#this story is like half trashing fictional art and half sex

[queenbirbs]

distracted art appreciation | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: It takes him fifty-six days in the jungle to get over her. Or, well, so he thought.

WC: 3k+

Warnings: N*FW

She’s been staring at the same painting for the past fourteen minutes.

Though, she uses the term ‘painting’ loosely -- whatever she’s looking at is made of twisted straw wrappers and crumbled pages of an IKEA manual. The placard next to the work features phrases like ‘a work of action’ and ‘an introspection into rampant consumerism.’ To her (admittedly untrained) eye, it looks like someone dumped a trashcan over a canvas and spray-painted it with viscera and glitter. Taking another sip of her wine, she glances down at her phone to see that only another minute has passed.

“Two more hours,” Sloane mutters to herself, hopelessly wishing again for time to speed up.

It’s not that she isn’t happy for Kyra, who started out with painting tutorials on YouTube and worked up to a modest following in Boston’s art community, which led her here to her first gallery show. She was excited for the first hour, sticking close to her friend as Kyra chatted with fellow artists about mediums and superatism and juxtaposition and a hundred other terms Sloane didn’t understand. But as conversations flowed, Kyra’s nerves settled down, and she waved Sloane off to go get some air and peruse the other artwork.

Which is how she came to standing in front of The Shopper’s Sediment, waiting for the event to end so she can help Kyra haul her paintings back down the block to her car.

The pleas for company that Sloane sent to the group chat have gone unanswered; they’re probably all still out at the new fantasy-themed bar that she skipped on to be a good friend who keeps her promises.

She’s so concentrated on the ugly artwork that she doesn’t realize there’s a person standing beside her. In fact, she only realizes they’re even there when she lifts her wine glass and ends up whacking them in the side with her elbow.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I--” she swallows back the rest of her panicked apology.

Ethan smirks down at her. His hand is clasped around her offending elbow.

“It’s all right. I won’t be pressing charges.”

“Thanks,” she says around the dumb grin on her face.

She admires the cut of the jacket he’s wearing; it’s some sort of tweed fabric with patches on the elbows, as if he’s just stepped down from behind a podium at Boston U. For a long moment, they stare at each other, and then down at his hand, still wrapped around her arm. He yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned; the dumb grin falls from her face.

“Um,” she hides the wince that wants to form, “why are… sorry, what are you doing here?”

“I missed out on a few First Fridays while I was away,” he explains. “Besides, Les Mis is running through the fourteenth, and I’ve seen enough of it for a lifetime. I thought I’d peruse the galleries tonight instead.” Taking a drink from the glass in his other hand, he glances about the room. “And you?”

Sloane tips her head in Kyra’s direction, explaining her role as both a social crutch and moving help. An awkward silence follows her words; she switches her glass from one hand to the other, mentally cursing at herself for fidgeting.

She’s a grown-ass woman! There’s no need for her to fold like a goddamn lawn chair around the man next to her. They’re both adults. They can interact in a public place without acting like idiots.

“Well,” Ethan starts, and then pauses to clear his throat. “You heard all about what I was doing down in Colombia, but I’m… curious. What did you do for the two months I was gone? Besides breaking up bar fights for Reggie.”

“Worked,” she answers with a smile. “And worried, of course.”

He quirks an eyebrow up at her response. “About you,” she clarifies.

“You didn’t need to.”

“I know. But I did anyway.” A smile flickers across his face at her admission. “I kept a close eye on the weather conditions down there. You were there during one of the wettest seasons on record. And now I find out that you were wearing a leather jacket the entire time for protection? Something about that just doesn’t add up. And you know what I think? I think you bought it in Bogota before your return flight, so you could come back with some new… down-to-earth vibe.”

That small smile of his grows; the sight of it makes something flutter in her throat.

“You’re not considering the bigger picture,” he says.

“Which is?”

“How I look in it.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Only when they’re yours.”  

Sloane makes a show of taking a drink, if only to hide the blush that’s likely (most definitely) coloring her cheeks. She’s bedded the man twice, yet he can turn her into a mess with a minute of flirting. If hope is the thing with feathers, as Dickinson wrote, it’s flown well beyond her reach now.

“In the interest of continuing our, for a lack of a better term, in vino veritas,” he says, “I… worried about you, too.”

The admission causes her to perk up.

“What for?”

“I chose a poor time to leave. Everything was in an upheaval, with Naveen and Harper and I moving positions, and you having won your trial, and then you were awarded the position on the team, and…” he trails off, brow furrowing as he attempts to corral his rambling. “Naveen told me about Doctor Olsen, about how he tried to sabotage your standing.” At his side, his hand clenches into a fist. “And if you let that slide by, what else were you holding back from me?”

“I’ve dealt with bigger snakes than him. You don’t need to worry about--”

“But I did,” he cuts her off. “The entire time I was gone. All fifty-six days.” His eyes drop from hers, going instead to his glass and feigning interest in it. “Some reset, hmm?”

She should walk away; bid her goodbyes and return to Kyra’s side, let him walk out the door and move onto the next gallery. Let him have his reset. But, then again, she’s never been able to leave well enough alone.  

So, instead, she tucks her arm up into his. Her offending elbow nudges his side.

“Come on. I’m tired of staring at this.”

Ethan gives the piece a look over his shoulder as they continue into the space. “It is a rather… visually-challenging take on mixed media.”

“See? I’ve circled this place four times and don’t understand what I’m supposed to be looking at. You’re just the man I need.”

“Then, by all means, lead on.”  

+

By the near-end of their excursion through the gallery, Sloane learns more art terms than she did in the one art history class she mistakenly took in undergrad. The one that she barely passed, though she doesn’t mention that particular detail when Ethan asks.

Art is something she appreciates as one would appreciate good food -- she doesn’t have to know every ingredient in it to enjoy the taste. Ethan, as he is inclined to do, argues against her logic, claiming that knowledge behind every brush stroke (and, thus, every pinch of minced garlic, if we’re using food as a comparison, he added with a sigh) makes the artwork that much more meaningful (and, thus, tastier).  

“It’s a moving piece that calls back to the Impressionist period,” he tells her, as if the third time’s the charm, and suddenly she’ll be awestruck by the boring landscape before them.

“It looks like something that would be bolted above the bed at a Best Western.”

He barks out a laugh at her comment, quickly smothering it when it draws attention from the other art patrons. They move away from the Monet copycat and down a long hallway, where a selection of lackluster acrylic paintings hang in a row. Sloane can feel her eyes glaze over as she examines them.

It’s no wonder that there’s no one near this end of the gallery. The conversations that reach them are muffled, just the droning buzz of voices. Not even the contemporary jazz music is piped down this far, leaving only the creaking floorboards and their own footsteps to accompany them. They reach the end of the hall, where a little table holds a handful of empty plates and glasses, abandoned by those that came before them.

Above the table is a painting of a woman. Draped around her shoulders is a red robe, patterned with messy strokes of amber-colored flowers. Her short, dark curls are pinned back, showing off the strong line of her jaw and the soft contour of her lips. Her right hand is raised, her fingers curled towards herself, as if beckoning to someone out of frame. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted up as she waits for her kiss.    

“She’s hot,” Sloane blurts out.

Ethan raises an eyebrow at her blunt summary of the artwork, though he concedes with a nod. “She is rather lovely.”

“It’s kind of weird, though,” she steps closer and scans the woman’s face. “She reminds me of a woman I went on a date with.”

“Oh. When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Oh,” he repeats, but his tone is different this time.

Sloane looks him over, unable to suppress her grin. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says, then grimaces. “Maybe. Yes. Of course I am.”

“You shouldn’t be. Her name is Reese -- she’s a pediatric surgeon over at Children’s. Very attractive, great work ethic, good kisser, cute dog.”

“I fail to see how you reciting all of her best qualities is preventing me from feeling jeal--”

“Simple,” she interrupts. “No spark.”

“Not one?”

Sloane tips her head from side to side, pursing her lips as she considers. “Okay, maybe a little one. Not enough for a fire, though.”

The quiet of the hallway hovers between them as they gaze up at the painting. The placard hanging next to it lists the artist and the artwork’s title: la voglia.

“Is that Italian?”  

“It means ‘the wanting.’” He tips back his glass and swallows the last of his wine. Liquid courage, and all that. “What about… us?”

“Hmm?” The question pulls her from her study of the painting.  

“What was our ‘spark’ level?”

“Oh, we were a bonfire.”

“I see,” he says, his eyes blazing as he watches her. Sloane bites down on her bottom lip. His gaze flickers down to watch the movement; the flame that’s been simmering in her stomach all evening ignites under the attention.    

“Did you want to kiss me?” she asks. “The other night at Donahue’s?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“Yes.”

“I wish you would.”

The loud clink of his glass meeting the table is lost under the sound of his footsteps crossing the few feet between them. His hands come up to frame her face and his lips crash against hers. Her glass smacks against the table from where she hastily drops it; wine sloshes and drips down onto the floor. Sloane ignores the mess in favor of grabbing any part of him she can reach and pulling him close. Ethan breaks the kiss to surface for air, moving his hands to her waist; she adjusts her grip to his tie and yanks him down for another kiss, tilting her head to deepen it. Pleasure hums through her as she teases his lips to open for her, sweeping her tongue against his own.

Her back hits the wall; funny, because she doesn’t recall moving at all. The rough brick catches at her blouse and hair as she tilts her head up and arches her back, offering more of herself for him to explore.    

“Sloane,” he hisses, trailing Syrah-soaked kisses along her throat and up behind her ear. He nips at the soft skin there, the marks hidden behind the curtain of her hair that he wraps around his hand and tugs. The moan tumbles out of her before she can swallow it down. “I can’t decide what I missed more,” he says with a smirk. “Your touch, or those sweet noises you make for me.”

“Can I tell you what I missed most?”

He pulls back to look down at her, blue eyes alight with arousal. “I’m all ears.”

Flashing a smug grin, she shifts to put her leg between both of his and brings it up as high as her skirt will allow. She rubs her knee against his thigh, and then higher, smirking when he growls out her name.

“That,” she tells him.

Ethan shakes his head at her as he grabs the offending leg and wraps it around his hip. She retaliates by hauling him closer and rolling her hips up to tease him.

“Sloane--”

“Yes?”

“We can’t… not here. Someone could come down the hallway any moment.”

“I know,” she purrs, running her nails through his beard, pleased at his sharp inhale. “We should go somewhere more private.”

“We… my apartment, it’s not too--”

“I’m not sitting through that forty-minute taxi ride you call a commute. I can’t wait.” She brings her hand down and presses it against the swell of his visible arousal. He emits a helpless groan at her touch. “And neither can you.”

“What do you have in mind, then?”

Her only response is another grin that he meets with a look of worried confusion. She decides that she likes the look, especially when she gets to watch the understanding dawn on his face as she guides him to the open door of a nearby stockroom.

Sloane kicks the door closed and locks it behind them, smacking Ethan’s hand away from the lightswitch. Warm light from the street lamps outside pours down out of a high window, diffused with the multicolored strobes of the nightclub across the alley. Shelves of cleaning supplies crowd in next to a pile of stanchions and a stack of easels. The bass from next door thrums along the brick walls, rattling the glassware that’s tucked away in the cabinets. The countertop underneath them glows red from the club lights.      

Ethan picks her up easily and sets her on the counter. The laminate is cool under her heated skin, causing a shiver to course through her. His hand curves around her throat, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. His breath turns ragged when Sloane turns her head in his hold and takes his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit before releasing him with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Let me see more of you.”

She reaches down and untucks her blouse while he attacks the pearl buttons, popping them open and pushing the cloth from her shoulders, chuckling at her threat of injury should he ruin her shirt. The cool air of the stockroom is soon replaced by his warm breath as he drags kisses down her chest; unhurried and uncaring of her complaints as he takes his sweet time.

“Ethan--” the rest of her complaint is lost to time as his mouth closes over the lacey fabric of her bra. His tongue traces the peak of her nipple, over one breast and then the other. She drags her nails through his hair and grips the strands tight, begging him to never stop kissing her.

In true fashion, he does stop and flashes her a self-satisfied smirk before dropping to his knees. Hauling her closer, he shoves her skirt up, the fabric bunching around her waist. She waits with bated breath, trembling slightly with anticipation, so sure that he won’t bother to tease her now, not when she’s--

“You bastard,” she croaks out when he starts further south than she wants.

That smarmy chuckle of his is somehow deeper than the nightclub’s bass; he ignores her insult and continues tracing wet kisses along the curve of her leg. His beard scratches at her knee as he makes his way up, higher and higher, until he’s so close that the puff of his breath is nearly enough to set her off.  

“You’re one to talk,” he says, tilting his chin to let his beard scrape at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “If I’d known you weren’t wearing anything under this skirt, we would have been here hours ago.”

She opens her mouth to serve him something snarky right back, but he chooses then to press the flat of his tongue against her and lick a long stripe up her sex. The noise that escapes her isn’t anything close to the English language. With one hand holding her leg up to keep them spread, he uses his other to slide two fingers into her wet heat. The pace he sets is punishing; Sloane barely manages to reach up and grab at the cabinet handles behind her head, holding on for dear life. The warm heat in her belly flows outward into her limbs, burning through her veins; her hips make aborted little thrusts into his mouth as his tongue works her open.

“Oh, god, oh -- god, Ethan!” she cries out. Then his thumb finds her clit and she’s a goner. Her legs snap closed, holding him there as she rides out the wave of her orgasm. Escaping from her hold, he gets to his feet and steps between her splayed legs. He cups her chin and coaxes her up to meet him for a kiss.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Sloane works at his belt buckle, the leather creaking under her grip as she yanks it from the loops and throws it to the ground.

“I don’t think you needed to--”

“Shut up,” she orders, covering her mouth with his. For once, he listens, kissing the fuck out of her while she pops the button on his pants and dips her hand inside his underwear. His breath catches and his head drops to her bare shoulder, his hips thrusting up into her touch. Heady pants sound against her ear, spurring her on.

The hand not splayed against the cabinet above her head disappears between her legs and palms her sex, rubbing circles against her there. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, “god, touch me.”

“Do I…” he starts, then stops, choking back a groan as her wrist gives a little twist. “Do we need…?”

Through the thick fog of oxytocin clouding her brain, Sloane catches on to his fumbling attempts. To give him the chance to form a coherent thought, she lets go of his cock, busying her hands by skimming them up his body and underneath the button-down he still wears.  

“I presume you got every test in the book before being let back into the country,” she says. “And my IUD is still in working order. And, besides that, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

He shifts to look down into her eyes. By the primal glaze covering his own, it’s obvious to her that the notion pleases him.

“Not even with the surgeon with the great work ethic and the cute dog?”

Stretching up, she captures his lips with her own -- mostly to shut him up again, having found the technique rather effective.

“Like I told you: no spark. Now, if you can get over your jealous streak and--”

“I’m not jealous,” he protests while still grabbing her knees and tugging her that much closer.

“You so totally are,” she laughs as she wraps her legs around his hips. Her knuckles scrape against the cabinet when he forces her hands up beside her head; she links her fingers through his, holding him there.

“Not anymore.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face before he drives into her.

Any chance of continuing their banter is lost to the heat between them. His hips crash down into hers; her legs quake around his. Their chests heave with every breath, their kisses little more than frenzied brushes as the flare of pleasure grows and grows, burning white-hot under their skin.

Ethan drops one hand to where they’re joined and passes once, then twice over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her body arches as the delicious, surprising heat of her orgasm courses through her. Unable to withstand the rhythmic clenching of her, he follows, muffling his shout by burying his face against her throat.  

“How was that?” he asks once the ability of speech returns. Despite the sweaty mess of each other they’ve made, he nuzzles close, sighing when she wraps her arms around him.

“A house fire.”

Though it defies all laws of medicine and the universe, she can somehow hear the frown of consideration he wears.

“I was thinking forest.”

“Okay,” she concedes. “That works too.”

From somewhere in the dark room comes a buzzing sound. Before she can seriously consider whether or not her orgasm did knock her hearing out-of-whack, Ethan scoops her phone up from the floor.

A stack of missed texts from Kyra fills up her screen:

6:28 pm: come back there’s a hot girl I want you to see

6:28 pm: she’s a sculptor and welds and has tattoos please i’m weak

6:43 pm: where did you gooo

7:02 pm: if you left because of the creepo photographer let me know and I’ll kick his ass

7:04 pm: creepo says he never saw you which i DO NOT believe considering how hot you look tonight

7:39 pm: Lmao nvm

7:39 pm: you are the least subtle person i know but no worries i’ve got your back

7:40 pm: I trust that doctor ramsey can take care of your front ;)

8:24 pm: Devon the hot welder you missed out on meeting is going to help me w paintings and then take me out for a drink. make good choices!! text if you need anything love you  

“What are those little pictographs next to her name?”

Sloane glances down at the tiny flexing bicep and pink heart next to Kyra’s name and rolls her eyes.

“This grumpy, outdated persona of yours can only go on for so long, you know. You did grow up during the birth of AOL and AIM. You’re not a Luddite.” She hops down from the counter and taps out a reply to her friend before buttoning up her blouse. “Besides, you know it’s rude to look at people’s messages, right?”

A red flush returns to his cheeks, though he tries to hide it by crossing the room to switch on the light and searching for his belt.

“Well, I had to make sure it wasn’t the pediatric surgeon, offering to take you out again.”

Sloane lets out a snort, her attention on her reflection in the mirror propped up against the back wall. “We both know by now that there’s only one persistent, albeit indecisive and general pain-in-the-ass doctor that has my attention.”

Ethan, having finished putting himself together, approaches her from behind. His hands slip in underneath her hair to fix her collar. She catches his eye in their reflection; he drops a kiss against her temple.

“Come home with me.”

“That would go against all of those parameters you set up,” she reminds him.

“I know. So did this.” If his tone is a little lost, a little unsure, she doesn’t mention it. “Come home with me,” he repeats.

“Okay.”

+

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:  

Hello, and welcome back to the sin bin.

Please no art lectures. Everything in this was either prior knowledge, googled to the best of my ability, or from recalling friends who were art majors in college bitch about said major. The painting of the woman they discuss is based off of Albert von Keller’s Anticipation. (Sloane’s right; she’s hot.)

Also, if anyone can tell me if I used the correct ‘desire’ in Italian, please let me know. I couldn’t find anything that said I should use la brama instead of la voglia, so I used the latter. (special thank you to @uncagedwings for the vocab assist!)

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart #choices #f: distracted art appreciation #Kaila writes things #this story is like half trashing fictional art and half sex #hope that's somebody's cup of tea

[chibi-chanforever]

𝙰 𝙳𝚎𝚋𝚝 𝚃𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚢

Pairings: Bokuto x Fem Reader x Akaashi

Warnings: Hardcore Smut and triggering themes please read at your own discretion. This is just a work of fiction and is not encouraged in anyway whatsoever. 

themes: Non-con, Kidnapping, Drugging, Gunplay, Orgasm control/denial, Edging, Cuffs, , Creampie, Cunnilingus, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Blowjob, Threesome, Face Fucking, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Stalking and Yandere.

A/n: Heyaaa so basically this is in collaboration with the Church of Meian theme of May-mafia/Mayfia. Its my first collaboration and my first time posting smut, hope yall enjoy!! Please make sure to check out the amazing art and stories posted by the lovely people in our little church and give them some love, the link is at the end of the story!! Also special thanks to @kinsurou​, @murdereddaydreams​ and @vanille--kiss​ for helping me and supporting me through everything. Love you soo muchoo my little ohana

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you glanced over to the stacks of paperwork you still had to go through. The daunting pileup that only increases every hour. You sighed again as you thumped your head onto the desk,frail arms just barely cushioning the blow. While staring blankly at your own feet, you spied the wastepaper basket sitting near, completely empty apart from a few used sugar sachets and soggy teabags.

Your eyes flit towards the pile of files again and you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if a few papers landed in the trash can, accidentally, of course. You contemplated for a few more seconds, before you shuddered as you imagined familiar cat-like eyes flit across your vision. You didn't want to really know what would happen if he found out about it, did you?

The minx-like golden eyes flashed once again in your mind as you recalled the fateful day. The day from which everything spiralled downhill.

If only, if only your family hadn't gotten into trouble with the Nekoma clan, things would be different. But no, they had to take a loan and fall into the mercy of Nekoma…

But at least you got off easy, you thought as you cradled your head. At least you and your family didn't suffer the same fate as the others. You were thankful to the head of the Nekoma for giving you the opportunity of paying off the debt through work, instead of the usual means. A shudder ran through your spine as you thought of the stories you've heard, of what happened to the other people who owed the clan money.

A heavy Bam shook you from your stupor as your head jerked up to stare at the new batch of files that had been banged onto the stack. You shook your head to clear your thoughts as you reached for the first file of the batch. It would be better to just get to it and finish it before the end of the day. That's when you noticed the little photograph that slipped out on the floor and you bent to pick it up.

There were four guys in the frame, two of them being the focus of the shot, with goofy big smiles and arms draped around each other, though there was a big red circle drawn around the one with owlish silver hair, the ink of the marker recent enough to smudge a little. The other two guys looked like they were not meant to be in the picture, but oddly that fact only made it so much better.

One with blonde highlights stood grimacing in the background while the other guy's face was barely visible, his body half turned and blurry as if someone had called out to him at the last moment when the picture was being taken.

Overall it looked like a fun bunch of friends but you wondered why there was a circle drawn around one of them. You flipped the picture, curiosity getting the best of you. Finding only a date written you turn the picture again, choosing to focus on the people in there.

“T-these are the next in-line heirs to the Nekoma clan” you whisper lowly to yourself. They were the ones who were supposed to take over in the coming years and were your current bosses. You couldn't wrap your head as to what this was doing in your file. You were given only the most basic work to handle as their secretary, numbers to jot down, business meetings to book and take note of the expenses and make detailed reports about meetings they attend. Maybe this slipped in by mistake somehow ??

You centered in on the person grimacing and the one with bed-hair; cogs turn in your brain as you wondered why these two individuals seemed so similar before something dawns on you and an audible gasp leaves your lips as the picture dropped onto your lap.

With trembling hands you shoved the picture back into the file and hide it at the bottom of the stack, maybe this was a file that was not supposed to be in your hands, fuck fuck fuck. Your eyes skim the room to watch out for anyone observing you. These guys didn't trust you enough to give you such things, so obviously it was misplaced and dumped into your paperwork by accident.

You suddenly noticed Lev jogging towards you and your whole body tensed as he approached. You pretended to work on the other files that were scattered around on your desk, typing random words and numbers into the excel sheet, your gaze was strongly focused on your screen yet everything was blurry. If Lev were to take a peek as to what you were doing at this moment,  he would realise that what you were typing was utter bullshit.

“Ah, you remember the stack of files and papers that I just placed here?” He pointed his finger to the stack of papers that still lay stagnant there.

“Yes sir? What can I do for you t-today?” You kicked yourself under the desk for how weird you sounded in the moment, but lucky for you he was in a hurry so he didn't pay much mind to you.

“Can you give those back to me? I think there were five bunches of them, I think I gave you the wrong ones,” he rubbed the back of his head as his voice took an almost sheepish tone by the end.

Without saying anything in return you just nod stiffly before taking the first four files, slowly sneaking in the file that you shoved at the bottom, you softly banged them against the table as if to align them before giving them to him with a small smile.

“Hey Y/n?” Lev called out to you after he cleared his throat. You slowly turned your head towards him trying your best to act innocent as if you hadn't just seen a picture of the mafia head with his friends.

A light pink blush clouded his face as he clumsily took the files from you, bowing a little before he scurries off to give those files to whoever he was supposed to give them to in the first place. 

You let out a deep exhale of relief, slumping further into the chair as he turns a corner and goes out of sight. Your phone suddenly buzzes and you yelp as your body jolts upright from the chair, you relax visibly when you notice that it was only a reminder that you had kept on your phone signalling the end of your shift.

Dropping it back onto the table with a clatter you stretched yourself in the chair, a smile gracing your lips as you collect your things to head home, deciding to stop at the grocery store to make a big dinner for the family today, just to relax your mind and console yourself that everything was alright, that you wouldn't be killed for seeing confidential information. It was just a picture, you thought, yeap just a picture that could possibly be a kill target, fuck did you get involved in a crime? You pinched your arm as you walked out of the office, shaking your head of all the negative thoughts.

The keys jingled as you struggled to slide the key into the lock with two grocery bags in hand, the atmosphere eerily silent as you entered the house, you called out for your mom and dad, followed by a soft “tadaima” only to receive no response in return.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You laughed as you remember that a few days ago your dad tried to make dinner and ended up breaking your mom's favourite ceramic pot while removing one of the pans. She has been so mad at the time that she took a vow to not cook until your dad got her a similar ceramic pot if not a better one.

You entered the living room to find it completely empty, and chill ran down your spine, where were your mom and dad? You walked toward the fridge and suddenly everything made sense when you saw the small sticky note with a haste scribble that said that your parents had gone out at the last minute for a makeup dinner, decorated with a small smiley in the end.

With a broad smile plastered on your lips you placed both the grocery bags on the counter, humming softly to yourself as you removed the items from within the bags. From the corner of your eye you suddenly notice a shadow cross and your body goes rigid. Your hand slowly inched forward before curling around the handle of a pan nearby when a tingling feeling rises up your spine, signalling someone’s approach.

In the room filled with soft rays of evening light you stand ominously still, breath bated as you tighten your clammy grasp, knuckles turning white, cold beads of sweat running down the side of your face. You backhand swung the pan the moment you see a slight shadow come up behind you, but your actions were stopped midway as you were pushed head first onto the counter, your hand with the pan being banged harshly against the cold surface of the marble, forcing you to let go of the pan. The person behind you used their body weight to keep you pinned to the counter as you trash around, trying your best to get hold of any object you can use to defend yourself.

Just as you get your right hand free from under the person’s weight, you feel a pinch on your shoulder and suddenly your body starts losing its strength,eyelids getting heavier and your vision turning blurry. As a last attempt you tried to scream out for help, but the moment you open your mouth a gloved hand clamps down on your lips and you try to trash around, only for him to lean his weight further on you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Right before you passed out, you faintly heard a phone buzzing and for a second you wondered if it's yours. You fought to stay awake as the man still kept you pinned against the counter, shuffling behind you before a small beep followed by a smooth soft voice reached your ears.

“ I have her Bokuto-san”

That was the last thing you witnessed before losing control over your senses and everything went dark.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You woke up to a cold concrete floor, a dull throb sitting in the back of your head as you grunted softly, your vision confiscated by a blindfold. The place where you were injected felt like it was on fire, limbs feeling heavy and…

You tried shifting your arms but all you could hear was the clang of metal against the concrete. You tried moving your feet but they were seized with cuffs which were attached to metal chains rooted firmly into the floor. You pushed yourself up onto your knees, only to be pulled back by the chains hooked on cuffs around your wrists, the rattling sound echoing loudly throughout the room along with a disgruntled sob. You held your breath in fear, hoping that no one was around to hear it. The room fell utterly silent as you tried your best to hear for any footsteps, only to be greeted by a soft hum of jazz, barely thrumming in through the walls.

You wanted to cry, scream, trash around, but there you laid, frozen in fear, trying your best to not make a single sound, making it seem like you were still unconscious. You were just delaying the inevitable, buying as much time as you could; you didn't have a single clue as to  what you had done to be in such a situation, if it was about the loan, weren't you already paying it off by working? Or did they get tired of waiting?

But hadn’t you walked the perfect line with your job? you didn't have a single complaint from your superiors and your colleagues commended you on it, because it seems that they weren't compatible with just anyone and most of them didn't survive beyond the second week. So why were you here then? Was it the–

Your thoughts were cut short as you heard keys chime on the other side of the door and you froze in your spot, trying your best to pretend that you weren’t awake just a moment ago, tugging on your restraints.

You slowed down your breathing, evening it out just as the door opens, its hinges creaking loudly as you hear a chorus of footsteps pad through the room. But your little act of being asleep was immediately cut short as a bucket of ice cold water was thrown over your body making you jolt upright in shock, gasping and shuddering at the sudden overwhelming sensation.

“Looks like the little kitten is awake now! Let’s get this over with, shall we?” A deep voice boomed throughout the room, and you cower back a little, chains clanking along with you.

“Akaashi, remove  her restraints but keep the cuffs on her hands.” The same authoritative voice commands and soon you feel a presence behind you, undoing your chains.

Your shivering body only trembled more as you felt fingers graze your calves and back, your now damp blindfold only serving to rile on your fears. You didn’t shift from your position when you felt the weight drop from your hands and legs, too scared to do anything. Your mind ran a million miles per minute, barging through your brain with various emotions and thoughts, but yet you feel blank as a chair scrapes loudly against the floor, placed in front of you.

A hand hooks under your arm, pulling you to sit upright and a whimper leaves your lips in fright. You wanted to plead– heck even beg for mercy, cry a litany of apologies and offer anything up in exchange for your life, but your lips didn’t move a single inch, even though you were practically screaming from within. You choke on the silence that suffocates the room before a gentle finger traced the back of your neck and you suppressed the urge to shudder at the feeling, soon finding your blindfold falling to the floor. You squinted, trying to move away from the sudden bright light before coming face to face with the last face you expected to see, the supposed kill target, his golden orbs more brighter and fierce than you remembered, excitement dancing along his lashes.

“And what do we have here?” He leaned forward as he rested his elbows on his knees, his palms joined in front of him and a cunning smile plastered on his face. His eyes raked your form before looking at the man behind you, nodding at him before you heard the softest “Yes Bokuto-san” flow past you and your eyes widen when realise where you heard it before; you recollect to the voice you barely managed to hear before you were rendered unconscious and painful tears started to collect in the corner of your eyes as you tried to swallow the lump on your throat.

The guy now known as Akaashi brought something to the guy in front of you before going back to his earlier position behind you. Faint light glinted against the object and when you realised what it was, tears flowed down freely your cheeks as soft hiccups wrecked through your body.

“Aww honey, don’t be scared. All you need to do is answer all our questions truthfully and I won’t have to use this. Whaddya say hmm?” Bokuto cooed as he slid the gun against your cheek, before placing the barrel under your cheek and tipping your head upwards. Afraid, you closed your eyes before nodding meekly.

“That’s a good girl. See we won’t be having any problems then.” He says with childish enthusiasm in his voice as if it were just another game for him. Akaashi stood silent, his eyes never leaving your form, watching the way your nipples pebbled under the cool air, your shirt now almost transparent as droplets of water slid down your shivering form. Bokuto feigned a cough and Akaashi flits his gaze to him, immediately registering that Bokuto noticed him staring at you, his signature playful smile getting a little bit wider, a hidden intent written behind that smile.

“It’s time to pat her down, Akaashi.” Bokuto stated before turning to you, “Don’t worry hun, it's just a mandatory procedure.” The moment those words were said you were lifted off the ground and placed onto Bokuto's lap and a sob fell from your lips as you tried to get away from his hold, but that only spurred him on to wrap his hand around your waist firmly.

“Shush now little  kitten, don’t worry, the more you struggle, the harder it will be.” He pulled you closer to his heated body, your back hitting his chiseled chest as you straddled him, making your pencil skirt bunch up, your cuffed hands uncomfortable as they get smushed at an odd angle between your back and his chest. You try to move forward because the burn was too much, but the hand on your waist only tightened, keeping you put, your legs kept secure behind his ankles.

“So tell me kitten what’s your name hmm??” He asked you while Akaashi kneeled down in front of you and started patting down your shoulders before his fingers found your buttons, relieving them from its reserves with ease; you looked down at Akaashi with unbelieving eyes, Bokuto’s question falling on deaf ears and that was your biggest mistake. His hand on your waist slid up to roughly grab one of your tits, pinching the nipple harshly and making you cry out in pure agony.

“I asked you something pet, I don’t like to repeat myself twice. Geddit? Now I'm going to ask you once more and that will be your last time. You hear me?” His voice was viciously low and threatening. You only nodded back in response, the sting still fresh on your skin. “ Use your words kitten” He commanded, and you choked out a broken “Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Now tell me what your name is, hmm?”

“ It’s Y-Y/n,” you managed to stutter out, chest heaving.

“That's a lovely name for a kitten! Well now, what is a pretty little thing like you doing in the Nekoma estate, hmm? What is your relationship with Kuroo and Kenma? Are you their fucktoy? Wouldn’t doubt if you were, you seem quite fun to play with” he whispered the last part as he grabbed your face, turning your head away from him. He brushed his nose against your neck, taking in your scent as hot puffs of air collided against your skin.

“I’m j-just a secretary, I have a debt to clear with them, t-that’s all. I’m not their- their- '' heat rushes to your cheeks as embarrassment and anger flowed through you as it dawned upon you what he really meant and you tried to pull away from Bokuto. “I don’t do anything of that sort! I don’t have that kind of relationship with them. I just arrange meetings and appointments, and other basic stuff, that’s it! Now let me go!” You spit the words out, anger boiling through your veins, but it soon turned ice cold with the next question, and you realise you fucked up… Big time.

“ Then you must know about the upcoming business meetings of Nekoma, right? That means you would know the location of Kuroo and Kenma? ” And the room once again went silent. In your fit of anger and defiance you didn’t even realise that Akaashi had slid your shirt up over your shoulders, sliding them down up to your cuff covered wrists  and was now drawing your skirt down. You tried to wiggle your hips to hinder his movements but it only serves to his advantage as it slides down easier.

“Please l-let me go, I-I don’t know anything please!” You begged, voice turning desperate, you couldn’t give out information about the Nekoma clan or they would have your head for it. What about your family–

“You’re a smart little one aren’t you, you know they will hunt you down if you give me their information. But if you decide to tell me, I give you my word that no harm will come to you or your family, furthermore your debt will be repaid. And if you don’t, I could put a bullet through your head right now.” Bokuto said with a playful lift to his voice, bringing the gun up to your temple.

“ I really don’t remember! Please, I can’t recall w-with who it was.. Please don’t shoot!!” You sobbed out, mind going blank when the gun is placed to your temple, fear overwhelming your senses.

“Aw it was good knowing ya kitten, you would’ve made such a good pet.” He cocks the gun with a loud click finger at ease on the trigger while he places soft kisses on your neck, softly whispering against your skin, “ Sayonara–”

“KARASUNO!!” You screamed out the first thing you remembered right before he could pull the trigger. “It’s Karasuno, sometime in the middle of next week, in the Miyagi Prefecture.. That’s about all I know. Please, please let me go now, I’m begging you!!!”

He chuckled darkly right next to your ear and goosebumps rose all over your skin with adrenaline. You closed your tear filled eyes, sobs shaking through you. You wanted this to be a nightmare, a dream from which you would wake up any moment, but the cuffs digging into your wrists and warm hands searing into your skin said otherwise.

“Mmm you definitely deserve a reward for that, don’t you?” He licks a long stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before whispering those words. You shake your head violently, not wanting to spend another waking minute here but he completely ignores your signs of protest. Bokuto’s hand travels down your body till his hand reached your panties to cup your pussy, groaning when he hears a small whimper leave your lips at the contact. He tugged on your panties, a hiss leaving his lips when he noticed how sensitive your body was.

“Such a pretty kitten, Akaashi, why don't you reward her for me, yeah?” Bokuto said as he shifted your panties to the side, dipping his fingers into your folds before prying them apart, giving Akaashi a good view of your cunt. Akaashi took his lower lip between his teeth before swiping his tongue across it as he indulged himself with the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Go on ‘Kaashi, don’t you want a taste?” Bokuto questioned, his fingers circling your clit, before travelling to your entrance, he dipping two fingers inside before removing them and spreading them, your juices smeared all over them and he popped his fingers to his mouth, a low growl arising from his chest made you bite on your lip harshly. “Of course I do Bokuto-san.” And that was all Akaashi said before he hooked your legs over his shoulder and dived into your pussy, flattening his tongue against your entrance before dragging it upwards towards your clit, rubbing his tongue against it before sucking on it.

You moaned loudly as Akaashi kept slurping up the juices dripping from your hole, making sure to not let a single drop go by, while Bokuto unhooked your bra, sliding them up so he could see your perky little nipples just begging for attention. He uncocks the gun and hooks it on his waistband, after which his hands find purchase of your soft mounds, pressing each nipple inside with his forefinger before pinching them and rolling them between his fingers. He gave your nipples a few rough tugs just to hear your sweet voice more.

You’re too overwhelmed to do anything but mewl as Akaashi detached himself from your pussy, fingers tugging down your panties and pocketing the soaked fabric. He used his thumb to rub your nub while his tongue prods your entrance and you gasp, taking a shaky breath in. When he rubbed a certain spot at the entrance you threw your head back and Bokuto immediately wrapped his fingers around your throat, his grip firm as his lips hastily crashed onto yours, drinking in all your moans and whimpers. He continued to kiss you, your moaning making it easy to plunge his tongue into your mouth, the kiss so heated that it brought you right on the edge of tipping over.

Your legs shook uncontrollably, being just one flick away from falling over the edge when Akaashi pulled back and you breathed heavily, not wanting to show them that this affected you much, while you mourned the loss of such a sweet release. His face is smeared with your juices and he licks his lips as he uses the back of his sleeve to wipe off the excess. The corner of his mouth lifted as he looked at Bokuto and nodded at him as you whined at your stolen high. Bokuto broke the kiss and smiled at Akaashi wide enough to have the tops of his incisors seen, the feral intent in his eyes reminding you of the dangerous position you were in.

Your eyes widened when Akaashi abruptly stood up and slid his hands under your butt, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he picked you up from Bokuto’s lap and you yelped. Akaashi’s eyes were fixated on you the entire time you were in his arms, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips continuously while you squirm.

“P-please no, I-I don’t want to go any further please” you told Akaashi, eyes big and pleading, filled with fresh tears.

“It’s okay Doll, don’t worry, we won’t hurt you until you disobey. So be a good little pet for us alright?” He whispered  against your ear as he placed you down on your wobbly legs with your back against the mahogany table behind. He cupped your face gently, thumb swiping across your trembling lips as he looked at you with pure adoration. If it were any other situation you might’ve even considered going out with this beautiful man; but here you were, held against your will, your body being used as per their whims and wishes and you couldn’t do a single thing about it, it made your stomach twist with hate and disgust knowing how weak you were.

Akaashi leaned in, softly pressing his lips against yours into the most sweetest and gentle kiss you’ve ever had. You were so lost in it that your mouth unconsciously granted him access when he licked your bottom lip, you immediately tasted yourself on his tongue. The way he explored your mouth made you moan, your pussy clenching over a single kiss, only coming to your senses when his fingers fiddled with the straps of your bra, unclasping them and you bit his lip in defiance when he pulled your bra off your body, the taste of iron now pooling on your tongue.

Akaashi pulled back when you bite his lip, raising an amused eyebrow at you. He couldn’t believe that you still had thought that you could say no to them, it was cute to him; luckily it wasn’t Bokuto-san or she would've gotten a punishment by now– Akaashi thought as blood dripped from his lip onto his chin.

“This kitten is still using her claws I see, quite feisty~” Bokuto chimed as he came behind Akaashi, watching the entire scene from the corner. You looked at both of them in shock when Bokuto turned Akaashi’s head and pulled him into a kiss, licking up the blood that was on his lips and groaning when he still tasted the remnants of your sweet juices on Akaashi’s tongue. Bokuto broke the kiss, his lips sliding down to Akaashi’s neck and chuckling against his skin as he remembers the day Akaashi first saw you.

Akaashi was so mesmerised by you, couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you were and how he wanted you so badly. Akaashi mentioned you so many times that it had started to get on his nerves, sometimes he even moaned out your name when he was asleep. Bokuto finally snapped when Akaashi choked out your name as he came all over Bokuto’s hands pumping his shaft. And when Akaashi found out that you worked for Nekoma it was the perfect excuse he needed to bring you in and play with you, see what was so special about you. Akaashi insisted on getting you personally, not wanting anyone else to get their hands on you; he was possessive like that– Bokuto was brought out of his fazed stupor with your cute little mewls filling the room.

Akaashi had started marking up your neck, slurping bruises on your skin while his fingers played with your nipples.

“Kitten, why don't you put on a little show for us? Play with that pretty little cunt of yours, show us how you like it and maybe I’ll think about letting you go?” Bokuto said as his fingers rub circles on your hips soothingly. The prospect of getting out of here had you ready to do anything and you eagerly nod your head at the offer, maybe once they freed your hands you could try to escape too. But Bokuto seemed to know what you're thinking, because he turned you around and shoved your head onto the table, your toes barely grazing the floor as you struggled under the weight of his body on yours. He removes the gun from his waistband and places it on your neck.

“Don’t even think about doing anything funny, cause there won’t be a second chance~” He singed as his hips grinded into yours, his erection pressed against your ass and you gasped as you felt how big he was even through his pants. He lifted himself off you once you yelp out a “Yes” he slowly slid the gun down your back, smacking the barrel against your ass before going lower and rubbing the cool metal against your folds. You dug your nails into your palm to ground yourself as he continued to rub against your clit, teasing the little nub till the barrel was covered in your juices.

“Get on the table kitten, I want a perfect view of your pussy.” Bokuto stopped his ministrations as you struggle to get on the table, when you took too much time for his liking he shoved your other leg on top and smacked your ass, making you scream out, he rubbed his fingers over the red print that is visible as he growled out a ‘hurry up’. Akaashi on the other hand started uncuffing your hands, sliding the shirt that was stuck above your wrist along with your cuffs.

You were already on the verge of cumming earlier, so doing that once again wouldn’t take that long. You reached down your trembling fingers and started slowly circling your clit, you moaned as you started going faster, rubbing yourself just the way you had done dozens of times before.

“Don’t be shy, Doll. Stuff a few fingers up that sweet hole” Akaashi said as he unzips his pants, pumping his cock in his hand at the lewd sight of you playing with yourself. He had imagined you like this whenever he stroked his cock alone, but he didn’t know it would be so fucking hot.

“You heard him, use those fingers to stuff your hole, kitten.” Bokuto chimed in with Akaashi. You reached down further and slowly start to slide two fingers in and out of your pussy, moaning as you started feeling good, the base of your palm bumping against your clit. You started going faster, feeling yourself reach your high once again, your moans turned higher and higher in pitch. You were just about ot cum when Bokuto slaped your hand away from yourself, making you whine loudly when you were denied another high. It was starting to feel like torture, your thoughts were getting fuzzy and all you could think was how badly you wanted to cum.

“Doll if you wanna cum then you just gotta ask” Akaashi said softly as he rubs his fingers over your sensitive folds, making you buck into his hand. You almost didn’t care about anything anymore, the only thing on your mind was the need to cum, but there was a little shard of dignity that was left in you and it made you bite your tongue. Your anger and frustration of not getting to cum makes you a little bold.

“F-fuck y-you” you panted out with as much venom in your words as you could muster. Bokuto shook his head as a chuckle wrecked through his chest once again. You were certainly a fun thing to tease and play with, the way you refused to give up only served to pique his interest further. “Oh I certainly plan to kitten, I’m going fuck this pretty little cunt all night. Make you a pliant mess on my cock”

You heard the clink of a buckle being opened, noticing the gun placed on the table not too far from your reach and with your hands free, you tried to push yourself off the surface only to be held down by your neck. “Oh no you don’t Doll, I’ve waited an eternity to feel those lips on me” Akaashi remarked as he unbuttoned his pants with his free hand and slid down the zipper. “Now pull my cock out, pretty girl.” He slowly released the pressure on your neck, Bokuto smacked your ass when you didn't comply, his heavy hand stinging enough to have you immediately reach out, tugging on the waistband of the his pants.

Akaashi bit his lips as your fingers touched his cock, his  hard member twitching at the contact. Not being able to control himself any further, Akaashi swooped down and pulled you in for a kiss while simultaneously Bokuto aligned his tip with your entrance. Akaashi pulled back, standing straight so that his cock was mere inches from your face. He removed his shirt before he gathered your hair in his hand and pulled you towards his member. You shook your head no, using one to keep you up while the other pushed on his waist.

But your attempts were futile as Bokuto slammed himself into you with one swift movement, making you scream at the stretch and Akaashi used that as an opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth, groaning when you gagged and sputtered on his length, still attempting to cry out. The sounds from your warm mouth made him shudder in pleasure.

Bokuto starrted slamming into you immediately, fucking into you with feral intensity and using you as his personal pocket pussy, each thrust pushed your mouth further on Akaashi’s cock.

“Nghh you're so fucking tight kitten, squeezing my dick so fucking good” Bokuto grunted out before placing both his hands on your hips, his fingers holding you tight enough to leave dark bruises and he used that at leverage to fuck into you faster, His fat cock stirring up your insides and hitting spots deep inside you that you didn't know you had, making you moan continuously on Akaashi's cock. Said man slowly started to buck his hips into your mouth, falling into a rhythm with Bokuto, once in a while pushing his cock deep enough that the tip hit the back of your throat.

The room echoed with muffled moans and low growls, squelching sounds filling the room. Both men fastened their pace, pulling and pushing back and forth, singing praises and defiling your body at the same time.

“Oh fuck d-Doll haa.. your mouth feels so good, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!! And I want you to drink every drop of it” Akaashi keened as he kept moving his hips, he wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing firmly till he felt the outline of his cock making you lightheaded. Akaashi watched as you rolled your watery eyes back in pleasure, choking and gagging on his cock, feeling his cock on your throat was the last strand and it pushed him off the edge and he gave a deep thrust cumming directly inside your throat, fingers still clutching your neck. He pulled out halfway, so that his cum spilled all over your tongue; shudders wrecked through his body as his thighs flexed till it burned, he pinched your nose as pulled out of you and clamped his other hand over your mouth so you had no other choice but to swallow, and once done he pulled you up as he climbed on the table as well.

You hung on Akaashi, hands hooked around his shoulders as Bokuto still kept pummelling into you, thighs slapping loudly against your ass. Akaashi kept kissing you, not leaving your body alone even for a second, biting and sucking on your lips or roaming along the length of your neck. His hands roamed all over your body before sliding between your folds, lithe fingers barely grazing your nub before forming a 'V' where Bokuto's cock enters you, spreading your folds. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, body shivering, you would be laying flat against wood, had it not been for Akaashi holding you up, one hand wrapped around your waist.

Your mind was going crazy, you were so close to cumming but you just needed that little push, that little rub and nudge on your clit. The fact that Akaashi's fingers kept lightly brushing against it didn't help any further, you wanted to just cum, a dam waiting to be broken and you couldn't take it anymore.

“Please, please mmnnn j-just let me cum!!" You cried out, transgressing in the moment of pleasure.

“All you had to do was ask Doll” Akaashi murmured against your skin as his fingers slid up to your clit, rubbing refined, delicate circles around your sensitive nub and that was the final push that made you cum all around Bokuto's cock, pussy fluttering around his shaft, squeezing him tightly as an orgasm wrecked through you, compelling your body into a convulsing mess as a prayer of moans leave your lips, your toes curling till your feet hurt.

Your pussy clenched tightly around his shaft triggered Bokuto’s orgasm as well, his hips slowing their pace as he pumped deep strokes into your hole. And with a loud shivering groan against your ear, your pussy was filled with hot spurts of cum as he leaned his weight slightly on your limp body, his skin hot and sweaty against your own.

He placed a soft kiss on your back before pulling out of you, walking away to get something. During the time he’s gone Akaashi gently stroked your hair, while holding you in his warm embrace until Bokuto returned with something in his hand. Bokuto reached out and clicked it into place with alige fingers before smiling devilishly. You looked down, weak hand unconsciously reaching up to touch the item and you gasped, realizing it's a collar, and yanked on it to try and remove it. Hastily you reached behind hoping to find a buckle to release it, but instead you found a lock and turned towards Bokuto.

“D-didn’t you s-say you were going to let me go?” You asked, voice trembling with trepidation. While you were looking away Akaashi linked a leash to your collar, wrapped the excess length around his knuckles and handed it over to Bokuto. He yanked on your collar as he did so, forcefully bringing you closer as he offered Bokuto your leash with a heated kiss before Bokuto pulled away to look at you with a sickeningly sweet smile.  

“Oh I said I’ll think about it, and I think I’m not done with you just yet kitten~”

Heyya thank you soo much for reading!! As promised the collabs links are down below, please show some love and support!!

The Church of Meian Masterlist🌼 Mayfia masterlist🌼

Also requests are open!!

©️Copyrights of chibi-chanforever. 4/6/2021.

#tw.noncon #tw.kidnapping #tw.choking #tw.gunplay #tw.drugging #mafia #bokuto smut #akaashi smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere #yandere akaashi #collab #church of meian

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter three)

pairing: reader/bang chan side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader (and it’s causing problems), reader/bang chan/jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: oh boy here we go. angst like mad, lots of drama, more profanity, chan is possessive and jealous, arguments, smut, threesome (because I am trash), smoking (again), mention of firearms, unprotected sex, mentions of drug use, profanity, alcohol consumption, minor praise kink, lots of biting. word count: about 15,000 (!!) also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter three: one more step, i will never stop

recommended tracks: you calling my name by got7, I am you by stray kids, follow by monsta x, jungle by punchnello, absinthe by punchnello, louder than bombs by bts, veni vidi vici by zico, baby don’t like it 나쁜 짓 by nct 127, on track by stray kids, honsool by agust d, congratulations by eric nam, singularity by bts, people by agust d, 時間がない by kirinji, and 주소서 (pray) by b.a.p (I cannot get enough of this song right now). playlist can be found here!

note: jisung is so soft in this chapter. he’s one of my favourites (stan 3RACHA), so writing this chapter broke and warmed my heart a million times over. apologies for the length of this one!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

You had shown a photo of your ex, Jisung, to Christopher and Changbin, who confirmed that it was the Jisung they knew. When Christopher saw his face on your phone, his mouth turned down into a scowl, causing him to become tense and reserved. “Whatever,” he grumbled as he spun on his heel, turning to the fridge, “I’m gonna make some jigae with the stuff in the fridge. We’ll deal with this later.”

Changbin pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. He opens his mouth to speak to Christopher, but decides against it, turning to you instead. “Look, we’ll make this work. Han won’t be here for that long, just a follow-up on his task. Then he’ll be gone and we can pretend this never happened. Okay?”

You nod your head, hoping that it was going to go that smoothly. Christopher takes out some ingredients from the fridge and then pulls out some cookware with a clatter, the noises causing Minho to finally wake up.

“Aaaaahhhhhh, Binnie,” he groans loudly while stretching, catching the attention of Changbin.

“What, Min?” Changbin says with little concern in his voice, getting up and walking over towards him. He leans over the back of the couch, reaching a hand down to Minho’s hair to ruffle it around.

“Binnie, you crushed me, cuddling me too hard in your sleep last night and now I hurt,” Minho whines, grabbing Changbin’s arm and pulling the brunette down on top of him.

“What the fuck?” Changbin squeaks out, in a cute voice you weren’t aware he could make, before he topples over the back of the couch.

“Cuddle me and make it better,” Minho cries out dramatically, wrapping his arms and legs around the smaller man. Changbin tries to say something, but his voice is muffled while he’s kicking his legs up and down in the air.

Watching the two of them made you smile, happily reaching down to your cup of lukewarm coffee to take a sip. You turned your attention towards Christopher, watching him chop up some vegetables and other ingredients, prepping them and putting them all into a large pot.

“Can I help you with anything?” You ask him.

“Nah,” he shrugs your suggestion off, turning over his shoulder to smile at you, “I don’t know how to work with someone else in the kitchen, but maybe we can try something out later?”

“Yeah,” you smile back at him, “I’d like that.”

The assembly of kimchijigae doesn’t take that long. Once all of the ingredients are in the pot, Christopher calls for Changbin to help him set up the gas burner on the coffee table, while you help by getting the rice started in the rice cooker.

Within a half hour, you’re all sitting down around the table, happily eating the jigae. Changbin and Minho are talking about some story about the time they went to Daegu and the Colourful Daegu Festival was happening. They had dropped some acid and lost their minds during the parade, where there was a lot of music, dancing, and other performative arts on display.

As fun as their story sounded, Christopher looked like he wasn’t completely paying attention, his mind distant and thinking about something else. “Christopher?” You call out to him, poking him in the arm with the back end of your chopsticks.

“What?” He snaps back to reality and shakes his head. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, “I was just lost in thought over something. How’s the jigae?”

You smile and nod, “I’m impressed, Mr. Bang, I had no idea you could cook.” The compliment makes him smile, and he reaches out to rub his hand on your thigh in appreciation. “You’ve been telling me for two days now that you’d make me something and you finally did it. It was worth the wait.”

You’re about to bring another bite of rice to your mouth when a knocking at the door startles you. Changbin and Christopher stand up at the same time, but Changbin calmly coaxes the blond to sit back down. “It’s probably Jisung, but if it’s not,” he grabs his bag from under the table and pulls out a pistol, sheathed in a protective case, tucking it in his waistband, “I’ll handle it.” Minho stands up, a focused look on his face as he quietly walks over to sit next to you, likely to help calm you down and to protect you if need be.

Christopher reaches under the coffee table, staring at Changbin as he walks to the front door. His hand fumbles a bit until a sliding door is heard. Out of the secret compartment, he pulls a pistol that’s identical to Changbin’s and a magazine, snapping the machinery together. He puts a hand on your leg, gripping it tightly as you start to tremble in panic. “It’s alright,” he whispers to you. Changbin turns to Christopher, and they both nod.

A knock is heard at the door again, a bit more urgent this time. “Who is it?” Changbin questions coolly, putting a hand on the door and his other hand on the handle of his pistol.

“Bang-hyung?” It’s faint, but you can hear a voice come from the door. “No, wait, Seo-hyung? It’s me.” Changbin turns around, dramatically rolling his eyes in the direction of all of you, a dumbfounded look on his face. He opens the door and yells at the silver-haired man that walks in.

“Aish!” Changbin exclaims, slapping the back of the man’s head, eliciting a squeal from him. “You dumbass! I told you that you needed to text us when you show up. We thought you were a potential threat.”

Christopher exhales an irritated sigh of relief, taking his hand away from your leg before disassembling the magazine from his pistol. “Fucking moron,” he grumbles under his breath, putting the pistol and magazine back in the compartment under the table. He turns to look at you right as you spin your head around and look at the man that walks in. Your jaw drops in shock as you realize it really is Jisung.

“Sungie?” The word squeaks out from you in shock. Jisung snaps in your direction when he hears your voice, looking as if he was hallucinating the sound of you.

“Bunny?” He says your old nickname with a whine. He looks directly at you for a second before nearly running over to you, almost tripping over himself as he kneels in front of you, reaching his hands up to your face. “Oh my god, why are you here? How are you here?”

Christopher scoffs, rolling his eyes as he kicks back into his chair, arms folded, biting his lip back in anger. An air of jealousy fills the room as he watches Jisung pull you into a hug with him. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he whispers, rubbing the back of your head. “I knew there was a civilian woman here, but I had no idea it was you, baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice is so calm, so soothing, but you feel how broken his heart must be, seeing you in such a helpless situation.

It’s almost like the past year never happened, the comfort between you is so warm and familiar. It felt so good to be comforted by Jisung, but you could feel Christopher staring at both of you with fire in his eyes, like he would kill Jisung just by staring at him if he could.

“Han,” the man assertively barks, causing you both to jump. “Beijing. What happened?” His tone is curt and cold, something you hadn’t heard in him before. You had a sinking feeling in your gut that this wasn’t going to go smoothly, after all.

Jisung snaps up, bowing deeply in apology. “B-Bang-hyung,” he stutters out, “yes, my apologies. I just,” he turns to you nervously, then back to Christopher. “I’m sorry, we used to be close and to know she’s here, in danger, well-“

“I’ve got her.” Christopher cuts Jisung off, sitting forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, “She’s not your concern right now. She’s mine.”

The way he claims you so nonchalantly makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was a strangely attractive thing for him to say to your ex-boyfriend, but it was also really embarrassing. Jisung had no idea that the two of you were something, so he just kind of brushes it off not really grasping the seriousness of  Christopher’s words.

“Yes, hyung, I understand,” he nods, “but, if I may, since she knows me, I’d like to-“

“Shut up, Han.” Christopher spits out, balling his fists up, slamming one of them into the arm of the chair as he cuts Jisung off again. “I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of your mouth unless it has to do with Beijing.”

Changbin pipes up from behind the couch, “Chan,” he says with a commanding tone, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Back off. That’s an order. Jisung isn’t your enemy here, he’s your brother. Do I need to remind you of the code?” Christopher shoots a nasty glare at him, snarling his lip up in anger.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung interrupts in confusion, “Am I missing something?”

You sigh, dropping your head down to your hands to comb your fingers through your hair. “Sungie,” you say softly, looking back up at Jisung, “Chris- uh, Chan, I mean, and I are, well,” you voice trails off, not really sure what to call this thing that’s going on between the two of you.

“We’re seeing each other,” Christopher finishes your sentence for you, eyeing you before he looks back up to Jisung. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Jisung looks at both of you a couple of times, disbelief painted on his face, before he finally settles his eyes on you. “Bunny, is this true?”

“Kind of?” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “We met each other at a party the other night and I’ve been here ever since because shit hit the fan.” Jisung’s face falls as he looks at you, realizing the implication of what you’ve done with his superior.

“Baby,” he whispers, the look of disappointment on his face causing your heart to sink down into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, since it’s been a year and you separated amicably, but you always felt protective of Jisung while you were together, a feeling that clearly hasn’t disappeared from you.

“The fuck does it matter to you?” Christopher grumbles under his breath as he stands up, walking angrily over to a drawer in the kitchen. He rifles through it for a second, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Whatever. I’m going out on the balcony; I need a cigarette. Enjoy your fucking reunion. After I come back, I want that goddamn report on Beijing and then I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment, Han.”

Christopher pulls open the blinds in the far corner of the living room, unlocking the balcony door and flinging it open. He steps outside and rips the door closed behind him, closing it with a loud slam. You’re not sure, but you think you hear him yell “fuck” after he slams the door.

“The hell is his problem?” Minho chirps up for the first time in a while, looking up at Changbin, then back down to you. “Are you alright?” He places his hand on top of your knee, rubbing it softly with his thumb. You timidly nod your head, still in shock.

“I swear to God, that man and his issues,” Changbin grits his teeth and sighs, walking up to Jisung to squeeze his shoulder in support. “I’ll go talk to him. I’m sorry he’s taking this out on you, Jisung. You know how he gets when he’s stressed. He probably doesn’t mean any of it.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, just nodding in response as he looks down at his feet.

“Minho,” Changbin says, making his way to the balcony door, “keep an eye on things in here. Yell if you need me.”

“I’ve got it, Binnie, don’t worry,” he says with a nod. Changbin slips through the door and you can see Christopher throw his hands up in the air as he starts to yell. His muffled voice somewhat comes through the door, but there’s no way you can possibly make out anything he’s saying.

Jisung flops down in Christopher’s seat, letting his head fall into his hands. “Bunny,” he says, not bothering to look up at you, “I can’t believe that you and Chan-hyung are…”

Minho chimes in, “Hey, maybe you two should go into the studio and talk this out? I’ll stay out here and keep an eye on things.”

It was a good idea, you had to admit. This entire situation was complicated and personal, not really something you wanted everyone to hear. It would probably make you both more comfortable if you talked about it in private, anyways. You stood up and grabbed Jisung’s hand, guiding him to the studio with you. Once inside, you closed the door softly and fumbled your fingers around on the wall for a light switch, flicking up the first one you felt.

The room illuminated, and the first thing you saw as you turned around was Jisung’s pained face. He stutters, trying to come up with something to say to you, but he just stands there, dumbfounded. You weren’t exactly sure where to begin. It was over a year since you saw him last, and all of the memories you had together were floating around in your head, not helping make the situation any easier.

“Jisung,” you open your mouth to speak, but before you can say anything else, the lean man walks up to you, pushing his body against yours so you’re forced to step back up against the wall. As soon as your back hits the wall, he reaches his hand up to just under your chin, bringing it up to his face.

“Don’t say anything, baby,” he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes, before his lips softly collide with yours. His lips have a faint taste of bubblegum, probably from his favourite chapstick, and his tongue is warm and soft against yours. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers softly in between kisses, “I never wanted to leave you. I loved you so much, and I absolutely still do.” His voice starts to crack, and you feel tears come down his cheeks as he rubs his face against yours with his sloppy, needy kisses. “I just… I couldn’t do it to you, bunny. They had connections in the industry and I needed the money. I was only going to stick around until I had enough and then stop with the criminal shit, but now I just can’t leave. They’re my family now, my brothers. They mean so much to me.”

He breaks down, his head falling on to your shoulder. Racking sobs run through him as he pulls you into a tight embrace. You try your best to soothe him, an arm wrapped around his back and one hand stroking his hair. “Sungie, baby,” you whisper into his ear, hushing him, “it’s okay, I forgive you. I promise, it’s okay.”

You both stand there for a while, letting Jisung calm down a bit thanks to your words and your soothing demeanour. After what seems like an eternity, he finally stops crying. When you’re about to pull away from each other and go back into the living room, you hear footsteps and chattering come from outside the studio.

“Where is she?” Christopher’s voice booms from the other room, loud and terse, “Where is he?”

“Goddammit, Chan,” Changbin growls after him, sighing. “We just talked about this.”

“I told them they should talk it out in private, in the studio,” Minho answers him, his voice quiet and timid. “Was that a bad idea?”

Footsteps draw closer and Christopher bursts through the door. He looks at Jisung, nuzzled up to your shoulder, eyes wide and still damp from crying. “Chan-hyung, please,” he whimpers out, cowering back into your shoulder before the blonde starts to make an advance towards him with his fist drawn back.

“Christopher!” You shout, throwing an arm up in the air and turning Jisung away from the blond, gripping him closer to your chest to shield him. “That’s enough!” Your outburst causes him to stop dead in his tracks, dropping his arm. “I will not tolerate you treating Jisung like this. Yeah, I get it, you feel threatened because we have a history, but if you so much as touch him, I will leave here and never come back. I don’t care what anyone out there does to me. I won’t stand for this.”

The two of you stare at each other for a pause pregnant with tension, Jisung gripping your shirt tightly. “Fuck,” Christopher finally sighs out, rolling his eyes as he walks over to the couch behind you. He grips his hair, looking up at the two of you. “Han,” he starts, letting himself breathe for a moment. “Jisung, I’m sorry. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you since you showed up. Actually, since before you showed up.”

Jisung rubs his face on your shirt. He stands upright and turns to look at Christopher, still holding on to you with one hand. “Chan-hyung,” he says, looking at you, then looking back to him. “I know you’ve both been doing things, but,” he sighs, eyes drifting down to his feet, “I still love her. I wouldn’t have left her if it wasn’t for the family. Seeing her here makes me terrified for what could happen. She still means so much to me, even after all of this time.” His hand drops down from your waist, grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.

Christopher grimaces at the sight, but chooses to let it go. “I get that,” he groans, “but you left her. It’s up to her to decide if she wants you back. Even if,” his voice trails off and he sits fully back into the couch, “even if it doesn’t involve me.”

“Haven’t you only known each other for two days?” Jisung innocently questions, hoping that the question won’t provoke a fight. “Seems a bit early to care that much?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says as he avoids eye contact with either of you, “but there’s something about her. Maybe it’s this whole situation, maybe I’m just delusional. But there’s something that makes me want to risk it for her.”

Jisung smiles, looking at you as Christopher starts talking about you. He squeezes your hand and nods his head. “I know, she’s incredible.” The way that he looks at you reminds you of the night he first told you that he loved you, with that same boyish grin on his face and excitement in his eyes.

Christopher looks up to you both, an uncomfortable, awkward look on his face. Even Jisung simply making lovey eye contact with you just hurts him. You weren’t in love with him, not even close, but you did have some feelings towards him that were starting to be impossible to ignore. Choosing between them would be hard, and you simply didn’t want to do it.

“Wait,” your eyes light up with an idea. You pull Jisung to the couch, telling him to sit at the opposite end of Christopher. You go to close the door, seeing Minho and Changbin making a pointed effort to hide their eavesdropping before the door slides closed with a click. “What if,” you say, walking back to the couch, sitting in between the two men, “I don’t have to choose between you two, at least not yet?”

Christopher squints his eyes in confusion and Jisung cocks his head to the side, not quite understanding what you mean. “You know,” you say as you grab a hand from each of them, “you just share me, until I make up my mind?”

“Share you?” Christopher is the first one to respond, sounding confused.

“Oh,” Jisung breathes out, then the realization hits him, “oh. You mean…” He looks at Christopher, then back to you. “You want me to share you with Chan-hyung? But he’s my superior, he makes all of the decisions. If he says no, then,” his voice goes from excited to a bit dejected.

“Jisung, look at me.” Christopher addresses him with a stern voice. “If it’s what she wants, it’s fine with me. I don’t know how we’ll make it work, and it already sounds weird, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Jisung’s eyes light up as he looks at Christopher and then looks to you, “You mean it, hyung?”

Christopher nods his head, then turns his attention to you. “I’m willing to do anything if you’ll give me a chance. You are stuck here with me for a while, yeah?”

You smile and look down at the hands you’re holding. It was a strange concept that you weren’t sure would even work, but it was something to hopefully keep the three of you somewhat happy and entertained while you were stuck here.

“Okay,” Christopher says, standing up, “I’m glad we could work this out, but we really need to talk about the Beijing deal, Jisung.” You both look up at him, noticing an awkward smile on his face. “Come on, let’s go back out there, take care of work, then we can address all of this,” he waves his hands in a broad circle around all of you, “when we’re done. Alright?”

Jisung nods his hand, squeezing your hand before he stands up. “Whatever you say, Chan-hyung.”

“Can you, like,” Christopher rubs the back of his head in embarrassment, sighing, “not call me hyung when it’s just the three of us? It’s a little weird, considering the circumstances.”

“Oh!” Jisung exclaims, “Yeah, sure thing, Chan-hy… Channie.” He corrects himself, then giggles. “That doesn’t seem right, either, does it?”

“Ugh,” Christopher groans, walking to the door, “don’t get used to it, Sungie.” He mockingly uses your nickname for Jisung and it causes the silver-haired man to visibly cringe.

“Point taken,” he says, following Christopher to the door. “C’mon, baby, let’s go.”

Jisung does an extensive job explaining just how the Beijing job went. The guys had been working on building up their relationship with the Triad since the Shanghai incident a couple years ago, and, based on what Jisung reported, it sounded like it was finally getting better. He had secured a deal for a small shipment of firearms and some party drugs like ecstasy and cocaine. The cocaine was more expensive than Changbin wanted, since it was coming from a different source this time, but he figured he could turn it at the clubs for a higher profit pretty easily.

“I’m impressed,” Changbin says, sitting forward from his spot on the couch, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually secure the whole deal, much less any part of it. For a last minute switch up, I’m glad I sent you, Jisung.”

Jisung flashes a cocky smile at Changbin, darting his eyes to you for a quick second, looking like he hoped that you were impressed, too. “Thanks. Beats getting protection money for once, but I really need to brush up on my Mandarin. I got lost in conversation a couple of times and had to try explaining stuff in Korean and English.”

“Chan can help you with that,” Changbin says, looking to the blond man with a serious look on his face, “if he’s done being an asshole to you, that is.”

“Oh, shove it,” Christopher scoffs. “Yeah, Jisung, I’ll help you before your next trip out there; it’ll probably be a while, though, since you’re gonna be out here a lot more now. I need you to cover my usual spots since I’m stuck here.”

Changbin and Minho exchange a surprised glance with each other and then look at Christopher. “What the hell happened in there?” Minho pries, “You’re calling him Jisung now? You’re not trying to tear his throat out? Are you actually being nice for once?”

Christopher glares at Minho, causing the black-haired man to gasp, then he turns to motion at you. “It’s thanks to her. She brought me to my senses, made me realize how irrational I was being. Now I’ll only get mad at the kid if he deserves it.”

“Chan-hyung,” Jisung says, the corner of his lip pulling up a bit, “thanks for offering to help me. I’ll need it.”

Christopher waves his hand dismissively in the air. “Don’t get too excited. You’re still covering my normal shit and I’m gonna work you twice as hard to pick up the slack.” Jisung lets out a whine as he’s told about his workload.

Minho snickers at the way Christopher phrases his demands, making a comment under his breath. “Yeah, I bet you’ll work him hard.”

His quip earns him a light shove from Changbin. “Alright,” the brunette says, standing up. “Since you two seem to be getting on just fine for now, Minho and I are going to go back to our place for the night. I’ve got to meet with Hyunjin tomorrow to fill him in on some things and so I can take care of the goods we’ve got coming in thanks to Jisung.”

Changbin turns to Jisung, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m leaving you to watch this place tonight. A couple of the newer guys in our security group, Lee and Yang, are in 3201 if shit goes down and you need backup. Chan has an arsenal hidden in the studio, so you don’t need to worry about arming yourself.” He turns to look at you, then Christopher. “We’ll be in one of our properties in Apgujeong-dong tonight, so if you need anything, call me and I’ll be here pretty quickly.”

Changbin turns back to the couch, offering a hand to Minho to help him upright, which the black-haired man happily accepts. “Don’t worry,” Minho says, looking down at you, “We’ll be back tomorrow night or Thursday morning. You haven’t seen the last of me yet. I know Binnie doesn’t like to leave Channie alone for too long.”

“Aish,” Changbin says as he elbows Minho in the side, “you make it sound like I’m obsessed with him.”

“I mean,” Minho says with a smirk as he rubs his side, “with the way that last night went and how you reacted when we listened to that recording-“

“I’m going to throw you in the river on the way out.” Changbin cuts Minho off, grumbling as he walks towards the door. “C’mon, you troublemaker. I’ll give you something to obsess over when we get home.” Minho grins, then leans down to you to give you a hug.

“I put my number in your phone last night, so if you need to bitch to anyone, I’ve got your back. I’ve also got a lot of knowledge on Chan if you need it. Put a better passcode on your phone, by the way; birthdays are too obvious,” he whispers in your ear before standing back up. “Channie, Sungie, I’ll see you soon.” His voice is light and cheerful as he says his goodbyes.

“Min,” Changbin says pointedly, adjusting some items around in his bag before motioning for him to follow, “Come on, let’s go. Seungmin isn’t gonna wait forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho says, waving at everyone as he heads towards the entrance and puts his shoes on. “Try not to kill each other while we’re away, okay?”

Christopher scoffs and waves at the guys as they walk through the door. “See ya.”

An awkward silence falls over the three of you. The couch now feels a lot more spacious now that Minho and Changbin are no longer sitting next to you. Christopher and Jisung are sitting in the chairs across from you, and all of you are trying to avoid looking at each other.

“Well,” Christopher chimes in after a minute, slapping his legs as he stands up. “I’m gonna pour myself a drink. Do you guys want something?” You look over at Jisung, who is nibbling on his bottom lip and looking at you, then look up at Christopher.

“Sure, I guess,” you say noncommittally. “I don’t want any soju or beer, though, not after last night.” The memory of you and Christopher in the studio rudely comes up and interrupts your train of thought, and a blush creeps up on your face.

“What happened last night?” Jisung innocently enquires, looking at you with a puzzled expression. “Minho-hyung brought it up too.”

Christopher clears his throat, walking over to the kitchen, reaching up to a tall shelf above the refrigerator.  “I’m gonna break into the whisky,” he says, ignoring Jisung’s question. “I’ve got some…” his voice trails off as you hear some bottles rattling around, “oh, I’ve got some sake, vodka, gin - why the fuck do I have gin? Damn you, Minho - oh, and some weird baijiu that Hyunjin brought me from Taiwan.”

Jisung pouts, visibly upset that neither of you answered his question. “Don’t you have any flavoured soju? I don’t like any of that stuff.”

“I think we drank most of it, but,” Christopher opens the fridge, humming to himself as he looks around, “Oh, yeah, we’ve got two bottles of peach and two bottles of strawberry leftover from yesterday. Which do you want? Do you want a glass?”

“Strawberry sounds good! No glass, though.” Jisung says in a happy voice, his face lighting up a bit. Christopher brings Jisung the bottle he requested, eliciting a soft, “thank you, hyung,” from the silver-haired man as he accepts it with both hands. Christopher turns back towards the kitchen, stopping in front of you.

“What do you want, baby?” Christopher asks, earning a glare from Jisung as he calls you baby, “I think you’d like the sake that I have. Want that?”

You nod your head a bit begrudgingly. “I suppose it’s different enough from soju, but I guess I’ll take the sake. Is it a nigori?”

Christopher twists his face in confusion at your question. “I don’t know,” he says with an upward inflection, walking back into the kitchen and fumbling with the bottles. “My Japanese is really bad. Is that the clear kind?”

“No,” you laugh, getting up to go assist him. “It’s cloudy. Nigori literally means murky, just so you know.”

“Oh,” he laughs, tilting the bottle to you, “I think you’ll like this one, then. I had it once in Osaka and brought a couple bottles back with me the last time I was there. It’s really good.”

“Thanks,” you say, holding the bottle. “I’m gonna need to chill it, though. You’re supposed to keep this stuff cold.”

Christopher opens up his bottle of whisky, the seal snapping loudly, grabbing a nice glass from the cupboard, He opens his freezer to put a couple of ice cubes in the glass. “Clearly, I don’t know these things,” he laughs, smiling at you for a moment longer than he should have. He sucks in air through his teeth, turning to grab a paper towel and wetting it in the sink. “Anyway, wrap it in this and stick it in the freezer for about 20 minutes. It’ll get nice and cold by then.”

You take the towel from him, wrapping it around the bottle in your hands. “That’s an odd tip,” you say, sticking the bottle in the freezer.

“Yeah, well,” Christopher grabs the bottle of whisky, and carefully pours it into his glass. “You learn a lot of weird drinking things when you’re friends with people that have the balls to buy warm beer that you wanted to drink sooner rather than later.”

Jisung lets out a giggle from the living room. “Bunny, you can share my soju with me while you wait for your sake to get cold!” You turn to him, about to tell him that you really don’t want more soju, but the way he smiles at you convinces you that one glass wouldn’t kill you.

“Fine,” you grumble, grabbing a sake cup from the cupboard, dramatically groaning as you walk back to the living room, shuffling your feet the entire way. “I really don’t want more of this flavoured stuff for a while, but I’ll drink a cup just for you, Sungie.”

He excitedly claps his hands once, shaking the bottle a couple of times before opening it. “Bunny, baby, here,” he motions for you to bring your cup to the table, “I’ll pour it for you, okay?” That’s exactly what he does, getting down on to the floor and getting really close to the cup. He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his face, squinting with determination as he fills your cup. “There! Now you’ve got a drink.”

The way he smiles at you warms your heart as he takes a quick drink from the bottle, then screws the lid back on his soju. You instinctively reach out to rub his face, letting your thumb slowly stroke his cheek. “Thank you, Sungie.”

Jisung is about to say something, but Christopher unceremoniously flops down on the floor to your right, sitting very closely to you. “Well,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, “aren’t you two cute? I can’t say I expected this from you, Sung. You never gave off those vibes.” You turn your head to look at him, expecting him to be angry, but he surprisingly doesn’t seem like it.

Christopher leans into your space, reaching a hand up to your face, and pulling it close to his. The sharp, sweet aroma of his whisky faintly floats up to you as he looks at your lips, then looks up at you with a look that screams desire. He gets closer, then softly kisses your lips. It’s not quite as passionate as the kisses he’s given you over the past couple of days, but it’s still loving and sweet.

He pulls away, looking at you, then looking at Jisung. “I can be cute, too.”

You feel your face warm, and you turn to Jisung to see if he’s angry. He has a determined look on his face as he stares at Christopher. His hand sneaks up to your neck, pulling you close to him, and he grips your face with his other hand, giving you a needy look. “I’m not always that cute,” he says with a low voice, flicking his eyes at Christopher before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. As his tongue demands entrance into your mouth, the artificial flavour of strawberry is strong and briefly overwhelms your senses. His fingers dig into your skin gently, and you feel your heart skip a beat as he pulls away from you, breaking the kiss.

Jisung looks at you, proudly smiling and licking his lips. His eyes slowly roll over towards Christopher and he gives the blond a taunting smirk. Your mind is starting to spin, all of the attention from both men causing you to feel a bit overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” Christopher says coolly before crawling over your lap, straddling you and grabbing the back of your neck, “I’m going to win this game.” He eases you down on to the floor, the cool panelling giving you a slight chill. He presses his lips to your neck, kissing you all over, occasionally giving you quick nibbles to make you squeal.

You down look at him exploring your neck and kissing you, then you look at Jisung. The expression on his face registers as jealous, but also intrigued and aroused. His bottom lip is sucked in under his teeth, and his eyes are half-open, staring down at you. “Chan,” he breathes out, crawling closer to both of you.

Christopher breaks away from you with a groan of irritation, turning to look at Jisung. “What? Why are you interrupting this?”

“She likes her collarbone marked up,” is what unexpectedly comes from Jisung. You were expecting him to be angry, but he looked like he was enjoying this. “She loves to be bruised, but only where I - er, we, can see it.”

The two men exchange glances, almost as if they were coming to a mutual conclusion, then turn to look at you with a devious intent in their eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you say, sitting up on to your elbows. “As much as I love this, I don’t wanna do this on the floor; it’s cold and uncomfortable. Can we save whatever this competition is between you for the bedroom?”

“Oh,” Christopher snaps out of it and sits back on his heels, moving his hand down to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think that this spot would be uncomfortable for you.”

Jisung puts a hand on your other thigh, smiling at you. “Yeah, sorry, we got a little excited, didn’t we, Chan?”

“I’m never going to get used to you not calling me hyung,” Christopher groans, moving back to his previous spot, taking a short sip from his drink and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “I think we should eat something beforehand, too. It’s been a long time since lunch, yeah?”

It didn’t register to you until now, but you were starting to feel hungry. Jisung’s arrival did interrupt your meal earlier, after all. “Yeah, I could use something right now,” you say, subconsciously running your fingers over your stomach. “What are we going to eat, though? It’s not like we can go anywhere.”

“We can’t, sure,” Christopher says, scrolling through his phone. “But we can order something to be delivered to the lobby and have little Sungie be a good boy and fetch it for us.”

The way that Christopher talks about Jisung makes him blush awkwardly. He fidgets with the hand on your thigh, and you can’t help but giggle uncontrollably. “Bunny!” He whines softly, shaking your thigh with his hand.

“What?” Christopher looks up at you both with confusion. “Was it something I said?”

“Sungie,” you say between giggles, “he likes to be called a good boy by me. I wasn’t expecting a reaction out of him from you saying that, though.”

“Oh my god!” He shouts and playfully shoves you, a bright pink tinting his face in embarrassment. “I can’t believe you’d tell Chan-hyung something like that.” His arms fold in front of his chest and he frowns.

“I,” Christopher shakes his head in confusion, “What? What’s so weird about being called a good boy?”

“Aah!” Jisung groans, bringing his hands to his face and falling to the floor dramatically. “Hyung, please stop, it’s killing me.”

You can’t contain the full-blown laughter coming from you. There was always something you enjoyed about making Jisung squirm. He was always so cute and adorable when it was just the two of you. To see him react like this made you more confident that he was becoming more vulnerable with Christopher.

It takes you a minute to stop laughing so hard, but you do recover, sitting back up to wipe the corners of your eyes. Jisung is still curled up on the floor in embarrassment, and poor Christopher looks like he finally understands, just suffering from secondhand embarrassment for the man on the floor.

“Duly noted,” Christopher says, looking back down to his phone with a slight blush on his face, “a-anyway, what should we have for dinner? There’s a decent sushi nearby place that delivers.”

As you’re about to mention that it sounded good, a thought crosses your mind. “Wait,” you say, looking at Christopher with concern. “What if they can trace your location? You know, giving your name and phone number to this place.”

Jisung sits up with a groan. “It’s fine,” he grumbles, “we never use our real names or phone numbers for any of these things. We use burner numbers, and we almost always pay in cash, but we do have credit cards and IDs in fake names, just in case.”

Christopher hums in agreement. “Jisung, you’ve learned quickly. He’s right, though. We’re very cautious about our existence around people we don’t know.”

Jisung cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head, “Yeah, unless it’s an attractive girl at a house party.” This quip earns Jisung a middle finger from Christopher.

“If Changbin was here, I’d make you go out and pick this up instead,” he grumbles, looking back down to his phone, “I’m gonna order from this place. What do you want?”

Eventually, you sort out an order you all can agree on. Christopher places the order, and you grab your sake from the freezer. His trick was miraculous - it was cold, but not frozen. The paper towel came right off without ruining the label, too, which was an added bonus. You gently shake the bottle as you walk back to the table, pouring some of the sake into the cup you used earlier for Jisung’s soju.

“How did you two meet, anyways?” Christopher asks Jisung as you sit down. The question freezes you in place for a second, a bit embarrassed at the memory. Jisung and Christopher look at you as you shake yourself out of your stupor. “What?”

Jisung smiles, despite your discomfort, “I think she has a type. We met at a club, she was drunk and we were both lonely. I told her I made music, and she practically begged me to take her back to my place so she could listen to some of the stuff I made.”

You groan, and drink the entire cup of sake you poured in one sitting, even though you had intended to slowly sip on it. As you slam the cup back on the table, you notice Christopher is staring at you with a very amused smile on his face. “So, musicians, eh?” He quips, and it causes you to grumble. Your head falls to the table in frustration.

“Needless to say,” Jisung continues, “we didn’t even get close to hearing some of my music. She was on top of me, literally, as soon as we got back to my tiny apartment and the rest was history. We were both pretty hungover the next day, so we stayed in bed, messed around a bit, and ate really bad takeout while watching some bad dramas. If she didn’t stick around for that, we probably never would have ended up together.”

Christopher snickers, rubbing his hand on your back. “Seems reasonable. I can see how that would happen.”

You sit back up and pout at both of the men. “You two are just as bad, taking home a girl you barely know at a party or a club.” The three of you share a nice laugh as Christopher’s phone pings.

“Ah, wow, that was fast,” he looks up to Jisung, then back down to his phone, “that’s your cue. The concierge downstairs just texted me, and delivery guy is asking for, ah, what was the name I gave,” he scrolls on his phone for a second, “looks like you’re Kim Jihoon today.”

Jisung stands up and stretches, and Christopher gets up, walking to the kitchen to rifle through a drawer. “Jihoon doesn’t really suit me, does it?” He looks down at you and smiles, bending down to give the top of your head a quick peck.

“Here,” Christopher says from the kitchen, not looking up. He puts some bills on the countertop and shuffles some things around in the drawer before closing it. “Should be plenty to cover the bill. Tell the concierge that you’re in room 3201. He’s one of us, but it’s enough to throw off the deliverer, just in case.”

“Alright,” Jisung says as he walks to the entryway, grabbing the money on the counter on the way. “Kim Jihoon, at your service.” He sarcastically salutes before taking a mask out from his pocket, pulling it over his ears as he slips his feet into his shoes. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says before exiting the apartment.

Christopher sits down right next to you, placing a hand on the back of your neck. “I’m going to be honest,” he says as you look at him, “this is still a little weird, but I can see that Jisung really does care about you.”

You try look down at your feet, but Christopher puts a finger under your chin, tilting it up so you look at him again. “I didn’t say it was bad, so please don’t look away from me. I told you, I’m willing to give this a shot for you. We just might have some awkward bumps along the way.” You nod, giving him a soft smile. “The way he kisses you, though. Wow, that was both fun and frustrating to watch. It made me want you more, which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“Really?” A giggle escapes from you. “You two looked like you were enjoying fighting over me.”

“Yeah,” Christopher laughs nervously, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see what he’s like with you in bed.”

The thought of both men in bed with you caused your heart to flutter with excitement. The duality of them was enough to give you whiplash: Christopher was on the more aggressive side, from what you could tell, and Jisung was generally the complete opposite. He usually preferred it when you took control, being warm and comforting, but he had moments where he was the exact opposite, enjoying making you beg for any sort of sexual gratification.

“What’s up?” Christopher says, rubbing his thumb on your chin.

“Oh,” you say, snapping out of your thoughts. “I was just thinking it’s going to be interesting having you both at the same time. You’re both really different, that’s all.”

A curious look comes up on Christopher’s face with your response. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but his phone beeps with a notification tone. “Ah,” he grumbles, reaching for his phone on the table, “that’s probably Jisung.” He scans his text message and stands up. “Yeah, it is. The fuck? What’s with all of the star emojis?”

“It’s something he does, especially when he’s been drinking,” you say with a laugh, “you’ll get used to it.”

Christopher shoots you a look of doubt before walking to the entrance. He opens the door, and Jisung walks in with a couple of paper bags. Christopher grabs the bags from Jisung, allowing him to come in and take his shoes off. “Thanks, Chan-hyung,” Jisung says, pulling his mask off and shoving it back into his pocket.

As Jisung is slipping his shoes off, Christopher walks back towards the living room, setting the bags down on the table. “Watch this,” he quietly mouths to you, before turning back to face Jisung. The silver-haired man stands up and starts walking over to you. You can see a wide grin from the side of Christopher’s face as he opens his mouth to speak. “Wasn’t little Sungie such a good boy, grabbing all of that for us?”

You stifle a laugh, eyes growing wide as you clasp your hands to cover your mouth. Jisung stops dead in his tracks and instantly turns bright red with embarrassment. He locks eyes with Christopher, a look of shock and disbelief on his face as his eyes widen. Christopher can’t take it, doubling over and cackling with enjoyment.

“I’m so sorry, Sungie,” you say between laughs, “I had no idea he was going to pull that on you.” Jisung looks at you and pouts, shuffling his feet towards the living room.

“Baby,” he whines as he flops down on the floor dramatically. “You know what that does to me.” His voice is in that whiny, needy tone that you loved to hear from him when you were together before. It’s the voice that told you that you could get away with nearly anything.

“Oh my god,” Christopher says, catching his breath and taking a seat on the floor. “I’m sorry, it was just so fun the first time. I had to try it out again just to see what you would do.”

Jisung sits upright, his face serious. “It’s weird when you do it!” He cries out, his brows furrowed. “It’s fine when she does it because I love it when she does that, it makes me all excited. When you do it, it’s just weird!”

Christopher looks at you, cocks an eyebrow, then looks back at Jisung. “Why’s it weird when I do it to you?”

If it were possible for Jisung’s face to turn a deeper shade of red, it was happening. His eyes nervously dart around, settling on the floor as he shrinks into himself a bit. “I like it,” he mumbles, barely audible enough for you to catch it.

“What was that?” Christopher prods, unsure if he heard the younger man correctly.

“I like when you do it, too!” He shouts in frustration. “It’s weird, because you’re my hyung and I don’t see you like that. But this whole situation is weird and I don’t know what to do about it.” Jisung did seem honestly flustered, but not quite upset.

“Sungie,” you say, softly, before you scoot close to him. He looks up at you and pouts, but you just grab his face and pull him into a gentle kiss. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll make sense of it as we go, okay?”

Jisung perks back up at your words, giving you a soft smile. “Okay, bunny, that’s fine with me.”

Christopher clears his throat and opens the bags up. “I think it’s time for food, yeah? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Jisung nods and grabs some things from the bags, helping set everything out on the table.

All three of you get through the dishes you ordered, it seeming to be just the right amount of food. After a couple of drinks, the three of you are laughing around the table and are enjoying the company of one another.

“Well,” Christopher says, “before I drink anymore, I’m gonna step outside for a second.”

“I thought you only did that when you were bored at a party?” You ask, looking over at him in confusion.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m just feeling like it tonight, you know? It’s been a weird day. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head, “I just don’t want you to smoke too much, that’s all.”

Christopher leans over and kisses your forehead. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says in a soothing tone, “I won’t.” He pulls away from you, walking over to the balcony door, grabbing the pack and lighter from earlier off of the end table by the window. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” he says with a wink before he slips outside and closes the door.

As soon as Christopher closes the door, Jisung reaches his hand out and grabs yours. “Baby,” he says, looking at you with concern. “About Chan…”

“What’s up, Sungie?” You ask, interlacing your fingers with his, giving the top of his hand a soft kiss.

“It’s about earlier.” He looks down to the floor, then back up to you, his face turning pink again. “When he, uh, called me a ‘good boy’.”

“What about it?” You ask, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “Did it really bother you? I can tell him to stop.”

“No!” Jisung shakes his head. “No, it didn’t bother me. But, um,” his voice trails off as he looks over his shoulder, over to the balcony door, then back down to his lap. “I really did like it. More than I should. I don’t know if it’s because he’s my hyung or my superior or if it’s because you like him, but,” he sucks in air through his teeth, colliding his head down to your shoulder “he said it and it instantly got me hard.”

Your eyes widen with shock. “Oh,” is all you can manage to squeak out, not really sure what to do with that information.

“Please don’t tell him,” Jisung says, still resting on your shoulder, “I don’t wanna make things any weirder than they are. He didn’t really like me much to begin with and I know he probably doesn’t even want me to be a part of this, so I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

You run a hand through his hair and rub his back with your other hand. “Don’t worry, Sungie, this is new to all of us.” You try your best to reassure him, but also reassuring yourself. This situation was indeed crazy, and unpredictable. This could either go very well, or very poorly, and you just had to go with it for now.

The balcony door opens, breaking the silence in the room. Christopher steps inside, setting his lighter down on the end table. He turns around, walking back to where you were sitting, looking confused. “Sung, are you alright?”

Jisung sits up with a snap and shakes his head. “I’m fine, Chan-hyung, I was just, uh-”

Christopher cuts him off as he sits down. “I told you, stop calling me hyung when it’s just the three of us. It’s weird. Are you sure you’re fine?” He reaches down to his glass, bringing it to his lips as he takes a sip of his whisky.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, a bit more calmly this time. “I just wanted to rest my head and cuddle. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, clearly not convinced. “Anyway, now what do we do? It’s a bit after 11, so we could go to bed, but that seems a bit early.”

You take a drink of sake, darting your eyes back and forth between Christopher and Jisung, not really sure what to suggest. You really couldn’t handle drinking games two nights in a row.

Then, Jisung grabs his drink, sucking it all down at once. “Finish your drinks, or don’t,” he suggests, leaning on to the table. A somewhat shy smirk comes up on his face. “I think it’s time we finish what we started earlier.”

Your face flushes as you take a drink directly from the bottle of sake, finishing off the last of what was was left in it. Christopher smiles widely, finishing off his whisky. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says as he slams his glass on the table, turning to you. “Alright. Stand up, both of you” he commands you with an ominous tone to his voice.

You don’t see any reason not to, so you stand up at his request. “Jisung,” he says, “go in the bedroom and wait on the bed for us.”

Jisung looks like he’s thinking about protesting, but he decides against it. “Okay,” he says, flashing you a smile before he walks off towards the bedroom.

Christopher walks up to you, lifting your chin up so you look at him. “Do you trust me?” His voice is soft and calm, a stark difference to what he sounded like just a moment ago. He cared about what you were thinking, and it was starting to show.

“Yeah, I do. Why?” You ask, but Christopher doesn’t give you a complete answer. He bends down and picks you up, lifting you under your back and your knees.

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling deviously as he carries you to the bedroom.

Jisung is sitting at the foot of the bed when you both enter, not really sure what to do with himself. Christopher sets you down on the bed next to him, and leans up on the dresser in front of the bed.

“Jisung,” he says with a commanding tone, “I want you to undress her, but she has to enjoy it. This goes for both of you, but if you want to stop at any point, I need you to tell me. Green is fine, yellow to slow down, red for stop. Understood?” You nod your head in affirmation and look at Jisung.

“Okay,” Jisung says, turning to you, a nervous smile on his face. He crawls on top of you, straddling you. His lips crash against yours, a bit timid at first, but his kiss rapidly becomes more and more desperate and needy. It seems subconscious, but he starts to grind his pelvis into yours, his erection very obvious against you. You grab his hips, helping to steady him as he grabs both sides of your neck, fervently lapping his tongue against yours. With each kiss, he lets out the softest, small moans against your lips.

“Oi,” Christopher stresses, his voice startling both of you. You both turn to look at him, and he hasn’t moved. His arms are folded over his chest, and he has a devious look on his face, drinking in the sight of both of you all over each other. “Jisung, I told you to get her undressed, that’s it. She’s enjoying it, so hurry it up.”

Jisung swallows hard and nods his head, turning back to you. He gives you a couple of soft kisses before bringing his hands down to the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. He looks down at your torso, shirt still in his hands, as he can’t bring himself to stop staring at your breasts.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, dropping the shirt to the bed and moving his hands up to just under your bra. “I forgot how incredible you look, baby.” He takes you in, then looks up to meet your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I loved this so much. I love you so much.”

The words cause your stomach to do a backflip, but you have a wave of nervousness as you dart your eyes over to Christopher. You expected him to snap up, call the whole thing off, and tell Jisung to stop. It was weird - he just didn’t. He looked completely calm, nodding at you to continue.

Jisung reaches behind your back to the clasp of your bra. He always had trouble with it before, so it doesn’t surprise you when it takes him a couple tries before it finally unhooks. Once it’s unhooked, he gently pulls the bra to him, gently guiding your arms through the straps. He doesn’t even bother looking away as your breasts are unveiled. The needy, wanting look on his face makes you shift your legs a bit in discomfort. You wanted attention and you wanted it now.

Christopher moves, and you spot him sneaking behind you from the corner of your eyes. “Keep going, Jisung,” he whispers as he places his hands on your hips and comes down to your neck. It’s obvious he’s taken Jisung’s words to heart as he kisses you a bit before sinking his teeth into the apex of your shoulder, right below your neck.

The initial sensation is shocking. It feels like a bolt of electricity goes up to your head and down to the bottom of your toes; the moan leaving your mouth is completely involuntary, only intensified by the fact that Christopher sucks the skin between his teeth hard. It felt like it was going to leave a bruise and you loved that feeling.

Jisung is a bit shocked, staring down at both of you. When Christopher comes up off of your shoulder, he looks up at the dumbfounded man. “She’s not naked yet. Finish your job.”

Christopher’s commanding tone snaps Jisung out of his trance yet again. He sputters a bit, stepping down to the floor. “Hyung,” he timidly whispers, clearly not wanting to interrupt either of you.

“Chan,” Christopher corrects him. “What do you want?”

“I can’t remove her jeans if you’re, um,” Jisung nervously stutters, looking nervously at the two of you.

“Spit it out.” Christopher commands, sounding a bit annoyed.

“I can’t remove her jeans if you’re keeping her down.”

It takes Christopher a minute to snap out of it. “Oh,” he says, pulling back from you and putting his hands in the air. “Alright, continue.”

“Hold on,” you say, looking up at Jisung, “are you sure you’re okay? Is Christopher bothering you?”

Jisung shakes his head, “No, no,” he says, kneeling down in front of you, “quite the opposite, actually. I kind of like being told what to do, even if it’s by Chan. I’m just a little nervous, since this is new.”

He reassures you for now. The last thing you’d want would be for something in this to go wrong, because it was starting to feel incredible, having both of these men devote all of their attention to you. You put your weight on your hands as Jisung undoes the button and zipper on your jeans. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and panties, pulling them all the way down and off of your ankles.

Jisung starts to adjust as if he was going to get up, but he’s at eye level with your crotch, which causes him to blush. Before he gets to enjoy it too much, however, Christopher orders him to stand up, and come back to the bed. “Yes, Chan,” he says with a pout on his face, moving to the foot of the bed.

Christopher moves away from you, grabbing Jisung’s hand and pulling him down. “Come here,” he says a bit softer than before. You turn around to look at them. Christopher moves to lean up against the bedframe, pulling Jisung between his legs. “Turn around and sit here.” He pats his legs and Jisung does as asked, his face a light shade of pink.

Christopher takes Jisung’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and firmly holding them in place. Jisung yelps in shock, nervously sputtering incoherently. Christopher leans down to Jisung’s ear and whispers, “Be a good boy while we take care of you and you’ll be rewarded, okay?”

Jisung stops chattering, his eyes widening with excitement as he looks at you. “Alright,” Christopher looks at you, “why don’t you help Sungie get out of his clothes now?” You nervously swallow and nod, shifting your position to in between Jisung’s legs. As you grab Jisung’s shirt, starting to pull it over him, the look on his face distracts you for a brief moment.

He’s leaning back into Christopher’s arms, eyes flooded with lust. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s biting his bottom lip in anticipation and excitement. Christopher looks at you with a smile on his face. The sight takes your breath away. “Go on, baby,” Christopher nudges you along, “I want to see you play with Sungie.”

You nod your head, and Christopher lets go of Jisung’s arms so you’re able to pull his shirt off. Jisung reflexively goes to reach up to your face, but Christopher snaps to his wrists, pulling them back down behind him. “No, no, Sung, not yet.” He brings his chin to Jisung’s neck, a breath hitched in his throat, pausing briefly in thought before he nods at you.

Jisung whines, adjusting his hips right back up into Christopher. A gasp leaves his throat and he turns his face to look at the blonde man. “Chan,” he breathes, a surprised look on his face. Christopher darts his eyes away and blushes.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever it is that’s happening between them. “Come on, baby,” he says as he looks at you, trying to change the subject, “let’s get him completely undressed.”

You reach up to the button of Jisung’s jeans, trying to undo them, but fumbling a bit due to your nerves. Finally, you release the button from the hole and unzip his pants. Jisung flinches a bit and gasps in relief as his cock is no longer restrained by the taut fabric of his jeans. “Ah, baby,” he whines, squirming up against Christopher, as you slip his jeans and briefs off of him. “I want you so badly.”  

Christopher looks at you with a smirk before he presses his lips against Jisung’s ear. “Patience is a virtue, Sungie,” he whispers softly, gently biting the man’s earlobe. Jisung’s face contorts into an expression between shock, pain, and pleasure and his cock twitches in response.

“Chan,” he desperately breathes out, turning his head to face the man behind him. They exchange a quick glance, before Christopher shifts himself, timidly bringing his lips to Jisung’s, clearly unsure if he wants to actually kiss him or not. Jisung, however, decides for both of them, aggressively closing the distance between their lips. The brash action appears to change something in Christopher. He releases one of his hands from Jisung’s wrists, grabbing the side of Jisung’s neck, pulling him in and shoving his tongue into the man’s mouth, adventuring around assertively.

You don’t really know what to do, sitting there, your gaze transfixed on them. The sight makes you forget how to breathe, completely entranced by the way they melt into each other. Without even thinking about it, you make your way down to take Jisung's cock into your mouth, gently kissing the tip of his head, and giving it small, gentle licks.

Jisung breaks away from the kiss with a cry, curling his legs upward a bit in response to your actions. You look up at him, your tongue swirling around his head, watching his reactions as you take him fully into your mouth, and down your throat. He lets out a deep moan, throwing his neck back onto Christopher’s shoulder, panting hard.

“That’s it,” Christopher coos, bringing his free hand up to stroke Jisung’s face. “You’re doing so well, Sungie." He plants a kiss on Jisung's temple, then looks down to you. “Keep going, baby. Get him close.”

You continue, licking your way up his shaft slowly, teasing him a bit, before taking him all the way in again, sucking your cheeks in and creating a vacuum effect in your mouth. You go up and down like this a few times, until Jisung’s become moans breathy and shaky. He starts to twitch, and Christopher says your name, getting your attention.

“Stop,” he commands, “he doesn’t get to come yet.” You follow his order, pulling yourself off of Jisung. His eyes snap open, frantically looking at both of you.

“What?!” His voice is panicked, thrusting his hips into the air once, scrambling from the loss of contact. “Why did you make her stop?”

“Because,” Christopher says, pushing Jisung to sit upright, “I want you to be a good boy and wait.” Jisung groans in frustration, quite loudly, in fact, as Christopher moves himself out from underneath the silver-haired man in his lap to sit next to him. He slips his shirt off, tossing it across the room, then undoes his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants.

“Jisung,” Christopher says, turning to look down at him, “give me your hands.” He holds his belt in one hand, other hand held out, waiting. Jisung furrows his brows in confusion, but presents his hands to the blond. “Good boy,” Christopher says, taking him by the wrists, lifting them above his head to the bedframe behind them. He pins Jisung’s arms up, carefully wrapping his belt around his wrists and the frame, finishing by fastening the belt together.

“What?” Jisung turns his head up to look, then looks back down to both of you. “What are you doing, Chan?”

Christopher doesn’t technically answer him. “What’s your colour?” He asks in response.

“Uh,” Jisung pauses, still distracted by his arms being restrained above him. “Green?”

“So, you’re okay with this? And you’re relatively comfortable?” Christopher presses.

“Yes?” Jisung says with an upward inflection, nodding. “I just don’t understand why?”

Christopher smiles, then turns toward you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. “Because I don’t want you to touch yourself while we have fun. Patience is a virtue,” he repeats.

Jisung dramatically groans, rolling his head back into the headboard. “You’re so mean, Chan,” he whines, “this is so unfair.”

Christopher was leaning in to kiss you, but turns to Jisung with a glare. “One more complaint, and I’ll make sure you don’t come at all tonight. Understood?” His assertiveness causes Jisung to snap up with a squeal, biting his lip as he nods feverishly.

“Good,” Christopher says, bringing his attention back to you. “What do you say we make Sungie squirm some more, baby?” He grabs your head, finally pulling you in to kiss you, deeply and passionately. You bring your hands down to his waistline, trying to undo his pants as you kiss each other.

Christopher breaks away from the kiss, pulling your hands off of his pants. “How about a repeat of your first night here? I can wait.” He grabs your hands, guiding you with him as he lays down next to Jisung, who’s staring at both of you, wide-eyed with intrigue. You walk up to Christopher’s face on your knees. He lets go of your hands, lining you up to his mouth.

“Watch and learn, Sungie,” Christopher says, almost mockingly, as he starts to lap you up. The first lick causes your body to shiver from head to toe, but you manage to keep your balance. You dart your eyes over to Jisung. His eyes are attentive and curious, taking in the sight of you on top of Christopher.

You open you mouth, about to make a comment, but Christopher’s tongue presses up against your clit in a way that makes you forget how to speak. He moves his tongue back and forth, then in circles. “Playing with Jisung made you so wet, baby,” Christopher says, breaking away from you for a moment, turning to Jisung to speak. “Look at what you’ve done to her, she must really want you, hmm?”

Jisung bites his lip and whines, uncomfortably shifting around, “She likes it when you bite her inner thighs. Always makes her scream.”

Christopher lifts his eyebrows, smiling at Jisung. “That’s helpful. Let’s test it out,” he says, bringing his attention back to you. You feel your legs tense as he brings his teeth to the top of your thigh, digging them in and dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin. The sharpness of his teeth on your skin causes your nerves to light up and tremble within you. You drag your hands into Christopher’s hair and shout out his name.

You feel Christopher smile against your skin, pausing for a moment to look at you before he brings his attention back to your clit, lightly sucking on it, flicking the tip of his tongue against you. Everything inside of you is burning, aching, pining for more, crescendoing in tandem within you as Christopher brings you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He breaks away from you again, but not before sticking two of his fingers inside of you, causing you to gasp. “What do you think? Should we let her come?” You want to kill him for stopping, right when you were right there, but the way he asked Jisung just drove you mad. You looked down to Jisung with pleading eyes, mouth half-open and you likely looked totally wrecked.

Jisung locked eyes with you, smiling as he studied your face. “Do it, Chan. Make her come for us.” As soon as he says that, Christopher curls his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out at a rapid pace. Your knees start to buckle and you curl over him, lucky that you miss hitting your head on the wall, and you drop your arms to either side of his head. He steadies you with his free hand, bringing you back up to his mouth, his tongue doing circles against your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Jisung says in a soothing voice, helping coax you to your orgasm, “come for us. Come on Chan’s tongue. I wanna hear you scream our names.” The combination of Jisung’s words and Christopher’s actions proved too much to handle. You started breathing uncontrollably, laboured panting taking over as every muscle in your body started to involuntarily twitch and shake.

“Christopher, Jisung, I’m gonna-” you say, but you’re unable to finish your sentence. Your orgasm comes coursing through your body, making you stiffen up and tremble, contractions pulsing within you from head to toe.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath and lift yourself off of Christopher’s face.

“You did so well, baby,” Christopher whispers, removing his fingers from inside of you, reaching his arm up to the man next to you both. “Hey, Jisung,” he says, tilting his head to look at him, “open your mouth for me.”

Jisung furrows his brows, but does as he’s requested. Christopher takes the fingers that were inside of you, and brings them right to the entrance of his mouth. “Clean them.”

Jisung sticks his tongue out, inching closer to Christopher’s fingers. He slowly licks the essence of you off of him, rolling his tongue around and in between both fingers, then takes them all the way into his mouth. Christopher moans, his eyes fluttering in response to Jisung’s actions. “Fuck, you’re good.”

Christopher pulls his fingers out of Jisung’s mouth, rubbing his cheek softly before turning his attention back to you. “Why don’t you reward Sungie for being so good, baby? Crawl on top of him. Ride him until he comes, okay?”

You weakly nod your head, swinging your leg around Christopher. “But what about you?”

He waves his hand in the air before reaching down into his pants. “I’ll be fine. I did say that I was curious about how you two would be together, didn’t I?”

“Alright,” you say, positioning yourself over Jisung. He looks up at you with eager eyes. “Are you ready?”

Jisung nods his head quickly. “Oh, please, baby,” he whines, “I’ve been waiting for this all night.” You smile, lining him up underneath you. Your attention is momentarily distracted as Christopher closes the space between him and Jisung. He brings his face up to Jisung’s ear, giving him light nibbles as he strokes himself.

“Be a good boy for us, okay?” You hear Christopher whisper to Jisung, causing the man below you to shudder. He nods, and you slowly lower yourself on him.

You watch Jisung, taking in every reaction he makes as you take him in. He involuntarily rolls his head back, still trying to watch you. His eyes flutter as you meet his hips with yours, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from him. Christopher looks up at you, smirking, before he drops his head down to Jisung’s neck, giving him small nibbles and kisses. He whispers praises in between each kiss and bite, but you tune it out as you start grinding your hips into Jisung’s.

The way that Jisung felt inside of you was enough to make your eyes roll back as you ride him up and down. It probably wasn’t enough to make you come again, but it still felt incredible.

“How does she feel, Sungie?” Christopher says, loud enough for you to hear.

Jisung responds with a nod and some incoherent ramblings. “Don’t stop,” he manages to squeak out. “Both of you. Please, don’t.” He rolls his head back into the headboard. “Chan,” he pleads, “keep going.”

“Jisung likes to be bitten hard,” you breathe out, smiling up at Christopher, “so you should finish what you started.”

Christopher responds with a scoff. “Fine,” he says as he adjusts his position. “Only because you’ve been so good.” He leans up on one of his elbows to get closer to Jisung’s neck, fully devoting himself to worship Jisung’s neck with his teeth.

The sight of them both causes your stomach to burn in the best possible way. You shift down, steadying yourself on one arm as you take your right hand and start pumping Christopher’s cock. He groans against Jisung’s neck, but doesn’t stop.

Jisung starts to pant out mewls, his eyes shutting tightly as he starts to twitch. “Baby,” he pleadingly whines, “baby, I’m gonna come. Can I? I want to come. Please, please.”

“It’s okay, Sungie, baby,” you pant out as you ride him a bit faster. “You can come for me. I want you to come for me, okay?”

He nods once, about to bite his lip, but he chokes out a moan, calling out your name at the top of his lungs. Christopher removes himself from Jisung’s neck as he starts to twitch and thrust up into you. He watches you ride Jisung, milking out every drop of cum from him with each slow thrust of your hips.

Jisung’s pants slow down, and he starts coming back to reality. He looks down at you, eyes half-open, and goes to move his arm, surprised to find that they’re restrained, just for a moment. “Ah, shit, I forgot,” he groans, “I wanted to kiss you, baby. That was amazing.”

You smile, letting go of Christopher for a second and leaning down to give him a quick, but loving, kiss. “I’ll give you a better kiss when I’m done with Christopher, okay?” Jisung pouts, but nods his head. Slowly, you lift yourself completely off of Jisung, getting one last shiver out of the man beneath you. You reach up and undo the belt, unravelling it and tossing it to the side. “You did so well today,” you coo to Jisung as you kiss his wrists, gently bringing his arms back down to him.

“Okay,” you say, adjusting yourself on the bed so you’re hovering over Christopher. “You’re next, baby.” You lean down to kiss him. “Do you wanna be inside me?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” he groans, grabbing your hips and aligning the two of you together. “I’m already really close, but I want to feel you around me.”

You lower yourself on to him, expecting your motions to be slow and calm like it was with Jisung, but Christopher tightens his grip on your hips. He takes control, thrusting himself up into you with no mercy. His sudden movement causes you to cross your eyes in surprise and collapse down into him.

It really doesn’t take him long, with him in control. He’s in and out of you, hard and fast, and it feels good. You turn your head to face Jisung and he’s watching you intently, a smile on his face. “Do you like making Chan feel good, baby?”

You can’t really make the words go from your brain to your mouth, so you make some sort of groan of affirmation in between your pants.

“Oh, fuck,” Christopher moans underneath you, reaching his hands up to your back and digging his fingernails into your skin. He moans out your name as he thrusts up into you one more time, throwing his head back into the pillow behind him. His body shudders beneath you, and you lift your head up, propping yourself up on one of your arms.

You look down at Christopher, completely blissed out, his face starting to relax and come back to normal. Slowly, you bring your face down to meet his lips, giving him soft, tender kisses as you help bring his attention back to focus. “That felt really good, baby,” you whisper, smiling against his lips.

Christopher scoffs, a goofy smile coming up on his face. He opens his eyes, looking at you, reaching his hand up to your face. “That was incredible. All of that was incredible.” His head turns, looking over to Jisung, reaching out to his chest with his free hand. “I seriously can’t believe we did that.”

Jisung takes Christopher’s hand into his own, sliding himself up closer to both of you. “I can’t believe we did that, either. I didn’t think I would ever be able to share my bunny with anyone, but you treat her so well.”

You slide yourself off of Christopher, and he lets out a soft moan in response. “I’m going to duck off to the washroom for a minute. You two made a mess of me.” Both of the men laugh in response as you wobble your way off of the bed and into the washroom.

It doesn’t take you long to clean up and wash your face. Within a couple of minutes, you find yourself walking (a bit more coordinated, now) back towards the bed. The bedroom is an absolute mess of all of your clothes. ‘Whatever’, you think to yourself, ‘we’ll just deal with it tomorrow.’

You maneuver your way through the clothes strewn about, getting up to the edge of the bed before you stop. Christopher and Jisung have passed out, with Christopher on his back and Jisung curled up next to him. You had wanted to sleep between them, but you’d settle for the space right behind Jisung.

As you crawl up on to the bed, you turn off the lamp next to you, deciding to leave the rest of the lights in the apartment on for now. You curl up next to Jisung, wrapping your arm around him. It only takes a couple of minutes before you find yourself nodding off, completely at peace. Honestly, this felt so nice. If you could end every night like this, you would happily take it.

“Fuck,” you hear a voice as the bed shifts, and Jisung rolls over, wrapping his arm around you. It feels like the voice in the distance is part of your dream, along with the chirping of a bird. “Shit,” you hear the voice again, a bit clearer now. The chirping of the bird turns into a ringtone. Christopher’s ringtone, actually, the one that you heard when Changbin called him. “Goddammit,” the voice perks up again as the trilling stops. It’s Christopher’s voice.

Your eyes flutter open, the room still relatively dark, the only light was from the kitchen, spilling into the bedroom. It’s faint, but you make out Christopher’s shadow, walking into the kitchen as he answers his phone as quietly as possible.

“Changbin, it’s four in the morning. What the fuck?” His voice is groggy and low. You don’t really have the energy to stay up to hear some sort of report, so you let your eyes close again, drifting back off into sleep.

“Fuck,” Christopher says, the sound of his footsteps getting closer and closer to the bed. “You both need to get up. Now. Jisung, we need to move.”

Jisung shakes his head, sitting upright. “What happened?”

“We need to go. Now. Changbin’s orders. Go pack up the shit in the studio; most of it should be in the black bag.” Christopher says with urgency, turning on the lamp next to you. He turns to you to wake you up, but is surprised to see you wide awake and staring at him. “Get dressed. I don’t have time to explain.” Jisung groggily gets off of the bed, stumbling to get his pants on. He tosses your shirt and bra over to you, slipping his other leg through his jeans.

Christopher grabs some clothes from the drawer, still holding his phone up to his ear. “Lee and Yang? 3201?” He questions, “Right now? Alright.” He turns his head back around to you, his voice starting to sound panicked. “Seriously, get dressed. Two of our guys are on their way over.”

You don’t really have the time to register what exactly he’s talking about, you just move to grab your underwear and pants from the floor, and slip all of your clothes on. Christopher pulls his phone away from his face, tapping the screen, and you can hear Changbin’s voice on the other line. Jisung walks behind Christopher, slipping his shirt over his head. He moves with purpose out into the kitchen, and you hear him rustling around in the studio next door.

“Hyunjin’s been shot,” Changbin’s voice comes through the tinny speaker of Christopher’s phone. Both of you freeze, unable to move for a second. “I don’t know where they are, but I know they’re coming for you.”

“Fuck,” Christopher says, snapping out of it, throwing on his shirt and slipping his pants on in a rush. “What’s his status?”

“Don’t panic, he’ll make it. If I heard correctly, it was just a through and through in his leg. Seungmin’s with him at the hospital, so don’t worry.”

You take a hasty breath of relief, putting your shirt on with shaky hands.

Christopher grabs his phone, stopping to look at you. “I need you to hurry up, please.” He turns off the speakerphone, bringing his phone back to his face. He starts to move for the kitchen as the front door opens. He stops for a moment, trying to decipher if it was a threat. You can’t see who comes in, but Christopher relaxes when he sees them.

“Are you ready?” One of the unfamiliar voices says, and Christopher shakes his head.

“Almost. Yang, she’s in here, keep an eye on her and get her out here. Lee, watch the door. Han and I are grabbing the essentials from the studio and we’ll be ready in a minute.” His voice trails off, and you assume he’s headed off into the studio with Jisung.

A young man with black hair walks into the room, your shoes in his hand. He sees you and offers a shallow bow, handing you your shoes. “I’m Yang Jeongin. I’m with Bang-hyung and Seo-hyung.” You don’t really know what to say, so you just offer a small bow with your head, shakily introducing yourself. “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe, alright? I need you to get up and come with me, though, okay?”

You hastily slip on your shoes and shakily make your way to your feet, all semblance of balance leaving you. As you’re about to fall forward, Jeongin comes up to catch you. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “We need to go. Seo-hyung will be here in just a few minutes. Okay?”

You weakly nod your head, regaining your balance. With Jeongin’s help, you make your way to the kitchen just as Christopher and Jisung are coming out of the studio, both visibly armed with pistols. “Lee,” Christopher says, putting a large black duffel bag on the counter. The young, bleach-blond man standing at the entrance nods, walking over to the counter to grab the bag. “Everything’s in here. Don’t let this bag out of your sight, no matter what.”

“Understood, Bang-hyung,” he says with a bow, meeting your eyes as he grabs the bag. He looks at you with a serious look, as if he were hiding his nervousness under a tough skin. “Lee Felix, nice to meet you.” He offers you a bow, pulling the bag off of the counter and taking it to the entrance before you can introduce yourself.

“Yang,” Christopher says, grabbing the pistol from under the table, “Han and I have got her, don’t worry.” He takes the pistol and the magazine and passes it to the black-haired man. “I want you to lead with Lee as we leave, understood?”

“Yes, hyung,” he says with a bow, assembling the pistol and putting it in an open side holster.

“Alright,” Christopher says, coming up to your side. “Han, are you ready?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jisung says, coolly and calmly, walking up to your other side. You turn to look at him, and he looks stoic and composed. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ve got you.”

“Changbin’s out front,” Christopher says, grabbing your hand haphazardly. “We need to go.”

With his words, the five of you move quickly, yet cautiously, stepping out of the apartment and into the elevator. You, Christopher, and Jisung stand in the back, as Felix and Jeongin stand up front. All of them have holstered their pistols, but their hands are on their hips above them.

It seems like an eternity since you’ve seen this elevator. The last time you saw it, you remembered being excited and nervous, curious about who the mysterious Christopher Bang was. Now, you were nervous and terrified. You looked up to him, and found yourself wondering that familiar question:

Who is this man?

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you so much. <3 i really hope you enjoyed this chapter.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fic #skz fic #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #han jisung #han jisung smut #chris bang #bang chan #bang chan x reader #han jisung x reader #chan x jisung x reader #drug dealer au #i am emotional over this chapter too holy fuck #changbin x minho #putting the bang in bang chan lol #skzsmutnet #skzsmutnetwork #step out do what you want #wherevermyway

[iamakiller]

owl always love you

Wordcount: 2000

Notes & Warnings:  It has been far too long since I shared any of my fiction with you, hasn’t it?  Well, how about five unhappy memories of Valentines past, and one that went perfectly to plan (... or did it?)

As for warnings, there is no sex at all, but there is an unfortunate accident, and a hint of murder. Hmm, I must be going soft in my old age ... 

Five unhappy memories ...

1.

Charlie is four.

Today feels like a very special day.  There were flowers and a card on the kitchen table this morning, and no arguments over breakfast.  It was almost like last night’s fight didn’t happen.

At preschool, the classroom has been decorated with red and pink hearts because it’s Valentine’s Day. The teacher reads the class a picture book about an owl who was looking for love, and then they all do a craft based on the story.  The teacher has drawn the owl’s face and body on card for everyone, but they have to color it in and try to write a message on the owl’s tummy.  Charlie writes “Owl always love you Mommy” in purple crayon – his mother’s favorite color.

The next part of the craft is very hard.  They have to trace the outline of their hands onto card, color it in, and then cut it out. They stick the hands onto the owl with glue, and fold them over, and it looks kind of like wings.  Charlie is very proud of himself, because he did it without any help, and unlike the boy who sits next to him, he didn’t try to eat any of the glue.

At going home time, he presents the card to his mother.  She glances at it, and puts it in her handbag.

“Do you like it, Mommy?” Charlie asks, but she doesn’t say anything.  Maybe she didn’t hear him.

The next morning, he finds it in the trash.  

Oh.

Well, it wasn’t very good, he realizes.  His coloring wasn’t neat enough, and one of the thumbs was missing because of a mishap he had when he was cutting it out.  Maybe if he’d tried harder, she would have liked it.

Maybe if he tries harder, she’ll like him ...

2.

Charlie is eight.  

Valentine’s Day has been the main topic of conversation on the playground ever since the beginning of February. It’s not like anybody ever talks to Charlie, but there are some advantages to being invisible.  He hears everything.  He knows exactly who is getting a Valentine, and – most crucially – who isn’t.

On the night of February thirteenth, he stays up very late.  It isn’t like anyone is checking what time he goes to bed anyway, so he pulls together the materials he’s “borrowed” from his teacher over the past few days, and works until the early hours of the morning.

The next day, everyone in the class has at least one little handmade card on their desk by the end of the day.  

… except Charlie.

And that’s one of the disadvantages of being invisible.

Nobody knows he exists ...

3.

Charlie is thirteen.

According to his research, it is puberty that has turned the majority of his classmates into mindless, giggling idiots.  Thankfully, he seems to be immune to this plague, and the hours he spends staring at the long, golden hair of the girl who sits in front of him in class is perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Melissa is the prettiest girl in the class by far.  Charlie thinks she looks just like an elven queen ... if Galadriel had a Midwestern accent and a mother who was the head of the PTA.  She is also constantly accompanied by a group of four uglier girls, who all stare at Charlie as he makes his approach, the poem he wrote for her clutched in a hand that seems to be permanently sweaty these days.

She accepts the token of his affection with the carelessness of one who is accustomed to such things, and doesn’t even say thank you.  At lunchtime, Charlie overhears her reading excerpts of it to her gaggle of friends.  She tosses her lovely, blonde hair back, and laughs scornfully, before tearing it up into tiny pieces and leaving it on her lunch tray for the cafeteria staff to clear away.  

And suddenly, Charlie realizes how ugly she is.

At the end of February, poor Melissa has a terrible accident.  One of the teachers finds her unconscious at the bottom of the stairwell hours after school has finished for the day.  She must have tripped and fallen down the stairs somehow.

She makes a full recovery, but she never remembers what happened that day ...

4.

Charlie is seventeen.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the dance?” asks cousin Pat from where he’s leaning in the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom.  He’s dressed to impress, and Charlie can smell the terrible cologne he’s wearing from all the way on the other side of the room.  “I can wait for you to get changed, I don’t mind.”

“I’m too busy,” says Charlie, staring up at the ceiling.  Soon, it will be time for him to turn over and stare at the wall.  “And I don’t like parties.”

“I don’t like parties either,” Pat reminds him, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blue button-down.  “But you’ll never meet someone special if you don’t leave your room.”

Charlie responds by making a noise like someone being sick, and turns over to show Pat his back.  “Bye.  Have fun at the shitty Valentine’s dance.”  He can feel his cousin’s gaze on the back of his head – can picture the annoying look of concern on his face – but he doesn’t move or say anything, and finally he hears the door close, and then Pat’s footsteps lumbering down the stairs.

Fuck Valentine’s Day, Charlie thinks.  Fuck parties, and fuck ever finding someone special.

5.

Charlie is 27.

This might be his first ever Valentine’s Day in a relationship, but he’s done his research into What Women Want, and blown a small fortune on trying to make the day special.  A hundred red roses, delivered to Nicole on set.  Reservations at the hottest restaurant in town.  A pair of Chanel earrings, so expensive he actually choked on his own saliva when they told him the price, and had to be brought a glass of water to help him recover.

At the restaurant, Nicole opens the earrings, and stares at them for a long time.  Her expression is completely unreadable, which is usually the case with her.  They have been dating for two and a half months, and with every day that passes, Charlie feels like he knows less about her, which should surely be impossible.

“Don’t you like them?” Charlie asks, after the silence has gone on for so long that even the people at the next table have glanced over to see what’s going on. 

Nicole closes the lid of the box with a snap, and looks up at him.  “So you aren’t going to propose to me, then?”

Charlie blinks.  “I – Wait, what?”

And then it all goes south very quickly from there.

The next day, there’s a blind item online about it:

Which C-list celebrity currently filming a procedural drama in New York was seen arguing with an unknown male at a local celeb hotspot last night?  With a string of broken engagements already behind her, it looks like this feisty young starlet is single once more after dousing her hapless companion in Veuve Clicquot!

Unknown? Hapless?  How rude!

He complains at length about the injustice of it all to the cocktail waitress he brought home last night, after he had sloped off to a bar to drown his sorrows and soothe the burn of his humiliation.  Naturally, she has nothing to add to the conversation – having passed away six hours or so ago – but he appreciates her presence nevertheless.  So much so that before he prepares her for disposal, he takes out her fake diamond earrings, and replaces them with the Chanel ones.

“I know I’m a day late,” he tells her.  “But … happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s the thought that counts, anyway ...

And then ...

Charlie is 37.

He is awakened at 5:30 a.m. on Valentine’s Day morning by his son barging in to the master bedroom.  Without saying anything, Henry climbs onto the bed next to him, and falls asleep almost instantly.  Charlie throws an arm over him, in the hopes of stopping him from tossing and turning like he often does.

Behind him, there’s a rustle of sheets  “What’s happening?” Kitten asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“We have our usual Sunday morning visitor,” Charlie mumbles. “It’s still early, go back to sleep.”

A leg hooks over his, an arm curls around his middle, and Kitten lets out a happy sigh before falling asleep again.

Charlie closes his eyes, but it barely seems like a moment has passed before he’s being shaken awake by a very excited Henry.  “Dad.  DAD! Can we give Britt the card now?”

The digital display on the clock says eight, still an ungodly hour to be awake on a Sunday, but when Charlie rolls over, Kitten is already sitting up against the headboard, with her phone out.  “A card?” she says, feigning surprise, as though she wasn’t banned from the kitchen for four hours the previous day, and hadn’t noticed the layer of glitter Henry was covered in when he emerged, which necessitated a dreaded bath.

“If we must,” grumbles Charlie, astonished at the speed with which Henry scrambles out of bed and sprints out of the room.  He thunders downstairs, in search of the spot where they left their work of art to dry out after its completion.

Charlie rolls over onto his back, and stares up at Kitten.  “Remember last year, when we stayed in bed all day?” he asks, mournfully.  “That was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”

“Mm, same.”  Kitten leans down to kiss him, probably intending it to be just a peck on the lips.  But Charlie wraps his hand around the back of her head to keep her there, deepening the kiss until a gagging sound from the doorway interrupts them and they break apart to find Henry watching them from the doorway, looking slightly green.

“You guys are gross!” he scolds them, in a tone not dissimilar to Sandra when she is upset about something.  

Charlie sits up, and scowls. “That’s not in keeping with the spirit of the day.”

“The spirit of the day is chocolate,” says Henry, approaching Kitten’s side of the bed, with one hand behind his back.  “Ta-daaaaa!” he shouts, and pulls out the card, waving it in her face.  A hefty sprinkle of glitter falls on the sheets, and Charlie winces.

“This looks very impressive,” says Kitten, glancing sideways at Charlie to check his reaction to the glitter, and stifling a smile.  “Can I take a closer look?”

On closer inspection, the card is very large, and is a rather well-drawn and extremely glittery looking owl which looks to be a combination of about three different species.  Its wings – which look suspiciously like the outline of Charlie’s hands – are wrapped around itself.

“Open it, open it,” says Henry, climbing onto the bed, and bouncing slightly, causing more glitter to be dislodged.

When Kitten carefully opens the wings, she finds another, smaller pair of hand-shaped wings underneath.  “Yours?” she asks Henry, who nods vigorously.  When she opens those, there is a ridiculously tiny pair of hands underneath. One has been colored blue, and the other pink.  

“Little B,” says Henry.  “We looked up online how small their hands would be.  I drew them, and Dad cut them out.  He said we should do one hand in each color since we don’t know whether Little b is a boy or a girl yet.  And wait, there’s a message.  Read the message!”

“Owl always love you,” Kitten reads, her voice trembling slightly.  “From Charlie, Henry and Little B. Oh Henry, thank you!  The owl, the hands, the sweet message.  It’s perfect!”

She pulls Henry into a hug, which he tolerates for a moment or two before asking, “Can I go watch cartoons now?” with all the tact typical of an eight year-old boy.

“It was all Henry’s idea, of course,” says Charlie, once the young man in question has bounced out of the room.  He tries to brush some of the glitter off the bed, and succeeds only in getting it stuck all over his hand.  “I was but an unwitting accomplice to this madness.”

“Is that so?” asks Kitten, with a smile.  She sets the card on the nightstand so she can see it, and curls against Charlie, who wraps an arm around her shoulder, and rests his other hand on her stomach.  “You know, it reminds me of this book I read when I was little. About an owl who was searching for love.  It was a really cute story.”

“Never heard of it,” says Charlie, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  “But it sounds like a real hoot.”

“Oh god, not the owl puns.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” says Charlie, but somehow he finds himself lapsing into silence instead of releasing the string of dreadful jokes that are on the tip of his tongue.  “Do you -” he begins, and then sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, inadvertently spreading multi-colored glitter quite liberally through it.  He chews on the inside of his cheek before continuing.  “Do you really like it?”

Is it good enough?

Am I trying hard enough?

Do you like me?

A gentle hand against his cheek brings him back to the present.  “I don’t just like it, I love it,” Kitten reassures him.  “And I love you very much, too.  I know it’s a little rough at the moment with me working from home, but I’m still feeling very lucky.  Who would have thought six months ago that we would be here?  We’ve come so far, Charlie.  I’m so proud of us.  I’m so proud of you.  Especially now you’re back in therapy again.”

Charlie holds her a little more tightly, and she tucks her head under his chin and settles her hand on his chest, over his heart, which is beating too quickly for his liking.  “I’m trying, my love,” he says softly, taking slow, deep breaths to try to control the speed of his heart.  “I never want to let you down again ...”

He closes his eyes, breathes in Kitten’s familiar, comforting scent, and tells himself that he’s just holding her, not clinging to her.  I’m okay, he tells himself, over and over again.  We’re okay.

I just have to try harder, and it will all be okay ...

#valentine's day #tw: bad parenting #tw: assault #tw: implied murder #B+C #direnightshade #tw: pregnancy #tw: angst #glitter should have a trigger warning

[star-spangled-eyes]

Dirty Mind: Part 1: Simple Man

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. Some dialogue and events in Book 1 of TRR are property of Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Drake’s perspective  

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this miniseries: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, angst, sex (including character’s thoughts and innuendos)

Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this miniseries in the first person perspective of Drake Walker. It follows events in Book 1 of TRR, but not everything is as you’d remember it from the story. Some things have been altered to better fit this fanfic.

I really enjoyed getting into the brain of Drake, and I hope you like it too. He’s a stud, and I love his sexual, angsty mind.

There are THREE parts to this miniseries. They will be released tomorrow and the following day. Enjoy!

Word Count for this chapter: 8707

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04 @pedudley @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker @kingliam2019 @loveellamae @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020 @indiana-jr​ @yukinagato2012​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​

My name is Drake Walker and I have a dirty mind. I know what you’re thinking. Of course I have a dirty mind, I’m a guy, right? Well, I have to concede that one for that very fact, but it’s more than that. To me, a mind consists of three major influences that can make it dirty.

First, are the things you wish you could say to people, but it wouldn’t be proper including the wide variety of curse words known to the world. Next, are all the crappy experiences in your life that muddy up your outlook. I can admit, I’m snarky, angry a lot and a real pill sometimes, but it all comes with the territory. And last but certainly not least is sex.

What an incredible experience. So incredible that it’s constantly on my mind. Countless dirty questions fill my brain like when is the next time I’m going to fuck someone, where will it be, what position will she be in? Oh, the thoughts are endless. Throw in a particular woman? You’re fucked — mentally. That’s me right now, in case you were wondering. More on that in a bit.

The female body is the most beautiful work of art that God ever created — of course there are exceptions. Like when a woman has a smoking hot body but her personality is so hideous that her sex appeal is lost. At least to me it is. There’s plenty of those around, but thankfully, there are some that surprise you. The ones that have it all — endless talent, sense of humor, dazzling personality, and such stunning looks that you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

My brain has been working overtime ever since she walked into my life. Well, butted into my life is more like it. And it’s been hell. Everything was just fine before she came along. Not great, but fine.

I live in the royal palace in a small Mediterranean country called Cordonia. I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not one of those stuck up noble pricks. My best friend might be the Crown Prince, but he’s not one of those pricks either. If he ever tried to be, I’d damn sure call him out on it. I wasn’t born into this life with a fancy title or hundreds of acres of land in my name.

I was born to wonderful parents, who despite their status as commoners in the kingdom, made me feel like I was the richest kid in the world. Not by money, of course, but with life experiences and lessons only those who work hard for a living can impart to their children.

My dad was a part of the King’s Guard in charge of protecting the two princes before he eventually moved up to Head Guard watching over the King and Queen. He’s Cordonian, born and bred.

My mom stayed at home with me and Savannah, my younger sister. She was born in a small town in Texas in the United States, but stayed in Cordonia after meeting my father during a European college trip she took with her friends.

They fell in love almost immediately and were each other’s best friends. I’ve always looked up to them. Always thought how great it’d be if I could find that too. I often dreamed of meeting a beautiful woman who I not only was in love with, but we were as close as two people could be. Friends, lovers, partners. What a fulfilled life I’d live.

Of course, that meant I’d have to actually find a woman who was willing to put up with my sarcasm, moodiness, and the permanent scowl on my face. And to be honest, it wasn’t looking that great.

Back to the dirty mind thing — don’t worry, I didn’t forget. As I was saying, a dirty mind can develop over time as a result of many things. And I’ve been through a lot in the 27 years I’ve lived on this earth. Okay, fine. It’s not as dramatic and horrible as some people have endured, but I’ve had my fair share of shit thrown at me.

My dirty mind, in particular, consists of many dirty words. You’re listening, so you might as well get used to it now. I cuss... a lot. You would too if you had to hang around the palace every day dealing with snobby, rich assholes who think their shit don’t stink, and that it’s perfectly okay to treat people beneath them like undignified trash. These people have no idea what life truly has to offer. All they care about is their political status in the kingdom, and how they can make more money doing as little for it as they can.

As you can imagine, I have to keep a lot of my thoughts to myself. Unfortunately, you’re going to have hear them all. Consider yourself warned.

My dirty mind also consists of all the shitty things that’s happened in my life that’s left a bad taste in my mouth.

Remember my dad? Head of the King’s Guard? Yeah, well, he was killed while attempting to save the king during an assassination attempt. That sure was nice growing up without a fucking father. I was 13. A brand new teenager with raging hormones and in desperate need of a strong, male role model to keep me on the straight and narrow. It fucking sucked. My dad was everything to me. He was a friend, a teacher, and the best father in the whole world.

When he died, I had to step up to be the man of the house. Sure, my mother was strong — she’d always been strong. But she was having a hard time coping with dad’s death. Savannah was only nine at the time, and was made fragile by the sudden and horrific change in her life.

I didn’t want my mom and sister to worry or feel unsafe with my dad being gone, so I immediately filled that role. And it was fucking hard at first. There was no time for me to cry or grieve because I had to be strong for my family. I had to show them it was all going to be alright even though I had no fucking clue if that was actually true.

My dad’s partner in the guard was Bastien Lykel. He was a great guy. About half my dad’s age, but just as competent. He learned a lot from my dad, but also brought natural talent of his own to the table. Anyway, after we lost dad, Bastien sort of stepped in for us. Not that he ever tried anything with my mom or pretended to be our father — he knew better than that.

On his off duty time, Bastien would spend most of it with my family. He’d tell us stories about working with our dad and help mom with any chores around the house. As time went on, Bastien kept up with what he could, but got increasingly busy with work as he moved up the chain in the King’s Guard.

Mom never really got over dad’s passing. I don’t blame her. I didn’t either. I still miss him every day. But she handled it differently. Money was a real struggle after he passed. It was something she constantly worried about.

Liam, my best friend and prince of Cordonia, talked his father into letting us move into the palace. The king was more than happy to oblige. He was grateful for my dad’s sacrifice so that he may live, and must have noticed how we were struggling. It was kind, and not what I expected as a commoner.

I was 16 by the time we had settled into our new digs at the palace. Savannah was over the moon about it. She always loved hanging around the noble girls her age. She was into all that crap. Fancy dresses, gaudy jewelry, fake smiles. Not that she assimilated to them. Thank God for that. Despite adoring that pretentious life, Savannah remained down-to-earth and never forgot her roots.

It wasn’t long after that when Mom left to move back to the United States. Yeah... wasn’t that swell? Not even a full-fledged adult yet and both parents were absent. Dad died protecting the king, but mom straight up left us. Don’t get me wrong. I love her and will always love her. I know she had to do what she needed in order to deal with losing dad. So did I. But it was hell on Savannah and me.

Mom must have noticed we were strong and independent enough to live on our own. We had stable living quarters at the palace, and were well taken care of in regards to basic needs: food, warmth, shelter. So... she split. Went back to her family ranch in Texas. We talk on occasion, but there’s definitely more than an ocean that comes between us. Hopefully, someday, we can repair that disconnect.

Okay, now that you know a little bit more about me, let me tell you about this girl. Her name is Bragnae Bennett. I first met her in New York when Maxwell, Tariq, and I took Liam to the States for a guy’s only trip — a bachelor party of sorts. Liam would soon have to choose a woman to marry that would eventually rule at his side as Queen of Cordonia. This trip was meant to forget about all of that and have fun – just us guys. At least that was my plan.

On the last night of the trip, we stopped in a crumby bar for a late dinner and drinks. And there she was wearing a white collared shirt, black pants and a maroon apron ready to take our order. Listen, the first time she strolled up to our table, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Luckily, she was looking at the other two as she introduced herself, which gave me a chance to wipe the figurative drool from my mouth.

Long, silky black hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, naturally tanned skin, sparkling amber eyes, and delicious curves that would elicit an arousing response in any man. And it did. Maxwell and Tariq were just as captivated as I was, not to mention Liam, who stepped into the bar a minute later. Now it was her turn to be captivated. Of course she was. They all were.

Liam stood six feet and two inches tall – two inches shorter than me, I might add – and he was nothing short of a blonde Adonis. The ladies already swooned for him because he was the prince, but take that title away, and he’d still have no problem adding notches to his bedpost. With his ocean blue eyes and well-proportioned body, Liam was every woman’s wet dream.

So, you can see why Bragnae would immediately turn her attention to him as he made his way to our table that night. We enjoyed our burgers, drank a ton of whiskey, and all stole glances at the goddess that was our waitress. Then, Liam boldly asked her to join us after her shift was over. A part of me was more than happy to have more time to look at her, but a bigger part was annoyed.

Obviously, she was taken with Liam, so there went my chance with her. I never stood a snowball’s chance in hell with women when Liam was around. Yes, I can admit that the good Lord blessed me with attractive features. Brown hair that looked good at any length with eyes to match, a strong jaw line, and the ability to chisel well-defined muscles on my body certainly helped me get laid. It damn sure wasn’t my personality. But with Liam there? It was no contest.

You’d think it’d be easy for me to hate the guy, but I can’t. He’s my best friend. My brother. We’ve been friends ever since we were kids, and we’ve always had each other’s backs. I’d do anything for him, and I have. Dropped out of college, a life I was keen on living away from Cordonia, and came back to keep Liam company after an attempt on his life. I wouldn’t give up my own happiness for just anyone. There’s few people I care about in this world, and Liam is one of them. The rest can all fuck off.

So, as you can see, I put up with all the bullshit for him. He needs me. He needs someone to give it to him straight, to keep him humble, and to keep him safe from all the selfish vultures that lurk around the palace wanting more for themselves than for their Crown Prince.

So, when Liam showed interest in Bragnae, I had no choice but to back off. It was stupid as hell for him to get her hopes up for the one night. Then again, maybe that’s all she wanted. A hook up. From what I understand, none of that occurred. At least a kiss and maybe some light fondling if I knew my friend. But whatever transpired between them that night after they snuck out of the club together was enough to prompt Bragnae to make a life changing decision to temporarily move to Cordonia for the chance to compete in the Social Season to win Liam’s hand.

Ugh. The Social Season. Don’t even get me started on that. As if Liam didn’t already have a parade of ladies vying for his attention, the kingdom made it a season for the prince to choose his future bride.

And Bragnae accepted Maxwell’s invitation to take part in it. I have to admit. I lost some respect for her when I saw her climb aboard our private jet back to Cordonia. I thought she was just another crown chaser, but believe me, I didn’t think that for long. She proved me wrong almost immediately.

I won’t bore you with everything that’s happened since she arrived in Cordonia, for your sake – unless you want me to tell you how many pathetic times I stroked my dick thinking of Bragnae, wishing I was inside her instead. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the highlights though.

Obviously, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if the damned woman didn’t mean something to me. With her being a suitor for the prince, I knew she was off limits. Maybe that made me want her more. I don’t know. But she was more than just a pretty face and a sexy body. God, the dresses she wears. I get hard just thinking about it. The way she elegantly walks into a room, swaying her hips in an unknowingly sexy way grabs my attention every time. I’m not the only one.

Being the exotic foreigner, Bragnae had captured the attention of many men and even some women with her alluring ways. She truly was the complete package. She knew how to have a good time, spoke her mind, and was gracious, even to those who didn’t reciprocate. And oh boy, did she give me the business. Still does. It’s like I’m her number one target that she attempts to crack. She always wants me to have a good time. What did I do to invite that kind of attention from her?

I’m quite set in my ways, but damn if she hasn’t already broken down some of my walls. I hate her for it. Okay, more like, I hate that she was able to do it. She makes me smile, damn it, and I’ve worked on this scowl for years. How could she do this in such a short amount of time? I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s some sort of temptress. She has to be. Someone with mystical powers of enchanting men, and bending them to her will.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad, but there were specific occasions that led me to believe she might also be into me as well. I know, I know. As I’ve already established, no woman passes up Liam especially for someone like me. So, I’m sure I’m fantasizing about this.

Aside from a few looks and smiles she had cast in my direction at the Masquerade Ball and derby, there were some instances that felt deeper. Like when we went to Lythikos, and that witch Olivia mocked me and my sister for no reason whatsoever except to be cruel. Bragnae stood up to her for my sake, which I wasn’t expecting. I hauled ass out of there wanting some fresh air and a chance to see a meteor shower. Low and behold, Bragnae followed me out.

We ended up having a heartfelt talk that came out of nowhere. I think this was the first time I really started to like her. I was attracted to her from the beginning, but it was when we were lying in a snowbank looking up at the shooting stars above us when I felt a twinge in my heart. I badly wanted to reach out to her, but knew that wasn’t appropriate. As the snow started the fall and we walked back to Olivia’s estate, Bragnae surprised me by slipping her hand into mine.

I instantly felt electricity from her touch. I was almost too stunned to speak. She told me it was for safety, but I could see the truth in her eyes. We had connected in that moment, and holding her hand felt right. There was no way I was letting go. So, we held hands until we reached the manor. Everything changed for me after that night.

Perhaps it was just me and my wishful thinking, but ever since we left Lythikos, I felt that Bragnae was intentionally getting closer to me – physically. It seemed she would find ways to touch my arm during a conversation or sit by me when the opportunity presented itself.

After the Royal Regatta, we went to the beach for a little fun in the sun. She insisted on rubbing sunscreen over my back. I protested only for appearances. Thank God only the ocean could see my face because I was having a hard time keeping my sanity as she rubbed her soft hands up and down my shoulders and back. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Then, she let me return the favor. God, it was amazing. I had a legitimate excuse to touch her… in public… and she was wearing a swimsuit. Up until that day, I hadn’t see more than flirty cleavage when she wore her dresses. She was so close to being naked that day that my heart nearly stopped. As I worked my hands over her back, my eyes traveled down to her glorious ass. Her cheeks slipped out a bit. As soon as I felt my dick twitch, I knew it was time to bail.

We jumped in the ocean soon after that. Seeing Bragnae dripping wet from head to toe quickly moved to the number one slot in my spank bank. The release I had later that day after remembering our shared touches, and seeing her so deliciously drenched by the ocean was amazing.  

And just a few days ago, after we arrived in Applewood, it was my birthday. Liam told Bragnae even though I asked him to not make a big deal about it, damn him. So, Bragnae took it upon herself to organize a night out at a country-western bar in town in honor of my birthday.

If it was anyone else’s suggestion, I would have heartily declined, but I was curious what she had planned, and definitely wanted to see her in a bar setting with a cold drink in her hand. When we arrived, she took me up to the bar and got me a free drink. She chose whiskey – my favorite. She didn’t make me suffer with some embarrassing girly drink. No, she ordered my most favorite libation on the planet.

I let it slip that I thought she was hot, and of course she called me out on it. There was nothing this woman missed. Later on, we found ourselves on the dance floor, and of all people, she shimmied over to me. Even though I told her I was a rotten dancer, she delicately placed her hands on my hips and told me it was as easy as swaying to the beat. She smiled up at me with a glimmer in her eye.

I could chalk it up to it being my birthday, and that’s why I received so much of her attention that night, but the vibes I was receiving from her was more than a friendly gesture. And as if that night wasn’t already better than I anticipated, I willingly shared a sappy story about my childhood birthdays with her, which prompted an unexpected embrace from Bragnae. She pulled me in tightly, her breasts smashed against my chest and her arms clutching my back as she stood on her toes to hug me.

I was stunned for a split second before my brain told me to wrap my arms around her soft, warm body too. She smelled like a fucking angel – citrusy and sweet. It’s my new favorite scent.

You’re all caught up now. Maybe you see what I do, and maybe you don’t. Either way, I’ve got Bragnae on my mind constantly, and it’s becoming a problem. I even began calling her by her last name in an attempt to seem nonchalant and casual on the outside, when I’m really about to hulk out of my own skin because I want her so badly. Hopefully, she couldn’t tell.

I’ve been trying to hide it for the past month now, and it’s becoming more difficult by the day. I don’t want to tell her how I feel, even though I really do want her to know, it’s not right. She’s here for Liam, and that’s that.

It was the morning after the Apple Blossom Festival. Thank Christ that bullshit is over. Bragnae looked cute in her authentic peasant costume, but that was the extent of the excitement for that day. Now, it was time to blow off a little steam.

Liam was actually available this morning for a little work out before he had to attend a few meetings later on in the afternoon. It was nice to have this time with him. Liam had been my work out buddy since we were old enough to start using the gym equipment, which is why both of us are exceptionally toned and buff. I spend a little more of my time in the gym than he does – sometimes three times a day when I’m really bored.

“So, is your dad putting pressure on you to pick a particular suitor?” I couldn’t help but wish they were pushing him away from Bragnae.

“Yes, of course, he is. He and Regina both keep talking up Madeleine.” Liam continued his set of bicep curls.

“And what do you think about her?” I knew what he thought because I thought it too. Again, just hoping for his attention to be swayed to anyone but Bragnae. I focused on pumping up my own biceps as I waited for his response.

Liam gave me a knowing look through the mirror. “She wasn’t good enough for my brother, and she’s definitely not good enough for me. I hate that they’re pushing her onto me like this. I feel bad for her in a way,” he said as he returned the weights to the rack. “She was so close to becoming queen before Leo abdicated the thrown, and now she’s back to try again. It’s pathetic.”

I loved when he was candid with me. He knew he can trust that I wouldn’t repeat his words. That’s what best friends are for. Support and total discretion. “She’s passionate at least,” I laughed thinking about her desperate need for the political spotlight.

Liam wiped his face with a towel. “Passionate for the crown, maybe. But me? It’s all a fucking show. If she’s chosen, I doubt we’ll even fuck. She hasn’t once tried to kiss me when we’ve had moments alone. All the others have. I don’t even think she likes men.”

All the others have. I shuddered at the thought of him being with Bragnae. I hoped to God they hadn’t had sex yet. I haven’t quite figured out what type of woman she was in that regard. What I do know is that she’s smart and adventurous. She dresses provocatively, but with a certain elegance. Who knows if she’s promiscuous or not?

I’m torn on the topic. I love a bold woman who knows what she wants and takes it. It’s nice when a girl comes with experience, but she’s also not just giving it away to anyone who asks for it. If that’s how Bragnae was, I would be happy to know that. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to ask Liam if they’ve gone that far. We’ve talked about sex plenty of times, but this was different. It might be too hard to listen to Liam tell me about how she was in bed. It’s something I’d rather find out for myself.

“Yeah, Madeleine stands out to the masses, but definitely not your style.”

Liam took a swig of water. “I’ll tell you, though, I really like Bragnae.”

Fuck. “Oh, yeah?”

“Drake, she’s amazing. She’s not only beautiful, but she’s insightful too. I feel like I can tell her anything. The people seem to like her, the press too. I’m really hoping my father and Regina give her a chance.”

Damn it. He really likes her. Am I fucking surprised? No. She is amazing. No doubt about that.

“What do you think of her?” Liam asked.

How do I answer this without making it sound like I really like her too? “I think she’s great. She doesn’t seem to have her head in the clouds like most of these women, and she’s genuine. You know that’s always something I can appreciate.” Okay, that was good. Very Drake of me to say. I think that was good enough and wouldn’t blow my cover.

 “I’m glad you agree.” He said, taking a seat on one of the benches. He looked down at the floor with a smile on his face. “That body. She’s so fucking hot. I wish I could spend more time alone with her. I hate the fucking tight schedule they keep me on.”

I blew out a slow breath of relief. Sounded like he hasn’t gone all the way with her. Normally, at this point, he’d be boasting about his opportunity to be with her, but instead he was pining over it. But how long would it last?

“Yeah, I can imagine how rough it is.” They pull him in every direction they can. I wish he’d just tell them to shove it up their ass once in a while. “You’re the prince, man. Do what you want.” Why the fuck am I encouraging this? I hate myself.

Loud music was suddenly audible through the walls alerting us both. As we left the gym, Liam and I walked down the hall to a room where the door was cracked open a bit. Liam pulled it open the rest of the way, and halted in his tracks.

I noticed a stunned look on his face before I saw what was happening inside the room. I stepped up to the doorway, next to Liam, and saw Maxwell leading a choreographed dance flanked by Hana and Bragnae. My mouth fell open in shock as my eyes poured over Bragnae’s body.

She wore a hot pink sports bra top and black spandex leggings that were glued to her skin. Kevin Rudolf’s Let it Rock blared over the speakers as they danced in sync with each other. The beat was fast paced and lively. I actually liked the song – even more so now that I watched Bragnae dance to it.

She moved with ease, spinning, dipping, twirling in rhythm with the song, and it was mesmerizing. The way her hands explored her own body so seductively made my dick jump. Oh, fuck. She just bent over. Now, she and Hana were slowing it down, mirroring each other as they slowly dropped to their knees on the floor. Pumping their bodies on the ground and thrashing their long hair from side to side. Within seconds, the ladies slowly rose again.

I glanced at Liam briefly to see his reaction. He was enthralled, just like me. I was rarely jealous of Liam, but this was definitely one of those times. Not because he was the prince, and not because Bragnae was one of his suitors, but because he could watch her now – unguarded. He could look at her without suspicion as to why he’s fucking her with his eyes.

If anyone saw the way I was watching her with insane hunger and need, they’d think I was a creep or an asshole for gawking at one of the prince’s suitors. How I wished I could look at her openly the way I wanted to. So much of my life nowadays was kept in secret because so much of my life was consumed by Bragnae.  

I had no idea she could dance like this. It was like watching a strip tease, without the stripping of course. God, I wish she was taking off her clothes, too. Damn it. She was confident in her body as she thrusted her pelvis to the beat three times. And there went my dick again. I had to readjust because the pesky thing wouldn’t stay down. I was wearing athletic shorts. Thank God they’re black. My hard-on won’t be as prominent.

The song came to a close as the girls ended in a pose with their backs arched and an arm stretched above their heads. Maxwell did his own pose, not that I gave a shit about how he looked. My eyes were trained on Bragnae. My heart raced and I was breathing quickly all of a sudden. I hadn’t realized it until now. I wanted an encore… bad.

Liam started clapping, which got their attention. Fuck. I wasn’t ready to be exposed as an onlooker yet. My dick was still hard.

“That was phenomenal,” Liam said as he made his way over to them. The room they were dancing in was quite large. It was a multipurpose room used for collective work out routines such as their dance and whatever else the royal family wanted to use it for.

I watched Bragnae as she spun around to face Liam with a surprised expression. Apparently, despite the few times she turned around in our direction, she hadn’t noticed she had an audience. Then, her eyes focused on me. A brief smile crossed over her lips before she looked away. She was embarrassed? Why? That was unbelievably hot. If I could hit replay somewhere, I would.

My dick finally gave me a break, so I walked into the room to where they were standing.

“Are you three practicing for a show that I’m unaware of?” Liam asked with a sparkling smile.

Maxwell laughed. “Nah. The girls just wanted to work out in a fun way, so we put together a flirty routine. You know me. I’m always up for dancing.”

“Yes, and it was incredibly exhilarating!” Hana said with enthusiasm, albeit a bit breathless. “I’ve never danced like that in my life. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw that.”

Yeah, I bet she would. That dance was pure sex.

“And you, Lady Bragnae? Do you dance like that often?” Liam asked politely, but I knew he wanted to see if there’d be a repeat performance in the future.

We were both thinking with our dicks in that moment. And I couldn’t blame him. I was still in awe of what I just witnessed, so I was perfectly fine letting Liam speak to satisfy both of our curiosities. I did my best reconnaissance when I observed with my eyes rather than inquired with my mouth anyway – usually because my words would get me into trouble.

Bragnae nodded as she finished taking a long drink from a water bottle. Her chest glistened from the work out, and her quick and heavy breaths pushed her breasts out every time she inhaled. Goddamn. I raised my gaze to her eyes again in an effort to keep my dick out of the matter. No need to awaken him again. Not until I could at least be alone.

“I dance recreationally like this from time to time, but I’m not a part of a crew or anything. Just for fun.” Bragnae offered up a dazzling smile as she regained control of her breath again.

“I asked the other ladies if they wanted in on this, but Kiara declined saying she was too good for it. Penelope always mimics Kiara’s responses, so she was out. Madeleine acted like she didn’t even hear me when I asked, and Olivia said, and I quote ‘dream on, home boy’.” Maxwell shook his head and chuckled.

Liam extended his arm to the three of them. “Well, why don’t we all walk next door and grab a protein shake. Drake and I just finished working out as well.”

Hana’s face lit up with excitement at the suggestion, and Maxwell put some equipment away before he started for the door. I waited until Bragnae agreed before I turned to leave the room. I was sure Liam was waiting to walk next to Bragnae as they left the makeshift dance studio, so I wasn’t even going to try.

It was convenient for me that Liam also enjoyed working out, and considered it as much of a hobby as I did. That meant that as we got older, the gym equipment got better and there was a small protein stand built into the estate. Here at Applewood and back at the palace.

I made it to the counter first. With chocolate and vanilla protein powders as options, they also offered a few other flavors as add-ins. I would shake it up from time to time, but my favorite was chocolate-cherry. I placed my order with Jean, the middle-aged woman that worked the counter, and stepped back for the others.

Maxwell ordered a chocolate-banana, Hana got chocolate-strawberry. Like I guessed, Liam and Bragnae strolled up a minute later in a slow paced walk. He offered for her to order ahead of him, but she declined so she could look at the options. Liam asked for vanilla-strawberry, his favorite.

Bragnae stepped up to the counter. “May I have a chocolate-cherry, please?” Jean nodded, and turned away to fix the drinks.

I looked down to conceal my smile. She ordered the same thing as me. I knew she had good taste.

“Drake? Here you go, honey.” Jean placed my shake on the counter.

I walked up to retrieve it. Bragnae was still standing there when she looked over at my drink. I removed the wrapper to the straw Jean had set next to the cup, and pierced the plastic lid.

Bragnae’s eyes met mine as I smirked. “You ordered the same thing as me, by the way.”

She beamed. “I did? Well, we have good taste.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Before I could think of what to say next, Jean had placed the other orders on the counter. I got out of their way and walked to a nearby table. The others joined me along with their shakes.

“You know, ladies, you’re welcome to work out in the gym, too, if you want. Here and back at the palace. I’d be happy to show you a thing or two if you need assistance.” Liam, the ever-willing prince. I chuckled at his invitation. This was guy code for, I’d love to see more of you in your tight clothes while working up a sweat. And then maybe we could take a shower together afterwards.

I knew my best friend, and I knew myself. We were both thinking the same thing. However, I doubt that comment was intended for Hana even though she was also beautiful and beyond talented in almost every capacity.

“That’s nice of you to offer, Your Highness,” Hana said before taking a drink.

“We got quite the work out in today. Full-body. Do you guys do that every time you’re in the gym?” Bragnae asked. She looked to Liam and then to me.

Liam had just taken a swig of his shake, so I answered. “Nah. We break it up. Today was just arms and abs.”

I kept my gaze on Bragnae as her eyes shifted down the length of my arm. She had her elbows on the table holding her shake up just below her chin. Her fingers absentmindedly moved the straw in and out of the lid as her eyes locked on my bicep.

I know I shouldn’t have, but I knew she was impressed, so I clenched my fist and flexed my bicep for a split second to gauge her reaction. I smiled inside as I saw her lightly gasp before taking a drink and looking away.

“Ooh, Bragnae, we better get going if we want to shower before the next event,” Hana said looking at her watch.

Oh, nice. A shower. Are they going to shower together? That’s what Hana made it sound like, or maybe that’s what my dirty mind wanted me to hear. Either way, picturing Bragnae naked in a hot and steamy shower was definitely an image I wanted to fill my mind with. If Hana happened to be showering near her, that’d be okay too. But I’d prefer to be in there with Bragnae instead.

“And what is the next event for you ladies?” Liam asked.

Bragnae and Hana stood from the table, prompting the rest of us gentlemen to do the same. “We are having tea with the queen. All the ladies are expected to be there and on time.” Bragnae emphasized the last part with a different inflection in her voice and widened eyes.

Liam laughed. “Yes. It’s best not to keep her waiting.”

“Oh, I know. If I’m late for another event, Bertrand will give me a very stern talking to for ‘besmirching House Beaumont’.” Bragnae spoke emphatically, and teased Maxwell by pinching his cheek.

“You and me both,” Maxwell told her. “Now, get going, so Bertrand stays off both of our asses.”

Bragnae laughed and waved before turning to walk away. My eyes traveled down to her magnificently presented ass. There should be a standing rule that Bragnae always be in tight, spandex leggings when she wasn’t wearing a dress. Jesus Christ, she could stop traffic. And I’m getting hard again. Time to go.

“Alright, I’m going to get cleaned up as well. I’ll see you fellas later.”

~

The next day was the traditional fox hunt for the royal party. Our ancestors used to hunt fox for sport, but today, the event only retains its name. Good thing too because I bet over half of these so-called nobles had never even held a gun, let alone knew how to use it.

This was actually an event I was happy to be a part of. We had to ride horses across a three mile trail through the woods and a bit of the mountains. This was my forte. Growing up with a mother who lived on a ranch in her youth, I was practically raised on a horse. I got up early and headed to the stables to pick out my horse for the day before the fussing nobles ruined the experience.

Since Lonestar, my mother’s horse, was at the stables near the palace, I had to find a different steed. Natalia was always my choice when we came to Applewood. We got along well, and she was better for more experienced riders anyway. She liked to run, so I thought I’d take her out to the field before the fox hunt to stretch her legs a bit.

After she was saddled up, I hopped on, and led her out to the field to trot, being sure not to tire her out too much before the trail ride.

Before long, the nobles had assembled and the fox hunt had begun. I was at the end of the procession, but I led Natalia to the sidelines, so we could pass a few people. There was no way I was going to be stuck behind Penelope while she was telling her hundredth story about her poodles that morning. Plus, I wanted to find Bragnae.

After seeing how she ogled the muscles in my arm, and not Liam’s, I figured it was time to stop playing this game. I needed to start being nicer to her, and explain myself. She deserved that. And out of all the people I wanted to be a prick to, she wasn’t even on the list. So, it would end today.

As I made my way through the trail, the crisp air was refreshing. The woods surrounded the manmade path. It was beautiful, save for the bickering nobles. I shook my head in disgust at them. It was a shame they couldn’t appreciate what was around them. Just shut the fuck up, and enjoy the ride.

I finally saw Bragnae up ahead. She was on a black horse – oh, wait, that was the horse who won the derby. Huh. I wondered how she happened to possess her. Bragnae was riding alongside Hana who was showing her some sort of dressage move. I smirked thinking about Hana’s plethora of talent.

I wasn’t going to intrude on their moment, so I kept my pace and position in hopes that Hana would ride off eventually. My patience had paid off as Hana rode ahead a minute later. Now was my chance.

I squeezed my legs around Natalia and gave her a slight kick with my heels to give her the sign to trot ahead. When she approached Bragnae and her horse, I pulled back on Natalia’s reins to keep up with Bragnae’s horse.

“Hey, Bennett. You look nice.” She did, too. She managed to find a rider’s outfit. A maroon jacket and tight, brown pants with knee-high boots.

Bragnae pulled back in surprise. “Wow. Opening with a compliment, huh? You feeling okay?”

I chuckled. “Yep. Just fine.”

“I’m surprised to see you out here today. I would have figured all the nobles would have repelled your desire to join us.”

“This is actually something I love doing. Riding horses, I mean. And it’s entertaining to watch the stuffy nobles fuss over their blazers. It amazes me how much they’re missing what’s around them, though.”

“Is that why you’re smiling more today?”

I couldn’t help but smile again as I looked at her. “It has more to do with who I’m riding next to.”

She feigned a surprised gasp, complete with a hand over her heart. “A second compliment!”

“If you’re lucky, you might get a third.” I loved bantering with her. It was always fun.

“Oh, then let me find a four-leaf clover really quick.” She winked at me with that dazzling smile I liked so much.

I sighed giving Natalia a couple pats on her neck. It was time to be honest with her. I needed to explain why I’d been such an ass to her. “You know, when we first met, I wanted to dislike you so badly.”

Genuine surprise highlighted her face. “Why?”

“Well, you were crashing Liam’s bachelor party. That was supposed to be our last night out together before all this nonsense. I don’t get to spend much time with him, and now, I’m lucky if I get to spend five minutes with him before a noble girl throws herself in front of him.” I also didn’t want to like you because I knew I couldn’t have you. Wish I could tell her that.

I looked over at her to see a somewhat pained expression. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I knew what you meant.” There was compassion in her eyes. Thank God. The last thing I wanted was her thinking I was insulting her in any way.

“Anyway, I know we got off to a bad start, but somewhere along the way,” I paused to gather my courage, “…things changed.” I hope she could read between the lines.

“I wanted to dislike you too,” she replied.

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “You did?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, you were a total dick to me.” She turned toward her horse, stroking its mane. I was a complete dick to her, and I hated that I did that. “But now…”

“Now?” My nerves were making my hands shake. I gripped the reins tighter as I waited for her response.

“It took time, but I figured out that you’re actually human under all those scowls.”

I shook my head as a smile crept over my lips. She wove a joke into her reply, and it was the cutest damn thing. Now the air was cleared, and it felt good. “Well, this has all been touching, but I need to rescue Liam from his family for a couple minutes. I’ll see you later.”

“I hope so,” she grinned.

Damn, that went well. I heeled Natalia again to get her to trot towards the front of the procession.

Soon, the trail led everyone to an old village where we would all have dinner. I was starving and very much looking forward to eating the giant feast. As everyone got in line to be served, I saw Tariq and Bragnae talking just ahead of me. His body language suggested that he was into her. I knew from the bachelor party in New York that Tariq was attracted to her, but he hadn’t done much more than mention it at the time. Not that I saw anyway.

As I moved forward in the line, I watched Liam trade places with Tariq. His body language was even more obvious. Liam had it bad. I could easily recognize when he was really into a woman, and there was no mistaking it here. But the stakes were even higher this time around. Liam was looking to pick a bride, a future queen. I didn’t know if he was in love with her, but he’d been much more preoccupied with her than any other girl I’d seen him with.

Later that evening after we got back from the ride, I helped the stable hands corral the horses and take their saddles off before I headed to my room. It had been a long day, but despite the length of the ride and being outdoors all day, I wasn’t ready to call it a night.

I needed to see Bragnae again. For some reason, I felt that I didn’t get my fill of her today. Then again, I felt like that every day even when I was with her. Maybe she’d like to go to the gym with me for a late night work out. Would that be too obvious that I wanted to spend time with her?

I decided I didn’t give a shit about that. Some of her signals made it seem like she was into me, so maybe she’d be happy to come along. I changed into a razorback tank top and athletic shorts and made my way to her room. I hoped she wasn’t asleep yet or otherwise busy. Her room wasn’t too far from mine. Liam made sure of that. At the beginning of the Social Season he had asked me to keep an eye on her. At first, I was unsure about it, but that quickly changed. If anything, I was grateful that I had an excuse to be hanging around her.

I came up to her room, and the door was wide open. Does the woman not enjoy privacy? I peeked my head in the door frame searching the room with my eyes before spotting Bragnae straddling the floor, resting on her knees. Her hands pressed against the floor in front of her as she slowly moved up and down.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. What the hell was she doing? She was still wearing her riding pants, but had removed her blazer and took her hair out of the bun it was in, and cascaded it over one shoulder. I was frozen. Only my eyes could move.

Bragnae’s eyes were closed, and I watched as her full lips transformed in what looked like agony to relief. It was incredibly erotic to watch her in this way. My dirty mind pictured myself underneath her. I wouldn’t mind at all if she wanted to ride me like that. Seeing her now made it easy to imagine her legs squeezing my hips as she felt every inch of my dick inside her.

My hardened and impatient cock brought me out of my trance. I needed to make my presence known before someone noticed I was just standing in her doorway watching her like some fucking pervert.

“Need a hand there?” Fuck. That was my dick talking. Why did I say that? Fuck.

Bragnae’s eyes snapped open, and an embarrassed smile crossed over her lips. “Hey, Drake.”

“Whatcha doin’?” I was genuinely curious.

Bragnae slowly stood up. “I was just stretching. It’s been a while since I last rode a horse.”

Hmmm. Could that also mean it’s been a while since she’s ridden a man that way? I know if she rode a stallion like me, she’d be sore. No getting around that. Her inner thighs would strain to hold onto me as I would thrust into her over and over again making her come so hard she’d struggle to breathe after her screams of pleasure finally subsided.

I cleared my throat to push the thought out of my mind. “I ride pretty regularly, so I’m used to it by now.”

“What are you doing for the rest of the night?”

I’d love for the answer to be you. “I was actually going to head down to the gym, and I was going to ask you if you’d like to join me, but I guess you probably don’t feel up to it being sore from the ride.”

“No, I can still go,” she said immediately with a smile. “Just give me a minute to change.”

Wow. Cool. So, she doesn’t mind working out even as sore as she is. I didn’t want to get too excited, but I was pretty sure it was because of me. At least I hoped so.

I nodded after processing her response. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just be outside.” I closed her door behind me, and leaned against the wall.

My heart was starting to race again, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I took a couple deep breaths to calm my nerves. After another minute, her door opened and Bragnae emerged wearing an electric blue sports bra top, similar to the one she danced in, and black spandex leggings to match. Her stomach and lower back were completely bare.

My dick took over again. It was making my eyes get lost in her body that was standing so close to me that I could feel the heat between us. I had a sudden urge to tuck the tip of my finger just beneath her waistband, and roll it across her pelvis, undoubtedly making her tremble. My gaze traveled up to her top where the most spectacular cleavage I’d ever seen peeked out.

The tightness of her outfit pushed her breasts up and together. If I wasn’t mistaken, I was pretty sure she had pulled that zipper in the front of her top down even more than it had been the other day. She was flirting with her clothes, and I was completely onboard with that. If she only knew what her outfit was doing to me.

Thank Christ my brain woke up in time to save me from myself as my eyes returned to hers. “Shall we?”

#TRR Dirty Mind Fanfic #drake walker #drake x bragnae #trr drake #trr fanfic

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @apocryphalia

The most excellent @apocryphalia​ (also apocryphalia on Twitter and AO3) has claimed Casanova to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material.

About Casanova: With a reputation for seducing members of the opposite sex, Casanova discovers a beauty who seems impervious to his charms. However, as he continues to pursue the indifferent lady, he finds himself falling in love.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @apocryphalia​ a little better!

* * *

goromcom: So, you know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #aziraphale/crowley and #ineffable husbands." Well, you're a true blue fan, and I support that!

apocryphalia: Considering this blog exists because I’m 100% pure Good Omens trash, that’s not shocking. I’m also slightly obsessive about my tags, which is probably why my mother and that one career test I took in college insist that I should have been a librarian.

goromcom: Oh, librarian is one of my dream jobs, but I never pursued it. I also feel similarly about tags! But before I start waxing poetic about the Dewey Decimal System, let’s segue to your rom com.

You chose to adapt Casanova as your rom com. Has this story been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it? Were you thinking specifically of the David Tennant adaptation of the story, or just Casanova in general?

apocryphalia: Like a lot of us, I may have gone a little bit crazy watching Tennant and Sheen's previous roles after the show came out, so I had seen his Casanova fairly recently, and I was definitely thinking of that version when I looked at the list. Also, this is a bit silly, but I have no idea how dates work, and I originally thought that the event claims opened the day after they actually did. I had off work the day I thought claims started, and I was planning to watch a bunch of movies I hadn't seen and put some real thought into which one I might want to do, but I figured out about two hours beforehand that I was very wrong. So I kind of panicked and just started throwing titles that I had already seen into the list, and I liked Casanova and couldn't resist the Tennant connection, so… here we are. No regrets.

goromcom: Sometimes life throws us the very curveball we need.

What's your favorite moment of Casanova, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

apocryphalia: I love Bellino, and I love the scene where she breaks off her engagement with Casanova and plays wingman for him with Henriette instead. My main goal in planning this so far is basically just maximum gender fuckery, so I’m still trying to work out exactly what to do with the character—I’m going to have to play fast and loose with the actual historical status of castrati, which gives my historian-brain some anxiety—but I think it’ll be fun to write, and hopefully fun to read! (Also, fun fact, the actual historical Casanova may have been bisexual, so why shouldn't Crowley!Casanova try to marry a castrato and also fem!Aziraphale?)

goromcom: Why not, indeed? I can absolutely see that for both the historical Casanova and for Crowley/Aziraphale as well.

Other than a healthy sprinkling of gender fuckery (of which I’m very much a fan) do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

apocryphalia: I’m planning to stick pretty closely to the events of the Tennant adaptation for the first half or so, but I’m changing the ending because obviously our ineffable spouses need a happy ending! I’m also ditching certain children that appear in the story, for the purposes of gender fuckery.

I would like to keep to the flashback format, as in the movie older Casanova is actually telling these stories about his life and his relationship with Henriette to another servant in the household where he’s now a librarian. So parts of the fic will be in first person as excerpts from Crowley’s memoirs, and others will be in third person telling the events as they actually occurred. I haven’t completely nailed down which POVs I want to use yet, but Crowley is certainly not a reliable narrator, and I think the back-and-forth timeline showing both young and old Casanova is interesting, so I’m going to try to keep that vibe in the fic.

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

apocryphalia: Ineffable wives! Again, I’m going to have to play fast and loose with history and it’s giving me some anxiety, but this is fiction, it’s fanfiction, and it’s going to be fun, dammit! Fem!Casanova!Crowley may be slightly channeling Gentleman Jack, because who doesn’t love lesbian Suranne Jones? Aziraphale gets to be the cautious, repressed one desperately trying to adhere to societal expectations while also being desperately in love with her as Henriette, and there will be plenty of slow-burn, mutual-pining, dancing-around-their-feelings-and-their-crappy-circumstances goodness!

goromcom: I think fiction and art help us imagine the world we want, so if we want a world where people aren’t so hung up on gender or orientation, what better place to start than in our storytelling? <3

But I don’t want you to reveal too much about your story before it’s time to post it, so let’s move on to the final question, cribbed from The Good Place: The Podcast. Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

apocryphalia: Well, I can’t resist an opportunity for pet pics. My cats are both terrible at being cats, and they are my favorite things in the whole world. Look at these little idiots being king and queen of recycling mountain! [ed: photo below interview] 

Also, on a real note, there are other similar organizations all over that could use support, but here in my part of South Jersey, the SERV program at the Center for Family Services runs the domestic and sexual violence advocacy programs, and assists victims of human trafficking. I’m a former volunteer with them, and everyone involved in that work is so incredibly compassionate. They provide free counseling, support survivors through the medical exam and reporting process (or through the decision not to report), and they operate a 24-hour hotline and the domestic violence shelters for two counties. Their #1 goal is to believe and trust survivors, and to support whatever they decide is best for them, not to pressure them into any particular course of action (i.e., reporting an assault or filing for a restraining order) and I just think that’s incredibly powerful and helpful.

goromcom: SERV sounds like an important resource and I’m so glad the people of South Jersey have something like that to support them. (Though let’s hope as few people need it as possible.)

Make sure to watch for the GO adaptation of Casanova, coming soon. (And now here’s that pet photo I know everyone was waiting for.)

#goromcom #goromcom spotlight #good omens #apocryphalia #casanova

[cartesien]

9/10/20

Last night was an Eva Green double feature: Casino Royale, followed by The Dreamers. The former is fun, although Daniel Craig’s Bond doesn’t come across as very Bond-like for much of it, and (more pertinently) it’s not lost on me that most of the first half an hour of the film is Bond just... killing Africans, who are universally terrorists in this universe? It’s nothing new for the franchise, obviously, and the fact that I find it jarring it says more about me and about the time I live in than about the movie itself. Also — I have never been a fan of books, shows, or movies in which either the first act or the third act takes place across the country or (worse) across the world from the other two. Over the two-and-a-half hour runtime of Casino Royale, Bond finds himself in the Czech Republic, in Madagascar, in the UK, in the Bahamas, in Florida, in Montenegro, on a beach in an undisclosed location, and in Italy. This is par for the course for Bond films (indeed it’s part of the formula, practically a genre convention) but it’s not the country-hopping I mind, exactly, it’s that the first thirty or so minutes are always set in a Third(ish) World country, usually a dusty one, and the action is only interesting in Skyfall. (This is a claim I need to verify by watching more Bond films. Admittedly I haven’t seen very many of them at all.)

But we were talking about Eva Green. I didn’t know she was French — I always thought she was English (because of her coloring, maybe; very English Rose), but her accent in Casino Royale is undoubtedly not an English one despite the role being that of (I think) an Englishwoman. (With a name like “Vesper Lynd,” who knows?) Once I convinced myself of the fact that her Wikipedia article said (I had to read it a few times to be sure) “Eva Green is a French actress and model” I realized that she was in The Dreamers, a film whose name (and sometimes content) I have encountered here and there over the years, always tangentially. I knew it vaguely as, like, the French incest movie with the NC-17 rating, and I also knew it was directed by Bernardo Bertolucci, although I didn’t have (still don’t have) any idea of who Bertolucci is, exactly. It’s a lovely film that captures the feeling of being young and American and in Paris, and of being included but not being included enough (the Bande à part scene, and then all references to it afterwards), and of becoming close with people whose minds are at once childlike (good) and childish (bad). The last is the most interesting aspect of the film, to me, and it’s the reason I don’t find its (extremely explicit) sex scenes to be particularly titillating... so often in fiction, sex (whether sacred or profane) is the province of adults, but here it is absolutely the province of children. As Matthew begins to experiment with Isabel and Théo, he isn’t presented as ascending to or achieving anything in particular (as he would be in so many other films) — rather, he descends: we see that the dishes pile up, the food runs out, and the mountain of trash grows and grows the longer the youths are left unsupervised. The reviews I’ve read on Letterboxd don’t touch on this so much: they focus on how the film captures what’s so wonderful about having no responsibilities whatsoever and about being able to spend your time simply loving art, and to always be surrounded by those who are also in the act of loving art. And The Dreamers does that very well! But that’s not what it’s “about”; it’s a coming-of-age story, it’s Matthew’s coming-of-age story, and he is the only one who comes of age here. Which is why the film left a sad (not bad!) taste in my mouth; Matthew is just as alone at the end as he is at the beginning.

[scientificphilosopher]

Book List 2018

I’m a couple weeks behind on this, but here’s the list of books I read in 2018. I’ve broken it down by category, though this is pretty loose since, you know, genres bleed into one another and such. You can also find reviews of some of these books here, and I always take requests for reviews as well. Follow me on Goodreads to see what I’m reading and rating. 

Let me know what you think if you’ve read any of these books or have recommendations, and, as always, please feel free to send me malicious personal attacks if I say something you disagree with.

Non-Fiction

Philosophy

Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried

The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein

Race Matters by Cornel West

Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West

American Philosophy: A Love Story by John Kaag

Ethics Without Ontology by Hilary Putnam

Meaning in Life and Why It Matters by Susan Wolf

The Variety of Values: Essays on Morality, Meaning, and Love by Susan Wolf

The Really Hard Problem: Meaning in a Material World by Owen J. Flanagan

Meaning in Life by Thaddeus Metz

The Human Eros: Eco-Ontology and the Aesthetics of Existence by Thomas Alexander

Naturalism and Normativity by Mario De Caro (Editor), David Macarthur (Editor)

Truth in Context: An Essay on Pluralism and Objectivity by Michael P. Lynch

Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison

Experiments in Ethics by Kwame Anthony Appiah

Ethics in the Real World: 86 Brief Essays on Things that Matter by Peter Singer

The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir

A Very Easy Death by Simone de Beauvoir

The Story of Philosophy: The Lives and Opinions of the World's Greatest Philosophers by Will Durant

Why Buddhism is True: The Science and Philosophy of Enlightenment by Robert Wright

A Defense of Buddhist Virtue Ethics by Jack Hamblin

Living Buddha, Living Christ by Thich Nhat Hanh

The Infidel and the Professor: David Hume, Adam Smith, and the Friendship That Shaped Modern Thought by Dennis C. Rasmussen

The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World by Dalai Lama XIV, Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Carlton Abrams

Reality, Art and Illusion by Alan Watts

Democracy and Social Ethics by Jane Addams

Common Sense by Thomas Paine

From Bacteria to Bach and Back: The Evolution of Minds by Daniel C. Dennett

Science

Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky

The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World by Stephen Brusatte

Why Dinosaurs Matter by Kenneth Lacovara

I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life by Ed Yong

The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—And Us by Richard O. Prum

Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal by Mary Roach

Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach

Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex by Mary Roach

She Has Her Mother's Laugh: The Powers, Perversions, and Potential of Heredity by Carl Zimmer

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari

21 Lessons for the 21st Century by Yuval Noah Harari

Caesar's Last Breath: Decoding the Secrets of the Air Around Us by Sam Kean

Why Evolution is True by Jerry Coyne

What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker

Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking

Seven Brief Lessons on Physics by Carlo Rovelli

The Physics of Time by Carlo Rovelli

Physics of the Impossible: A Scientific Exploration of the World of Phasers, Force Fields, Teleportation, and Time Travel by Michio Kaku

The Spinning Magnet: The Force That Created the Modern World--and Could Destroy It by Alanna Mitchell

Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan

Visions for the 21st Century by Carl Sagan et al.

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee

What the Dog Saw and Other Adventures by Malcolm Gladwell

The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo

The Virgin and the Mousetrap: Essays in Search of the Soul of Science by Chet Raymo

Politics/Race/Gender

The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by bell hooks

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture by Roxane Gay (editor)

Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower by Brittney Cooper

Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

I Am Not Your Negro by James Baldwin

The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Race Matters by Cornel West

Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West

Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois

Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City by Matthew Desmond

Tears We Cannot Stand: A Sermon to White America by Michael Eric Dyson

What Truth Sounds Like: Robert F. Kennedy, James Baldwin, and Our Unfinished Conversation About Race in America by Michael Eric Dyson

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo

White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America by Nancy Isenberg

The Common Good by Robert Reich

Transgender History by Susan Stryker

Memoir

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

South of Forgiveness: A True Story of Rape and Responsibility by Thordis Elva

Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou

The Chicken Chronicles by Alice Walker

The Last Jew of Treblinka by Chil Rajchman

My Own Life by David Hume

Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith

Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass

The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row by Anthony Ray Hinton

Black Klansman: Race, Hate, and the Undercover Investigation of a Lifetime by Ron Stallworth

Calypso by David Sedaris

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris

Ink Spots by Brian McDonald

No Time to Spare: Thinking About What Matters by Ursula K. Le Guin

History/Biography

Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson

Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo" by Zora Neale Hurston

No god but God: The Origins, Evolution and Future of Islam by Reza Aslan

God: A Human History by Reza Aslan

One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America by Kevin M. Kruse

The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language by Mark Forsyth

Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything by Lydia Kang 

Fiction

Literary Fiction

Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin

Another Country by James Baldwin

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

Blues for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin

Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville

Home by Toni Morrison

God Help the Child by Toni Morrison

The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

The Dead by James Joyce

Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett

The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

A Confederacy of Dunces by Jonh Kennedy Toole

The Dork of Cork by Chet Raymo

Genre Fiction

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green

Slice of Life by Kurt Vonnegut

2BR02B by Kurt Vonnegut

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Kindred by Octavia E. Butler

Bloodchild and Other Stories by Octavia E. Butler

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Pure Drivel by Steve Martin

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J.K. Rowling

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

The Green Mile by Stephen King

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams

Life, the Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams

The Bad Beginning: A Series of Unfortunate Events #1 by Lemony Snicket

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary by David Sedaris

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

Worst of 2018

Every single book I read this past year had redemptive value. Even if it was total garbage, it still taught me some stuff (like how not to write a book). Even a bad book can be a good book if you let it be.

So, here’re a few books that didn’t quite hit the spot for me:

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Ink Spots by Brian McDonald

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson

Best of 2018

It was genuinely difficult to choose my top books of 2018. What a literary year it has been for me. 2018 marks the most books I’ve read in a year, and I was lucky enough to come across some real game-changers. I finally read the Harry Potter series and, boy howdy, did it ever live up to the hype. What took me so long?? But this was, more than anything, the year of James Baldwin. He has made an indelible mark on me as a reader, a writer, and a human. What a year this has been! I hope to read a fraction as much beautiful, lovely, challenging, profound prose in 2019. 

In no particular order, here are the books of 2018 that most moved me, shook me, rattled me, rolled me:

Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky

Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein

Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried

The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir

What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker

Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan

The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

Well, there you have it, folks. Here’s to many more good books in the years to come! 

The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story. —Ursula K. Le Guin

#reading list #2018 #nich #reading #books #writing #long post #long

[cbk1000]

Jenn Recommends: Sensation Fiction

Welcome back to another round of recommendations by yours truly! Be sure to read everything I suggest because I have impeccable taste, as those of you who have followed my Chuck Tingle liveblogs are well aware.

I’m going to spend just a bit describing today’s genre, since it’s a subset of 19th century literature you may not have heard of before.

Sensation fiction was immensely popular with the Victorians because they were all freaks but wanted to pretend to propriety in a world where BDSM brothels became a thing thanks to a proliferation of corporal punishment in childhood that contributed to a deep and abiding obsession with spanking. (Go ahead, read their porn; I’ll wait.) Sensation fiction gave them a chance to pearl clutch over tea with Muffy so Muffy would think that if they’re shocked at a little bigamy, surely they didn’t carry around an inflatable sex toy under their hat to avoid the temptations of ‘the solitary vice’, a.k.a. masturbation, which, as we all know, results in insanity and death. 

Sensation fiction has its foundation in the melodramatic and the Gothic, and revolves around some sort of secret. These are not whodunits; there’s no opening crime from which a detective has to work backward, picking up clues along the way. But there is something massive and sinister lurking just underneath the surface; expect lots of foreshadowing and shiftiness as the secret unravels over the course of like 700 pages, because Victorians be fucking prolific. 

If You Like: Eerie mansions, evil Italians, and a little social commentary with your Mysterious Happenings

Read: The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins.   

Wilkie Collins was a friend of Dickens’ and a name you will hear a lot in association with sensation fiction: he was one of its most popular contributors, and for good reason: this shit is hard to put down. 

Collins was an early experimenter with mixed media and usually follows multiple perspectives in his books, so that all these little related threads can be teased out and teased out till you finally learn how they all connect. The Woman in White takes its name from a freaky encounter of one Walter Hartright, protagonist numero uno, in the very first few pages, so you understand that Shit Is About To Get a Purplish Hue of Real Very Quickly. It is an ‘epistolary novel that tells the tale of Walter Hartright, who encounters a woman all dressed in white on a moonlit road in Hampstead. Hartright helps the woman to find her way back to London. The woman warns him against an unnamed baronet and after they part he discovers that she may have escaped from an insane asylum. Hartright travels to Cumberland where he takes up a position as the art tutor of Laura Fairlie and her devoted half-sister, Marian Halcombe, who are somehow entangled with this mysterious “woman in white”.’

While the quintessential Victorian heroine in all her swoony delicacies is presented here, Collins, for his gender and specific social era, actually writes his female characters with a much defter hand than many of his contemporaries. Laura is your typical 19th century heroine, pale, delicate, and dependent upon her man. Her sister Marian, however, is ballsy, witty, and not about to let the men have all the eavesdropping fun. She’s exactly the kinda’ bitch I’d want at my side if an evil Italian were conspiring against me. 

The prose is dense, of course; this is Victorian literature, after all. But Collins constantly inserts little details that deepen the mystery, that hint after the subtle clockwork of the narrative ticking away underneath. Even during the mundanities of art lessons or tea, you never forget that something is at work, that every action and bit of dialogue has in it an allusion to the fact that this is some puzzle piece that fits somewhere, somehow, into the larger picture. Mr. Jenn listened to this on audiobook during slow periods at work, then came home and put it on again to give me a taste of what it’s like to live with someone who really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what you’re doing while they’re reading. And he is not much of a reader. 

If You Like: Shifty bitches and the men who ignore all their obvious red flags

Read: Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon.

Meet Lady Audley. Lady Audley is kind of a psychopath, but she’s hot, so you know the peen will come marching in two by two regardless. Lady Audley, as you may have guessed from the title, has a secret. Or, as Amazon puts it ‘When beautiful young Lucy Graham accepts the hand of Sir Michael Audley, her fortune and her future look secure. But Lady Audley's past is shrouded in mystery, and to Sir Michael's nephew Robert, she is not all that she seems. When his good friend George Talboys suddenly disappears, Robert is determined to find him, and to unearth the truth. His quest reveals a tangled story of lies and deception, crime and intrigue, whose sensational twists turn the conventional picture of Victorian womanhood on its head. Can Robert's darkest suspicions really be true?’   (Btw, I’m pretty sure one of ‘Robert’s darkest suspicions’ is that he’s secretly gay because it’s Victorian England and he can’t just be like, “Yo, I want a boy on my dick” and I know you guys are reading this like, “But Jenn, you’re like that kid from the Sixth Sense except with gay people: you see them everywhere, in all your media,” but you tell me: how straight is it for a guy to admire a girl’s beauty by marveling over how much she looks like her brother? And to fall in love with her specifically because she reminds him so much of her brother? Case closed.)

I picked up this book in a Dublin bookstore on my honeymoon the night before our flight out, and I remember dealing with severe anxiety about the coming flight and then cracking this book in a little cafe where we stopped to wait out a rainstorm and proceeding to ignore Mr. Jenn completely. I’m a ho for pretty metaphors, so the writing sucked me in immediately, but beyond the lyrical quality of Braddon’s prose, I wanted to know: yeah, wtf IS this bitch’s deal? Lucy Graham is tiny, doll-like, retiring...or is she? No one with eyes THAT large and fluttery isn’t a murderer, dammit. 

If you like your trash reads with a side of Vocabulary and poetic prose, read this and find out what the hell Lady Audley is hiding. It does not pretend to great literature; sensation novels were the beach reads of the Victorian era. But it has some beautiful descriptions and if you’re a trashy ho like me, then you’re definitely going to appreciate Victorians being shady as fuck.

#jenn recommends #books

[idiopath-fic-smile]

Oh my goddd I was scrolling back through your blog and the 1950s lesbian exr is a thing that just could not conceivably be any further up my alley (I realise what this sounds like and I apologise), so I was wondering if we could get another little snippet? No pressure ofc. PS I love your writing and even if we never get any more of tscosi it's still probably my favourite podcast of all time

Hi!

Thank you so much. There will definitely be more Starship Iris eventually, but I really appreciate that.

Re: the fic, I was simultaneously trying to write a historically accurate-ish look at 1950′s American lesbian identity and activism, and give it a bit of a noir feel, which in theory I think you could do because holy shit these women were risking so much, and they had to basically be spies anyway because the FBI was legit trying to keep tabs on them and their meetings. I don’t really know if I’m the person to do it, though; this feels pretty damn far out of my lane, to be honest.

I really wish there was more historical fiction about this cause in this period; you can find some fascinating shit just doing a cursory wikipedia crawl. Like, the first lesbian periodical was created in 1947 by a 25-year-old who was working as a receptionist at RKO Studios; her boss was like ‘just look busy so people think I’m a big deal’ and so she was secretly using company equipment to type and format a zine about lesbianism, like 25 years before the APA stopped calling homosexuality a mental illness.

Anyway, I only wrote about three pages; I stopped when I realized how long it would need to be, and how much work would be involved, and also frankly it’s a lot easier to situate Enjolras in a fic about queer activism post-Stonewall, because the D.O.B.-era organizing tended to be pretty assimilationist. Like, I think their work was important and has been unfairly neglected, but I still think Enjolras in any era would chafe at their gradualism. 

Enjolras isn’t even mentioned by name in this, but uh I think you’ll be able to find her. 

(Head’s up: this is the very opening of the story, it’s from Grantaire’s POV, and she has not begun to work through her issues yet, so quick content warning for period-typical internalized homophobia and self-loathing, as well as period-typical sexism. Also, historical note: from what I can tell, “lesbian” had negative connotations even within the community at the time.)

“Grantaire, are you alright?” said Murray. He didn’t try that hard to hide his laughter. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

“You’ll need to set aside your small-town attitudes if you want to succeed in the big city,” Chester added. “There’s all sorts here, as you can see.”

Grantaire nodded. There was nothing more dangerous than someone desperate to prove they were more Bohemian than you, she thought. She wondered if they were only doing this because she had corrected Chester about Rothko. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. She could have just let him be wrong and avoided the whole adventure, or prank, or byzantine office hazing ritual–whatever had inspired them to take her here, of all places.

The Musain. Run by the mob, of course, but that wasn’t what made the place so notorious. There wasn’t exactly a neon sign screaming gay bar! But even if Grantaire was as naive as Chester and Murray seemed to assume, she probably could’ve put the clues together herself from the clientele, men mingling with men and women mingling with women. 

How much looking was too much looking? It all felt like too much. She tried focusing on the grimy wall of bottles behind the bar, except one of the bartenders had hung a poster of a pin-up girl back there, naked but for a strategically-placed ukulele, grinning a slick, lipsticky grin. There was no safe real estate to rest your eyes on. Every inch was dangerous, an admission of something.

“I’ll be right back,” she croaked. “Ladies’ room.”

“If you can tell which one it is,” laughed–Chester? Murray?–who even cared, she thought, ducking into the crowd.

The water did not help like she’d hoped. Grantaire switched off the tap and wiped at her face, badly wanting a cigarette. She wondered how much longer she could hide in here before it got suspicious. Two or three minutes, she figured, but when she stepped back into the bar she’d need to be perfectly composed.

Then again, neither of her new colleagues seemed too perceptive. Case in point: this present stunt, designed to unnerve her in an entirely different direction. Even now, she could at least detect a certain sick humor about the whole affair. She was still half-smirking when a woman walked in. Grantaire looked away on instinct, but foolishly, right into the mirror, to be pinned instead by the stranger’s reflection. There was just no catching a break tonight.

Grantaire had seen the stranger already from the other side of the bar, would have noticed her from a hundred paces. She was tall and athletic-looking, dressed like a man in a button-down shirt and trousers. Normally a girl of that stature slouched, pulled in her shoulders as if apologizing for taking up the space, but every line of this woman’s body was utterly assured, self-possessed. Her hair was cropped short, and there was a stark beauty in her strong brows and sharp cheekbones, feminine without a trace of softness.

Her eyes slid to Grantaire and away again: registered and dismissed in a single motion.

Grantaire dried her hands—slowly, because she still did not really want to go back. Anything was preferable, maybe including this.

In a way, it was almost a relief to see that nothing had changed. Seasons came and went but Grantaire was still Grantaire: a bundle of too-tight nerves and awkward elbows, scratchy throat, furtive gaze bouncing everywhere it shouldn’t. Still nursing a fascination with the most dangerous-looking female in the area. A puppy dog panting after a wolf.

Grantaire snorted, echoing in the cramped space. The woman looked back at her.

“Sorry,” Grantaire mumbled.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Your friends seem to be having a good time,” she said. Her voice was cold and dry as the Arctic Desert. Searing sun, powdery snow.

Chester and Murray weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination. They were barely co-workers; Grantaire had only been at the magazine for five days, had only arrived in the city three days before that, had been hired sight unseen by the eccentric editor-in-chief on the strength of a portfolio sent by mail and a first name that could pass as a man’s. It was even odds that once the bossman returned from his honeymoon and discovered his brand-new cartoonist was a she, Grantaire would be right out the door again, no chance to slip a single drawing into the lineup. As it was, her presence at the office had the air of a lingering typo.

Best-case scenario, her new employer would turn out to be one of those awful tyrants who refused to acknowledge any degree of fallibility, and he’d keep her on out of sheer hardheadedness. Perhaps after a year or two, she’d fade from a novelty to a background detail, and she’d finally grow up enough to stop trying to prove herself when it mattered the least.

None of it was worth explaining.

“They’re harmless,” said Grantaire instead. “That new intellectual type. They like modern art and smoking marijuana and pretending to understand poetry. They’re not here to gawk, not really.” She could not make herself shut her mouth. It was like having a fit. “They only brought me by to try to get a rise out of the girl from Skokie,” she was saying. “They’ve got nothing against your kind.”

“My kind,” the woman repeated, and Grantaire gave a helpless inward flinch. Was it rude to imply someone was a homosexual simply because she was wearing trousers at a gay bar? It didn’t look like a costume; she wore it with too much grace. “Don’t you mean ‘our kind’?” the woman said.

Grantaire froze, still clutching a wad of paper towel. She hadn’t expected to feel caught out. She had almost hoped for it, maybe, some slight terrified swoop of the stomach, but one foot inside the Musain, one glance at the flesh-and-blood patrons flirting under threat of police raid, had put it to rest.

(“Welcome to city life,” Chester had said, with a chuckle. “Meet your new neighbors!”)

Grantaire could only stand there, in the drab skirt and blouse she had picked specifically to blend in at the office, and measure the distance in miles, in light years.

She threw the paper towel in the trash, made herself meet the woman’s eyes. Grantaire was a head shorter, but somehow it was her spine that craned down, her shoulder blades that pulled together, her posture that begged forgiveness for the sheer fact of her blood and muscle and skin.

“I’m nothing like you,” said Grantaire.

“Really?” came the reply, unimpressed. “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you in here last week. Minus your friends.”

It had to be a bluff, thought Grantaire. Without two rowdy men at her back to make the whole thing a joke, she had barely managed to step in before she’d hightailed it back out.

It had to be a bluff, unless it wasn’t.

First Chester and Murray, and now this. Grantaire had just about had it with people trying to shock her by telling her things she already knew. Sex perverts exist, Grantaire, on one hand. You’re one of them, Grantaire, on the other.

At some point, a girl reached her limit.

“Oh,” said Grantaire, “I’m a lesbian, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

The woman blinked at her, not expecting—what? The directness? The word? The slightest illusion of a backbone?

Grantaire bared her teeth in a grin: another illusion. Nothing but well-honed reflex at this point; every bone in her body knew how to lie.

“And that’s the beginning and end of what we have in common,” Grantaire said. It had been a long day; she gave herself the petty satisfaction of slamming the door on her way out.

“Feeling better?” Chester asked, all mock-sympathy, when she returned. “Maybe a ginger-ale to settle your stomach?” It had the shape of an offer but the taste of a dare: can you stay long enough to drink it.

“Throw in some whiskey and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. Murray laughed. Her head hurt.

“Don’t look now, but there’s a woman, if you can call it that, watching us,” said Murray in a low, amused voice. “Think she’s got her eye on you, Grantaire.”

For once in her life, she wouldn’t rise to take the bait. “You’re hilarious,” said Grantaire without looking up. “A regular Bob Hope.”

“They still laughing at Bob Hope out in Skokie?” Chester said.

“It’s Illinois,” she snapped, “not the Mesozoic Era.”

“Mesozoic,” said Murray, as though he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “Big word for a little lady.”

Mesozoic. Eight letters. But it didn’t matter how you contorted yourself; somebody would always find a way to be sore at you for being too much of one thing or another.

Grantaire hunched down on the stool, away from the sweep of those imagined eyes, and forced herself to smile.

#fic #anyway i swear this does have a happy ending #don't worry i am still a huge sap #octarine-ash #eXr DOB

[ideahat-universe]

Bad, Good, Grey entertainment

Okay so there’s been a lot of pedo talk about various forms of entertainment and I want to set the record straight on what we are dealing with here. 

Toddler’s and Tiaras/Dance Moms/Little Miss Sunshine/ and Honey Boo Boo probably:

No one with empathy for children or just humanity in general liked those shows. Those shows were popular and went on for several seasons because the production costs were low and the reality television audience is very passive, very addicted to drama, and love watching freak shows. 

You can’t find a audience more entertained by human suffering than the people that love watching reality shows. 

The success of those shows is not an indictment of America, especially Little Miss Sunshine which is a movie that no one has seen. If you defend Cuties by saying that Little Miss Sunshine had something like that in the third act I have to respond with “No one who isn’t a hipster douchebag or a film reviewer has seen the ending to that film”

Normal people don’t watch shit like that. Do you even remember the trailers? I do! I saw a review for it either and it looked like the cure for insomnia. 

The average person thinks Honey Boo Boo was the worst, they think dance moms is for sociopaths who like seeing little girls cry, and they think Toddler’s and Tiara’s are for pedophiles. 

Big Mouth: 

Big Mouth is a coming of age show for adults and it seems mostly like a thinly veiled excuse to watch westernized lolita and shota soft core porn, it might be that but the big problem with calling Big Mouth fans pedos is that big Mouth is basically like every other raunchy adult comedy, including the sacred cow South Park. 

There’s not a lot of stuff that Big Mouth has done that South Park hasn’t also done and in standard American fashion the art style is more repulsive than endearing and good hentai lives and dies on how well the human body is drawn. 

You have to have a strong understanding of the human anatomy just so you can bend those rules for unrealistic proportions and still have people invested in the quality of your work. It’s real fucking work drawing good looking pornography. 

Big Mouth isn’t drawn like a show that loves the human body. It’s drawn like a show that kind of sees the body as something gross and it’s half played off for laughs while the other half is reassurance that you’re relatively normal. 

If you were going to make a show about a subject matter like this, you probably can’t do worse than Big Mouth and you probably can’t do any better either. 

Cuties:

Cuties exist supposedly as a way to spark a conversation about how we sexualize young girls. It’s from France so it’s probably more relevant there than it is here but not many people are making that argument. I would make that argument though. After all, France is where the infamous novel “Lolita” was originally published (although to be fair it was written by a Russian). 

French culture is extremely sex positive and the plot is about a Somalian girl acclimating to a dance group that would only exist in the western world and would have the most acceptance in France. 

The mass immigration of people from the Middle East created a culture clash in France and other places where people who abandoned religion have to butt heads with people for whom religion is basically everything. 

Sexuality is condemned in fundamentalist Islamic culture, especially the sexuality of women. I could go on for awhile talking about my theories why and how it speaks to a series of social, emotional, and mental disorders hidden within the members of the Islamic faith but that’s a conversation for a different subject. 

America has problems with sex and sexuality but lets face it, if the Somalian girl was Christian instead of Muslim and set in America there wouldn’t be a film or alternatively there would be a film but it would just be Mean Girls. 

Most stories about sexuality and coming of age is usually about riding that line between being liberated but not so far out that you fall in with bad people who want to exploit your sexuality for profit, physically abuse you for pleasure, or give you a disease that will forever lower your quality of life if not be the lead cause of your own death. 

Many stories of sex are about the regret of even having it or having had it with the wrong people or refusing to have it with the right one until it was too late. 

The real question is “Is Cuties truly a satire of french culture?” 

It can’t be satire of American culture because the abuse of children is met with public derision and disgust when it’s brought to their attention. America is still very religious and the inherently conservative nature of islamic culture can fit within America with only modifications to how it views the concept of punishment for breaking religious rules. 

In order for Cuties to be a commentary on how America sees the sexuality of girls it would have to be pro pedophilia because the antagonist that’s being criticized would be the religious faith and not the hedonism of the Cuties. 

This can however be an critique on how France’s sexual openess is just an excuse for debauchery and sexual exploitation. 

Only the French can say for sure or not, I can’t say if that’s a fair critique, my investigations has led to people affirming that French people are “More honest about romance and sex” which is distressingly vague given the subject matter but I don’t know where the french draw the line so I’ll leave it at that. 

In any case the production of the film regardless of intent is child abuse. Either they exploited the pre-existing sexuality of young girls or they sexualized young girls specifically for the film. Effectively grooming them to be sex pots for the purposes of authenticity. They had hundreds of kids tryout for this as well. 

How many of those children have been raped before or during the production of the film? Even when a child is being hired for a G rated kid’s film or show there’s still a high chance that someone on set, in the studio, or in Hollywood has sexually touched the kids, sometimes with the consent of the parents (I mean the parents get all the money, if you were a selfish prick willing to make your child famous so you could get rich, would you care if Dan Schneider touched your daughter?) 

It’s massively irresponsible at best and at worst, part of the film’s message relied on throwing actual little girl’s into the lion’s den to make a point about how immoral and corrupt french people are. 

It got an award at Sundance. The co-founder of Sundance is a confirmed pedophile. If the intent of the film is to oust french people and non religious people as nonces and nonce enablers well mission accomplished I guess! 

I’ve never seen a film throw everyone that liked it under the bus. 

Well. Does Freddy Got Fingered count? I digress. 

That’s the conversation one is supposed to have about Cuties. I get really fucking annoyed when people say “we need to have a conversation about this.” or “it’s a conversation starter.” but they don’t really initiate a conversation and they use that phrase to end the conversation they are currently in so it’s a lot of bullshit. 

We’re done talking about Cuties but we’re not done here yet. 

Hololive:

Some person named Brittany made some video where she took shots at Shark hololive girl. Said the person was Lolibait and that she had an audience of 40 year old men. 

Where does one begin?

Apparently this person has done this before. I keep thinking of Jessica Valenti which is another person so clearly what this person did or does has been lost to me. I can only assume it involved gamergate or Donald Trump because all roads lead to those two subjects for some bizarre reason. 

But that’s the past. Right now is what matters and right now you can’t just make a video saying that someone makes content exclusively for pedophiles which is what she did. That was some Keemstar level shit right there and I’m under the impression no one will make her regret that choice. Everybody always talks about actions having consequences but it appears like only certain people suffer from the consequences. 

But we’ll see. 

She talked about Hololive like it was another Project Melody. Unfortunately for her it’s not, It’s a real business and a real business is designed to deal with defamation in a serious way so things could get ugly if Yagoo actually thinks his ladies are being threatened by drama mongers. 

These vtubers are doing really well. Pokimane deciding to become a vtuber that is just her normal self but animated is boomer level imitation and extremely funny. 

The appeal isn’t that they’re animated by the way, the appeal is that they’re fun people doing streams. The animation works by letting the audience create a para social relationship with a fictional character of sorts so that the actress can have a private life while still maintaining a streaming setup that’s very personable for the audience. 

This is a meaningful evolution of an online persona.

The only real downside is that anyone who wanted to have an animated avatar in general will be defined as a vtuber when that may not be the intention of the streamer. 

I’m just waiting for one of these girls to be part of an ARG. 

Okay so to wrap up:

Reality shows are trash and always have been.

Indie Films are also trash and only pretentious douche bags like them. 

What happens in France should stay in France. 

and Hololive is GOAT but tragedy of the commons is still a thing. 

#hololive #cuties #controversy #lets play #netflix

[interstellactic-studios-random]

1 and 3?

I'm assuming this is for the identity Ask one since I just reblogged the detailed OC question ask like half a second before I noticed this in my inbox, correct me if I mixed em up tho. Answer 1: If someone really wanted to get to know me/understand me, they would have to read: long sci-fi/fictional novel series such as the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, fan-fictions of either reader inserts/OC inserts that are like "Depressed!Reader X Anime/Game Character" or something like that cause those are the only stories that can actually make me cry from the feels ._. ((For some reason I always like those ones better cause in my opinion those are more realistic than pure romantic fan-fictions))They would have to listen to: Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Three Days Grace, fan made songs for games ((mostly undertale and batim)), Electro swing music, random songs from animation memes or that are inspiring for making fun characters and art stuff. They would have to watch: cartoons from present 2017 and dating back through the years all the way to the 90's ((I wasn't born in the 90's but in the early 2000's so I still got to grow up with all those shows, im a sucker for the Rug Rats)). They'd also have to watch shows like "A Haunting" or "Mountain Monsters" cause I'm a believer of all that stuff and personally enjoy watching people scaring themselves by wandering around some random house or area at night trying to find something. ((Sorry that this is going to be so long btw))Answer 3: Undertale: Sans ((because I'm reaaalllyyy lazy but still secretly watch out for all my friends and flip my shiz when someone hurts them))Homestuck: Kanaya ((sorry if I spelled it wrong, but I relate to her cause I'm a Virgo myself, my choice of weapon is personally a chainsaw :3, and I always look fabulous no matter what I'm wearing. I relate to Gamzee, Nepeta, Tavros, and Karkat to, but I'm closer to Kanaya))My Hero Academia: Shoto Todoroki((I have parent issues ._. Not severe though, and it's with my mom not my dad. My mom isn't like me at all, she try's to make me be like an average girl who like wearing dressing, painting nails, tanned skin, not a fat ass, and girly shit, rather than a gothic styled emo-like art nerd to hates sunlight and has pale skin. When I came out to her for being Pansexual, she yelled in my face "WE ARE A HETEROSEXUAL FAMILY!!!" And made an excuse saying she doesn't want me profiling myself to fit in with my friends who are either gay, bisexual, asexual, or pansexual. She said I'm not allowed to have one until I date someone, and not only that, but she thinks sexualitys are literally just about having sex, not what gender of person u would be in a relationship, literally just what u want to fuck is a sexuality to her. I'll just rant about this later blah blah. But me and this guy both have parent issues, and have pure reasons to push on through life. His is to show his dad he doesn't have to use his right side with his dads quirk just to be a good hero, and mine is to stand up for people and show those who think there's something wrong with not being straight or becoming trans/agender that this is a real thing and they have to accept it, not try to suffocate it out of existence and make others hate themselves for what they are. Batim: Bendy((I choose Bendy not just cause he's a fabulous bean, but because I've been betrayed and abandoned by lots of people I've trusted over my life time, and I've been hurt worse and worse each time but I hide it behind my tsundere-like harsh attitude to strangers and behind a my caring smile to my friends. I don't hurt myself though cause I know that won't help me so I don't want people thinking that ._. But anyways, that's really how I can connect with Bendy, along with the fact I love singing and art too that's also a contributing factor ^w^))FNAF ((all games so there will be multiple characters)): Foxy, Chica, Mangle, Marionette, Golden Freddy, Baby, Ballora, and basically all the nightguards. ((I connect with Foxy, Mangle, and Golden Freddy because I've been abandoned, broken, betrayed, and forgotten before and have learned to accept it. I can relate to Marionette and Ballora because I'm protective of all my friends and act as the peace maker in my clique along with loving my music and getting pissed when I have to turn it off or when someone is in my room and touching my things. I can relate to Chica because FOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD XD. And I can relate to Baby cause of the mixed emotions and feelings from my past, and how sometimes I loose control and snap if I get to pissed off and unintentionally hurt someone. And then there's the nightguards, Mike, Jeremy, Fritz, and Vincent. I'm Like Mike cause I hide the scars from my past and am over protective, and make bad puns about EVERYTHING. I'm like Jeremy cause I'm Anime trash and stutter around on my words a lot and I can be shy n nice too. Im like Fritz cause I'm just a fat nerd, and im like Vincent, aka purple ponytail guy, because I HATE NEEDLES WITH A BURINING PASSION, I love toast, and I can be super creepy and terrifying sometimes))I'm sorry this is so long ._. U don't have to even read everything If u don't want too :P I hope I did the right one for the identity ask, if this was supposed to be for the detailed OC questions which was posted right after this one I'm sorry I messed up and I can make another thingy for that one too if u let me know.

[oscopelabs]

The Arc Of Stanley Kubrick: From ‘Killer’s Kiss’ to ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ by Noel Murray

Stanley Kubrick made just 13 feature films in his nearly 50-year career, and from the ‘60s through the ‘90s—the era in which “a Stanley Kubrick picture” had a meaning—each new project went through more or less the same press-cycle. During production, reports would leak out about the grueling shoot, and how the reclusive Kubrick was testing the boundaries of cinema and propriety. Then the film would come out, and the critical reaction would be mixed to muted, with some declaring the new work a masterpiece and others calling it a disappointment—or even a pretentious fraud. Years would pass, and with time to sink in, each movie would be extensively reevaluated, eventually landing on “best of the decade” or even “best of all time” lists. It was as though each picture had to re-teach the audience how to watch a Stanley Kubrick film.

Eyes Wide Shut is the best case-in-point. Shooting began in the November of 1996 in London, and ended in June of 1998. Throughout that year and a half, there was gossip galore about what Kubrick was up to. The press knew primarily that the film starred Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman—Hollywood’s most popular couple at the time—and that it was going to be sexually explicit. Once filming completed, Kubrick spent nine months working with editor Nigel Galt, fine-tuning. Less than a week after he completed a final cut and showed it to Warner Bros. and his stars, he died.

So when the movie came out that summer, for a good long while the conversation surrounding it was about everything but what Kubrick had actually made. Instead, the press was preoccupied by…

… the decision to digitally obscure the orgy scenes, to avoid an NC-17 rating.

… whether Cruise and Kidman had wasted a year of their careers making stilted softcore porn.

… how American audiences reacted to seeing two of the biggest movie stars in the world in a slow-paced art-film.

… whether the Pinewood Studios version of Manhattan looked real enough.

… whether Warner Bros. was going to make its money back.

… if this was the proper capper to a prestigious career.

By the end of 1999 though, a film that had generally been tagged as a “letdown” was being rehabilitated. Roger Ebert taped a special edition of his syndicated TV series, wherein prominent Chicago critics extensively unpacked Eyes Wide Shut—and thus subtly rebuked the large number of well-known New York critics who’d initially shrugged the movie off. The film made a healthy handful of best-of-‘99 lists (including in New York), and in the decades since it’s generally become regarded as one of the ‘90s supreme cinematic achievements, and indisputably worthy of its maker.

Most of the shift in conventional wisdom was due to Kubrick himself. When artists produce outstanding work throughout their careers, it’s easier to trust that they knows what they’re doing—and that if we don’t “get it” right away, we should look again. It’s also true that once a film is out of the multiplex marketplace, questions like, “Did you like it?” become less pressing. Opinion takes a backseat to analysis. And with Eyes Wide Shut, there’s as much to pick through and puzzle over as in any of Kubrick’s films—even though almost nothing that happens in the picture is left unexplained.

Based on Arthur Schnitzler’s Traumnovelle, the movie has Tom Cruise playing Dr. Bill Harford, a successful New York general practitioner who lives in a lavish apartment with wife Alice (Kidman) and their young daughter. The story begins with the couple going to a lavish Christmas party thrown by Bill’s patient Victor Ziegler (Sydney Pollack), where the pair flirts with other guests before the doctor’s called in by his host to attend to a nude, overdosing woman. The next night, Bill and Alice have a testy argument about sexual desire, during which Alice confesses that she’s recently lusted after another man. Still fuming, he leaves the apartment to go on a house call, and begins a winding two-day odyssey that sees him sexually tempted multiple times. A combination of desperate arousal and burning envy nearly puts him in mortal danger, after he crashes a bizarre masquerade party at a country estate.

For a long time, Bill’s journey into the night feels like an erotic dream that keeps threatening to become a nightmare. (In fact, Traumnovelle is sometimes translated in English as A Dream Novel or Dream Story.) But at the end, Bill meets again with Victor, who offers a different interpretation of the previous 48 hours. Bill’s anxious because the morning after he was ejected from the masquerade, one of his friends went missing and a woman who helped him turned up dead. Victor insists that the friend just left town, the woman was a junkie prostitute, and the masked men at the party weren’t really threatening Bill, they were maintaining the theatrical illusion of an event meant to resemble a decadent, dangerous gathering of some ancient clandestine tribunal.

Victor could be lying. Or more likely he’s acting as Kubrick’s surrogate, telling the audience not to think too hard about shadowy cabals and unsolved murders, because that’s not really what Eyes Wide Shut is about.

For those who prefer to focus only on plot, Eyes Wide Shut is the story of a couple who live comfortably, but only because they offer something of value to those even richer than themselves. Bill’s most embarrassing experience at the masquerade is his discovery that even when he knows the right people, he’s not really in their league. Alice, meanwhile, in one of her few big scenes, admits to a lecherous older man that she’s out of work, as he paws at her and makes promises to reintroduce her to the art world.

According to Kubrick’s closest confidantes though, the real reason he wanted to make Eyes Wide Shut wasn’t to explore class, but to scrutinize marriage. That may seem dubious, given how little screen-time Bill and Alice share. But as far back as the early ‘60s—when he was making his frustratingly neutered version of Nabokov’s Lolita—Kubrick reportedly talked about making a movie that dealt frankly with sex in the context of a committed relationship. The mysteries of married life are mostly covered in one scene, when Alice admits that she feels closest to Bill when she’s attracted to other guys. Her argument makes a perverse sense, but the thought that she lusts after strangers but comes home to him doesn’t comfort Bill, who’s so haunted by her confession that he immediately goes out and spends two days trying (and failing) to have sex with anyone, anywhere. He becomes every husband who’s ever been told “not tonight honey” and then spent the weekend acting really pissy about it.

Critics and audiences in the summer of 1999 didn’t miss any of Eyes Wide Shut’s underlying themes, because again, Kubrick made them pretty plain. The question instead was whether he needed to spend two-and-a-half hours on something so seemingly slight, with performances so… spacey. Whenever Kubrick gets tagged as “detached,” “chilly,” or even “misanthropic,” it’s usually because of his preferred style of acting. His characters tend either to over-emote (like Jack Nicholson in The Shining or R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket) or speak slowly and flatly (like everybody in 2001 and Barry Lyndon). Kubrick also likes to break up the lines of dialogue with long pauses, which slows the pace further and makes reactions seem less natural. Viewers who dislike Eyes Wide Shut—which included the large numbers of 1999 cinema-goers who lined up to see two movie stars get naked—often trash the performances as “bad.” But it takes a lot of skill to maintain poise and charisma while the director’s shouting, “Do it again, but slower.”

***

The discord between the affectless and the over-the-top in Kubrick’s films dates all the way back to his earliest work—though in the likes of Paths Of Glory, the artificiality was disguised by an overall swiftness of pace that Kubrick would later eschew. There was a gradual evolution to the director’s style. What unites Kubrick’s awkward early independent films and his later big-budget studio work is a sophistication and worldliness, far removed from the palliative approach of other movies from their era. As a young filmmaker he’d treat each shot and each scene as a unique creative exercise, in effort to make audiences say, “Well, that’s new.” Early on he wove his preferred stylized acting into images that were strikingly lit but otherwise steeped in photographic realism. Meanwhile, his scripts that make liberal use of narration and time-jumps, suggesting fresh, inventive ways of telling stories through cinema.

Kubrick became a filmmaker as an extension of his day job as a Look magazine photographer. He taught himself how to operate a cheap movie camera in his early 20s, so that he could make some money from a newsreel company that needed shutterbugs. Building off of that experience, Kubrick made the hourlong 1952 fiction feature Fear And Desire, with his family’s money. Though the ultra-low-budget war movie is so ponderous and clumsy that the director later disowned it, it showed enough promise to impress a few critics and get limited theatrical distribution in 1953—rare for an indie. So Kubrick reunited with his Fear And Desire screenwriter, future Pulitzer Prize winner Howard Sackler, to make 1955’s Killer’s Kiss. Kubrick’s second feature film is less of a grand statement on human existence and more of an attempt to show off his eye.

Killer’s Kiss has barely any story. Jamie Smith plays Davey Gordon, a boxer on his last legs, while Irene Kane is Gloria Price, a dancer-for-hire who lives in the apartment across from his window. Like Robert Wise’s classic 1949 noir The Set-Up, Kubrick and Sackler’s peek at urban squalor uses the fighter and the hoofer’s separate preparations for their jobs as an way of exposing city life at its most sweaty, exhausting, and lurid. Then Gloria gets harassed by a mob-connected thug, and when Davey intervenes, Killer’s Kiss turns into a minor-key romance, broken up by long chase scenes. Almost the entire last 20 minutes consists of shots of people on the run, strikingly framed atop and betwixt towering skyscrapers.

On the Criterion Collection Blu-ray of the 1956 thriller The Killing (which contains the entirety of Killer’s Kiss as a bonus feature), critic Geoffrey O’Brien narrates a video-essay about Kubrick’s second film, praising its “tremendous sense of possibility” and its “made up as it goes along quality.” What he’s mainly referring to is how much of the 67-minute running time is dedicated to simple, docu-style New York street scenes. Unlike the studio-shot artificiality of Eyes Wide Shut’s NYC—which was so phony that residents of the city, critics included, griped about all the geographic and architectural inaccuracies—the New York of Killer’s Kiss is almost frighteningly real, depicting a metropolis always teetering on the edge of mayhem. O’Brien and other critics have compared Kubrick’s cinematography to the stark crime-scene photographs of Arthur “Weegee” Fellig.

That shouldn’t be surprising, given Kubrick’s past. He started filing photo essays for Look as a teenager, after catching the magazine’s attention with a staged photograph of a New York news vendor reacting to Franklin Delano Roosevelt's death. As a photographer, he specialized in mocked-up scenes of city life, from paddy wagons to college campuses, all viewed from skewed and cynical perspectives. He frequently arranged his subjects in series of shots to create a narrative—often steeped in irony—but because he couldn’t control the environment, the snaps contain a lot of spontaneity.

Kubrick brings those gifts to Killer’s Kiss, particularly in the scenes that take place in Davey’s apartment, where he peers into a tiny fishbowl while the tight spaces and big open windows behind him reveal him as his own kind of animal trapped behind glass. Killer’s Kiss features a number of standout visual experiments: a graceful ballet sequence; a boxing match playing out in quick cuts (with views from the canvas and the ropes); a nightmare sequence constructed from polarized footage; a special effect that makes the screen look cracked after someone throws a glass toward the camera; a fight in a mannequin warehouse; and an over-the-top corny “letter from home” from the rural northwest, heard in voiceover while the hero rides in a grubby subway car. But what’s most impressive is that—over three decades before Eyes Wide Shut—Kubrick tours through a New York where characters feel like they’re on display, and where they can’t disguise their base desires.

***

By the time Kubrick crossed over to the mainstream with the tough, taut genre pieces The Killing and Paths Of Glory, he’d acquired a distinctive style and tone: a sort of detached disgust. But in all the conversations about Kubrick’s technical mastery and bleak vision of humankind, what often gets missed is that the man had a mischievous wit. He was known to have late-night transatlantic phone calls with his American friends and colleagues where he’d gush enthusiastically about his favorite TV sitcoms and movie comedies. Dr. Strangelove is his most overtly comic picture, but there’s a strong element of wry humor in nearly all of his films, even if it’s just in the contrast between the pretensions of high society and its baser impulses. That’s evident throughout Barry Lyndon, for example, where all the powdered wigs and finery can’t cover up the characters’ greed and cowardice.

Tom Cruise has rarely gotten enough credit for how funny he is in Eyes Wide Shut as Dr. Bill: an earnest man accustomed to winning friends and clients with his skill for saying exactly the right bland, inoffensive thing at the right time. As he investigates the sexual underground of New York—flashing his medical certification like a police detective’s badge—he becomes increasingly pathetic, and comic. Eyes Wide Shut is especially perverse in the way Kubrick keeps undercutting the eroticism and elegance. The film opens with a shot of Alice’s bare backside, then a few minutes later shows her sitting on a toilet. Later, when Bill gets lured by what appears to be a high-class hooker, he steps into an apartment cluttered with dirty dishes and drying laundry. The women in Eyes Wide Shut are impeccably made up and coiffed, but Kubrick subverts the “painted doll” effect by adding a pair of glasses, or putting them in unflattering nude poses. If the movie has one keystone shot, it may be the seemingly random cut back to Alice sitting in her kitchen eating Snackwell cookies while Bill’s out testing his manhood.

That fascination with minutiae ultimately is the best rebuke to the notion that Kubrick sneers at humanity. Again and again in his films the characters are seen in small moments where their guard is down and they’re being endearingly human. Almost as much as its magnificently choreographed battlefield scenes and dark ironies, Paths Of Glory is a masterpiece because of scenes like the one where two French soldiers talk about how they’d prefer to die—sounding like a couple of caffeinated dudes in a dorm, not warriors on the frontline. In Eyes Wide Shut, while Kubrick’s orchestrated gliding camera moves through Bill and Alice’s apartment, he has the two of them talking about the name of the babysitter, and saying that they’ll hold their cab for her when they get home from Victor’s party.

It’d be wrong to say that characters in Kubrick films talk like regular people talk. But they are often preoccupied with the mundane in ways that are conspicuous, given how deep and heavy his movies are so much of the time. The filmmaker may have been short on faith in mankind, but he loved and understood his fellow homo sapiens in his own weird way.

So why did it always seem to take so long for even Kubrick fans to unpack everything his movies had to offer… including the humor, and the subtle empathy? Blame—or credit—his dense and imposing style, which was often the only thing critics could notice about his work on first viewing. It’s much easier to appreciate what’s happening in Killer’s Kiss, where Davey in voice-over openly admits to being turned on by how Gloria is “all smiles and yawns” when she invites him in for breakfast. The fumbling, the fawning, the fear… it’s all right there on the surface in Kubrick’s earliest films. His vision of the world didn’t change much between the early ‘50s and the late ‘90s. He just started wrapping it in layers.

#Stanley Kubrick #eyes wide shut #the killing #kubrick movie #kubrick film #oscilloscope laboratories #musings #dr. strangelove #paths of glory #killer's kiss #2001 #2001: a space odyssey #fear and desire #nicole kidman #tom cruise #jack nicholson #roger ebert

[mrs-linny-universe-blog]

Rules: Answer the 20 questions and tag 20 amazing followers you’d like to get to know better! Name: Enlin Nicknames: Enlino :T Zodiac Sign: Capricorn Height: 6 somethig? Orientation: straight Ethnicity: chinese Favourite Fruit: dragon fruit Favourite Season: winter, christmas, and stuff like that Favourite Book: WARRIORS Favourite Flower: is gracidia a flower? Favourite Scent: lemon! Favourite animals: wolfs, foxes, and guniea pigs :3 Coffee, Tea, or Hot Cocoa: hot cocca  Cat or Dog Person: both?! Favourite Fictional Character: KIETH PROBEBLY FROM VOLTRON Dream Trip: A town between mountains in Switzerland!! Blog Created: Uh... december? Number of Followers: idk i guess 7 What I Post About: trash and crap Do I get asks on a regular basis: nah Aesthetic: what does that mean? Hogwarts House: RavenClaw Idk may as well do this like @yunika-the-unicorn did  Rules: Write 92 rules about yourself, then tag 25 people. LAST…: Drink: honey water with lemon juice Phone Call: Idk honestly Text message: I asked if anyone wanted to see a movie Song you listened to: lavender town syndrome ( even though it creeps me out ) Time you cried: when I got bored :T HAVE YOU EVER ____: Dated someone twice: nope. Been cheated on: no as well Kissed someone and then regretted it: my guniea pig. Now I have fur on meh lips :T Lost someone special: yes, but I has no life so ye  Been depressed: yes Gotten drunk and thrown up: no?!? LIST THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS: grey white and black? Does that count? IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU _____: Made new friends: YES Fallen out of love: naw Laughed until you cried: when my friend saw something really funny :T Found out someone was talking about you: my parents Met someone who changed you: Naw... Found out who your true friends are: well, kinda already knew... Kissed someone on your Facebook list: i has no facebook GENERAL: How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: I have no facebooks Do you have any pets: guniea pigs!!! Do you want to change your name: i’m good. What did you do for your last birthday: I spent it at hemlock What time do you wake up: 6-8am What were you doing at midnight last night: analyzing my life  Name something you cannot wait for: summer break? When was the last time you saw your mother: a hour and a half ago? What is something you wish you could change about your life: i wanna be, the very best, like no one ever was :D What are you listening to right now: popularmmos play story mode episode 6 number 2 Have you ever talked to a person named tom: no Something that is getting on your nerves: MY SISTER Most visited website: youtube prolly? Elementary: walnut road  High school:  not old enough :D College: too inmature  Hair colour: black. Long or short hair: long Do you have a crush on someone: nah What do you like about yourself: my... art skills?!? ( SNORT ) Piercings: no Blood type: idk Nickname: enlino Relationship status: single Zodiac sign: capricorn Pronouns: she/her  Favourite TV show: voltron, steven universe and pokemon? Tattoos: none Right or left hand: right FIRST ____: Surgery: It’s pretty stupid. I fell off the monkey bars and scraped meh chin :D Piercing: none Best friend: ama ( amy ) Sport: tkwd Vacation: china Pair of trainers: wait what? RIGHT NOW ___: Eating: cheese and crackers Drinking: nothing About to: finsh this thing Listening to: STILL popularmmos  Waiting for: parents to come home  Want: food. Get married: uh, no? Career: none WHICH IS BETTER ____: Hugs or kisses: hugs Lips or eyes: eyes Shorter or taller: taller Older or younger: older?  Nice arms or nice stomach: both  Sensitive or loud: sensitive. Hook up or relationship: relationship Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant?!? IDK? HAVE YOU EVER ____: Kissed a stranger: no Drank hard liquor: nope. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I has perfect sight Turned someone down: naw Sex on first date: naw Broken someone’s heart: not everyone has a heart Had your own heart broken: nope Been arrested: nope Cried when someone died: call me cold, but no Fallen for a friend: uh, no? DO YOU BELIEVE IN ____: Yourself: yeah? Miracles: when I caught heatran in pokemon brick bronze in one try with a dawn ball Love at first sight: no Santa Claus: YES Kiss on the first date: maybe Angels: yeah. OTHER ____: Current best friend’s name: ama ( amyy ) Eye colour: brown Movie: tomorrow land

[catsthirdeye]

Just like made up some characters in my head and designed their personalities and whole story around them. Now I’m thinking how awesome some of them would look as paper clay or porcelain ball jointed dolls . Also getting art made of them via DA or tumblr maybe. So far though most of them are dark-skinned because i myself am dark-skinned and their are not enough dark skin bjd’s porcelain or otherwise in  my opinion. Some are fantasy beings , others are just animal humanoids (kemo?anthro?). I have 3 main vampires (all pureblood , 2 male 1 female) , a incubus and a moth boy so far. The idea here is to give the vampire female a harem , since of course vampires are not humans and thus don't share many things in common with humans ( referring to how most humans rather live in denial of their true nature and pretend to be monogamous when it is not in our nature ) , and so vampires are true to their poly nature and don't live in denial as most humans do. Out of the two main male vampires one is her brother and i'm still debating on making the other one her adoptive brother or her half brother ( though he is still included in her harem either way ). In this world they live in , vampires can have kids like humans but can also turn humans into vampires . so she mates with males in her harem and has kids. Her brother is not included in her harem but she does have sex with him sometimes just doesnt have his kid. There's also other side characters that are not as important as the ones that live with her but still show up on a regular basis to hang out and cause mischief with her baby brother. This gang is all purebloods , as vampires go we all know how awesome purebloods are ( they are very powerful , live the longest , are the most alluring , treated like royalty even when they are not , etc...) . Then there's the evil monstrous cruel trash that is humans who were turned , the filth of the vampire world and often referred to as the lowest class of vampire. Humans are but just food to vampires and otherwise just used for sex. So it is not uncommon for purebloods to keep human slaves or submissives in their homes. But these humans are usually treated pretty well depending on the vampire of course , some even let their humans out for walks and see the sun. Some purebloods turn their humans and this is done with caution as the fledglings are more easily harmed and have a shorter life compared to their master. These fledglings are affected by such fictional things humans have made up about vampires but are immune to certain items , they are affected by sunlight but not garlic, holy water, crosses or wooden stakes and if harmed abit usually heal but slower than a pureblood. Where as purebloods really don't seem to die and what kills them is unknown , as they are very powerful and are immune to sunlight ( but they still like to come out at night and are very active at night , so your typical sleep during the day vampire). Though purebloods usually usually like to stay away from turned vamps and humans unless it has to do with something that interest them ( food or sex usually ) , they otherwise just find humans annoying and disgusting and usually dislike them to varying degrees but have learnt to tolerate and be civil towards them in order to coexist. Some purebloods can be quite rude to humans/fledglings though so it is not uncommon behaviour. Also it is common beliefs that vampires only drink blood but they can also drink other fluids and not just from humans. This includes semen , and might even include milk , sweat or pee for some who are adventurous but their main diet is blood. This is just some of the stuff i’ve thought of for my characters world , based on various sources but it seems good so far. I don’t want to give too much away so i probably won’t go into detail about my characters personalities , appearance/style , likes and dislikes , etc...But i'm really loving it and i think once i have my own place i might get into trying to make some of them into bjd’s ( paperclay or cold porcelain probably) , or i might get them custom-made since their are some porcelain bjd makers who do customs. As you can tell by now i love porcelain or paperclay bjd’s a lot more than resin , basically because i think paperclay and porcelain are higher quality materials and they are more natural than synthetic resin. Though i know porcelain can be brittle and pretty fragile and should be handled with caution. I know porcelain bjd’s are often more expensive than resin bjd’s which i suppose it understandable for getting a higher quality doll that happens to also be more fragile. My first Bjd will probably be a porcelain one i get off etsy , since etsy has some nice dolls and their are some that are not a thousand dollars. I’ve also looked for bjd makers on facebook , Deviantart , bjdcollectasy and bookmarked makers on tumblr i have yet to really look at. Of course i usually only look at paperclay or porcelain ones but i have been thinking about getting flumo or polymer clay ones to make molds of so i can make my own dolls from them. From what i found their are not a lot of polymer clay bjd makers it seems or makers that use flumo. I would get resin but it's a matter of material than anything else ( it being synthetic ) , and i’d most likely use the resin dolls as molds too so they wouldn't get the royal treatment my porcelain or paperclay dolls get and wouldn't be on display. I’ve been doing more research on resin used for bjd’s ( as you know by now i like to research things instead of being stupid and ignorant which most humans are , and i only research things that interest me/ i am passionate about ) . Anyway from what i found , theirs this environmentally friendly resin some bjd makers use but none of them want to tell you what makes the resin eco exactly and i can't seem to find info on what makes it eco. I’m not so sure the resin being anti-yellowing and uv-resistant make it eco but i do know it makes the doll last longer , one company mentioned the eco-resin they used was non-solvent in the description for the doll. I found these two resins on etsy that are eco in some way and was wondering if the doll makers who use eco resin use resin similar to the two i found on etsy. I sent the company i mentioned a message asking what made the resin they used eco exactly and also sent the same message to alice's collections since according to them most doll companies use eco-friendly resin now but none of these companies want to tell you want makes the resin eco. From research i have found LoongSoul , Soul Doll , Impldoll use eco resin. I could try to message these companies and ask but i don't know if they would be willing to give the info i want.

#orignial characters #oc's #deviantart #bjd #ball jointed dolls #vampires #loongsoul #soul doll #sorry this is long

[runolive47-blog]

THE BLACK ROOM: Horrifying For All The Wrong Reasons

Horror can be smart; this isn?t something new we?re learning fromIt FollowsorGet Out, rather something to which the industry and new audiences are finally being exposed to. However, horror, like any genre, can be unbelievably stupid at times, too. This is the case ofThe Black Room.

Whereas a film like 1982?sThe Entity? starringBarbara Hersheyas a woman under siege by a poltergeist who sexually assaults her ? uses eroticism in an unsettling way,The Black Roomfeels more intent on being trashy than a worthwhile examination of a haunting. Instead, the audience is treated to a softcore pornographic movie crossed with a yawn inducing, typical haunted house romp.

Although the movie boasts a couple well-executed makeup effects early on, the remainder is as bland as an unseasoned meal and without any semblance of style. For an hour and a half the characters are largely unlikable, the plot a meandering jumble of blood and demonic possession, as well as the fact the sex scenes are disgusting. Perhaps most disappointing is the acting talent ofLin Shaye, usually a welcomed presence in any genre picture, totally wasted on horror with no heart or soul, and not an inch of character development.

Right from ThanosTV ?s nudity, andShayegets tossed into the mix, which makes for awkward results. What director-writerRolfe Kanefskytries to do is begin with a story to setup why the house in question is haunted. What he achieves is making the audience wonder if they?ve stumbled onto a 1990s-era skin flick.Shayedoes what she can, but like a novel?s first sentence, the first few minutes of a film must act as a thesis: all this one says is to prepare to be bombarded with skin.

Naked people doesn?t make a movie bad. Nakedness becomes a detracting factor when a story relies wholly on it to create interest. AllThe Black Roomdoes with this is perpetuate a need for nudity; once the opening scene is over, the bar?s been set for more naked bodies to fill the screen. The nudity does nothing with purpose, only to culminate in scenes of graphic sexual horror.There?s an argument to be made for certain brutality in films, likeWes Craven?s originalThe Last House on the LeftorGaspar No�?sIrreversible, where even the worst sort of violence serves a function.Kanefskyonly uses his violent scenes, particularly the nastiest moment involving a demon having sex with a woman, to try and shock. When in fact it only deters even the biggest horror fans who?ve grown weary of shock for shock?s sake. Add this to the unintended cheesiness of the production and it?s a tough film to get through.

Before the credits we?re treated to an awful arrangement of music that sounds like it was ripped from the score of a 1950s science fiction feature, or conjured up to try, poorly, ripping offBernard Herrmann. Once the title sequence and opening credits roll, the score?s absurdity is jaw dropping. The score goes from bad to worse, never recovering. Although the opening credits are by far the worst, as ifKanefskytook stock music from an old Hollywood caper flick then jumbled it with a montage of similarly stock-looking images akin to the graphics of the original ?93Doomgame.

The writing itself isn?t any better than the rest of the production.Kanefskyrushes too fast at his topic, losing any suspense or tension. Opening with backstory, we?re whisked too quickly into the expected situation of a new family moving into the haunted home. The imposed eroticism ? which is, in reality, just soft pornography livened up with a horror story ? basically removes all interest from the characters. Immediately, they?re only flesh canvas onto which the nastiness is painted, and it becomes increasingly difficult to care about their respective journeys.

Perhaps one of the largest issues which plagues the film?s mood is a lack of any real style. Unfortunately,The Black Roomfeels like a made-for-television movie that would?ve been aired 25 years ago. There are pieces of the story which could?ve been used better. By focusing too closely on a failed erotic mood, and on trying to shock rather than genuinely scare,Kanefskydoesn?t give you the creeps or make you feel the suspense under the skin. If it weren?t for a few decent practical makeup effects the whole experience would be uselessly painful.

When the married couple (played byNatasha HenstridgeandLukas Hassel) traipse around their new house, unaware of the demonic presence lurking, we see a series of scenes where they?re tempted physically and sexually by the evil spirits. Some of the effects here are actually excellent, such as when Jennifer (Henstridge) finds herself in the laundry room with a demon lurking behind her, whose terrifying look makes the moment all the more unsettling. Sadly, these effective moments are few and far between.

From the first scene? Watch The Black Room 2016 , involving a twisted nipple in close-up,Kanefskysets a bar for weirdness. Not in any good sense, either. The breast fixation continues, but gets far more weird. During a scene in a restaurant,Hassel?s character Paul is possessed and wreaks bad effects havoc after a woman turns him down: he shrinks her breasts. Aside from the comic absurdity, this scene looks terrible in terms of the effects work and it only further deepens the director?s incessant need to show off naked female bodies.

The joke of api�ce de r�sistance has to be the most graphic moment, where Paul forces himself on a woman and sexually assaults her. This involves an elaborate effect where, yes, the audience is treated to a view of his demonic penis. It?s overdone violence, worse than all of the previous sex-oriented scenes combined. What stings most is the fact it?s actually the best effect in the entire film, which in itself is a commentary on where the interests of this story lies. All ofThe Black Room?s eggs are crammed into a tiny, needlessly sexualised bloody basket.

Nobody likes to hate a movie, especially if it?s one in their preferred genre. That being said,Kanefsky(known for writing such films asSex Files: Sexually Bewitched,Sex Files: Alien Erotica Iand its sequel) hasn?t done himself any favours by forcing drab, pointless sex scenes into a conventional horror movie scenario. As mentioned previously,The Entityfeatured similar scenes of a sexual nature, but succeeded in staying eerie by doing something different with the genre, rather than repeating what audiences have seen time and time again.

The Black Roomis unbearably difficult to sit and watch. Characters mean nothing to the viewer. Even in certain films with bad characters the actors can save what?s missing through a good performance. But we never get any strong acting, making underdeveloped characters even worse. If this isn?t bad enough, the effects work is in all the wrong places and they?re ineffective in the right ones.

When a genre movie is terrible, it often feels worse than a bad drama or thriller, or even a comedy that?s not altogether funny. Horror is meant to scare, it?s meant to induce a feeling of suspense and terror to unsettle the audience. If a horror film is poorly constructed, from writing to directing, then it?s not only bad, it has entirely failed. When you laugh at a bad comedy, you?re still laughing regardless, which is the comedy?s end goal. When you laugh at a horror film that isn?t intended to be funny, the filmmakers have given you nothing. Then the joke isn?t necessarily on the audience, but on them.

When does a movie become so bad that it?s good? Can you ever actually say that a bad movie is good, or is it a way to soften the blow when it comes to trashing art? Tell us in the comments below!