#We need to help people not just pretend to sympathize

[fransharp]

what is with the recent shift towards full neuropsych work ups to dx ADHD? It’s something even an FNP Can do relatively simply but now we’re all supposed to drop $2k on full neropsych assessments? Why? WHY? Why are you making these dx and the help tied to them so fucking inaccessible to people who already have trouble accessing things by virtue of their neurodiversity?! We need to fix things so bad in this country and impossibly long waits/high fees for help with anything psych related is near the top of the list.

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid, Part 2.

panty-dropping javi art by @bonezone44

8k words | dark!javi x f!reader x dark!steve | The Raid SUMMARY: Javi and his partner get you settled in. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon (captivity & more), kidnapping, drugs, mild withdrawal, manhandling, sharing, degradation, praise, homoerotic tension, thigh fucking, somnophilia (javi), p in v (steve, but Javi's involved), orgasm denial, cumplay, size kink if you squint, mfm adjacent, hillbilly cock. Javi & Steve RECS: Lie Still by @milla-frenchy , Crossing Lines by @lunitawrites , Helping Hands and Polaroids by @clawdee , You can be the boss by @girlboybug . TY all!! A/N: Could've been 2 parts (4.4k/3.6k) so there's a divider (ty @cafekitsune) if you want 2 reads. Ty @debbiequinn for your sleep thot and @ghoulettesinspace for your styling thots. Tagged people who asked for part 2 at the end.

✨NEXT: Javi isn't home - Steve PWP.

The DEA has left the scene, aside from Javi and his tall, blonde partner. The partner managed to catch your (ex) boyfriend while Javi was “supervising” you. Javi has given his men a talking-to and told them you were never there.  With a strong grip on your arm, he's dragged you to a Ford Bronco where he's now forcing you into the back seat. 

"My shirt," you beg. 

Javi shrugs mercilessly. "Should've put it on before you ran." He glances at your bra before beginning to shut the car door. 

He and his partner talk outside the car. Javi stands with his hands tucked into the top of his vest. The taller man leans with one hand just above the back seat window and his other hand on his hip. He ducks down to look at you, but doesn't acknowledge you. He asks Javi, "You sure we need to be drivin' around with her half dressed?" 

"What'd I say?”

The blonde agent holds his hands up in mock defense. “No Carrillo, no questions." He walks around front to the driver's seat. You have a better view of him once he's seated. He's strong, like Javi. He has a thick mustache, too.

Javi gets in the passenger seat and puts on a voice like he's teaching a class and would rather be anywhere else. He addresses you by name, then says, "This is Steve Murphy." 

Steve nods in the rear view mirror, and your eyes meet. Then he turns on the engine and asks Javi, "safe house?" 

Javi tilts his head back and smooths his mustache. “Mm,” he contemplates.

Steve offers, "I'll head to the closest one."

Javi answers, "No. My place."

"Yours?" 

"Yeah, you know, the place I live? Right downstairs?" 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Alright." After a few moments of silence, Steve asks, "informant?" 

"Eh," Javi ponders. "We'll see."  He puts a cigarette in his mouth, then takes the cigarette lighter out of its socket and lights up. Javi reaches down to crank the window open a little more, then exhales, aiming the smoke outside. He asks, "We need to worry about Romeo?" as he hands the cigarette to Steve. 

“Nah,” Steve replies as he accepts the cigarette. He looks at the tip of the filter and takes one puff before handing it back to Javi. Steve exhales out the window, then reaches back and puts his hand behind Javi's seat to put the car in reverse. 

"Nah,” Steve repeats. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that dumbass. . .Told him we'd fuck her in front of him, know what he said?”

“What?” Javi asks, bemused. 

“He said go ahead."  You’re not surprised. 

"Ouch," Javi pretends to sympathize, then looks back to check on you. "Sorry, sweetheart."

—-

Once they get you to the apartment, the first thing they do is take you to the bathroom. You have to walk through a bedroom to get there. In the middle of the bedroom, there's a bed with leather restraints. It makes your stomach turn to look at. 

Steve’s eyes fixate on it and he asks Javi, "You kept this stuff?"

Javi retorts, "Where'd you think it went, the Salvation Army?” 

Javi pauses to take off his tactical vest.  “Let’s wash that place off her.” 

“C’mon,” Steve gently urges you by the arm toward the bathroom. You go in the restroom and stand, awkwardly awaiting instructions. You lean your back against the wall and the handcuffs drag.

Steve plugs the drain and turns on the water. Javi walks in, takes out the keys and uncuffs you. Steve retires to the doorway and leans against it, tucking his hands into the top of his tactical vest and watching. He seems to take up the whole frame. 

There's a toilet next to the bathtub/shower combo. Javi closes the lid and sits down, facing you, and manspreads in his tight jeans. His shirt is stained with sweat, and the glimmer of a gold chain catches your eye on his tan chest. Javi pats his thigh closest to the tub. You sit on his thigh, facing the door and Steve. Javi strokes your face, and you look down at the floor, cheeks warm, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” Javi tells you, “Vamos a ponerte limpia y lista para una vida nueva.” (We’re gonna get you clean and ready for a new life). He unclasps your bra and you let it fall off into your lap. Javi tosses it to Steve, saying, “Check the closet out there.” 

Javi reaches over to feel the water, then rests his large hand between your shoulder blades.  “Now take off your pants.” He gives you a gentle push out of his lap. 

You stand again and remove your pants. Javi stays seated.

You’re cowering with your arms in front of you, but Javi beckons you with a hooked finger. You come to stand between his knees. He nudges your inner elbows and you let your arms fall out of the way. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, not taking his eyes off your tits. His hands come to your chest without even a glance to your face. He lightly massages your breasts until both nipples are erect. He slots both his hands under your armpits and thumbs your nipples, then slides his palms down to your hips where he hooks his thumbs into your panties and keeps going, bringing them down to the floor. 

Steve comes back from the closet and sets some clothes on the bathroom counter. 

Javi looks over and tells him, “Keep Carillo off my back for a while.” 

Steve nods and leaves. “Hasta luego!” he shouts with an American accent on his way out. 

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. 

-

Javi eyes the water level of the tub and turns off the faucet. “How do you feel?” he asks you with kind eyes. 

“Fine,” you mutter without meeting his gaze. 

He extends his hand for you, and you hold it for balance. You dip a toe in and it’s lukewarm. “Get in.” He nods toward the bath and you do. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts them outside the door, then cuffs his jeans. 

“How’s the water?” He asks then reaches under the sink, and you watch his ass strain his pants as he gets a bath poof. 

“Uh, good.” Your answer echoes off the tile. 

He sits on the side of the tub and uses a light orange bar of soap to make some lather, then scrubs you. He holds you with one hand for leverage while he scrubs you with the other. He starts with your arms, and your neck. He's not gentle. 

“Ow,” you mutter at one point.  

“Ay, pobrecita” (poor little girl). “You're going to feel so clean,” he reassures you. He makes you lift your arms. Then each leg. The tub squeaks under you as you scoot forward. He scrubs your legs and between your thighs. He does your breasts and your back. His arm muscles flex with his effort. When he leans over you to reach your other side, his back muscles strain his shirt and his gold chain escapes from his collar, revealing a little cross on it. 

“You’re bottoming out,” he mutters. 

“Huh?”

“In life.” He pauses and makes sure you're looking at him as he explains this. “It’s a good thing. Know why?” 

You stare at him vacantly.

“Once you hit rock bottom, you go back up.” 

You look away, and your cheeks burn. You get it, he found you at a low point, he doesn’t have to rub it in. It doesn't feel great. 

Javi washes your stomach and downward. He gets close to your intimate parts, but he's clinical about it. He gets you up on your knees and scrubs your bottom. He flattens his hand and slides the side of it down your crack, making you gasp with an unexpected rush of warmth to your core. 

Your skin feels almost numb in some areas by the time he's done bathing you. Then he lathers a softer sponge and washes you more gently.  He drains the tub and takes his time lazily rinsing you. When he's finished, he turns on the shower and tells you to make sure he got it all. 

Once you’re squeaky clean, he dries you off with a pale, yellow, threadbare towel. He inspects the clothes on the counter. It’s a Hawaiian shirt much too large to be Javi’s. Some pants, too, but he only puts the Hawaiians shirt on you. You eye your underwear on the floor, but Javi bends down and snatches it up before you have the chance to collect it. 

“I’ll start some laundry,” he offers.

—. . .----

Javi makes pork and beans for dinner. While you’re eating, someone jogs up the stairs outside. “Steve’s right upstairs,” Javi tells you. “Ever need anything and I’m not here, just yell.” He takes a bite of his beans. “He’s a better cook, too,” he smiles with his eyes. 

During a quiet moment, you’re startled by the sound of a woman moaning from upstairs. You look up at the ceiling. 

[ohhhh, she whines. give it to me.]

“Just a porno,” Javi tells you with a smirk. 

“So,” He studies your face. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

“You make it sound like my life is over.” 

“No, there’s still time,” he shrugs. 

You refuse to answer. 

[upstairs, a man’s voice joins in. oh yeah, take it, baby.]

Javi tries, “Favorite color?” 

You don’t answer that either. 

[yeah, just like that]

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.” 

“You can't keep me here forever, if that's what you're trying to do.”

Javi’s eyebrows knit in concern. "Oh, sweetheart.” With sad eyes, he asks, “You really think someone will report you missing?" 

"I have a job," you protest. 

“Oh,” he sounds fakely impressed. “Well. . . Be a good girl, and I'll get you a better one.”

Upstairs, a deeper, clearer voice sighs, “Ohh, fuck,” making you squeeze your thighs together. That has to be Steve. It sounds like him. 

[Steve sighs and grunts over the faint sounds from the television.] 

You bite your lip and look away. 

Javi lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at you. He reaches for your face and smirks as he makes you look at him. “Like what ya hear?” Blood rushes to your face. He chuckles as he lowers his hand. 

[A long groan from Steve.]

Oh, wow. You wonder if Javi will notice the wet spot under you. You take a deep breath. When you regain your focus, he’s studying your eyes with an amused sparkle in his.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods, then pats your cheek. 

“He’s a good guy,” Javi adds, then looks upward in thought. He tilts his head back and forth as though debating himself. “Kind of.” He pushes a glass of water toward you. “Drink.”

—-

When it’s time to sleep, Javi takes you to the bedroom you walked through on the way in. He watches your face as you eye the bed with its restraints. 

“You’ve been pretty good so far,” Javi muses. “Maybe we don’t need this yet.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I promise I’ll behave.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m not sure if you’ll like the other option much better, though.” 

He brings you to his room and heads toward the closet, which rolls open with a four-panel door. you wouldn’t really mind sleeping in Javi’s bed with him, but that’s not what he has in mind. He pulls out an old futon mattress with a striped fitted blanket and throws it on the floor.  “You can choose where to sleep, how’s that?”

“Here,” you answer without hesitation and he chuckles. 

“Muy bien, pobrecita. But I *am* going to have to secure you.”  He takes his handcuffs out and cuffs one to a radiator under the window. Then, with his foot, he pushes the futon mattress over to it.  

“Really?” You ask. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I believe you. But you need protection from yourself right now.” 

His bed has plenty of room for both of you. He’s just being an ass. 

-

Javi lets you watch television, sitting side by side with him on his sofa. He periodically looks at you skeptically, as though wondering if you’ll make a run for the door, but you don’t. It sure has been a long day. You yawn. 

“Ready for bed?” Javi asks. 

You nod. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Steve. He’s come by to drop off a couple of bags. One is from the grocery store. Javi steps into the breezeway to talk for a couple of minutes. When he comes back in, he brings the grocery bag to the table and puts the others aside. In the grocery bag, there are brand new toiletries for you, including a toothbrush. 

Javi takes you to the bathroom and watches you while you brush your teeth, then he brings one of the other shopping bags into the bedroom. There’s a nightgown. The material is thin and it’s on the shorter side. Not exactly modest. Javi puts it on you, and at least it’s more comfortable than whomever’s shirt you were wearing. 

He gives you a thin pillow and pats the mattress for you to lie down. He cuffs you to the radiator. Then he goes to another room and comes back with a blanket. He tucks you in. 

“If you need to go to the bathroom or anything, just wake me up, okay?” He moves your wrist to clank the handcuffs on the radiator in demonstration. “I hope tonight won’t be bad, but you might start to feel sick, or get chills. That’s normal okay?” 

You nod.  

He pats your head affectionately and bids you goodnight. “Sweet dreams, mi pobrecita.” He goes to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. When he comes back in the room, you try not to watch him, but you hear him rustling around near the bed. You tilt your head up enough to steal a quick glance, and he’s taking off his shirt. He doesn’t get in his bed right away, but eventually you hear the mattress creak. 

—--

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little queasy, but you’re unsure if it’s the circumstances, the beans, or the detox. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold, but this sleeping arrangement is not doing you any favors. You don’t want to wake Javi up, but the night feels like it might last forever otherwise. You rattle the cuffs against the metal. 

“Ay, pobrecita,” he whispers. “Okay, I’m coming.” He gets out of bed. 

He approaches you, barefoot. As soon as he kneels down, he mutters, “Ay, cabrón” (oh, bastard) under his breath and returns to his nightstand for the key. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you when he comes back. He uncuffs you. As you sit up, he helps you with a warm hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Javi responds as if he didn’t handcuff you to a radiator. 

As he helps you up from the floor, something brushes your thigh and makes you tingle. Your body knows what it is before you do. When you register what grazed your leg through his sleep shorts, your face heats up and the tingle turns into a throb. Javi walks you to his bathroom with one arm around you in case you have trouble. He takes you all the way to the toilet. “You good?” he asks. 

“Yeah, do you mind if I?”

“Sure.” He backs up into the doorframe, but he doesn’t close it. You glance over, and he’s not hiding the massive tent in his shorts. He’s not shy about it at all. He’s also not trying to do anything about it. “Alright, I’ll be right here.” He closes the door halfway and stands outside. You sit there for a few minutes on the cool tile in front of the toilet. The urge to be sick has passed. He peeks his head in to check on you. “How about some water?”

“Okay,” you nod. He comes in and helps you up, hard-on still blazing. He takes an empty, upside-down glass from his clean bathroom counter, fills it up, and hands it to you. You’re aching at the silhouette of his length just casually standing at attention. It takes all your energy not to look right at his shorts. 

“Good girl,” he gently palms the back of your head. 

You try to look anywhere but down. You focus on his bare chest. His chain drapes over his collar bone and sits above his strong, golden pecs. There’s a light smattering of dark, soft hair. And then, lower, a happy trail.  You yank your eyes away. You look at the counter: A brush, a comb. Maybe he does his mustache with that. You look at his hair. It’s messy, out of place. Bedhead looks good on him. He casually rakes his hand through it when he sees you looking. Your gaze drifts back to his body. It’s really a beautiful torso you’re looking at. Broad shoulders, strong arms, narrow waist. A hint of abs under the light padding of his flesh. 

“You okay?” he asks with his puppy dog eyes, which gives you an idea.

“Yeah.” You look up at him, widen your eyes, and let your face fall. 

He nods. “Back to bed?”

You hold your wrist as if it hurts from the cuff and nod sadly. You check his shorts in the corner of your eye–yeah, it’s still there, as commanding as ever. The tent bobs as he walks. He walks you back into the bedroom and pauses at your futon mattress on the floor. He reaches for your hand and holds it as his other thumb brushes the indentation on your wrist. 

“You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” He nods toward the other room with the restraints. 

“I’d love a bed, but no. That one’ll give me nightmares, I’m sure.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “Are you asking to sleep in *my* bed?” His thumb continues to brush the indentation from the cuffs. His light touch gives you butterflies. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and your hand joins his, on your wrist. His thumb freezes. Your fingers rest lightly on top of his. “I guess I’m okay down there.” You glance at the mattress on the floor.  

His bare chest rises with a deep breath. “You’re being such a good girl,” he marvels with your hand on his. “Come on. It’s okay.” He guides you to his bed and pauses when you’re right in front of it. He faces you and puts his hands on your shoulders. He dips his head and his tone darkens. “But if you leave this bed, things are going to change here,” he warns. “And you’re not going to like it.” He shakes his head. The gentleness of his voice and the look on his face sends a chill down your spine. 

-

Javi gets into his bed, under the covers. He lays on his side and makes room for you, albeit not much. “I still have to restrain you,” he informs you as you lie down. “Do you want the cuffs or my arm?”

“Your arm.”

“Good girl.” He extends one arm and raises the other, making room for you.

You scoot back against him, mentally bracing yourself for what awaits under the covers. You're already twitching before you feel it. He inhales sharply as the hardness in his shorts hits you. With a hand on your lower abdomen, he pulls you into him, and his stiff length presses against you.  

“I’m sure that’s not going to bother you, is it?” he asks and your breath hitches. You shake your head just barely on the off chance he wanted a real answer. But it is, it's going to bother you as long as he won't put it in you. You’re human, you can’t help it. He’s a bad person but you can only imagine what a good lay. He curls his strong, lean body around you like a big spoon, and he nestles the warm rod in his shorts against your crack.

One bicep is under your neck. His other arm settles over your waist. You don’t need to test his strength to know his arm is solid. Heavy. There’s no escaping as long as he holds this position. 

He inhales your hair, and the hand in front of you cups your breast through your thin nightgown. He slowly palms your breast, and lightly grinds against you. You can’t help but push back on him. The shape of his arousal against you makes you salivate. 

He whispers just above your ear.  “Sure do love cock, don’t you?”

As he thrusts against you at a slow, steady rhythm, his hand slides off your breast, down your gown, sliding over your stomach and down to the fleshy triangle where your thighs meet. His hand stays flat. He doesn’t dig between your legs. He gently presses your mound, bringing you back against him harder as his cock throbs even harder against you. 

“That can be a good thing for recovery,” he offers. “You need something to replace that high.”

He thrusts against you slower, lighter. It’s excruiating. “Mmm.” He begins to gather the nightgown’s fabric into a fist, raising the hem of the gown and exposing more of you to the air between the sheets. No underwear. 

His hand rests on the bare skin of your lower abdomen, then slides down just low enough that his middle finger can tease your most sensitive place. He slides further down until his middle finger reaches the pool between your legs and he growls almost silently. He begins to move his fingers between your legs. Slowly, expertly, leaving his thumb and pinky braced on your front. The movement is just enough to drive you crazy. His index and middle fingers slide through your dripping folds and apply pressure to your swollen bud, moving to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts against your crack. 

“Mm,” your moan is barely audible.

“Ohh, I know,” Javi coos reassuringly. “I know.” He ruts against you slowly. He sighs as he moves against you. The heft of his arousal pushing against both asscheeks makes you weak. If only he’d just stuff your pussy. You can hardly stand it. He must feel you gush on his fingers. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers into your hair. His throbbing erection grinds against you. His hand leaves your cunt and you feel cold, exposed. He pulls down the waistband of his shorts, then his hand–wet fingers and all–slightly lifts your thigh, making your heart skip a beat. 

He wedges his naked cock between your thighs, right against your cunt, and you gasp. His swollen tip glides through your wetness and you moan, “Ohh.” He slowly slides forward and back through the warm, wet pocket made by your thighs and cunt. You push back against him. “Mm,” he grunts softly as his tip reaches your clit. 

His hand returns to your breast. He massages your breast as his cock keeps sliding between your thighs and nudging your sensitive bud just right. “Javi,” you whisper. “Please.” His cock hesitates at your entrance, and you tilt your hips. 

“Not today, sweetheart.” 

With a small thrust, he bypasses your wet little hole again. 

Then he stops moving. You push your ass back into him, and he does nothing but tighten his arm over you. He cradles your breast gently. You’re throbbing, aching to have him inside you. It feels like an eternity you’re lying like this with his arousal throbbing against your naked heat. You begin to feel a chill again and reach for the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. He helps you, then murmurs. “Good night”  into your hair. 

The comfort of his arms and rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep sooner than you expect. 

—-...------

Just after daybreak, you awake to the sound of Javi breathing heavily  as his cock slides against your wet cunt again. Your chest is hot and fluttering. He’s aggressively groping one breast, then shifts to the other with a grunt and harsh thrust. Your body shifts as you wake up. He pants, “Morning sunshine,” and you push your ass back against him. 

“Was I good?” you ask. 

“Ohh,” he moans, “You were good.” 

His hand comes between your legs and you gasp at the pressure of his thick fingers on your clit. He doesn’t move them, just rests his hand there, then asks “Would you like to cum?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whine as his cock glides against you. 

He slows way down. “Because I’m only giving you one today. You sure you want it already?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“It’s not even seven a.m.”

“Please, Javi.” 

He begins to move his thick fingers, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re seeing stars. 

“Ohh,” you moan as the waves of pleasure begin to overtake you. Your body spasms, and your walls clench around nothing. 

“Mmmm, mi putita. . .por supuesto ahorita” (My little slut. Of course right now), Javi purrs into your hair. “That’s the–ohhh–thing with addicts,” he pants as he chases his own orgasm. “You want everything right–mmm—now–ohhhh.” As Javi begins to cum, he moves his hand from your clit to his cock. His cock pulses against you, and it’s too easy to imagine it inside you. He cups his hand and seals it over his tip and your front. He slowly thrusts as he cums. He slides against you, coating your folds and clit with his warm spend as your own climax fades. 

When Javi is empty, he withdraws his cock, but keeps his hand in place. He rubs his spend over your oversensitive parts, making you flinch and moan. 

“Ohh, I know it sweetheart.”

A thick digit breaches your entrance, pushing some cum into you, and he sighs.

“One day, pobrecita. One day.” He adds another finger. “Voy a llenar esta concha con leche” (I’m gonna fill this pastry/cunt with milk/cum).

Your first morning waking up at Javi’s place, he lets you sit at the kitchen counter and watch him make huevos rancheros and cactus. 

Over breakfast, he asks, “What do you like to do?”

You shrug.

“Because getting high replaced all your hobbies,” he concludes. 

“That's not true.”

“It's not? Then what do you do? Draw? Write? Do you read?”

You scoff. “Yes, I read,” you say with an eye roll and can’t help but add, “Did kidnapping replace all your hobbies?” 

There's an instant surge of regret in your chest, but Javi chuckles and lets it slide. “What kind of books? I could pick one up for you.”

You swallow, rest your fork, and ask, “really?” 

“Sure,” He nods. 

“Okay. Maybe a mystery,” you offer, only because you know you'll need the distraction.

“Good,” he nods. “A mystery.”

Later that day, Javi has to go into the office. He leaves a glass of water for you, a bucket just in case, and he cuffs you to the radiator. He reassures you Steve will come check on you as soon as he gets home. You try your best to get comfortable on the futon mattress. 

As soon as Javi leaves, things go somewhat downhill. You have a headache, then your stomach begins to bother you, and the handcuffs are driving you crazy. You’re anxious. You're horny. You’re cold. Why are you horny? After about an hour, you rattle the cuffs on the radiator. When nothing happens, you yell for Steve, then hear movement upstairs. 

When Steve comes into Javi’s apartment, you hear him open the door, but it doesn’t sound like it shuts all the way. His footsteps are loud as they approach through the living room. Steve unlocks Javi’s bedroom and pauses in the doorframe. “There she is.” He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe and leans forward, stretching his back as he takes in the scene. “Damn,” he mutters. “You alright?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” He digs into Javi’s nightstand for the key. “Hold on.” He comes over and crouches down on the floor. He smells like cigarettes, and he must smoke the same brand as Javi. 

You're mildly surprised by the way your body reacts to Steve’s proximity. You squeeze your legs together, self conscious that you’re gushing. The day before, you were so focused on Javi that you didn’t think much of Steve at the time. But after overhearing him jack off. . .There’s something about hearing a man make those primal noises. It changes his whole face, his whole presence in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Steve offers and extends his massive hands, looming over you. You sit up on your knees, careful not to expose yourself with no panties. He slots his hands under your arms and helps you to your feet. He checks you out and raises an eyebrow. You wonder if he can see through your nightgown. “He’s still got ya in your PJs, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” 

“Looks good on ya, anyway.” 

Steve ushers you to the restroom and waits outside. You’re starting to feel a little better already, just having someone around again. His presence distracts your body from its woes.

-

When you’re out of the restroom, Steve asks if you need anything else. You ask for a glass of juice. He brings you to the kitchen to get some. The sound of children playing outside echoes from the breezeway and you notice the door isn’t shut flush. Before you can really think about it, you begin to walk toward the door, heart pounding. You’re barefoot, and realistically, you’re not going to try to flee, but you want to know you could. You’re not running, you’re walking slowly, curiously as though pulled by a weak magnet toward a chance at freedom. 

Steve crosses the room in two strides and steps right into your path. His massive arm wraps around you, halting you dead in your tracks. “Wouldn't do that.” His face is stone. Instinctively, you begin to struggle, not to escape, but to get out of his strong grip. His body overwhelms yours.  

His arm tightens, and you whine, “Ow.” 

He shakes you once, then loosens his grip. He brings his mouth to your hair and lowers his voice.  “Don't make me hurt ya, sugar.” He wraps his arm around your middle and begins to drag you toward the bedroom with the creepy bed. He wrangles you over to the bed with the straps. You don’t resist much, but he’s rough with you anyway. 

“Okay, okay,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.” 

He throws you down on the bed and pins you with his weight, then begins to strap you in, limb by limb. Your heart is racing. But you don’t feel sick at all anymore. All you feel is the rush. 

“Ya know, I should tell Agent Peña ‘bout this,” Steve mutters as he buckles your wrist. 

“No, don’t. Tell him I was good. Please. I wasn’t trying to do anything.” 

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see.” The bed is probably full sized. Wider than a twin. The leg restraints are spaced out enough that you feel like you’re spread eagle. 

Once you’re all strapped down, Steve slowly paces next to the bed looking at you like a piece of meat. 

He asks, “True you were beggin’ for cock?”

“No,” you answer as a gut reaction. 

“Ya weren't? Huh. Peña’s a liar?” 

“He–he got me all worked up on purpose.”

Steve freezes near the foot of the bed and cracks a smile. “So it is true. . .Hmm.” He tilts his head contemplatively.  “How'd he do that? Get ya all worked up.” He dangles his fingers to graze your bare ankle. Then he walks back up toward your head, dragging his fingertips over your shin. His fingers lightly circles your kneec twice, then continue up your thigh. He pauses and strokes an abstract pattern on your inner thigh. 

You don’t answer him. You don’t have to. He’s already having an effect on you. 

“Well, don't worry. I'm not gonna hold out on ya. Want somethin’ from me, sugar? Just ask.” 

“Thanks.”

“It's ok, baby.” He lowers his voice. “Really don't mind one bit.” He looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. His fingers get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. When his fingers graze your outer lip, he peeks under the gown. “He left the door open for me. That was nice,” Steve smiles. “Said ya got a gorgeous pussy, too.”  Your legs tense, and his hand returns to your thigh. “Nothin’ to be afraid of, darlin’.” 

The leather that’s holding you down is what scares you. It’s the most unsettling feeling. 

Steve adjusts himself, and when you follow his hand, you can't pull your eyes away from the bulge in his pants. Wow. He doesn't wear his pants nearly as tight on his ass as Javi, so you hadn't even thought about Steve’s dick. Now it's all you can think about. You're studying the shape his pants are struggling to contain. Never would’ve thought. And, balls. You’re pretty sure he’s got big balls. You wet your lips and realize you're staring. 

“Attagirl,” he mutters. “See, that's where my partner and I have different philosophies,” Steve explains. “I could care less if you're drunk, high, outta your mind.”  The hand on your thigh slides all the way up to where your thigh meets your torso. “Good pussy’s good pussy.” He traces the crease, right next to your outer lips, and his light touch makes you tingle. “I think a pretty girl deserves all the dick she wants.” He sighs, then raises his eyebrows. “And then some,” he says with a short nod. 

“His heart’s in the right place,” Steve says unconvincingly. “Hurts though, don’t it?” He pouts at you as he keeps tracing the crease of your inner thigh. “Never met a whore he didn’t fuck. . .n’ can’t be bothered to give ya just an inch.

He follows your eyes back to his crotch and chuckles darkly. “Boy, you got your eye on the prize, don't ya?” He looks down at himself. 

“Mmm,” he grunts when he meets your eyes again. The humor is gone from his face.

He looks at the leather strap around your arm. “I’ll take mercy on ya,” he mutters and takes his hand out from between your legs. He pauses with his hands on the strap.  “Gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

He unbuckles the strap. The metal of the buckle flicks against your inner arm. You don’t move your arm, making good on your promise to be good. Then the mattress creaks and groans as he gets up on the bed with you. He straddles one of your knees and leans forward, bracing his right hand on the mattress near your torso. His left hand returns between your legs. This time, he goes straight for your cunt. He smiles when he feels how wet you are. He lightly rubs you, teasing your dripping folds up and down. He falls into a trance. He gathers your slick and brings it to your clit. He scoots up on the bed so his head is above yours and his crotch is at your hip. He looks into your eyes as he circles your most sensitive spot. A knot is already forming in your stomach, making your pelvis lift into his hand. He wets his bottom lip, then bites it as he adds more pressure. Then speed. Your mouth falls open and a moan slips out. 

His lips form a small ‘o’. “Ooh,” he marvels. “Oh, you’re a real sweet thing, I can tell.” His fingertips slide down, and one of them teases your entrance, making an audible, rhythmic smacking sound.  Then he slowly pushes the finger inside. His eyes roll up toward the ceiling, and his head tilts up too. You watch his neck veins. There’s some faded tattoo ink barely visible on his chest, poking up from his collar when the angle is right. He presses his hard bulge against your hip and you gasp with a bolt of arousal.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you moan. “Yeah, ya want that, don’t ya?” He gives you another slow thrust against the hip.  “You want it right here.” He pushes another finger into you. “Ohh, yeah.” His upper palm massages your clit as his fingers pump into you.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry.” You twitch at the thought. “But you’re gonna cum on these fingers first. Hear me?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Your back arches. You reach for his pants. 

“There ya go,” he nods as if that’s why he unbuckled you in the first place. “Ohh, you’re gonna go wild.” 

You grab his bulge–it’s more than a handful–and massage him through his pants. 

“Mmm. Yeah,” he whispers. Your nipples harden with his practiced touch, and you sigh, unable to take any more tension. His fingers curl inside you and he whispers, “C’mon, now.” The deep whisper is enough. 

“Ohh,” you moan. He nods in encouragement and his upper palm bears down on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself unravel. Your spasming walls squeeze and soak his fingers. 

“Yeahh, attagirl.”  

As your climax fades, he withdraws his fingers and feverishly unbuckles his belt. You throb in anticipation. It won't take much to tease another one out of you. Your core twitches as he shoves down his briefs and his thick cock springs free, taking your breath away. He gets between your legs and holds his stiff manhood loosely as he lines himself up. He shakes it heavily up and down, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. Oh, God it feels so–you’re already about to–

–Steve hesitates.  

In the driveway, a car pulls up and stops. 

Steve stops what he’s doing. “Alright, let's see what the boss wants,” he says with an air of inconvenience as he tucks his erection into his briefs.

“Thought you were partners,” you say and hope you don't sound too disappointed. 

“On paper, sure. “ He buttons and zips up his pants. “On paper I'm a good cop, too,” he winks. 

Steve pats your cheek and says, “hang in there.” He gets off the bed, then leans in close and whispers, “give it to ya next chance I get. . .skip the preamble, how's that?” 

You bite your lip. Just as the front door begins to unlock, Steve sits down in a chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped in his lap. 

—--

Javi opens the door. 

“All good at the office?” Steve asks. 

“All good,” Javi reports, and he surveys you with his eyes as he approaches. “What’s going on here?” 

“Oh, she just wanted a change of scenery,” Steve reports, mercifully. Javi looks at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugs it off. 

“How are you feeling?” Javi asks you with a hand on his hip and a serious look. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you and Steve, who’s on the same side. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

Javi clenches his jaw and furrows his brow. His hand frames your jaw and he looks at your eyes. Then he lets go of you.

"Good," Javi nods. Then squints and asks, "He touch you?"

You look at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows curiously. He doesn't deny touching you, but his face also doesn't give you any clues about the right answer. He’s sitting in amused suspense. Javi raises his eyebrows at you like a challenge, waiting on you to speak. You look at Steve again, and Steve winks. Unsure what it means, you begin to slowly shake your head no.

Javi clenches his jaw and his eyes narrow. His head whips to Steve and he asks, "Why not?" 

Steve sighs and uncrosses his arms. He extends his hand to Javi. Javi brings Steve's hand to his nose, takes a whiff of his fingers, and cracks a smile.  "Don't lie to me, putita." Javi closes his eyes, draws in your scent again, then opens his eyes and mouth as he brings Steve's middle and index fingers to his lips. Javi locks eyes with you as he tastes you on Steve's fingers. Your heart races. You failed whatever test this was. 

Javi drops Steve's hand and brings his own hand to cup your jaw. "Pobrecita. . ." His hand dwarfs your face. "What’s the matter? Te confunde?” (It confuses you)

You nod, and your voice is small.  "You said it's yours." 

"What's mine?"

You look down at yourself and swallow. "My body?"

Javi nods. "Say it." 

Your eyes settle on what you can see of his gold chain under his shirt.  "This pussy is yours." 

"That's right," Javi nods condescendingly. "Good girl."  He brings his hand from your cheek to your thigh and squeezes it. He nods toward Steve and says, "con mi permiso" (with my permission).  "Still confused?" 

You shake your head. 

“That's all he did? Touch you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

Javi addresses Steve. "Alright, c’mon.”  He beckons him, and Steve stands up with his hands still clasped in front of himself. 

“Show her your cock.”

Steve undoes his pants again. He slides them down over the bulge of his still-hard cock, then pauses. 

“Pants off,” Javi adds matter-of-factly. Steve sits back down to unlace his shoes, then takes them off. He pulls off his pants, and he's left wearing black socks and white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband. Thigh muscles are massive. 

“Good news for you, putita.” Javi nods toward Steve. “This one’ll fuck anything.” Your cheeks heat up and Steve shakes his head in amusement at Javi. 

“Says the guy who has his own room at a brothel.” 

Javi looks at your body hungrily and crosses his arms. “Give it to her,” he mutters without looking at Steve. 

When Steve stands up, Javi takes his place, manspreading with his hands tucked under his arms, straining his short-sleeve button-up.

-

Steve mounts the bed again, putting himself between your legs. He pulls his briefs down under his balls, and you let out a little gasp. His cock is even more engorged than it was before. It’s so thick, and the veins are beautiful. He looks even bigger than Javi, but it might be an effect of his lighter, finer pubic hair. He braces a hand on the mattress again, hovering over you.

You glance at Javi and he's watching intently as Steve lines up his cock between your legs. The touch of his tip at your dripping hole makes you shiver in arousal and your nipples pucker. Steve smiles to himself under his mustache. He notches his tip half inside your entrance, then looks at Javi. 

Javi makes a subtle beckoning motion with one hand, and Steve begins to push into you. You gasp as his girth begins to spread you open. He pushes further, and you whimper. 

Javi scoots closer and lays a big, warm hand on your tied-down arm. You look at him and he reassures you, “You can take it, I promise.” 

Then, Steve plunges to the hilt, dividing your insides with a loud grunt. You moan and lock eyes with him as he looks up at you darkly. Your body rushes to accommodate the heft of him inside you.

“Good girl,” Javi mutters to himself with his eyes fixed where your bodies are joined. 

Steve withdraws most of his length, then Javi raises his palm in a stop motion and Steve freezes, biting his lips together. Javi stands up, and walks toward Steve for a better point of view. 

“Go,” Javi mutters, crossing his arms again. There's a bulge growing in Javi’s restrictive jeans, and he's not doing anything about it. 

Steve pushes into you again, making you moan. He pauses for only an instant before backing out again, and right away he’s pushing back in. “Fuck,” he mutters as his thick cock disappears into your hole once more. 

“How is it?” Javi asks him. “Juicy, right?”

“Nngh–yeah,” Steve answers as he brings his hips back, then slams into you harder and his balls slap against you. “Goddamn,” Steve mutters. “Tighter than ya’d think.”

“Hm,” Javi hums with a straight face, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “He's gonna break you in for me.” He looks at Steve's cock sliding out of you then at Steve's face, twisted with arousal. “Right, partner?”

“Goddamn right,” Steve breathes. He ramps up to a steady rhythm, fucking you gradually harder until the force is pushing you up on the bed. 

“Hold on,” Javi mutters and the vein on Steve's forehead swells with effort as he stops with only his tip inside. Steve wets his lips and rubs them together. Javi tightens the restraints to hold you steady. While Javi is is busy with that,  Steve rocks ever so slightly into you, moving less than an inch forward and back. It’s so subtle it could be an accident, but it must provide relief because he moans quietly. At the sound of his noise and the look of his face, you whimper and your cunt spasms once. 

“Nngh,” Steve reacts. 

“Okay,” Javi announces, then stands so he can roughly see things from Steve’s point of view again. Steve resumes with a slow, careful pace. 

Javi wets his lips as he watches your cunt swallow Steve's cock. Steve's cock pulls at your pussy each time it withdraws, and the sight seems to darken Javi’s eyes with lust. You twitch again.  

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then looks over his shoulder “Can I?”

“Don't let her come on your cock,” Javi answers.” 

Hearing Javi talk about Steve’s cock is almost enough to do it. 

Steve sighs and looks at the ceiling, in an almost eye-roll. His arms strain his shirt. His sweat wafts toward you and makes your knees weak. He draws in a deep breath as he slowly pushes in again. 

You imagine if the situation was different, if you were just some slut they picked up at a bar, how much fun you could have with the two of them. 

You twitch around him, and he pulls out in a hurry. “Sorry darlin’,” he mumbles. He sits back on his knees and pumps himself. “Where do you want it,” he asks, staring at your body.

“Uh,” you stammer, then realize he's not asking you. 

Javi pulls the gown down under your tits. Steve strokes himself faster until his breath gets uneven. He pauses, scoots up your body to straddle your middle, then resumes.  You admire his balls as his fist slides up and down his shaft. His hand is so large, yet it doesn’t dwarf his cock. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at your tits. He pumps himself faster and his mouth drifts open until he points his cock at your chest and moans, “Ohhh—ohhhh, fuck,” painting your tits with his cum. Your nipples sharpen as the warm spend spreads. As the last of his cum dribbles out, Steve sighs. 

“Good,” Javi mutters, then comes up toward the head of the bed again. Steve tucks his softening cock away and gets off the bed. He reaches down to the floor to get a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jeans. Then he pulls the chair toward the foot of the bed, and manspreads in his briefs to watch Javi. 

Javi dips two fingers into Steve’s cum on your chest. He spreads it around slowly. He circles each of your nipples until they’re painfully erect. 

Javi swipes up a bit of cum from between your breasts and brings his fingers to your lips. You take his thick digits into your mouth and taste the salt of Steve’s seed. Then you gently suck. Javi gets you to clean both fingers, one at a time, then he licks them himself. 

Javi brushes your temple with his thumb. “Let’s hope this is rock bottom.”

—---

Thank you so much for reading. To help with the next ones, I would love to know what you liked most about it, and your thots are welcome, too 🖤

tagging people who asked for part 2 🖤

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ohheypedrito @weddingfairy @neobanguniberse @ladyscarlettdixon @zliteraturehoe @planet-marz1

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I really love your writing 💖

Can I request fluff with Eddie Munson x reader?

He has a big crush on her, but he's very shy. Also, he has never been known for affection with his friends, so they rarely even hugged.

But one time at a party, the reader realized he's a big cuddler while he's drunk.

Some time later, Eddie would love to cuddle with her again but he's too shy, so he pretends to be drunk and giggly again. 😅

Can we get a happy end, please? 🙏

Thank you so much! And aww, this is such a cute idea!

shy!eddie x extroverted!fem!reader

cw: mention of alcohol, both reader and Eddie are drunk

It was no secret that Eddie had a huge crush on you. Even though he was very shy, the heart eyes that would form in his eyes when he looked at you were so obvious to everyone. Even you. And you liked Eddie too. How could you not? He was always so sweet and caring and never failed to know what you needed.

You wanted to tell him that you felt the same way, but you felt like you should have let him take the reins. You hoped that he would eventually be comfortable enough around you to tell you the truth, but you had been hanging around him for six months and nothing. He wouldn’t even touch you which you knew was because of his trust issues and you were willing to help him through it.

You showed up to Steve’s party with the sole intention of finding Eddie. He had told you he was going to be there which you found odd since he didn’t really care for being around that many people at once. You had no idea what that was like, but you sympathized.

You grabbed a drink for yourself and made a beeline for the curly mop. He paused mid conversation and pulled you in for a tight hug which caught you off guard since that was very abnormal for him. He arms wrapped around your waist tightly, burying his face into your neck.

Turned out that Eddie just needed a few drinks in him to be down to cuddle. He held onto you the whole night, his face buried in your neck while he occasionally pressed kisses to it. You loved seeing that side of him. The physically affectionate side of him that had no probably holding onto you tight.

Although, you felt bad that he felt like he needed to get drunk in order to hug you. You hoped that he knew that he could hug you whenever he wanted and didn’t need to drink to do so. You guys were friends and despite his nervousness around you sometimes, you hoped that he knew that you’d be there for him no matter what.

After the party, Eddie found himself pretending to be drunk just to get cuddles from you. At first, you played along, but over time, you were getting tired of the act. You were going to finally tell him how to felt to finally put a stop to the madness. You thought that maybe if he knew that you felt the same way, he’d stop.

You both were lying on your bed and Eddie was acting like a fool once again. He was all giggly and mumbling in gibberish which were the telltale signs that he was faking. Enough was enough.

You pulled him into your arms and he snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You ran your hand through his hair while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I really like you,” you told him and he just snuggled further into you, letting out a contented sigh.

“I like you too.”

“No, Eddie,” you pulled his face away from your chest and forced him to look you in the eye. “I like you.” His eyes went wide and his mouth was agape at your words. He didn’t see that coming at all. “So you can stop pretending to be drunk just to cuddle me.”

“You knew about that huh?” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“I know everything,” you smiled. “So are you going to be my boyfriend or not?”

“Oh, I’m so going to be your boyfriend.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek then snuggled into your chest once again, the two of you falling asleep peacefully know that you were finally together after months of dreaming about it.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

please an ian hecox x reader fic i need🥺 maybe like a first date or something like that there’s just not enough Ian fics

First Fake Date || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: oneshot where Ian finds out his ex-girlfriend is going to be at an upcoming event and when you volunteer to go as his fake-date things don’t go quite as either of you planned.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

a/n: thanks for the request babes!! I agree we need more ian x reader fics, i hope you enjoy this one!! i kept the first date theme but i took some liberties and i made the reader female so i hope this is what you wanted <3🍒🪩

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Alright the event this Friday, what’s everyone wearing?” Courtney said, putting her legs up on the table in front of her.  

    You were lounging around the studio with almost the entire Smosh cast in between shoots. 

    “Exactly what I’m wearing right now?” Angela lifted her head from Amanda’s lap and gestured to her sweatshirt.

     “Very funny,” Courtney said.

     “Honestly same,” Shayne agreed, looking up from his phone.

     Courtney shot him a look but secretly you agreed with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about the YouTube event Smosh was going to, it was just that you weren’t exactly excited about it. You kind of had a history of embarrassing yourself at things like this. Like last month when you tripped in your impossibly tall heels and landed in the lap of a very unhappy old man. In his defense, you had spilled wine down the front of his dress shirt.

     “As long as there’re no heels involved, I don’t really care what it is,” You said.

     “You people have no sense of style,” Courtney faked disgust. 

     “Speak for yourselves, this chain begs to differ,” Ian walked into the room, pretending to model the outfit he was wearing.

     “He wears one chain and suddenly it’s ‘his brand’,” Amanda joked.

     “Hey laugh all you want, but this thing’s a magnet for the ladies.”

     Everyone burst out laughing and Ian mocked offense.

     “Well I for one think you look great,” you smiled at him and he beamed back at you.

     “Besides,” he continued, “I have to look good ‘cause my ex-girlfriend is going to be at the event this Friday. I bet she’s bringing that perfect boyfriend of her’s too who ‘has a real, important job’.”

     “Wait, the same girlfriend who broke up with you at the last event?” Damien asked.

     You hadn’t been at Smosh yet then, but you’d heard the story multiple times.

     “That’s the one. And now I get to show up a year later, still without a date.”

     “If only you had a girlfriend you could bring, but oh wait, that’s right—” Shayne teased.

     “That’s right,” Ian agreed

     “I’ll be your date,” you burst out.

     You didn’t know what made you say it. Maybe you sympathized with having embarrassing moments at classy gatherings. Maybe you just felt like helping your boss out. Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you may or may not have had a tiny crush on Ian when you first started working at Smosh. 

     But that was a long time ago…ok maybe months ago, and something you’d never admit aloud. You were just offering to help out a friend. Right?

     “Really? You’d do that for me?” Ian asked you.

     “Sure! No one has to know it’s our first date—or not-first-date. We can tell your ex we’ve been dating for months.”

    “That actually might work,” Ian grinned at you. 

    “Ooh, I can pick out matching outfits for you guys!” Courtney interjected.

     “No,” you both said in unison.

     “Well, I’ll pick you up on Friday at 8:00 for our not-first-date,” Ian looked at you, his eyes gleaming.

     “See you then,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

     “Actually you guys will see each other in like 45 minutes for TNTL,” Amanda said.

     “Right.” You said.

     After this Ian left the room and you turned back to your friends who were all looking at you as if they knew something you didn’t.

     You took in their scheming stares. “What?”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     The rest of the week passed fairly quickly with no more talk of the event except for Ian asking your advice on what to wear—which everyone seemed to think so adorable for reasons you couldn’t understand or just refused to entertain. 

     And suddenly, just like that it was Friday and you were answering your door to a nervous-looking Ian holding out flowers to you.

     “Since it’s our ‘first date’,” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him, a smile blooming on your face, “I thought I’d bring you these.”

     “Thank you,” you said, “and you look great!”

     And he did. His maroon suit fit him perfectly and you couldn’t help but notice that it did end up matching the light pink dress with a crimson belt you chose.

     “And you look…wow.” He admired you and it took all of you not to blush at his words.

     He took you to his car, and insisted on opening your door for you since it was a ‘first date’. You looked over at Ian from the passenger seat and thought how you were surprised at how much of a gentleman he could be. Your goofy, laid-back boss definitely had a romantic side and would make some girl very happy someday, you thought.

    By the time you arrived at the event, you and Ian had barely said a word to each other. Which was odd, to say the least, seeing as you never really felt awkward around him or anybody at Smosh.

     “You ready for this?” Ian asked you as you stepped out of the car and headed toward the building the event was held at.

     You answered by taking his hand in yours and smiling up at him.

     You walked into the venue together and took in the layout. A makeshift stage had been set up for guest speakers at one end and as for the rest of it—cocktail tables scattered throughout the room, lights hanging from the ceiling and trailing down the walls and onto the refreshment tables lining the edges of the room, and hundreds of people, some who you recognized and others you didn’t, mingling and eating and—in the case of your friends—waving at you and Ian.

     You two walked over to them. Everyone took in your fingers intertwined.

     “Can’t keep your hands off her?” Angela teased Ian.

     “I uh—”

     You thought you sensed a faint blush on Ian’s cheeks as he tried to respond.

     You interrupted. “It’s a fake date, remember? Would you prefer we stood 8 feet apart at all times?”

     “So,” you turned to Ian, “where is this ex of yours?”

    “Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her yet,” Damien said.

    “And anyone could spot her curly red bush—I mean hair—a mile away,” Shayne joked.

     “Maybe she’s not here yet,” Ian said, and then to you, “let’s go get some drinks.”

     He led you over to one of the refreshment tables, and as you were walking, you saw her.

     A tall, gorgeous woman in a tight green dress stood about 20 feet away from you. This had to be her, you thought, looking at her auburn curls done up in a twisted updo that made your simple bun look…well, simple. 

     You nudged Ian, “Found your ex.”

     He looked over at her, his brow furrowed, and then recovering quickly he looked back at you.

     “Yep, that’s her.”

     “Well, then let’s go introduce ourselves as a couple.”

     “No,” he said quickly, and then added “I mean, no not yet. We don’t want to seem too desperate.”

     You looked at him curiously but figured he was probably right. 

     You had a new idea.

     “Then let’s give her a little show.” 

     “(Y/n), what are you—” 

     You dragged him more into his ex-girlfriend’s line of vision. 

     “Ok, now kiss me.”

     “What?”

     “She’s looking, kiss me.”

      He looked at you like you might be crazy but he also had a look of determination on his face. Determined to impress his ex, you figured. He leaned in slowly and suddenly his mouth was on yours, kissing you quickly. It was awkward at first but as you pulled apart and looked to make sure the woman was still watching you—she was—you thought that it hadn’t been altogether bad.

     “That was, um, thank you for…that,” Ian said, breathless.

     “Sure,” you said, “anything for a good vengeance plot.”

     “Oh, be careful,” Ian said suddenly,

and you looked around, confused. “Old man two o’clock.”

     “Ha ha, very funny,” he elbowed him in the ribs remembering the horrors of last event, but you were grinning as you did so.

     “Hey, ouch!” He laughed, “We’re supposed to be in love remember?”

     And so that’s how you spent the rest of the night. Making sure she could see you when you touched Ian or pretended to laugh at a joke he made or leaned in close as if you were whispering something in his ear. 

     As the night went on it became easier and easier to pretend to be a couple. You hadn’t talked to Ian’s ex yet—he always had some reason for not going over to her. But you thought you’d done a good job of making her think you were dating. 

     And the truth was, you were enjoying yourself. You were having a great time, spending hours with Ian. 

     Like now, as you looked in Ian’s ex-girlfriend’s direction before saying to Ian, “So, since this is a date I guess I should do this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “And tell you how gorgeous your eyes are.” They really were, you thought as you stared into them.

     Ian leaned closer to you, planting a kiss on your jawline. “And since it’s a date I guess I should tell you how you shine brighter than all the lights in the room and how I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

     “And I should pull you closer,” you added, grabbing his lapels.

     “And then maybe I would tell you how much I wanted your lips on mine. Again,” he said.

     He leaned farther towards you and your lips met his. He kissed you, really kissed you this time. He was gentle at first, but then his hands were in your hair as he kissed you harder and you leaned into it, kissing him back. 

     “For a fake date this sure seems pretty real.”

     You broke apart, looking up and finding Courtney standing in front of you smiling.

     Your voice came out more breathy than you would have liked. “We were just—Ian’s ex is right there and—”

     “She’s not even over here,” Courtney said looking between you too. “See?”

     You looked around you and realized she was gone. How long had she been gone? You let yourself imagine what it would be like if this was a real first date. Would that be so bad? Was it bad if it already felt real?

     Courtney left you guys with a cryptic smile before walking over to a table with drinks on it. 

     “So,” you started, “I—”

     “I’ll be right back,” Ian said, then quickly walked towards the door at the back of the venue.

     You stood there for a second. Was he avoiding you? Just leaving after you’d shared a moment like that? Was the kiss that bad?

      You walked back over to the table where all of your friends were standing and chatting. 

     “Hey! Where’s Ian going?” Courtney asked you

     “Bathroom?” You guessed.

     You scanned the room. There was Ian’s ex again. Now she shows up, you thought wryly.

     Courtney followed your gaze, “You know her?”

     You looked at her, “That’s Ian’s ex-girlfriend.”

    “No, it’s not,” she said.

    “What? Yes it is.”

     “Here,” Shayne pulled out his phone and a moment later showed you a picture of your boss with his arm around a short woman with red hair, “that’s Ian’s ex.”

     You were shocked. “But then who’s she?”

     “That’s a question for Ian,” Angela said, pointing towards him. You saw him walking towards you and you met him halfway.

     “Ian? Who’s the woman in the green dress?”

      He looked taken aback by the question, and putting his hands in his pockets, he said, “What do you mean?”

     “Well, apparently you never dated her.”

     “Um, about that” he started, hesitating, and then taking a deep breath he answered you. “I don’t know that woman. I’ve never seen her in my life.” He admitted this in a rush, looking for your reaction.

     “Why did you tell me she was your ex-girlfriend?”

     He looked down, almost bashful. “My ex isn’t at this event.”

     You took a step back, in shock, “Then why did you need me to be your fake date?”

     He looked at you intently, “I didn’t…need a fake date, I mean.”

     “But—”

     “I did, originally. But then I found out my ex wasn’t going to be able to make it because her and her boyfriend both have the flu.” He started to smile, then stopped himself, coughing, “Which is really too bad.”

     Another time you might have laughed, but now you stopped yourself, rolling your eyes at him.

     “So you lied to me?” You asked him, hurt.

     “I didn’t mean to—

     “But if you knew your ex wasn’t coming, then what’s this?” You gestured between the two of you. You were asking yourself just as much as him.

     “I may have—withheld the truth—because I,” he cleared his throat, “I may have wanted to go on a date with you.”

     “What?” Of all the answers you were expecting…

     “I think you’re great (Y/n), and I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but I never quite knew how, and then you offered to be my date to this thing and it was going to be perfect—even if it was fake—and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. I’m sorry.” 

     “So yes, I lied to you. But I meant what I said though,” Ian said softly, “about you being beautiful and about wanting to kiss you.”

     You thought back through the night, taking all this in. All the fake moments that apparently weren’t so fake. For either of you, you realized. Because you had enjoyed being his pretend date, even if at some point you stopped pretending.

     “I just wish you would have asked me to be your real date. I would have said yes you know,” you told him.

     “Really?” He was definitely blushing now and you grinned up at him.

     “The night’s not over yet, we could still make this an official first date,” you said. 

     “(Y/n), will you go out with me?”

     “I’d love to Ian.”

     He began slow dancing with you even though this most definitely was not a slow dancing event. 

     “Ian!”

     As you looked into his eyes, though, and you saw the way he was looking at you—like he’d been waiting for this for a long time—you couldn’t ignore how perfect this moment was and you let him sway you.

     “Not bad for a first date, Hecox,” you joked.

     “Here’s to many more?”

     “Definitely.”

     He kissed you, your first officially real first kiss, and you couldn’t have been happier. 

     Cheering erupted and you looked over where all of your friends were standing, whistling and clapping at you. 

     “Still think it’s a fake date?” Courtney called to you.

     You looked at all the people around you, some of which had begun to stare at your display. You looked at Ian looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. You looked back at your friends, still waiting for your response.

     “I think nothing’s ever been more real.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed!! i love ian so much and im glad someone else does too!! if you want more ian x reader check out my other ian fic!! have a lovely day/night <3

[arcadianambivalence]

IWTV S2E2 and History

One thing I really appreciate about this show is how it interacts with its historical setting. I worried that when Louis and Claudia left New Orleans last season, the show would start to shirk the historical details, but the latest episode has given me enough historical tidbits to chew on (pun intended).

Hidden behind the humor of lines like "Paris is shit" and the thrill of meeting other vampires, there's a sense of foreboding lingering beside the recent traumas.

As with the first episode of season 2, Louis and Claudia are surrounded by reminders of war, even if they do not have the context (or empathy) for the survivors they encounter. Claudia complains that she has to pick twice as many pockets to get by, but the two are still able to afford an apartment. Meanwhile, food staples and clothing are still rationed, but people and pigeons are easy to come by.

"Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time..."

Louis explains, but the scars historically ran deeper than a tourist (and Louis is The stereotypical tourist in this episode) could understand. Blackouts, food shortages, rations, soldiers, and refugees linger at the corners of the episode.

Even Madeline is introduced to us by a man warning Claudia that she was a collaborator or Nazi sympathizer (he does a subtle salute and points to the shop window), which will certainly influence how the next episodes take her through her narrative beats.

The plays performed by the Théâtre des Vampires cross 1920s to 1940s expressionism with absurdity and horror. Even after all this time, Louis is unenthused about the theatrical performances.

"The plays were weird. They always ended in death or some kind of cruel, barely motivated violence."

Armand's reply is dulled by the onstage spectacle:

"Life is cruel. Life is violent. [...] It was all a seduction to lure the cattle into a willing belief of disbelief."

It's a line that is all the more concerning if you know where the story is going...

Annika, the doomed woman onstage, is from Belgium, yet another country recovering from occupation and war. When she desperately tries to convince the audience to flee (not just for them to help her, but to save themselves), she speaks Dutch, so neither the French nor English-speaking audience members understand her.

Still in character, Santiago pretends to offer her a choice. She could live if she gives up someone to die in her place, if she, as the phrase goes, "turns someone in." First, he offers to take her husband, and she refuses. Then he offers to take her son, and again she refuses. Finally, he points to a man in the audience. She nods vigorously, but it's a cruel joke.

Santiago has already made up his mind about her. He addresses the man, warning him against trusting his neighbors:

"They'll give you up in a wink."

As if someone who spent the last five years in occupied France would need reminding.

The warning is for us, the viewers.

Later, the troupe takes Louis and Claudia to a mansion, ostensibly to eat people who, apparently, hoarded resources from the black market. Another show for Claudia and Louis, tourists who still think of themselves as the "good" vampires. Because why would a troupe of vampires concern themselves with that? They don't need anything from the black market. They don't eat anything from the black market. Where was this sense of justice in recent years?

As with Annika, it's yet another excuse to enact cruel and public violence against people they consider less than them.

So when Santiago's introductory prologue includes lines like:

"Being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals, we can [...] disrupt your tiny ship called human decency."

"Our jobs, which is at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery while you cry and scream for more."

"Everything you're about to see is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight. You are all complicit [...] I love you for it."

You know things are not going to get better for Louis and Claudia.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

Anakin: Why I relate to him

I’m going to change gears a bit from my usual anime/Ben 10 posts to talk about Anakin. I had a period where I pretended to hate him and was super pro Jedi to try and fit in with that fandom. I have changed a lot of my opinions since then. While I’m still not a huge fan of him, my opinion has softened greatly. A lot of Jedi stans act like all people who sympathize with him are conservatives who think you need a 50s nuclear family to be happy and hate Buddhism or aroace people. So I am going to share why I relate to this man’s struggles as a progressive, transgender neurodivergent Asian American.

A lot of people view Anakin in AOTC as just whiny and ungrateful. While the Tusken massacre was wrong, I can emphasize with his anger towards Obi Wan. I have felt belittled, over patronized and gaslit by my father, as well as yelled at. While Anakin was being disrespectful in that scene from AOTC where he reunites with Padme, the way Obi Wan handled it was uncalled for. He should have pulled Anakin aside to let him know there’s a time and place for everything, not humiliate him in front of their hosts.

I’ve made small mistakes due to my autism and dad would make a big deal out of it and tell me “we need to work on your awareness” in front of everyone there. I can also relate to that “he’s jealous! He’s holding me back” scene as someone who wants more out of life and feel like my dad is getting in my way. That scene also reminds me of how a lot of parents treat their kids for having an “attitude” or “talking back” when they’re just trying to explain themselves, are having a bad day or have a different opinion. I’ve also been forced to apologize for lashing out at people who’ve bullied me like in that comic.

When Jedi apologists talk about how Anakin was just greedy for not wanting to share his feelings with Obi Wan or the council, I get the feeling that they’ve had a fairly privileged upbringing. I’ve had trouble opening up to my dad because of how dismissive or terrifying he could be in the past. As a trans person, I’ve had to prepare for the worst possible outcomes and while my coming out went better than I expected, he just invalidated all my fears and acted like I was wrong for not telling him when he did little to provide a safe space, never apologizing for insensitive things he said. Similarly, fans expect Anakin to tell Obi Wan about his marriage despite all the dismissive behavior from him as well as faking his death and doing little to help Ahsoka. People who’ve been gaslit or dismissed for their feelings often resort to keeping secrets as a safety measure.

A child shouldn’t be expected to tell adults anything until they prove they can be trusted. Whenever I talk about my issues with my childhood, people dismiss it as legitimate discipline or tough love, which is another reason why I feel uncomfortable when Jedi apologists act like Kenobi was a good parent. People only see abuse if it’s physical or sexual, but never care or notice if it’s more subtle or emotional. Anakin recognized that Kenobi’s training methods wouldn’t be good for Ahsoka which is why he acts more like Shmi when teaching Ahsoka. My dad is also very sarcastic and is aware of my autism, even praising it at times, but expects me to just understand his “jokes” or insensitive comments.

People say you can’t critique the Jedi because they’re based off eastern philosophy but are they really that different from conservative evangelicals? Obi Wan straight up tells Anakin he can have romantic feelings but can’t act on them. Fans claim Anakin chose to get married and it was on him for not just leaving. I remember being the “weird” kid in a community that was very conservative (family, faith and football) who felt like I couldn’t talk about my interests without being shamed, especially after coming out. I can also emphasize with wanting to leave but feeling an obligation to stay because the people who’ve hurt me do love me and it being complicated.

I think a lot of people who dismiss Obi Wan’s insensitive remarks or child rearing methods are looking at it from an adult’s perspective, since they aren’t bothered by it as much. Adults can yell at, gaslight, spank or humiliate their kids, then act like nothing happened, but when you’re a child, it sticks with you, and is irritating when they try to be “buddy-buddy” with you later. I am also someone who struggles a lot with sarcasm and struggle with letting go of negative emotions because it keeps happening.

This is that post I talked about where I asked a popular Jedi stan their views on adoption. I’m not anti adoption, mind you. I felt Matilda, Suzume and Kung Fu Panda tackled it well with sensitivity. I responded with decency and acted like I agreed with them. But something about their response gave me the ick. I don’t know why but I do have a desire to find my birth mother, eventually. Is it really wrong to worry about your mother if she could be suffering, and you can’t do anything to help? It kind of confirms that a lot of Jedi apologists come from privileged upbringings. I also felt like I had to ask permission to enjoy media that went against the Jedi fandom’s beliefs.

I think that wraps up why I relate to this character even if I don’t agree with his actions. People who say he was just lazy or selfish don’t seem like they understand much about human psychology and abuse and how even “small” things can build up and make a child distrust the adults in their life. I worry a bit about when they become parents and what how their kids will end up. A lot of kids are shamed for not wanting to share their emotions when they have good reasons to keep secrets. How would Jedi stans respond to that? They only care about abuse if it’s physical which is why they make a big deal out of that training scene from TOTJ or act like Anakin abused Rex when throwing him off that wall on Geonosis.

[psychoticallytrans]

I frequently see people who consider themselves disabled allies looking at a situation where a disabled person is struggling, and questioning why they're not asking for help. In situations where they think they could help and they know the person, they sometimes become personally offended that the disabled person didn't even try to ask them.

Being disabled means constantly existing in a world that is not built in a way that is comfortable for you. As a child, this is extremely distressing, because you really don't have the context to understand why everyone else seems to have an easier time than you. You need a lot of help, and often explanations about why you need help.

If the disabled child has good adults who are willing to help them and encourage them to ask for help, this can mitigate things a lot. But those adults have to be consistently there, and to be willing to argue with adults who think that the child should just do it like any other child. That takes a lot of time and effort on the part of the adult.

So, most adults end up letting the disabled child down. They tell them to "figure it out", or to "just do it". They turn their backs and pretend that the disabled child is not asking for help. They purposefully overlook the disabled child in favor of less demanding children, less distressed children. It's so much easier that way.

The disabled child's requests for help are relegated to background noise in the adult's life. A noise that eventually turns to silence, as the disabled child learns that their requests will not be heeded. The adult is relieved. The problem is solved. The child is silent. They still need help. But they no longer think they can ask for it.

In the worst cases, disabled children are actively punished for having needs and making requests. They are hit, yelled at, and/or have things taken from them. The adult aims to make the child averse to making requests. The adult usually succeeds.

Even if the disabled child is lucky enough to have attentive and supportive adults who have the time and energy to properly back them up, they will eventually notice that the children around them are more convenient. That they cause "trouble" for their adults, who they will hear being praised for just helping a disabled child, being loudly sympathized with over how much time and effort this kid must take, being condescended to if they defend the child's right to be taken care of. Even if their adults never falter, the world sees them as a burden. It is immensely difficult to combat a concept that is seen as a simple, blunt truth.

So, the disabled child almost always learns to try to make themselves less trouble, less of a burden. They try to be as self reliant as they can. This is reinforced by that the best adults are usually very happy to see the disabled child doing this, because it's usually perceived as a gain in confidence in the self. They're happy for the child, and the child feels like they must be doing something right to make the kindest adults happy. The pressure to force themselves to be independent increases, creating a toxic cycle that is almost wholly invisible from the outside.

These disabled children, if they are fortunate, grow into disabled adults. Why don't they just ask for help? Because we live in a world that beats disabled children down by treating them like burdens, demands that they speak up if they want any help, then beats them down again for asking.

If you want a disabled person to ask you for help, state openly that you're willing to help and how you're willing to help. Then, follow through if they ask you to help in a way you've stated you are willing to.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Seokjin

After a successful day of scheming, Seokjin calls his favorite plaything to join him and Hoseok for a little fun. 

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 7.2k

🗡️ mafia au, dishonest characters, established relationship, bdsm, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: top Seokjin with mention of bottom Hoseok; top Hoseok & bottom Seokjin; scheming; mention of the use of heroin; use of the word "whore" not meant derogatorily, but not always kindly; allusion to puppy play; talk of manufacturing and selling drugs with the purpose of getting people addicted; shower play; enema play; light humiliation; ass eating & fingering; Seokjin is...morally grey at best.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! listen: Seokjin is not the nicest person, so please take the way he speaks with a grain of salt. it is hard to put everyone's full intentions into the POV scenes because i still need there to be surprises later on!!! but i feel like this is going to really help to solidify the way many of you feel about this character hehehe. i hope you enjoy!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - with minor unbeta'd edits done since.

🗡️ posted march 2024 - originally jan. 2023 | read on ao3

"She's not going to go for it," Hoseok teases as he reaches around Seokjin's broad shoulders from behind and straightens out his burgundy satin tie. 

Seokjin's tie matches a fitted burgundy Armani suit, which he wears with a cream undershirt. His hair is pushed off his forehead, bringing together the look.

He has a meeting at House of Cards with some investors who are looking to build near the Shin territory just outside Busan, in a smaller port city, and Seokjin wants to make sure those men are on Yoongi's side if push should come to shove. 

But first, he plans to make a stop by the mansion to discuss something with Yoongi's little pet. 

"She doesn't have to go for it," Seokjin responds, watching Hoseok's reflection with adoration swelling behind his lungs. Recently, Hoseok has been letting his hair grow out, and he looks devastating with dark brown waves falling past his eyes and longer bits tucked behind his ears.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, done with his task and letting his arms hang over Seokjin's shoulders. Seokjin spins on the balls of his socked feet and wraps his arms around Hoseok's waist, pulling him close. 

"I am merely planting a seed. I want the actual idea to be hers when the time comes."

Hoseok grins. "Elaborate."

"Well," Seokjin says, "for starters, the plan is terrible. Shipping her off to Busan for a week—or whatever the span of a vacation may be—is hardly enough time to turn her into an informant. She is smart enough to know that much. But I will pose it to her that way, insisting Yoongi cannot know, which will force her to stew on it. I know she wants revenge for the recent attack on Jimin at Paradise, and if Shin sends any more men to try to shake us up, it will only fuel her fire."

"And you want her to do this, because...?"

Seokjin chuckles. "Because, my love, Ryujin has always responded best to the friendships and authority of women. As sweet and empathetic as Hyunjin is, she has not gotten as close to him as we hoped. Yoongi's wolf cub, on the other hand, is the perfect bait. Not to mention, she comes from the honey bee ring, which Ryujin will sympathize with."

"And if Ryujin recognizes her from Serendipity?"

Seokjin pouts, sticking his lip out and down-turning his eyes. "Seokie, baby, you pretend I haven't thought of absolutely everything, and it wounds me."

With a roll of his pretty eyes and a soft giggle, Hoseok says, "Then humor me, love."

Seokjin rubs the tip of his nose against Hoseok's, then places a soft kiss, making Hoseok smile widely. "All we have to do is spread a rumor that Yoongi has harmed or upset her in some way. Nothing too damaging to his reputation, just a simple whisper. Ryujin may be hesitant, but, given her feelings about Yoongi, I think she will fall for it."

Hoseok leans in and mimics Seokjin's motion, rubbing their noses together, making Seokjin's heart pound just a little bit harder. "And if Ryujin doesn't believe the rumors? We don't think Yoongi was abusive to her at any point?"

"Not abusive..." Seokjin drifts off, squinting slightly while he chooses his words. "But when his parents died, he went off the deep end with drugs. All the voices have to whisper is the word heroin, and her ears will perk up."

Hoseok purses his lips, thinking over what Seokjin says but looking unconvinced.

"And anyway, she's competitive," Seokjin continues, gently kissing the tip of Hoseok's nose, "even if she doesn't buy the rumor," Seokjin kisses the apple of Hoseok's cheek, "Ryujin might still take her in, thinking she can convert her to actually become part of her family."

"Or, she might kill her," Hoseok responds with a pointed gaze.

Seokjin places a kiss on Hoseok's other cheek as he shrugs. "Sometimes, the cat must wet its feet, no matter its dislike of water, in order to eat fish."

A soft, pretty chuckle comes from Hoseok, who presses his lips against Seokjin's and then mutters, "Idioms to describe a human life, Jinnie bear? Tsk tsk."

Seokjin hums, says, "Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good," and licks over Hoseok's lips until his partner parts them, pulling him into an eager but soft kiss. 

Time comes to a halt in Hoseok's arms, and Seokjin holds him tight, kissing slow and deep, savoring each taste, touch, and sound. There is nothing in the world quite like being in his lover's arms. Even the joy of watching the light die in his enemy's eyes pales in comparison. Seokjin thinks that he would do absolutely anything for Hoseok.

"Join me?" Seokjin asks. "She may be more comfortable with you around; you seem to have made a better impression on her, anyway."

"Fine," Hoseok mutters. "But I do not condone a plan that may get her killed, just so we're clear." Seokjin playfully rolls his eyes, and Hoseok smacks him on the shoulder as he continues, "I do like the idea of her running off to Busan for a while. For her sake and for Yoongi's."

"Oh?" Seokjin asks with a curious cock of the head, studying the microexpressions that tug gently at Hoseok's lips and eyes. To the untrained pupil, one would hardly notice these quirks, but Seokjin sees everything. Hoseok is nervous.

"Namjoon thinks he's becoming unhinged again," Hoseok finally says. "Slipping from reality. He's worried about another bender...so your plan to tell the voices about heroin use seems more grounded in reality than you realize."

"And you think taking her away from him won't just make him worse?" Seokjin teases, bending at the knees to smack a kiss on Hoseok's chin. 

Hoseok nibbles on his bottom lip, considering his words. "I think she needs to spend more time out of the house, and out from under Yoongi's shadow. He is still very controlling, despite her willingness to stay, and whenever she's not directly in his line of sight, he gets paranoid and on edge."

Seokjin mulls it over. "I have noticed he is on edge more when we are away from home for extended periods."

"He needs to break out of that loop. We can't have a mad king on our hands. Especially one who could raze the city to the ground."

"So, we need to somehow get him to grant her more freedom, in a way that does not cause Yoongi to completely lose his shit," Seokjin clarifies.

Hoseok nods. "I'll talk to Namjoon about it."

"Good plan."

And with that, Seokjin presses one more kiss against Hoseok's lips, then releases him, linking their hands together as they make their way out of their bedroom, through the hallway, and down the stairs. 

"And what is our excuse for visiting the mansion?" Hoseok asks as Seokjin sits on a charcoal grey chaise lounge beside the front door, reaching for a pair of black wingtip shoes. Seokjin slides his feet into both and begins tying the laces on one after the other. 

"I am either going to catch Yoongi before he leaves for the day and discuss what he would like me to say to the investors this afternoon," Seokjin sighs, "or I will message to let him know that I was trying to catch him before he left, yadda, yadda, yadda."

As Seokjin stands and rubs his hands over his slacks to straighten them out, Hoseok pulls his black shirt sleeve back to reveal an elegant black timepiece. "He should be home for another fifteen minutes, assuming Namjoon is making him punctual and not late."

With a pleased hum, Seokjin offers an elbow and says, "The weather is nice. Shall we walk?"

The weather truly is beautiful, and the two of them take their time, walking hand in hand along the gravel path. Seokjin does not like to be nostalgic, but it is hard not to smile as he remembers the years spend in this secluded stretch of trees with Hoseok, before there were mansions on the property, and they would steal away to be alone.

As timing will have it, Yoongi and Namjoon are just about to leave when Seokjin and Hoseok arrive. Seokjin can hear the two of them laughing on the other side of the bulletproof door and opts to use the large brass knocker rather than scan his retinas, and all that. 

The door swings open to Namjoon's tired but smiling face, and he walks outside, followed by Yoongi. They are in their standard black outfits, and Yoongi wears a cardigan rather than a blazer. Seokjin wonders what the two of them may be up to; Yoongi only mentioned meeting with some people concerning the mess Jeongguk recently made—which, Seokjin thinks, is a very flippant way to address a killing spree. 

"Gentlemen," Yoongi calls with his arms held wide, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Looking sharp, Jin," Namjoon mutters, making Seokjin grin. 

"My reason to visit today is twofold," Seokjin begins. "I was hoping the chef was in so I could have a plate of his fabulous eggs benedict.

"Of course," Yoongi responds with a smile. 

"And, I wanted to let you know that I will be meeting with the Choi brothers about their desire to open a casino near Busan."

Yoongi hums and then nods. "The chef is in, although, I am surprised you haven't perfected the recipe on your own."

With a shrug, Seokjin lies, "There is something about his hollandaise sauce that I cannot quite nail, but he refuses to give me the recipe." 

The truth is that the chef adds horseradish rather than dijon mustard, and just a dash of dried ginger, giving it more of a bite. Seokjin figured it out almost immediately, but he likes that the chef can whip it up on a whim, saving him the trouble of purchasing the ingredients and doing it himself.

"And the men?" Yoongi asks as he reaches into his front pants pocket, pulls out a metal cigarette case, and opens it, revealing a row of perfectly rolled joints. 

"Shall we offer to buy them, or shall we threaten them?" Seokjin simply asks.

With a smirk and a shrug, Yoongi pulls a joint to his lips, muttering, "Offer first, threaten second?"

Seokjin nods, watching as Namjoon pulls a lighter from his pocket and ignites Yoongi's joint, feeling glad that the two of them are finally able to be together once more. Yoongi needs a lapdog more than anything, and Namjoon is the perfect fit. 

"Excellent," Seokjin says with a small bow, "then I will be on my way to the kitchen. Shall I order an extra serving for the wolf cub?"

Yoongi takes a long drag of the joint, holds it in, and then slowly lets it out, creating a plume of skunky smoke between them. "I doubt she'll be up for another hour or so."

Perfect, Seokjin thinks; he actually was hoping to be fed. "Sounds good."

The front door hadn't been closed completely, so Seokjin enters the mansion easily, stepping aside to remove his shoes while Hoseok does the same. They close the door tight and make their way toward the kitchen. 

"You're so hot when you lie," Hoseok mutters, leaning in close enough for Seokjin to smell his cologne.

Seokjin twists and bends to place a kiss on Hoseok's lips, saying, "As are you, my love."

* * *

Despite having to wait more than thirty minutes on the balcony for Yoongi's darling to wake up, Seokjin considers their little meeting a success. He was certainly able to get into her head and could tell she was not ready to completely write off the idea of taking a trip by the time they made their exit, giving him just enough time to get into town on schedule for his meeting.

House of Cards is a raucous place even in the daytime when fewer men are around to throw away their money. The machines ding and play loud soundtracks, and televisions blare with various sport and fighting events. 

Seokjin enters through the main doors after leaving his sedan with valet, and he walks past all the drunks and coke heads with a straight face, making his way to his decoy office on the main floor to meet with some men whom Namjoon claims are going to be good for business if they can manage to keep him on their good side, and bad for business if they do not. 

Frankly, Seokjin could hardly give a fuck about what is good for business—Yoongi has inherited one of the oldest families in Korea, and by far the wealthiest. House of Cards brings in money simply by existing, and he hardly has to do any actual work. The boxing nights were Jeongguk's idea because he likes watching men fight to the death, and the wealth gained from those simply fuels the family's more expensive drug habits. 

The Shins in the east hardly have a stronghold on their own docks, and the Songs in the south are happy to form an alliance when the price is right, showing loyalty to no one but their own pockets.

Rumor has it the Song family turned down the Choi men because they do not wish to be in the business of entertaining tourists, and a casino might bring in the wrong crowds. Let the tourists flock to Jeju, they say, and Seokjin agrees. The Shins, on the other hand, are desperate for anything they can get their fingers on, and more or less offered them a stretch of land. 

All Seokjin has to do is offer the Choi brothers more money and an illusion of influence. Seems like the easiest thing in the world. The only variable he thinks that could possibly make those men want to side with the Shins would be an old family bond or rivalry, and as far as he can tell, these men have neither. So now, all he has to do is meet with them and find out what he can find out. 

Seokjin has a way with men. A look, a gesture, and a veiled threat are all he needs to get them talking. He has no doubt he will be able to make these men sing. 

* * *

Seokjin barely manages to light a cigar before his phone rings. The Choi brothers left mere minutes ago, and Seokjin had been hoping for a moment of alone time, but it is his informant who has been living with the Shin family, which makes this call potentially very important.

"Hyunjin, darling, what's the news?"

Seokjin sits back in his large, black leather chair, listening to the shocks whine as he leans, bending the springs a bit too far. He is in his real office on the second floor, and has a cigar between his teeth, slurring his words around it while he holds his cell phone to his ear. His informant, who works on Ryujin's drug-running team, sighs. 

"She plans to intercept Yoongi's next shipment of pills. Apparently, one of his dock men was bought. A man by the name of Kang Daesung is going to steal the shit."

"Fuckers," Seokjin mutters, spit flying from his lips. He takes a puff from the cigar and holds the smoke in, then lets it out with a bitter huff. It feels lackluster now, and he gently stubs the cigar out on a golden ashtray, then sets it aside to let it extinguish itself the rest of the way. 

Shin has really been coming for the drug operations, which has Seokjin feeling concerned for Jeongguk's safety. And his sanity.

"I am also one of the only people who knows this information, so now that I have passed it along, I have put a target on my back."

Seokjin hums and considers his options. 

"You want to come home, or hop off the peninsula for a while?"

Another sigh comes through the line, and Seokjin gives him time to consider. Hyunjin has been with the Shin family long enough that leaving the country may be his best bet, but he does have a family of his own, which could complicate things. 

When Hyunjin does not respond, Seokjin says, "We can get your little girl into a prestigious American school. Or Australian; there are plenty of Koreans in Australia. And we could assist with getting you and the wife nice jobs." 

"Yeah," Hyunjin says. "Yeah, you're right. I'll think it over and talk to Jisu. Maybe Australia would be good."

"Let me know," Seokjin says as he thumbs through his files, opening a folder that reads "Hwang Hyunjin'' and pulling out documents. "Your passport is current, and I have a burner identity on the books with a line of credit. I can have you on a flight within an hour, any time, day or night, alright?"

"Thank you, Seokjin-ssi."

As they end the call, Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He hates giving Yoongi bad news. This will also put another man in Jeongguk's crosshairs, and Seokjin really hopes that hunting him down will not also include killing fourteen of this man's closest friends. 

Seokjin dials Yoongi and is surprised he picks up on the first ring. "Jin."

"Yoongichi, bad news." 

Yoongi sighs and hums, and Seokjin continues. "Hwang called. Says Kang is planning to switch teams and sabotage the next shipment of pills."

"She bought him, eh?" Yoongi asks. 

"Yup."

"Fuckers."

"Yup."

"What about Hwang?"

"I offered him an out, and he said he would think about it. Considering Australia."

"Sounds good. I may call everyone to meet later. Taehyung has an engagement until nine, so it will be a late one if I do."

"Alright. I'm headed home soon. Should have my hands full for a few hours, so after nine is perfect."

"Thanks, Jin."

"No problem."

At least Yoongi's tone was pretty flat; no reaction from Yoongi is the best reaction. Especially if Namjoon is worried about him falling off the rails. 

This bump in the road aside, Seokjin considers the day a win, and he lifts his cigar, fits it between his lips, and lights it back up before locking up and heading out.

* * *

Seokjin My winning streak continues. This calls for celebration.

Hoseok In the pink dollhouse room?

Seokjin Of course, baby. Where else?

Hoseok ETA?

Seokjin 1 hour. Going to make a pitstop. I called Puppy, and he will be there in 20.

Hoseok  I'll be home to get our guest ready.

Seokjin Thank you, baby.

Hoseok  Anything for you, Jinnie bear.

To celebrate, Seokjin calls Hyungwon—his and Hoseok's favorite whore—to join them in one of the dollhouse rooms. Hoseok is home to get him ready while Seokjin stops at one of the boutiques to buy him a white leather muzzle that is shaped to fit a dog, with pointed ears on top and a pretty pink bow in the center. 

The pièces de résistance, however, is a bar inside the muzzle for Hyungwon to bite down on, ideally making a mess of himself with drool. 

One of Hyungwon's favorite toys is an anal plug with a long white tail, and Seokjin wants to see him with a pretty new accessory to match it. And, although Seokjin has plenty of items like this in his puppy playhouse room, this muzzle is a gift specifically for his most special whore. He is feeling rather generous tonight.

The drive home is short and sweet, and when Seokjin arrives, he is pleased to see a motorcycle parked in the driveway and light shining through the sheer white curtains of the first room on the second floor, confirming that Hyungwon has, in fact, already arrived, and that Hoseok must be getting him ready. 

Seokjin always finds it incredible how the man can strip down from all his worn, thick leather and stand in the prettiest pink lingerie, and he laments briefly that he was not home to witness the transformation. 

When Jimin first hired Hyungwon at Paradise, Seokjin thought that, perhaps, the heavens had opened up and shined just for him. He has a cold indifference to him that makes Seokjin want to break him apart and make him sob. And he does.

Hyungwon is the only man who allows Seokjin to do every little sadistic thing he desires, then leaves at the end of the session with a soft kiss and a promise to return. Seokjin treasures him dearly. 

Many whores blacklist him for less. 

Of course, now that Jimin has returned to their bed, Hyungwon may have to take second place, but that is a discussion for another time. Seokjin is eager to make Jimin sob again and again, but he worries about coming on too strongly and scaring him off. Jimin has always been quite sensitive, which Seokjin will never understand, but he does his best to respect it.

Seokjin takes his time exiting the car, grabbing the black paper shopping bag with an expensive monogram on all sides. He knows the men have heard his car pull up, and he wants to draw out the anticipation and make them wait. 

Hoseok, in particular, hates to wait. His temper is as explosive as the incendiary devices he so enjoys crafting, and Seokjin takes pleasure in pushing his buttons.

As he punches the hex code of his partner's favorite shade of sunshine yellow into the door and waits for the device to scan his retina, Seokjin takes a deep breath and allows a hint of a smile to creep over his face.

Things within the family have been a bit of a mess lately, but everything seems to be going fairly well, aside from their drug runner turning heel. Men on the lower ranks tend to chase money, after all; they are no stranger to these types of incidents.

If he can ensure the Choi brothers remain loyal and convince Yoongi's darling to leave town for a while, everything might even be perfect for some time. Seokjin hesitates to dwell on the thought.

Once inside, Seokjin closes the front door as quietly as he can and has a seat on his chaise lounge to remove his wingtips one at a time, placing them carefully beside the rows of footwear. Then, he takes the handles of the bag gently in his fingers and creeps up to the second floor, stalking like a tiger in the hope of catching the men off guard. 

He can hear their voices coming from the room, though what they are saying is difficult to make out. Hoseok has an excited lilt to his voice, and Hyungwon is speaking too softly to be detected clearly. Hyungwon is often quite soft-spoken—another thing Seokjin enjoys about him. 

As Seokjin gets to the top of the stairs, he forgets that the landing step is particularly creaky, putting down his weight as the wood whines beneath his toes. He lets out the breath that he had been holding, dropping his head in a defeated sigh as a tuft of brown hair shoots out from the first door on the right, and Seokjin spots his partner. 

"Gotta get that step fixed," Seokjin complains as he straightens his posture and smooths down his burgundy jacket. 

Hoseok grins from ear to ear, and he stands in the doorway to the pink dollhouse room with his hair disheveled and the top four buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sight of exposed sun-kissed skin has Seokjin's heart thudding behind his ribs, and he lifts a brow, playfully assessing the sight. 

"Did my puppies begin without me?" he teases as he approaches with his shoulders hunched forward to give Hoseok the impression that he is stalking his prey.

Hoseok chuckles, and Seokjin can tell he is feeling shy from the accusation as he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Hyungwon messed up my hair because he wanted you to think we had started without you. But we are being good puppies, I promise."

With a hum, Seokjin stalks further, watching Hoseok become increasingly antsy the closer he gets. "And is he all ready for me?"

"He is," Hoseok beams, taking a step back to allow Seokjin to enter the room. 

Seokjin, however, pounces, pressing Hoseok into the far side of the door frame and caging him in with his arms, giving him nowhere to go. With a hand on the dollhouse room wall and the hand holding onto the shopping bag on the hallway wall, Seokjin towers over his partner and gazes down at him hungrily.

"But are you ready for me?"

A silly question, since a stipulation to being Seokjin's lover is to be ready at all times. Hoseok cleans himself every morning, and he inserts a plug every time Seokjin is expected to be home so that there is very little need for prep and Seokjin can take what he wants. 

Of course, Seokjin is no monster; if they are unable to engage in play, Hoseok simply removes the plug—or gets himself off and then removes it—ensuring that it does not stay nestled up inside him long enough to cause any kind of complications or health risks. 

But Seokjin tries to be very clear about his expectations, and they communicate their schedules in order to make sure Hoseok can be ready for him at the drop of a hat. Seokjin's appetite is insatiable, and it is not unusual for them to fuck five or six nights a week. One of the reasons they invite so many whores to play dress up and join them is to give Hoseok a little extra help. That, and whores tend to come pre-used.

A plus side of fucking Jimin back in the day was when he would come home from the club, already stretched from his clients. Even when he would whine about being sore and sensitive, he would be such a good, pliant boy for Seokjin. Not a day goes by that Seokjin doesn't dream about the sweet sounds Jimin would make, becoming an overstimulated, sobbing mess long before either of them would reach their first orgasm. 

Hoseok's smile falters ever so slightly, and Seokjin already knows what he is going to say. He must have assumed that, because they have a guest for the night, Hoseok would not be expected to be stretched. He should know by now that when Seokjin calls with good news, that a victory fuck is in order, whether or not they are tending to a guest for the evening. 

And this, Seokjin thinks, is the danger of falling in love. Years ago, Seokjin would plot ways to punish his puppy for being so short-sighted and disobedient. But now? Staring into his deep brown eyes, downturned beneath a knit brow, all Seokjin wants to do is kiss him and tell him everything will be alright. His heart has become soft. 

Before Hoseok can excuse his bad behavior, Seokjin plants a soft smooch on the tip of his nose and grins. "I'm kidding," he assures softly. 

"You're not," Hoseok groans as relief paints his face. 

"I'm not," Seokjin admits, taking a step back and allowing Hoseok to breathe. "But I am in too good of a mood to make you cry."

"Lucky me," Hoseok teases with a wink. 

Seokjin leans in and places a kiss on Hoseok's forehead, then enters the room. The walls are all painted cotton candy pink, and there is a large bed on the left with plush pink bedding and a white wrought iron sleigh frame with beautiful spiral designs at the head and foot—perfect for attaching restraints. 

Hoseok's favorite addition to the room is a pale pink sex swing that hangs from the center of the space, with vines wrapped around the long arms that stretch to the ceiling. Seokjin is partial to the vanity with a large mirror that is very sturdy and perfect for humiliation play. 

The wooden furniture and wainscoting are all painted pink with gold accents, the floor is covered in pink carpeting and large, white cloud-shaped rugs, and every light fixture is a giant, white orb. In the corner of the room furthest from the bed is a chair in the shape of a giant pink high-heel, and when Seokjin enters, that is where he finds their guest. 

Hyungwon is breathtaking in sheer pink babydoll lingerie with little ruffled sleeves that hang from his shoulders, and a skirt that falls just above his thighs. He reclines on the shoe chair with one knee bent, bare foot adorned with pretty silver chains and rings, perched delicately atop the chair, and the other leg down, spread slightly to accommodate for the chair's width. His hair is long enough to be styled behind his ears—straight and black as a raven's feather—and he wears a thick silver choker of shimmering zirconias and a glittery lip balm.

"Master Seokjin," Hyungwon states as he moves from his reclined position—which Seokjin assumes he only sat in to be a tease, in the first place—and slowly lifts his leg, leaning forward and getting onto his hands and knees. "You look ravishing tonight, sir."

Seokjin turns to Hoseok with a puzzled expression, then back to Hyungwon, "Baby, did you give our pet permission to speak?"

"I did not, sir," Hoseok responds simply, standing near the wall with his arms flat at his sides. "But you do look ravishing tonight, sir."

How in the world Seokjin wound up with two disobedient puppies, he will never know, but he cannot bring himself to be upset when they are so devastatingly pretty and so good to him. Seokjin reaches to tap the underside of Hoseok's chin with the pad of his finger—a playful gesture that also tells him to keep that gorgeous fucking mouth of his closed unless he is asked to open it.

Hoseok smiles, winks, and does not say another word.

"I got you something," Seokjin beams as he turns back to Hyungwon, closing the gap between them. 

He reaches into the bag, pulls out the leather dog muzzle, and holds it up. Hyungwon's eyes widen, and a soft smile plays on his lips. If the man truly is excited, Seokjin has no idea; all he cares about is that he acts the part, as he is paid to do. And Hyungwon, as always, is a brilliant performer.

* * *

The shower down the hall in the guest bathroom runs as Seokjin pushes a hand through his hair, walking from the dollhouse room to his bedroom. His cream shirt is unbuttoned and hung open, burgundy pants are undone, and he is covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Hyungwon practically needed to be carried away when Seokjin was finished with him, and Hoseok is currently assisting with washing him and tending to his various marks with creams. Seokjin was not too hard on him, but his nails did break skin a couple of times, and he spanked him until both cheeks were tomato red. 

Although it is getting late, Yoongi has called to request everyone to congregate at the mansion at the top of the hour. It gives Seokjin thirty-five minutes to change into a black dress shirt and slacks and see that Hyungwon is able to get home on his own or has a suitable bed to sleep in for the night. Ordinarily, Seokjin is not as kind to his whores, but after what he did to the guy's ass, he takes pity on him for driving out on a motorcycle. 

The sound of the shower shutting off is followed by muffled voices, and Seokjin shrugs out of his shirt, dropping it into a hamper near the closet door, and grabs a black shirt from a hanger. He attempts to listen for the men—to get a sense of whether or not Hyungwon will need to stay—but all he can make out is Hoseok's bright, happy laughter. 

Seokjin loves it when Hoseok laughs loud and unabashedly. It rings like music to his ears. 

"Baby?" Hoseok calls down the hallway. 

Seokjin takes a step out of the closet as he buttons his shirt and shouts, "Bedroom," then returns to the racks of clothing and wiggles out of his slacks, picking them up and placing them into the hamper, and then reaching for a black pair to slide into.

"Ah," Hoseok says as he rounds the corner and finds Seokjin dressed in all black. "Yoongi called."

"He did," Seokjin responds. 

"For all of us?"

"For all of us."

"Hyungwon should be good to drive, but I'll go check on him."

Seokjin flashes Hoseok a smile. "Thank you, love."

Once he is ready, Seokjin switches off the light and exits his and Hoseok's massive closet, then he leaves the bedroom and makes his way down the hall, to the pink dollhouse room. The dark wood wainscoting and blood-red walls adorned with pretty brass sconces is such an abrupt change of scenery compared to the pink playroom, and from time to time, it makes Seokjin chuckle softly when he leaves one atmosphere for the other. 

Hyungwon sits on the edge of the bed dressed in blue jeans, a blue and white flannel shirt, and a black leather jacket, with his hands in his lap. Hoseok stands before him, dabbing a salve to his lip, which Seokjin split from slapping a little too hard once the muzzle came off. To Seokjin's credit, Hyungwon was the one who begged him to hit him harder. 

As Seokjin enters, both men turn to him with smiles, and Seokjin leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"How is our puppy feeling?"

"Amazing," Hyungwon responds, always saying so no matter which state he seems to be in. 

"Good. And I take it your ass isn't too sore for the bike?"

Hoseok shoots Seokjin an incredulous glare, which he pointedly ignores. 

Hyungwon chuckles quietly. "No, sir. Not too sore."

"Good. I will be downstairs, then." He turns his gaze to Hoseok. "Join me soon?"

Hoseok nods and screws the cap on his balm, then leans to place a soft kiss on Hyungwon's forehead as Seokjin takes his leave and goes downstairs, to the kitchen, to have a few shots of whiskey before heading out to Yoongi's place. 

It does not take long for the others to join him, and they bid Hyungwon farewell with kisses to his cheeks and forehead, then link hands and take the long way to Yoongi's property, up toward Taehyung's place and cutting through the gardens. It is eerie out here at night with low lighting and tall, dark shadows. They walk all the way around the mansion, to the front door, and find Taehyung and Jeongguk on the stoop, smoking a cigarette.

"Fellas," Seokjin calls, and everyone lifts their hand hello.

"Is it just us?" Hoseok asks, and Taehyung shakes his head, saying, "Jimin is inside."

Seokjin takes a puff from Taehyung's cigarette, then goes inside, happy to find Jimin and Namjoon seated on the couch as he takes his place on the far end. Seokjin assumes Yoongi would be upstairs and is surprised to see him enter through the front door with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Once they are all seated, Yoongi begins. 

"We have two orders of business, which are somewhat related. The first is that Jeonggukie has been working with a team to formalize a new type of ecstasy that contains amphetamines, to give the user more of an upper-type high. It will be smoother than the shit the Americans sell, which contain meth, and the users will crave the experience, ideally getting them hooked on it."

This news comes as somewhat of a surprise to Seokjin, but he does not show it, keeping his expression stoic. He is curious when Yoongi decided to pivot into selling drugs for the purpose of creating addicts, and thinks perhaps the man really is losing his mind. He sounds like his late father, which is no compliment.

Yoongi continues. "So far, the trials have been pretty positive, and we should have those on the streets within the next month, or so. Let Jeongguk know if you would like samples."

Yoongi sits up and sighs, "And for our second order of business, it seems our main dock man Kang has been bought, and he plans to fuck with our next shipment of pills. I will be orchestrating a hit some time this weekend."

"I can go," Jeongguk offers, and Seokjin is pleased when Yoongi holds his hand up, turning him down.

"I need you to stay here this weekend. I want us to start going to the range again, and there are some other things I want you around for. I'll put Changkyun on the job."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to complain, and Yoongi cuts him off. "Ggukie, we have men hired to carry out hits. Let me utilize them."

Silence falls, then Namjoon clears his throat. "Is there anything anyone else would like to share?"

Seokjin cannot believe everyone was called over for this, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glances around. When nobody says anything, he shrugs and says, "Guess that's it."

"Alright," Yoongi says as he slaps his palms over his knees and stands with a sigh. "I thought this would be more of a conversation, but it seems pretty cut and dry. Thanks for coming by."

Seokjin studies Yoongi as he stands, curious about what Namjoon sees that makes him so paranoid. There are bags under his eyes, and he seems quite tired, but he does not seem jittery or pale, or any of the other symptoms Seokjin tries to remember from his last bender. 

It could be his more recent shift in seeming colder than usual. Prior to the pet moving in upstairs, Yoongi even went so far as to have a nasty little violent streak. Still, violence is not an indicator of drug abuse.

Yoongi has always been good at hiding shit until it is really bad, however, and he has always been quite unreadable, wearing parts of himself on his sleeve while keeping the rest locked away. He hopes that Namjoon's suspicions are false, but nobody would know better than him.

With that, everyone stands to leave, including Yoongi. In fact, the only person who seems to hang back is Namjoon. They say good night, everyone begins to head back to their homes, and Namjoon locks up the mansion as Yoongi slides his hands into his pockets and sets off in the direction of Namjoon's home.

Something is definitely amiss, but Seokjin does not feel like asking. The warmth of Hoseok's hand pulls him from his thoughts as he is tugged in the direction of home.

When they return from the meeting that could have been a conversation via group text, Seokjin sits with a huff on his chaise lounge. He bends his leg to lift it in order to untie his shoe, but Hoseok drops to his knees and places a hand on Seokjin's foot, guiding it to the floor. 

"You seem off, baby," Hoseok mutters sweetly. "Let me take care of you."

With an affectionate smile, Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest and lets his posture droop in a sigh. "Always taking care of others."

Hoseok's eyes shine as he mutters, "I live to serve."

Seokjin chuckles and sits up straight as Hoseok removes one shoe, then the other, and places them neatly aside. "We both know that is untrue."

"Yes," Hoseok responds, also laughing. 

Seokjin leans forward, takes Hoseok's chin in his hand, and pulls him close. Hoseok strains to get near enough, sitting high on his knees, but Seokjin stays just out of reach as he says, "You can still take care of me, though."

He revels in the way Hoseok's tone drops as he asks, "And how would you like me to do that, baby?"

Seokjin begins to think of all the ways he would like to make Hoseok whine, but Hoseok continues, "It's been a while since you've submitted to me and completely let go of control."

It has been a while. Probably months. Seokjin mulls it over with a squint of his eyes. There is nothing in this world that he likes more than pulling sweet sounds from Hoseok's lips, but he knows that Hoseok also enjoys being in control. However, relinquishing power does not come easily to a man like Seokjin.

"You are correct," Seokjin finally responds. "It has been a while."

Hoseok's eyes glimmer with mirth, and even if Seokjin had not been considering it before, he would certainly cave now. With a nibble of his bottom lip, Seokjin leans close enough to kiss Hoseok. 

"I'll let you fuck me tonight. Give me twenty minutes to get ready?"

With a pout, Hoseok shakes his head. "I want to get you ready."

"Oh?"

"Please."

"Enema play, Seok? Really?"

Hoseok shrugs. "I want to watch you tremble and whimper as the water falls out."

Seokjin, admittedly, gets it. "Alright, let's go."

Hoseok is gentle as he takes Seokjin's hand and leads him up the stairs and down the hall to their master suite. He is gentle as he undresses him and leads him to their shower. Gentle when he bends Seokjin over—hands splayed on the white tile bench that runs along one wall—and inserts the nozzle of the enema. Seokjin gasps from the sensation; he hasn't done this in quite a while.

When Hoseok takes Seokjin by the hair and lifts his head, pulling him into a standing position, he is less gentle. Lifting the bag, which is full of tepid water, so that it can enter his body makes Seokjin gasp, sending a shudder through him. 

Hoseok holds his chin, firm and not very gently as he says, "Eyes on me," and slowly pulls the nozzle out, releasing the water to the floor of the shower. 

Seokjin keeps his eyes on Hoseok as the water rushes from him, a sensation that he thinks should not be in the least bit erotic. Hoseok knows that this is mildly humiliating, which, Seokjin thinks, is the reason he is insisting on it. 

Hoseok inserts the nozzle two more times, sending water rushing from Seokjin's rectum, holding him in place while they stare into one another's eyes. Warmth covers Seokjin's face in a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and when Hoseok bends him back over right there in the shower to eat him out, Seokjin practically blacks out. 

"Fuck, feels so good," he whimpers as Hoseok teases his hole with his tongue, circling the rim and prodding inside. 

"You like it, baby?" Hoseok groans, biting Seokjin's buttcheek and circling a finger over him, gently pushing inside and pulling out, making Seokjin sigh and tremble from pleasure-pain. 

"You know I do," Seokjin whines.

Hoseok groans. "Too bad I won't let you cum until you're begging and sobbing."

Evil. Pure fucking evil. Hoseok loves making someone like Seokjin beg. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and Hoseok chuckles and crashes a hand over his ass with a loud, wet smack.

"Come on, big boy," Hoseok sing-songs "Let's tie you to the bed and make you scream."

Seokjin already fears for his life, knowing that Hoseok will edge him for hours. But the earth-shattering orgasm that tears his world asunder, followed by Hoseok's sweet, pretty smile, makes everything worth it. How could he possibly resist?

*

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG!!!

i didn't give Hyungwon a relationship tag since he's not a main character in the story, nor does he appear again. for those of you who aren't monbebe, this is the man i was talking about:

i also remember being too exhausted to write a smut scene when i was putting this POV together, which is why we don't get to experiencing these three together hahaha. i think i wrote Hoseok and Seokjin back to back.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

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[bonebabbles]

Honestly, I’m surprised people can hate Star Flower. I liked her the moment she came on the scene. She had a unique description and her charismatic/flirtatious personality along with her paralyzing move just made me love her more. Did not like the Clear Sky stuff. It was just weird that he went after a girl his son had a crush on and it just felt…ick. That being said, I was hoping for her and Thunder to get together. They seemed to have more chemistry with each other. THE POTENTIAL.

But yeah. We were robbed with Star Flower!

Starf was done SO DIRTY

I sympathize with Thunder x Starf shippers, but in my ideal world, they're totally platonic. I crave them having a deep sense of understanding of one another, as soon as Thunder realizes that her flirtatious behavior is a coping mechanism, with Starf realizing she doesn't need to offer herself up to earn her place.

The idea that her safety is no longer conditional based on what she gives. She doesn't have to feign love for anyone. She doesn't have to kill anyone, either. For the very first time in her life, her mind and her body are truly her own.

And additionally, I like her kinda struggling with that sense of freedom. It's too EASY if she ends up in that role-- someone's wife. That sort of servitude gives her a purpose that helps her ignore her own problems.

When you pretend to be the perfect person for everyone else, changing your colors every time you swing from one relationship to the next, finding out what your partner wants and becoming that... you end up having no idea who you are, underneath it. Who is Star Flower, when she's NOT someone's ideal woman?

Give me an order. Take everything I have. Make me a person by telling me who I am. Please! I don't know how to be anything else!

She's got potential, man.

[faustiandevil]

So I watched All Through the Night (1942) again, because it’s someone’s birthday, and also because it’s been a while and the most I remember from that movie was that it was gangsters vs. nazis (and yes Peter played a nazi, but I still stand by that my dick could fix him, I could fix Pepi, jot that down), which did actually happen in real life, except there was a small teensy little thing that the movie doesn’t seem to really mention or even hint at. The gangsters that attacked the American Volksbund members were Jewish.

Now I’m currently reading Michael Benson’s “Gangsters vs. Nazis: How Jewish Mobsters Battled Nazis in WW2 Era America”, which is another reason why I wanted to rewatch the movie, and while I’m only halfway through the book, the only instance I’ve read about non-Jewish people taking part in the attacks was in Newark and even then it was poor working class men, who got laid off from the factories and sympathized with their Jewish neighbors knowing very well that they were also living in the slums and not controlling the banks from behind the scenes as the right-wingers likes to claim. It’s even more baffling considering that in Minnesota for instance the banks even refused to hire Jewish people. Kind of hard to control something from the inside when you can’t even work there.

The movie also takes place in New York, where Meyer Lansky with the blessings of Judge Perlman and Rabbi Stephen Wise (I would like to mention that Wise was born in Budapest, but as he was a Zionist I refuse to acknowledge him as a Hungarian) was literally beating the shit out of the nazis. Lansky also refused to take outsider help, and to quote the man himself: "I am a Jew, and I feel for the Jews in Europe who are suffering. They are my brothers.", so why the movie couldn’t have hinted at that. I feel like the argument can be made that they are just “gamblers” and not gangsters, but come on man, we all know who were behind the gambling joints, these guys needed something else to bring in the money after Prohibition ended. Or that they are Jewish, you just gotta squint real hard… But why cast Mr. Hardboiled Detective Bogus in the main role then, when you actually have people who have had to run from the nazi threat. There are Jews and queers in the cast fucking use them. I feel it’s a missed opportunity not to have had a switcheroo with the casting list and have Conrad Veidt and Peter Lorre in the good guy gangster/gambler roles. Imagine how ecstatic they’ve would been to beat up nazis even if acting is just making faces and play pretend.

Anyway this is my galaxy-brain hot take on the movie.

[towards-toramunda]

I feel like it’s worthwhile to point out that nobody is saying Ludinus is a good or morally grey guy. Nobody is saying the ruby vanguard is a good group. When people (or at least me idk I can’t talk for others) are saying that seeing the humanity of the people drawn into the other side is important it’s because Matt keeps making a point to bring it up. Matt showing us Tuldus being forced to pray for hours as a child and being punished for lack of piety, showing us a locket with a child on a cultist they’d just killed, showing us Lilliana’s pain, and now with Bor’Dor’s backstory with the gods.

Being a DM myself I think that its important not to discount the constant mentions of the trauma from the masses in this cult because Matt, the dungeon master, the story weaver, the one calling the shots, keeps making a point to highlight the backstories of the people who join the vanguard. I’m guessing (based on the fact that Utkarsh doesn’t watch the show and had no context for what the vanguard was) that Utkarsh came to Matt and said “give me a character idea” and Matt decided that the story needed a PC on the other side.

It really feels like he keeps saying “Look at how these people have been hurt. See them as people with trauma and love and family who easily fell for Ludinus’ lie.”

And that lie is another reason I think its valid to question the gods. Because questioning the gods doesn’t make you want what Ludinus wants. Questioning power, why it acts the way it acts, does the things it does, and doesn’t do the things it doesn’t do, is important in any society! Even one where there are gods (and I’d say especially one where there are gods with questionable morals and backstories). Because while Ludinus is evil and has vile intentions, he is drawing people into his power grab by hiding it in a nugget of truth: many feel slighted by the gods. Many have seen the good things the gods can do and are left to wonder why they’re left to suffer. Why the gods choose to help some and not them. Why their families forced them to worship those they didn’t believe.

And seeing this story NOW when we’ve seen so many stories in real life of people who are traumatized and hurt and confused going to the internet with their grief and being led to hate groups and radicalization feels VERY intentional on Matt’s part. It feels (to me) like he’s begging us to see the ruby vanguard members as people who were drawn in by a charismatic leader who pretended to understand their pain and used them.

Matt keeps telling us its important to see the humanity and the trauma faced by the other side. He could be doing this to flavor the story or to create tension or push the characters to make hard choices or some other reason. I just feel that empathizing with the trauma of those on the other side doesn’t make you akin to a terrorist sympathizer despite what some seem to take from that, and its wild given how clearly (to me) Matt wants us to empathize with them.

(Because this is the internet and people love to misread things:

I don’t agree with the things the people in the ruby vanguard do, I don’t think Matt agrees with it, but I think Matt wants us to feel conflicted with them. I think Matt wants us to believe they’ve been misdirected and could be deradicalized, but its up to Bell’s Hells to decide if they’re willing to forgive the harm they’ve been put through or attempt the effort to deradicalize.

I don’t think it makes any sense to say that questioning the gods makes one akin to Ludinus. Theres a lot to question about the gods. Where did they come from? What even is divinity? How much of their exandrian creation story can we actually believe if they’ve supposedly been hiding the existence of predathos from us? How do we actually know what predathos is? If a mortal can become a god then what the hell even is a god? Etc.

I hope this goes without saying, but just in case: If you don’t want to empathize with real life hate groups please don’t. This is a fictional cult based in the idea that they can release a predator that will get rid of the gods. I don’t see the ruby vanguard as a hate group, a horrible cult that has done vile things and led to the deaths of innocents absolutely, but I hate groups are hateful towards one or many marginalized groups, and thats not this. (I suppose one could argue they’re a hate group for the gods and… sure. I disagree but sure). To me, empathy for the members in the vanguard makes sense in the context of the story Matt is telling, but in real life it is very hard to have empathy for hate groups even if they are formed of traumatized and hurt people who could be deradicalized. I believe deradicalization is necessary for many but fucking hard/impossible for all, and I especially believe that members of marginalized groups shouldn’t feel the need or pressure to help in the deradicalization of those who harm them.

Similarly I believe Orym is valid in his decision to be at war with members of the group that killed his family. Yes I think he is unable to be objective (Liam O’Brien said so himself), but, as a person with ptsd myself, sometimes you need to screw objectivity in the face of trauma. I think we as the audience should be aware that he has lost objectivity so we can better understand his actions, but I don’t think that lack of objectivity makes his choices “wrong”, and its strange to see people claiming that anyone pointing out Orym’s lack of objectivity doesn’t have empathy or morals.)

Anyway this was too long and I should never get involved in discourse again.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

Here's my thing: Why join (or continually contribute) a fandom with an author who is known to be racist -- that is racist by your own admission -- and then get mad when other people continually talk about those problems?

I'm not even saying fandoms can't reclaim and participate in fandoms with irksome authors -- I'm saying that when you're in those fandoms and you seem irritable at those critiques then there are some ideological problems there. I like ASOIAF but I live for the scathing anti-criques because they're absolutely right. I scroll through like yep, yep, yep. It never bothers me, not even a little. That's for every fandom I participate in. Because racism is never just an irksome problem, it should never get on your nerves, and I could talk about it all day. Because when you look at the world through the lens of a black woman (and other women of color ofc) you are NEVER not going to see it. I like TVD but there was so much shit one dealt with, that we had to actively ignore for the sake of being able to enjoy the show. I really wish I could ignore it all, but sorry not sorry.

I feel like a lot of people like to make their annual post about SJM's racism, and then don't want to consider two things (1) that the racism isn't actually isolated and permeates throughout all of her works and (2) there are consequences (or at least there should be) to being racist. Even if you have somehow come to terms with the racism in the story, that doesn't mean other people will or have to. The only way we even begin to solve the problem is by continually talking about it. It's just very crazy, IMO, to say that we are allowed to be upset -- but not in a way that disrupts your fandom experiences. That little irritation you feel every time a new post hits the anti-tag is racism. That little irritation you feel every time someone brings up Nehemia and the problems in Throne of Glass -- is also racism. I may be over the character conversation, but I'm not over the ones like these that have real consequences in the world of literature. It's just very frustrating to see people turn criticism of SJM's writing into a misogyny problem when the majority of the people doing the criticism are women of color.

LIKE -- are we supposed to talk about the racism once every blue moon for kudos points and then go back to pretending it doesn't exist? What are we gaining with that approach quickly?

The anti-anti sentiment is tired, and much more representative of people's unwillingness to address the problems than anything else. Like y'all are asking a group of people to....sympathize with someone who doesn't see her black readers as human enough to live on the page/?? Human enough to be represented as actual, complex human beings -- it don't sound wild to y'all? I'm pro anti for any racist author who crawls up the depths into the light of the publishing industry.

We complained about Nehemia and not only were we met with silence -- she did it AGAIN. And then stuck the remaining mixed race women with the man the story thought needed to be redeemed, with the main whose people enslaved her own -- and then the next black women we met come in the form of servents, and then the next black women as jealousy fodder, and then the next black women is brutally murdered, debased -- and I think has her head shaved, and that was FOR HELPING the main character. Then the next black woman is sidelined for the villainous, blonde-haired sister who got all of two words in the first book of CC. Lack of diversity is bad, but not inherently racist -- rather a symptom of white privilege. I wouldn't fret about it. Conscious, negative, and continuous bad representation is another thing entirely.

Anywho may the anti-community continue to thrive for this and any other racist author ❤️

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Idk what is it with legacy but everything seems to me like it was written on a napkin five minutes before the programming started. I'm crying about the ancient magic and the fact that nothing was done with it. The friends weren't involved with the plot enough, Fig was involved too much (were they trying to copy year 4 and 5 with Rakepick???), we CAN'T FUCKING ALLY WITH RANROK, Isodora and Bragbor successfully cooperated to create the repository but we can't have main character and ranrok paralleling that and working together.

You know, you're absolutely right.

This game was like...almost incredible. But in every area it could have been incredible, there's this pesky "almost" stuck as a prefix for this reason or that reason.

The companion mod is proof that not enough was done with the characters in this game (Amit doesn't even get a quest-line) but it's obvious that the characters are still compelling. Poppy and Natsai are three dimensional and lovable, and Sebastian's popularity speaks for itself. Even the ones who aren't meant to be in focus can be well crafted. (They rolled a real winner with Ominis, I said what I said.)

Fig was obviously meant to be a significant character (I am still not clear on what subject he teaches, does anyone know...?) and given his connection to the plot through Miriam, that's to be expected. He's a lovable guy and I don't mind him being so relevant, but it's obvious that (for better or for worse) the student characters are largely here by obligation and in the mind of the developers, they're more for side-quest content. That other characters like Fig and Lodgok are meant to be the important ones. Again, for better or for worse. I've heard it said that Sebastian's story should have just been the main storyline of the game and honestly...that's not entirely a bad idea.

Though frankly, I think a far better idea would have been just having Isidora as the villain instead of Ranrok.

Which is a good segue into talking about the other points you mentioned. I've talked about this before as well, but yes. Ranrok was beyond wasted as a character. What you describe would have been perfect, and yeah, it would have mirrored the backstory. It seems so obvious. Ranrok deserved more development and deserved to be portrayed as someone the MC might sympathize with. He deserved an ending of his own, where the player can side with him. Never mind the political, real-life reasons for why this was essential, it's just a no-brainer in an open world RPG that would have you believe it has multiple endings. (It really doesn't...)

Oh and that reminds me, this game pretends it has two endings when really, it only has one. Yes, you can choose to harness the Ancient Magic rather than becoming a Keeper, but it changes nothing about the game's ending. Half of the players were already going to head-canon their MCs as doing that anyway. The Ancient Magic is such an intriguing concept but apart from being a map marker for The Fifth Year to discover new plot threads, we don't learn much about it at all.

Honestly, the most fascinating the Ancient Magic ever gets is when we're learning about it through Isidora. The scene where she removed her father's pain was genuinely chilling, and in that I saw the glimmer of a terrifying villain wielding magic we had never seen before. Isidora would have been the best kind of villain because she would have believed she was doing the right thing and would have had understandable reason why she believed it. What she could do to those who oppose her...what she did to the people she loved, and all because she wanted to help them...the power of Ancient Magic is frightening, in no small part because we know so little about it, but we could definitely have stood to learn a little bit more, especially as it's unlikely to be featured again. (Unless they make a sequel.)

I think above all, what this story needed was more nuance. Everything is way too black and white. There are hints of something more, but they get dropped almost immediately as they get brought up. Maybe that's why Sebastian's storyline is a fan-favorite. His dynamic with Ominis and where his story ultimately goes, not to mention the sympathetic reasons why it ends up where it does...and the actual impact The Fifth Year's choices can have on this story...yeah, the rest of the game could take note. Isidora isn't developed enough, and neither is Ranrok, when they could both be exceptional characters.

You want to know my favorite scene of the game, bar none? The scene where Lodgok opens up about meeting Miriam and his grief at her death. That. That is the kind of nuance I'm talking about, and combined with the scene's atmosphere and raw emotion...I teared up. I mean it. That was so powerful. I wish more of the Ranrok storyline was like that more of the time. Any story in the Potterverse that centers around a Goblin Rebellion cannot afford to be this black and white, and we all know why. But in general, it's just better storytelling if there are more shades of gray.

[a-very-tired-jew]

Manipulation of Westerners by Hamas - A conspiracy that's not so much a conspiracy

Since the inception of the current war I have seen a number of people try to identify why Leftists are so quickly to defend Hamas's action and embrace/justify varying degrees of antisemitism. Often I see right wing authors point to DEI programs, safe spaces, and other such things. To me this is just another attempt at discrediting academia and they're using the guise of "fighting antisemitism" to push their narrative. I have found several neutral Jewish writers on the subject, such as Feldman from Harvard, who have addressed the long standing antisemitism within academia, politics, and culture. However, I have not seen anyone address the manipulation of Leftists by extremists as long standing tactic. What do I mean? Shortly after this began, Dr. Lorenzo Vidino of the George Washington University put together a small document titled The Hamas Network in America: A Short History. Dr. Vidino is considered an expert in these type of terrorist groups and has advised governments around the world for years. As such there is some contention regarding him and things he has said. However, this document is fairly clean of bias and lays out this network based upon evidence that the FBI collected through wiretaps and presented in a court case in the 00's. While it is a short document, I will not go over everything and just discuss the highlight. In 1993 a meeting was held in Philadelphia, PA, USA by senior Hamas members. The members of this meeting discussed how they could garner support from the West and protect themselves from scrutiny. One quote that stands out and highlights their intent comes from Shukri Abu Baker "I swear by Allah that war is deception, we are fighting our enemy with a kind heart. . . . Deceive, camouflage, pretend that you’re leaving while you’re walking that way. Deceive your enemy.” This statement of deception underscores the rest of the meeting and their subsequent plans. How do we know what was said? Well, the FBI had wiretapped the room the meeting was held in, so we have transcripts of their intent straight from their mouths. The strategy that the members come up with and discuss in the document has three approaches. 1) Charity & Fundraising.

In the meeting the Hamas members discuss how to raise money for their cause. They would fundraise inside and outside their respective communities, and that for every 5,000 that they raised for others they would send 100k to their allies. This type of behavior culminated in the USA's case against the Holy Land Foundation and associated groups. Many other charities have followed suit and have conducted similar behavior, hence why many charities focused on the I/P conflict are viewed suspiciously. There is not a good tract record of these groups actually getting the aid to the Palestinian civilian and instead funding terrorist groups.

2) Politics.

The members of the meeting stressed the need to influence Congress, the general American public, and to garner political support. They emphasized that they needed a neutral organization that would not publicly state it supported Hamas or other terrorist organizations and could deceive the general public into thinking they didn't. They would use neutral language and simply try to sway politics. Members of this meeting then went on to help found CAIR (specifically Omar Ahmed and Nihad Awad).

3) Research and Outreach.

Within the meeting they repeatedly emphasize that their violent rhetoric would upset the Westerners that would likely support them. As such, they needed to change the way they spoke to outsiders, change the perceptions of them, and influence progressives through coopting their language. They state that you need to use the language that the American progressive sympathizes with and couch things in terminology such as "oppressor", "colonist", and so on. One method that was suggested, and employed, was to infiltrate academia and produce research that was biased towards their ideals.

“This can be achieved by infiltrating the American media outlets, universities and research centers." - Omar Ahmed For example, The United Association for Studies and Research was created by members of this group and is a think tank outside of Chicago. The organization is considered defunct now, but its members went on to other positions in politics, academia, think tanks, and research. Think about that. Members of Hamas's network have become professors at colleges and universities. These are institutions where many young adults go to round out the beliefs they began developing in their early teens. This means that they're extremely passionate, but also easily manipulated. I personally remember the anti-GMO craze of the 00's and 10's and how every college campus was full of anti-GMO student activists claiming wild conspiracies about the danger of them. Now? That movement mostly gone and relegated to the corners where anti-science and pseudoscience believers dwell. But more importantly, a lot of that activism was manufactured by outside agitators with malicious intent disguised as benign activists.

In regards to the current group of young adult activists in the West (the majority are Zoomers and Millenials), they have been consuming material from academics with questionable intent that has been wrapped in language they resonate with. That makes the 3rd tactic of the Philadelphia Meeting the most dangerous one to me. For all the concern about academia "brainwashing our youth" there is a very real element of manipulation by academics who have allegiances and/or sympathy to terrorist groups and ideals. But they hide it in academic speak to make the general public think that they're not endorsing violent and hateful rhetoric. All of this feels like a conspiracy theory that has me linking red string to photos like Charlie from Always Sunny... but this is real. The FBI wiretapped a meeting and presented their transcripts back in the 00s. So some part of the USA knew that this was happening, knew that this manipulation was going on...and just allowed it. Bringing awareness is just a small step into addressing something that, to me, is quite scary to consider.

[hylianengineer]

For some reason I have abruptly returned to being insane about Cabaret. It's a musical about the rise of fascism and the tragedy that is pretending everything is fine until it's too late. It's also a heartwrenching doomed romance. It's unusually direct and neutral-to-positive about its depiction of sex work given how mainstream it is. It's about vice and desperation and fear and horrible, horrible coping mechanisms. It gets the audience invested in not one but two doomed romances AND a doomed friendship that are all about to be torn apart by the impending rise of Nazism. By the end of the play the majority of characters have had their lives torn apart by this one encroaching evil and we have to watch it happen. We have to watch them make all the bad decisions in which they might have been able to save themselves, but they didn't, because they were human and fallible. Because they didn't want to see what was happening around them, or take a risk, or they just couldn't quite bring themselves to believe that getting a happy ending was an option. We can see all the ways it might have gone differently.

I can't get over how incredible our university production of it was. I may be biased but I love it more than the Broadway version. For one thing, we had a nonbinary actor playing the Emcee, which meant that their romance with a Jewish woman came across as both Jewish and queer and like the biggest possible fuck you to the Nazis. But also, they were just such a good actor. The sad-and-terrified-but-forcing-themself-to-be-okay vibes in the final scene were so visceral and haunting. "Where are your troubles now? Forgotten? I told you so. We have no troubles here. Here, life is beautiful. The women are beautiful. Even the orchestra is beautiful." They sounded so broken in this scene. The juxtaposition between the words and the way they said them was like being punched in the gut. I wish I could tell them this but I do not even slightly know this person.

The depiction of the Nazis is also amazing because it shows them as people. Not in a "oh we should sympathize with them" way, but in a "oh fuck they could be ANYONE and you'd never know it" way. As Fräulein Schneider says, they are her friends and neighbors. She expects her friends and neighbors to support her when she decides to marry Herr Schultz, a Jewish man, but as it turns out, some of them are Nazis and make it very clear that if she doesn't break off the engagement, they'll turn on her.

We LIKE the Nazi character, right up until he takes off his coat and shows off the Swastika armband. We had no idea he was harboring such nastiness in his heart - he seemed nice! He was charming. He was kind. He was Clifford's and our introduction to Berlin, and he made a damn good first impression. He was very pleasant to Herr Schultz right up until the he realized he was a Jew, and it was chilling to watch that scene unfold. I remember sitting backstage every night and waiting to hear everyone go dead silent at the reveal. Chilling.

The other thing Caberet does so well is the "why should we care about politics? what does that have to do with us?" angle. Sally says it outright - she'd rather know nothing about what's happening, and even when confronted with it, she doesn't care. She doesn't understand why Cliff won't help Ernst anymore after finding out exactly what those smuggled goods were for - as far as she's concerned, they need the money and the politics are irrelevant. The politics being Nazism, of course. She has absolutely no malice towards the people the Nazis are hurting - she's just incredibly, horribly naive. Doesn't it just make your blood run cold?

It's extra creepy to watch this play in the political environment of the last year or so - the way things have been getting progressively more and more scary for queer people. There were definitely a few times when I read some particularly awful news coming out of Florida and felt very much like Cliff grappling with the horrible realization that he needed to get out of Berlin yesterday. And trying to explain that sheer terror to my straight relatives did feel reminiscent of Clint's failed attempts to make Sally see reason. But it didn't affect her directly, so she didn't care. She had her own life and her own priorities and why should she care about things that don't affect her? I hope things here and now never get that bad, but the exact reason it's so disturbing is that people in early-1930s Berlin never guessed it would get that bad either.

And this is a story based on true events. It's fictionalized, but it isn't made up. Cliff is more or less an author insert for the very real person who wrote the book the musical is based on: Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood. And by the way, Christopher Isherwood was gay.

Tl;dr Go see Cabaret and have your heart broken in like fifteen different ways. But read the trigger warnings first.

[mdhwrites]

Fantasy Versus Reality As a Theme: Does TOH Have It?

I REALLY wanted to make this a Jumbled Thoughts blog but honestly talking about The Owl House’s elements in this regard, and if it’s even capable of the theme properly, is too all encompassing to use as simply an example. That’s what the media references in my Jumbled Thoughts blogs are meant to be after all: An example to help reinforce and demonstrate the main point of the blog. For this though, I want to talk about the fact that I talk a lot about The Owl House having this theme. Fantasy versus Reality. Kind of like calling Belos boring, it’s one of those concepts I still fundamentally agree with but I’ve never properly supported in argument so I want to do that now because anyone who disagrees has good reason to do so. After all, the majority of TOH is fairly basic adventure fantasy. For all of its attempts at subversion, most of its answers to problems are either classic or lazy fantasy answers. How it brings characters together, the outcomes of situations, etc. like that map pretty closely to normal fantasy. And... I actually don’t mean that in the way of magic. When we talk about this theme, it’s much more about escapism. It’s actually what makes Luz’s commentary in the second episode so important. She explicitly talks about escapist and romantic literature tropes that she is hoping to fall into. That she is destined for greatness. That this is where she always belonged. The escapism King demonstrates in the first episode and many of his B plots where he doesn’t see the world around him as it is but this romantic version where he is its ruler is actually in theory playing into this as well. Both characters want a version of reality that is not what is actually around them. This is not a terrible base... And it’s also not anything special when it comes to criticism of the fantasy genre. When it comes to trying to subvert it. As an example: I really like a game called Sunless Skies and it has DOZENS of different takes on fantasy and eldritch stories. There’s one where you help lead a rebellion on a work world, look like you’re going to make a real impact... And it barely improves anything. The revolutionary you helped just becomes the new governer of the place because if the workers stop working, if the conditions are changed too drastically... Everyone there will freeze and die. From their lower position, the workers can’t see that so the main thing you gain for them is that instead of forcing them to pretend to be happy for tourists, now people can go see the actual work conditions and sympathize with these people trapped in fantasy sweatshops. Also, they will rebel again if you do not keep them happy on subsequent visits. And this is just ONE story in that game. I can’t 100% recommend the game because it is a TIME SINK (I have over 50 hours into my most recent file and are by no means through all the content) but it is a very good one and I suggest checking it out to see if it looks like something you’d like. I bring this example up partially because it highlights two of the core elements in making this theme work: Consequences and follow through. See, one of the biggest problems for the fantasy genre is that a lot of things get cleaned up a bit too neatly. You beat the big bad emperor and the entire empire gives up. You do something nice for a dragon and that dragon is now a proper ally and going to win you the war effort. When used bluntly and without follow through, this stuff, from people who don’t like the genre, can feel cheap and bad. It can feel like just bad storytelling while a lot of fans of fantasy will say that the journey to beating the big bad or the cost in order to get the dragon to help is what makes it compelling and makes them suspend disbelief for the ending. Consequences and Follow Through demand two things though: Focus and complexity. If the consequences don’t make sense, the theme is going to feel cheap and so they need to be reasonably complex to the solution presented. You also need focus so that it feels like what is happening is actually because of previous events and not because of it just being the plot of the day. I have talked at length about how TOH lacks both of these, though much more the focus than complexity so let’s talk about complexity and we’ll do it with one of the most obvious failures of this: Willow and Amity. A common trope to escapism and kids shows says that once you have your big emotional moment, you two are friends. It doesn’t matter what came before. You two are now allies and ready to fight for each other, if maybe not die. This is done because it allows whatever cost it took to get here to have a satisfying payoff and now the characters can interact freely without having to come up with reason as to why they’re hanging out. It can feel cheap but it’s a very useful narrative tool to boil it down to one act of kindness and one act of forgiveness. But that is fantasy. In reality, if you’ve hurt someone for years and the original mark was incredibly cruel, it can take much more than that to heal. This is why Willow states that she isn’t ready to be friends yet. The problem is that this won’t get brought up again for over half a season and by that time, Amity will have been made into a full good guy, full stop, the girlfriend to the main character and also played Grudgby side by side with Willow in order to save Luz’s ass.

So, to put it mildly, follow through is fucked here. How about complexity? Well, that comes down to how the two actually do finally become friends because the show does decide to pretend that the statement wasn’t just a blatant lie. Amity shows up at Willow’s house and asks if invading her girlfriend’s privacy is okay. Now... A reminder. Willow has categorically had the best morals in the series. She spoke up multiple times throughout S1 about those morals. Anytime someone wanted to break the rules, she was the first to say something besides Hooty’s Moving Hassle. She’s the one who makes the broadcast in support of saving Eda. As a note, this is part of why I think Willow repressing emotions is kind of bullshit. And here is Amity, her bully for NINE YEARS, asking for her permission to betray a friend’s trust and privacy. And yet Willow doesn’t lose it, doesn’t say it’s wrong, doesn’t call Amity out for not having actually changed but instead shrugs at the question and comments on it being weird to have Amity over at her house. Then she asks for her hair to be braided. And then the only other time this gets brought up has to do with Willow wanting Amity to respect how strong of a witch she is which frankly at that point makes Amity appear to be blind and deaf since how powerful her magic is is like 80% of her character in S2, if not the show in general. Which... Brings it back around to Amity needing to just have a heart to heart with Willow and now they’re best friends fighting together. Which just loops us right back around to the initial point with a lot more time wasted. And this is EVERY time that the show tries to make this theme have any bit to it. You do have Eda in the first half of S1 actually making statements for it because she’s just mean and sarcastic at Luz for most of that portion of the show and openly mocking every attempt Luz has about the world being fantastical or trying to apply normal fantasy or escapist tropes to things. But none of it really sticks. In fact, for half the show, the writing just isn’t willing to be mean enough to Luz in order for the escapism to be questioned and make Eda feel like she’s making real statements. After all, ALL of Hexide is textbook escapism. Two immediate best friends who are at the top of their fields and love you, a rival who you can show up, bonus points for them actually being your romantic interest because BOY is TOH not the progenitor of rivals to lovers, and you immediately are the most special kid in school, logic be damned. Worse yet, Luz straight up equates shit between her and Amity to the Azura series and NOT being refuted on it. Not having that bite her and have her lose points with Amity. Instead, those wants for escapism and re-enactment explicitly lead to some of the biggest moments in which she grows closest to Amity. Adventure in the Elements is even like this where her wanting a shortcut with magic to play the witch is what leads to her getting a power up and saving the day. So... Why do I claim that TOH still was at bare minimum trying to go for this theme even if it so obviously failed? Well... Because it is the explicit theme of Luz’s character for HALF THE SHOW. In a really smart show, Yesterday’s Lie is when that other foot drops. It shows how much damage Luz’s fantasy has done to others and calls her out properly for it, forcing Luz to actually change how she behaves and interacts with things. Hollow Mind does the same thing but even more severely. Luz states the latter multiple times while Vee herself screams at Luz about how good her reality was and yet she threw it away for a fantasy. That is explicitly trying to make this theme and change Luz’s behavior for it. The problem is the inciting incident of one of these two is AFTER THE FIRST ONE. Elsewhere Elsewhen is S2B after all where Luz doesn’t question her lies, how a person is reacting to things, the fact that things are going so easily for her, etc. like that. She’s treating it still like a fantasy tale. So Vee’s words obviously didn’t stick. This is even more demonstrated by the fact that her promise to her mother is haunting her far more in Falls and Follies than anything to do with her having actually fucked up. She’s more worried, explicitly, about losing the fantasy than introspecting on what she has in front of her. Now yes, this all is handled EXTREMELY poorly. I’ve talked about how Luz’s ‘trauma’ is really poorly written, especially from a fantasy standpoint. If we want to talk about escapism and simple answers to complex problems, we just have to look at Luz’s character finish. She takes the question of accidentally having helped bad people achieve bad goals and somehow turns that into “All I needed was to be understood” and that gets her to stop questioning her actions or feeling bad. It is... bonkers how badly the fall outs from Hollow Mind and Yesterday’s Lie are handled. But it almost doesn’t matter for this blog. How poorly or well it’s handled is good to interrogate but the question is if this is a theme of the show? Is it proper to criticize the show for not following through on it, contradicting it, etc. like that. And normally how well a show does a theme actually does determine if it’s a theme of the show. But TOH states it. TOH makes it explicit. They have, in multiple episodes, stated as a thesis of the show, character arcs, etc. like that, in the text of the show, that this is a theme. That this is the point. That there are consequences to you living out your fantasy and denying reality. It makes arguing that it doesn’t impossible because the writers make it clear that this was part of the intent. Much like how you have to judge Eda, King and Luz’s relationship as found family rather than just as friends because the show makes them explicitly a family. Explicitly tries to make itself about found family. Regardless of how true that is.

It’s another one of those elements of the show that make it appear to be BEGGING to be analyzed. After all, most shows prioritize, I dunno, showing off their concepts more than their themes because the concept matters more. The themes people get out of the work is a secondary, more academic enjoyment. This is, yes, normally considered a higher class of enjoyment but I think as a content creator, if that’s your focus then you need to get your head out of your ass unless you are explicitly writing something that’s trippy as balls where the symbolism is also the substance. An adventure, comedy show for kids is not that. The themes should be a secondary priority after just telling a good, engaging, morally rich narrative. Avatar the Last Airbender has themes but when the show starts, those aren’t the point. It’s about meeting Aang, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, understanding their dynamics, understanding their world, their viewpoints etc. like that. It focuses on engaging you through these elements before it gets into its deeper lessons or goals. Even then, those elements are usually still explicitly tied to the characters. Episode 2 of TOH doesn’t do that though. Most of the elements in that episode will be contracted by season 2 (cool to be threatening the child you adopted with rent Eda. Real cool.), we don’t learn much about any of these characters that we didn’t know from the first episode, it doesn’t really establish their dynamic because S1 struggles to have a dynamic with the three of them because Luz is so busy with Hexide stuff and so... The point to the second episode is about that theme. About having a message of “There are no chosen ones” and “Luz, you can’t treat this like you’re the hero in a fantasy book.” And the only reason I’m not commenting on how much the finale is a complete failure of these themes is because I’m waiting until Saturday to do that. But trust me, a show as loud and blunt as TOH as to have thesis statements in the show really couldn’t finish without admitting it had failed to stay on point, somewhat like this rambling blog. And a final note while I’m rambling: It is good for stories to have themes. I’m not saying they shouldn’t. Some will even state their themes, like Amphibia did at the end of its series. But... They usually do it at the end either from a position of strength where they can go back, evaluate their story, etc. like that and say it with confidence, or it can feel like they’re pulling nothing out of their ass right at the end to act like there was a deeper point to the story. TOH is more unique in that it pulled shit out of its ass MID STORY and then didn’t follow up on it. It knew, explicitly, what it wanted its themes to be and still failed to properly follow through or execute on the majority of them and that’s MIND BOGGLING. After all, if you have a theme in mind, your narrative and characters should support that. And I hope I’ve made it clear how much that’s not the case, bare minimum with this theme. ======== I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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