when you do. Minho hisses, watching inches of his dick disappearing past your lips, “good girl.”

You had never quite considered yourself submissive before, but hearing Minho praise you this way brought something out in you. It made you want to hear it again, that you were good just for him. You moan, taking him out of your mouth, trying to move your arms but they’re bound behind you. Somehow, it turns you on more, the control he has over you. 

Licking along the vein that prominently runs along from his shaft to the tip, you groan and look up into his eyes. He’s looking back at you hungrily, gripping your hair harshly with one hand, your jaw opening up as he grips it with his other hand, “open.”

You obey, feeling him push his thick cock inside your mouth until it hits the back of your throat and you nearly cough, tears welling up just a little in the corner of your eyes, though you don’t let them fall. When he pulls out, you take a sharp breath, coughing as a trail of spit breaks between your lips and his cock, falling to your thighs. 

“You can do better,” you want to do better. It’s a challenge, and he doesn’t wait or give you time before he’s pushing his cock to the back of your throat. This time, he releases the pressure of the hold he has on your hair just enough to draw you back, letting you breathe with him stuffing your mouth full, but seconds later he takes it again.

You feel the head hit the back of your throat, making you gag and moan over his cock again, and he laughs almost sinister, “you like it?”

Yes. It’s degrading, you know, but something about him makes it so easy to want. He moves again, starting to fuck into your throat, making you spit and cough as tears begin spilling from your eyes. Your make up must be ruined, but you look up at him and he’s still so desperately hungry for you that none of it matters. 

You twist around, desperate to free yourself from the way he’s restrained you, and you know you were right in trusting him when he understands and pulls himself away, moving behind you to undo the tie that’s caused the faintest red marks on your skin. 

“Minho… please,” but you don’t know what you’re begging for. He’s still behind you, you feel his presence as he brings his hand around to your front to fondle your breasts, making you push your thighs apart as he chuckles.

“What do you want hmm? I can do so much-”

A loud ringing interrupts your thoughts, and you realise your mothers calling you. Minho grabs the phone, handing it to you, “answer.”

It’s a demand, and he’s expecting you to say yes. He pushes your back down, head pressed against his suit that now lies on the floor, cushioning you slightly as he moves the string of your thong to the side. 

“I said answer,” he slaps your ass, making you jolt, body trembling as you try to calm your breathing. 

“H-hello?”

“Where’d you go young lady?” You plan to answer her, but your voice is caught when you feel Minho’s fingers spread the wetness over your soaking pussy, making you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s going to kill you. 

“Fresh a-air?” you try. Maybe this could be the day you disappoint her further by claiming you were a smoker. 

“Is that kid with you? You better not be up to something funny. I’m coming outside-”

“No wa-” Minho reacts quicker than you, pushing his fingers coated with your juices into your mouth, expecting you to suck on them and you do without having to be told, closing your eyes in pleasure. 

“She is with me. Her head hurt so I told her fresh air might help. Bit too much wine, you know?”

He sounds so… normal. 

Are you the only one pathetically desperate out of the two, or is he just way better at hiding it?  

“I will. Twenty minutes max. Promise,” you hear the sound of him hanging up, and suddenly his attention is all back on you, pulling his fingers from your mouth, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s amused, “you know, when I first saw you, I didn’t think you’d be so needy.”

He’s a bit too smug, yet that’s also part of his charm. 

“Guess I’ll just have to taste you again later,” he whispers into your ear, and your entire body reacts to the way he speaks in a way you’d never experienced, “right now I don’t have the time.”

You feel the tip of his cock against your slick entrance, and normally you knew better, that he’d probably have to ease you into his size with his long fingers, but you’re both on borrowed time and you’ve never been this wet before. 

It still stings, feeling him push into you, and you’re grateful that he understands without you telling him, that he needs to go slow. You let out a low moan, feeling his hand on your back, pushing you down to an angle as your walls tighten around him. 

He groans, letting you adjust though he’s never struggled so much before, because the way you fit around him is as if you’d been molded to him, “jesus, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

“Shut up,” he moves slightly, making you whimper, pushing your ass back into his hips, and he knows it’s your okay to have him move. 

“Say that again,” he growls, moving in and out of you at an agonizing pace, almost so slow that you want to cry and beg, “I dare you.”

“P-please. M-Minho,” he could taunt you more. It may even get a kick out of him, but maybe he’s had you endure enough for one night. Maybe he’d be nice.

“As you wish,” he adjusts his pace, going from painfully slow to slamming into you, making your whole body move and your knees scream at the uncomfortable floor, but you don’t care. You’re a mess for him, your moans echoing throughout the building and you wonder if it’s loud enough to travel through to the other rooms. 

You wonder if your mother will hear it. 

Yet you don’t care. 

“Fuck, more,” you beg, clenching around him as he groans, feeling his warm chest against your back as he pushes your body up, supporting you with a strong arm around your waist and another with his hand around your throat. 

“You take my cock so well, don’t you? Making sure everyone hears you like the whore you are for me,” one of your hands claw at the arm around your waist, not in an attempt to get him off you, but in a desperate attempt to hold on to something before you collapse under him. 

“M-Minho. Oh god!” 

You know you won’t last long. Not with the way he slams into you at such a delicious pace, his cock hitting deep inside you, and the fingers catching your breath around your throat only add to your arousal. 

“Maybe I’ll make your mother extra happy, give her some grandchildren while we're at it when I cum inside you,” it nearly sets you over the edge, the way he speaks to you so filthy, drawing the line between right and wrong but not enough to make you question it.

“Yes, fuck yes! P-please cum in me,” the back of your head rests on his collarbone, and you know his eyes are on you, the hand around your waist going to tease your clit between his fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful, fuck,” and it breaks you. He breaks you into pieces with something so simple, and you’re left a writhing mess as you clench around him. Minho feels the way your walls tighten around his cock, making him hiss, biting down on your shoulder to silence himself as he trembles. 

You feel the way he fills you up, his body stilling and clinging to your own through the heat you both exude. You're both panting and struggling to breath as he drops his hand from your throat and catches you just as you want to fall forward and collapse. 

“Don’t f-fall and hurt y-yourself,” he’s teasing, out of breath and completely spent but still aware enough to make sure you aren’t in too much pain. 

Minho slowly moves, though it’s intense enough to make you whimper desperately, stopping him by moving your arms back to his hips, “p-please.”

He grins, kissing your shoulder blade, soothing any pain or discomfort you may have anywhere else by distracting you, “you want me to stay inside you? Hmm?”

It’s shameful to admit you do, that you like how he feels around you, keeping his cum mixed with your own orgasm inside you, but eventually it makes you both ache too much, the overstimulation making him break away. 

You hear a thud, seeing that he’s fallen straight onto his back next to you, his chest rising rapidly as he’s trying to recollect his thoughts and breathing, covered in sweat. He looks beautiful like this, angelic and blissful “that was insane.”

You’re inclined to agree, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure as you lay next to him, staring up at the beautifully sculpted ceiling as he pulls you into his arms, “get dressed. I’ll drive you to my hotel.”

He kisses your forehead, a gesture that’s surprisingly sweet and unexpected. 

“What about my mother?” 

“You’ve just had an orgasm and you’re tired. You should shower and get some rest. I’ll get you out of it. Promise.”

And just like earlier, you trust that he will. That he’s true to his word like he’s proven, letting him dress you, cleaning up the mess on your inner thigh as best as he can with the little he has, before sneaking you away to his car. 

True to his word, he somehow works some magic that you really need to learn from him, for your mother doesn’t call you anymore after he’s exchanged some words with her over the phone, leaving you alone for the night as the beautiful man you’d only met hours ago, draws you a bath and orders you some food. 

He was right too, for the food arrives and he’s about to tell you, but you’re already fast asleep in his bed. 

Minho smiles, seeing you wrapped up in a t-shirt he’d lent you, pushing the covers over your bare legs before tangling his fingers between your hair. 

His heart feels full, seeing you there, and he knows quite quickly that this is it. As strange as it may be, it clicks into place as he watches the way you rest, feeling completely safe under his careful gaze.

His eyes soften, becoming warmer, as if the look you'd seen on him just hours ago finally cleared into something softer, less cold.

You’re the one he was waiting for.

dedicated to a friend who actually did have sex in a church, even though i don't necessarily condone it.

everything in this story is fictional and in no way represent any member of stray kids in real life.

feedback and comments always appreciated especially considering i've never managed to go through with smut like this 😅 also i am entirely clueless on how to tag smut so... pfff i tried

do not copy or repost

[swampstew]

Day 15 ~ Eustass Kid X F! Reader X Peeping

Note: I am recycling the post from "The Heist" which I did as a collab for @lawscorazon mostly because I love the prompt. I had a different scenario written out but its close to 4K words now, it has some Wano spoilers, and I don't even know where to begin to cut down on it, might just post it as a stand alone for later on!

Word Count: 2.1K CW: 18+ only, Spicy, voyeurism, stalking, masturbation, minor violence, m!n0rs DNI

Part 2 here

Last DNI/CW warning.

Eustass Kid slammed his metal arm on to the display table, destroying the glass frame and structure. Glass shattered and covered the carpeted flooring; cheap weapons littered the floor as the merchant backed away from the Supernova. His back to the wall, Kid stomped up to him and grabbed him by the throat.

“You know who I am, how dare you waste my time with this cheap fucking garbage,” he growled, squeezing the man’s throat close.

The man was gasping and with a last attempt to salvage the situation, began to point to the left of him. Kid almost ignored the action, wanting to let his bloodlust overtake him and simply kill the old fool for his ignorance. He tilted his head to the left and he barely loosened his grip on the man, allowing him to greedily suck air into his lungs.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, I was bringing these up from our vault,” a woman was standing by a doorway, pulling a three-tier cart behind her. From a glance, Kid could see the cart was loaded with different weapons. Sparing the old man a final glance the pirate backed off without warning, dropping the old merchant to the ground.

Stomping to the woman, Kid began to dig through the various pistols and swords, examining the quality of the steel, trying to find any imperfections or duds. Finding none, he clicked his tongue and shot the woman a glare.

“These are better but not good enough. What else do you have?”

She gave him a nervous look before glancing at the merchant. “It’s ok Y/N, take him to the vault.”

“Please follow me,” she humbly spoke, abandoning the cart and walking back through the door, Kid following closely behind her.

Descending the steep ramp, Kid spoke. “Y/N? That’s not a name I’ve heard before. You’re not from around here are you?”

Y/N shook her head, “That’s right. I came here a few months ago. Just trying to make some money and then I’ll be leaving again.”

They reached the basement floor and she led him to a vast vault door. Rotating the locking mechanism, Kid roughly pulled her aside and using his power, jerked the vault door open and walked inside. Annoyed that the merchant had in fact kept the good shit hidden away, Kid pilfered through the shelves and display cases.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” Y/N stood by the door as she watched the pirate.

“No,” he didn’t bother to explain himself. He never sought out specific weapons so much as he liked to see what was available and if anything sparked his interest. Finding several guns and daggers he liked, he grunted at the woman to indicate he was done.

The old merchant was not in the shop but he had left behind a note for the young woman. It was a short note: Give him whatever he wants and take whatever he is willing to pay. Try not to die. Close up shop when he’s done.

“Just you and me now,” Y/N scoffed, annoyed at the man’s cowardice that he would up and leave her alone.

A menacing grin spread on his painted lips, “old man too afraid to face me again?”

Nodding, she handed him the note. Letting out sharp laughter, Kid pulled out his money clip and slapped a large amount of berri on the table while Y/N wrapped his daggers into leather sheaths and bound his purchases into a single parcel.

Opening the register, Kid was confused when he saw the woman pulling out all the money and stacking it with the berri he had given her. She ducked below the table and struggled to carry up a heavy steel lockbox, slamming it on the table.

“Can you open this?”

“Why should I?” he mocked her.

“Fuck the merchant, I’m robbing him now.”

Kid was a little dumbfounded at the statement and without much thought, used his power to easily rip the door off the little safe. Y/N quickly pulled out more berri and added it to the pile on the table. Kid could hear the tinkling of treasure but before he could see what it was, Y/N handed him a bloated satchel.

“These are all his prized jewels and gold. Consider it your portion of this little heist. If you want to take anything else go for it, I don’t give a shit. Later,” she casually said as she slipped the stacks of berri into her purse and walked out the front door.

“Wh-what?” Kid stayed glued to the spot, unsure of what to make of everything that just happened. He quickly thumbed through the satchel and was surprised that she had given him all of it, the value in the bag was more than what he paid for and he was sure it was worth more than all the berri she had taken from the shop. He quickly exited the shop, eyes searching the semi-crowded village looking for Y/H/C.

Spotting Y/N’s head, he began to follow her from a distance. Kid quickly realized that she was headed towards the docks and he vaguely remembered there being some shitty excuses for rental rooms nearby where his ship was moored.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was following her, no he was definitely just going the same direction because that’s where his ship is and that’s the justification he’s sticking to. However, once he saw her turn a corner and into one of the shitty rentals, he found himself stopping.

Shifting the parcel on his shoulder, he weighed his options. They would be leaving the next day so he had the time. On the other hand, did he really need to dick around and stalk some random yet very pretty woman? The answer was yes.

Making sure no one was watching him, he turned the same corner and walked around the perimeter of the room Y/N had entered. The rental unit was truly a piece of shit, the infrastructure was crumbling near the foundation, cracked and broken windows and there were some holes in the roof. He snuck himself in a narrow space where there were partially covered windows looking into Y/N’s rental.

Y/N was sitting at a table and counting her money, writing into a small notebook. After a few minutes, she put it all away into a small wooden box and began to stretch. Kid leered as her top lifted and he could see a roll of flesh. She moved to the end of the room and standing in front of the window he was at, she began to run water into a small, clawed bathtub. Kid shrunk back into the shadows, hoping the partially covered window gave him enough cover from being detected.

Apparently it had as the woman did not raise alarm. Staying in her same spot, she began to undress and stepped into the slowly filling tub. Kid’s eyes did not leave her form, entranced at her curves and nakedness as she began to lower her body into the hot water. He could feel his body reacting but he didn’t dare do anything about it just yet.

Y/N let out a loud, content sigh from the steamy bath. Speaking to herself, “hmm that pirate captain was pretty hot. Should have asked if he wanted to bang before I left. Oh well,” and she ducked her head underwater.

Grateful for her momentary absence, Kid’s jaw dropped from her statement as he pressed against the window, his eyes greedy for more. Kid glanced around to make sure he was alone before he began to palm his erection through his pants. Staring at her naked form in the water, he teased his length with slow motions as he drank in the sight of her. Perked nipples adorning her tits, wide hips, and chunky thighs he wanted to bite into, he groaned softly as he gripped himself harder.

Ducking out of sight again as Y/N’s head broke through the water, she laid her head back against the tub lip as she relaxed, a small hand towel covering her eyes and she occasionally wrung out a loofah over her body to rain warm droplets over her chest when she got chilly. Kid was moments away from walking to her front door when she raised her hands to her chest and began to gently tease her nipples.

Kid’s breath hitched as the woman let out a soft moan from her own actions. A private show? Oh FUCK yes. Feeling braver with her eyes shielded, Kid unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out, spitting into his palm and pumping himself while peeping through the window.

Y/N was massaging her body working slowly from her chest to her waist, caressing herself with delicate touches. One hand stayed on her titties as she kneaded them while her other hand drifted in between her legs. Kid stood tall for a better view and he nearly let his tongue hang as he watched Y/N rub small circles on her clit while she let out little whines of pleasure. She was increasing her speed on herself and Kid matched her pace on himself, working himself up as the coil of heat built up inside him.

“Ooh, yes right there,” she whimpered as she slipped her fingers inside her core and began pumping them in and out. “Mmm you feel so good, pirate,” she cooed, hips bucking against her hand sharply. Twisting his thumb over the head of his cock, precum leaked out helping lubricate his member and he began to buck into his hand as well, panting lightly.

Increasing his speed and grip, Kid internalized the vocalizations that tried to leave his mouth, hips jutting as he fucked into his hand while he watched Y/N bring herself to orgasm. Her face was twisted in pleasure as she let out soft wails while she rode her high, three fingers still working herself deep inside. When she pulled the digits out of her body and brought them to her mouth, Kid almost bashed his face through the window, desperate for a taste of her.

Not done with her bath, Y/N brought her hand back down to her clit and worked herself up quickly. Impatient for another release, she began to whisper out dirty things she wished Kid would do to her, still unaware that the man in question was jacking off to her outside. The Supernova listened to her breathy requests, silently agreeing to do them all to her if he found himself still wanting to fuck her when he was done.

“Fuck, I bet he has a huge cock too,” Y/N sighed, the water choppy from her rapid movements as she kept working herself. “I’d let him spread me out and fuck me stupid,” she moaned, on the edge of her second orgasm.

Kid heard her words and he was gone. The bubble inside him burst as his sloppy thrusts devolved into sharp bucking into his hand. His thick, white cum hit the window with soft sounds as he shot rope after rope from his orgasm. It ran down the window like rain droplets, racing to fall off the edge of the pane. Drops of his seed coated his hand too as he kept pumping through his own high, still watching the woman.

Satiated, he slipped himself back into his pants, head snapping up when he heard a frustrated groan. Y/N had stopped her ministrations, softly shaking her hand that had been doing all the work from the cramp she was enduring. “Goddamnit, right on the edge too,” she pouted, ripping the towel from her face and she began to exit the tub while it drained.

Cocky smile plastered on his face when he heard that, Kid wiped his hand on his pants and quickly glanced at his reflection from the second window before walking to her front door, knocking loud and rapidly.

Hearing cursing and movement from inside, Kid’s face remained the same as he propped his flesh arm against the door frame, waiting for the door to open. Y/N’s face turning red, eyes wide in shock when she found him like that.

“You! What, how did you find me?”

“The name is Kid, Eustass Kid. I have a habit of winding up exactly where I’m needed,” his salacious grin evident as he leered at her body.

She had hastily put on a long dress shirt but her nipples were perked against the cloth. He was willing to bet she wasn’t wearing underwear as he saw droplets of water still running down her thighs.

“There was something at the shop I wanted that I didn’t get. I’m here to collect.”

“What? But I gave you all the jewels and anything else you wanted!”

Nodding his head, his grin somehow getting wider. “Talking about you, girly. Now, you gonna keep me waiting outside or are you gonna invite me in so I can fuck you stupid?”

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...