#been playing. SO much disco recently

[cr3ntist]

the old man of my heart

drew this as a small break while working on a larger thing

[basilflumph]

Early morning visit at the Whirling

(no text version below cut)

[kellystar321]

.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Una Noche En Medellín | Javier Pena x f!Reader

summary: a long day playing pretend at a wedding leads to... exactly what you'd expect.

pairing: javier pena x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. javi smoking, mention of a fictional pregnancy, ONE motherfucking BED BABY! mention of previous p in v, fingering, brief f!oral. this is pretty tame, y'all. reader has hair.

wc: 2.4k

an: this is my entry for the summer lovin' challenge thought up by the wonderful @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i can literally only apologise for this being so late. i scheduled it in the wee hours and got my dates SO wrong.

my brief was a wedding, javi, and the moodboard you can see in the header. this was so much fun, and my first time posting for our fav dea agent - i hope you enjoy!

divider from @saradika-graphics

The fabric of your dress clings uncomfortably to your skin, sweat glistening under the warm lights of the hotel as you step into the elevator. Hair damp at the nape of your neck, thighs chafing a little as you shift on aching feet, you turn from your tired reflection in the mirror back to the closing doors. 

You watch, drowsy, as Javi presses the button to the tenth floor, one thick finger lighting up the numbers. The same hands that have been on you all evening, long into the night. Squeezing, holding, twirling. He stands with his back to you now, shoulders tense and squared. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d pissed him off.

You slump a little against the mirror behind you as the elevator swoops and glides upwards, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Neither of you had thought it’d be easy. But neither had you thought it would be so exhausting. 

Exhausting to remember the details of your cover, to explain that the reason you weren’t drinking was because you’d recently discovered you were expecting your first child. Exhausting to navigate the knowing looks and slaps on the back, the hands on your non-existent bump, trying to make it look convincing. Following Javier around the room, his hand in yours; whispers pressed into the conch of your ear, your hairline - intel exchanged, wrapped in the pretence of humour and affection. Bodies pressed together in a way that should have been unprofessional, but not in a way that was unfamiliar.

The mission had been a success. 

Under fairy lights and between bubbles of champagne, blanketed by the heady heat of Medellín, you’d wound your web. Dancing and talking, sharing cooing compliments with the other guests, letting people watch and believe as you’d kept each other close, the proximity of Javi coming so easy with the thump of bass and threat of danger. Recognising the faces taped and pinned to corkboards in the office, matching voices to crackled radio frequencies, red string to red crosses.

Never standing in one place for too long, never speaking English, never looking surprised, always looking so in love. Draped across his lap with one hand on your hip and the other splayed against the small of your back. Your face tucked into his neck as you relayed information against his jawbone. His kisses to your shoulder as he told you Steve and Carillo were already on their way to the targets’ addresses. Not out of each other’s sight for more than a minute. 

It had been so easy it was almost laughable.

The cartel’s informant would be on his way to his hotel, and his impending arrest, now. The rest of the guests, the family and friends, would soon catch wind and begin to disappear, to turn on each other. And it would be like you and Javi were never there. Blending with the disco lights, melting into the shadows. 

For now, all you need is some rest.

The elevator bell dings for the tenth floor, and you watch as the doors slide open with a quiet hum. Javi turns his face, barely, to make sure you’re still with him, hand twitching at his side as though he wishes to reach for yours. 

It’s hard to turn the performance off. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, wedding band glinting in the light, as he steps out into the hallway. You follow, reaching into your purse for the key card, watching the slump of his broad shoulders stride up the hall, the sweat-curled hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been running your fingers through it twenty minutes ago, cooing something about wanting to take him to bed that had only been a half-lie. He’s been warm and firm against you all night, always within reach. There’s not a scrap of your dress or an inch of your skin that doesn’t smell like his aftershave. And you’re not too proud to admit how much that turns you on.

He leans against the doorframe with one arm when you reach your room, lips lifting in a smirk.

You pull a face at him as you swipe the key card and open the door.

‘What?’

He shrugs as he watches you step into the darkness, waiting only a moment before following and flicking on the light.

‘Just - didn’t think you had it in you, cariño. Never thought you could dance like that.’

You scoff at him as he closes the door, leaning against the coolness of the wall to unclasp and take off your heels.

‘Surprises are part of the job, Peña,’ you grin, ‘Didn’t think you’d be so good at pretending to enjoy a wedding reception.’

‘I’ve had practice.’ He quips, unbuttoning another two of his shirt buttons, white linen against the gold of his skin, sweat gathered at the hollow of his throat. Something burns in your chest - wanton and willing.

He flips on another light as you throw your heels to the side, pausing in the mouth of the room before it opens to the sleeping quarters. You press a palm to his warm back, trying to urge him forwards before he speaks.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’

You step from behind him to stand at his side.

Illuminated, glowing in the bedside light before its backdrop of glimmering city lights, is a single, king-size bed; crisp white sheets neatly tucked beneath the mattress.

You bite your cheek, looking at Javi. His stormy brow, his clenched jaw. 

‘This was supposed to be a suite.’ You murmur.

You want to be angry. Want this to be the thing that ruins an otherwise successful day. But you’re so warm, so tired. You only want a shower and a place to sleep. And you’ve had many worse places than this to do exactly that. 

‘We could call the front desk,’ Javi says, as a yawn pulls at your jaw, ‘See if they can switch us to a room with two beds.’

You shake your head, and he glances at you, surprised.

‘It’s late, and bad for our cover. We can share.’ A small frown teases between his dark eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘We’re fake married, remember?’

You step past him, smoothing the sheets with your hand. Cool. Soft. You could lie down now and die happy.

There’s the distinctive shnick-whoosh of a lighter behind you, and when you turn, Javi’s face is lit by the soft glow of a cigarette.

‘How could I forget,’ he says, breathing out a rush of blue smoke, ‘When mi esposa has been the life of the party all evening.’

You purse your lips playfully.

‘I thought you enjoyed being my husband, Alejandro.’

A sultry smile softens his features.

‘Sure, cariño.’

You wink at him as he brushes past you, linen against silk. He smells so good. Clean and masculine, something so Javi cutting through it that you can feel that burning move from your chest to pool between your legs.

He breezes through the curtains shrouding the balcony, and you turn into the bathroom, inspecting the array of toiletries, and the towels, fresh and white, waiting for you. You turn the shower on, setting the water to cool before reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You twist fruitlessly for minutes, but the heat, the dampness of your skin makes the fabric hard to adjust, the zip impossible to catch. A well of frustration rises up your throat, and you clench your jaw.

Hands pressed against the porcelain of the sink, you look into your own eyes in the mirror. Tired, hot. Not too proud to ask for help.

Javi is stood on the balcony, forearms resting against the railing, smoke curling around his strong silhouette. He turns at the sound of the curtains moving behind you, and you smile as he leans back to watch you approach.

His appraising look is appreciative. Sexy.

You turn your back to him, to those eyes.

‘Unzip me?’

You wait for what feels like an eternity. Rocking slightly where you stand, breath catching in your lungs. Every muscle in your body tightened in anticipation.

Goosebumps break out over the small of your back as his fingers trace the line of the zip, up, up to your shoulders. They skim the fabric there, catching your bare skin before settling at the slider. He pulls, slowly. So close you can feel his breath on your neck. Pulls it all the way down so that the dress falls loose at your chest, so it would take only the smallest movement for the garment to drop to the floor. 

His palms slip beneath the silk, curving around your waist. On instinct, yours follow, catching and holding them in place as you sigh at the feeling of his nose tracing your neck. His thumbs stroke the contours of your back.

‘Que linda, bebita.’ He breathes, and you fight the moan surging up from your belly. You hum, leaning into him even as you whisper,

‘I didn’t say undress me.’

A short burst of air at your shoulder, a barely noticeable kiss against your hot skin to disguise his amusement.

‘Wasn’t going to.’

It’s your turn to huff a laugh.

‘We can be professional for a night.’

‘We can.’ He murmurs, and the heat of his body behind yours is lost almost immediately. You sway a little, a smile on your lips as you step back towards the bathroom. You know Javi is watching.

He always is.

He told you. That night in Bogotá, bodies pressed against, pressed into each other. Your legs wrapped around his waist, claw marks red-raw up his back as you’d moaned and cried for him. The wet squelch of your cunt as he worked you open, as he fucked you, as he crooned into your mouth how you’d been all he’d thought about since you stepped into the bullpen. So fucking smart, so capable, so sexy. How you’d been driving him crazy - lips crushed against your temple as you clenched around his cock.

That whole night, how good it had been, how heady. No one had ever made you come like that.

You’d not called the next day, having slunk out of Javi’s room some time in the early hours of the next morning. He’d never asked you why you hadn’t stayed. You’d never spoken of it again.

It was stress relief. Never anything more than two people blowing off steam. Never anything more than two people giving into an obvious attraction.

But that night doesn’t seem so far away as you wash away the sweat and soap from your body, as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Doesn't erase how you feel him watching, how close he feels, even separated by the door.

And though the shower is cool, your blood still runs hot. Pumping and burning with want in your veins, arousal so strong it makes you giddy as you wrap a towel around yourself, leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Javi is sat on the edge of the bed, naked save only for his boxers. The sight of him takes your breath away.

He's so broad, hard and soft in all the places he needs to be. And he's so pretty. Perfect little pouty mouth, deep, dangerous eyes. There’s no cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing in his hands as he clasps them between his spread knees. You think about sinking down between them, pressing your cheek against the bulge outlined below the smattering of hair at his navel.

You step towards him, and he watches with blown, hungry eyes.

You stop in front of him, still wrapped in the towel. He reads your mind like he always does. In the bullpen, the offices, the field. With a gun or a cigarette or a pen in his hand, Javier Peña knows what you need. He parts the towel, sliding his palms across your naked hips, holding you before him. You can’t breathe, can’t speak. It’s too hot in the room, in your body. You can feel slick sliding against the tops of your thighs, spread right up to your clit. So wet it should be criminal. 

Javi clicks his tongue, moving his hands so he can spread you open with his thumbs. He pouts at you, small tilt of his head. 

‘Pobrecita.’

You'd roll your eyes if it were any less true, if he weren't swiping one thumb through your wetness, over your clit. You suck a breath in before moaning brokenly. He grins, wolfish, up at you. 

‘What were you thinking about in that shower, cariño?’

You smile down at him, eyes half-closed. 

‘You.’

He hums, moving his thumb again. You shudder, knees giving a little. His hand at your hip tightens. 

‘Good girl.’ He coos. 

Your hand flies to his shoulder with a garbled cry as he presses tighter, moving the digit faster. He knows how to work you, knew before he'd even touched you. You're on fire, pussy tightening as your hand travels up his neck, before tangling with the curls at his nape.

That's it.

You can hear how wet you are. The only sounds in the room are the buzz of the city below, your fast breathing, and the movement of Javi’s fingers. He’s building you up to it, astoundingly fast. The sight of him, sat on the edge of the bed, spellbound by what he’s doing to you, the noises you’re making, the sight of you bared to him. Makes you want to touch him, too.

Does that feel good, bebita?

So good, Javi.

But just as it seems so close, as you can feel yourself start to clench and pulse and twitch, he slows. Slows the rhythm of his thumb right down to deep, languid circles, keeping you right on the edge as he loosens the towel and lets it drop to the floor, as he leans forward to reverently press his forehead to your belly. He breathes in deeply, and you flex your hips towards him. He nips at your skin, and you whine as he laughs.

‘I think about it,’ he breathes, voice deep and thick, nuzzling into the crease of your thigh, ‘That night in Bogotá. Tell me you think about it, too.’

You hiccup, nodding. Fisting his short hair.

‘All the time,’ you gasp, ‘All the time, Javi.’

He groans, moving to lick a hot, wet stripe through your folds, right up to your clit. It’s like fire, electricity. Your body jolts against him, every nerve ending bending towards him, flinching into this sweet torture.

His lips are shining with your arousal when he pulls away to look you in your eyes.

‘Let me have it. One more night, in Medellín. Let me have you.’

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[godspeedmajortom]

I’m fascinated by how variations of Sea Power's “Want to Be Free (Remix)” provide a musical theme for death and endings that follows Harry and his foils throughout Disco Elysium.

The first place you hear it is as “The Field Autopsy” while inspecting the Hanged Man’s body. It's barely recognizable as the original song, though. It's sluggish and muddy and bilious. The piano melody has been lowered and sustained to an ominous funereal organ and combined with deep strings. A lilting viola line in the lush layers of the original "Want to Be Free" is isolated here and contrasts with the low organ, rising like the stench off a corpse. If you do the autopsy first thing as Kim suggests, Harry – freshly, grotesquely awakened from his apocalyptic bender – is not in a much better state than a corpse himself.

The music underscores a visceral scene of death and decay, our introduction to the Hanged Man, the first of Harry's foils. Both Harry and Lely are agents of state-sponsored violence as a cop and mercenary, respectively. They bear similar physical scars from the neglect of the systems they grew up in. They both desperately want to escape the horrorshow of their lives, using drugs and dark fantasies to cope with the terrible things they see and do but finding little more than self-destruction in the nihilism. The Bloated Corpse of a Drunk taking the Hanged Man's place in Harry's first night dream makes their connection explicit: you should be dead, Harry. This may as well have been you.

The next place you hear a variant of "Want to Be Free" is in the washerwoman's shack in the fishing village. “Live With Me” is wistful and melancholic. The gentle piano and cooing vocals evoke the wind and waves on the bay, an escape calling outside the salt-rimed shack. But this is a place of death, or at least its potential, as the return of the high viola from "The Field Autopsy" reminds us. This is where Ruby hid when Harry's arrival made her fear for her life, where she contemplated killing herself if things got even worse. This is where Harry can end up if no one vouches for him at the RCM tribunal finale, where his wounds will grow infected without medical care, where there is little left to do but return to drinking and wait to die.

But true to the song title, the shack also offers Harry the possibility of learning to with himself as he emerges from his bender. Here is a mirror free from the damage and trauma of attempting to destroy himself where he can reflect on who he was and who he wants to become. He can choose to keep or let go of his past coping/defense mechanisms like his facial hair and The Expression. He can choose to embrace or reject the self-defeating fantasy of fascism. The shack marks a midpoint of the game, when the hangover has worn off but before the case is closed. So "Live With Me" scores the balance between potential endings: abandonment or acceptance, relapse or recovery, death or life. Harry breathes in the sea air, breathes it back out, and takes another step.

I didn’t realize this until a recent replay, but “Live With Me” also plays when you visit the Working Class Woman to notify her of her husband’s death. Since this is an optional sidequest, I understand why they didn't create original music for it. But they didn't reuse "Rue de Saint-Gislaine", the song for the rest of the Capeside Apartments (including the Smoker on the Balcony's apartment when you talk to the Sunday Friend). The Working Class Husband is another mirror for Harry who has met his end, and "Live With Me" plays to mourn him.

Victor Méjean died from an accident while inebriated, a fate that also could have befallen Harry on a previous drinking binge. The striking thing about Victor's death is how easily he could have been overlooked and forgotten. He died at the end of a pier in a fenced off, abandoned part of town. His wife wasn't concerned about his days-long absence. It's only by virtue of Can Opening and Jamrock Shuffling that Harry will know about or find him. Victor literally and figuratively died slipping through the cracks – of the rotted boardwalk, yes, but also of any sort of social safety net. This is what happens to alcoholics in Revachol. This is what will happen to Harry if he continues drinking and hasn't built his own personal safety net with Kim or Cuno to prevent the RCM from abandoning him. As Harry informs Billie of her husband's death, it's only natural for him to think of his own possible endings, and the soundtrack reflects that.

The final version of the song you hear is “Burn, Baby, Burn” blasting from Sad FM on the boat ride to the Sea Fortress to find the Hanged Man's killer and Harry's last dark reflection: Dros, The Deserter. Dros shares Harry's penchant for clinging to political ideology to give meaning to his life and obsessing over women he can't be with. He lives in bitter isolation, refusing to move beyond the failures of the past, his personal shortcomings and the evils of the world alike. He's emblematic of yet another possible outcome for Harry: not literal death, but despair-induced stagnation that leaves one living like a ghost in the mortal realm.

By the time Harry gets in the boat to the island, his fate at the end of the game is set. The RCM (specifically Jean) has all they need to decide whether to accept or abandon their prodigal lieutenant-yefreitor. Should his former partners leave him, Harry can return to the shack and the circle of drunks who have also given up on life. Or he can return to the island, where he would take Dros' place as the creepy old man haunting the fortress, scaring children, and staring at the mainland with longing and resentment. But even if Harry returns with his unit to Jamrock, simply resuming his old life will not keep him from returning to the depths of despair. The RCM broke him; the RCM will not save him. Neither outcome helps Harry become a person he truly wants to live with.

"Want to be free/It will last forever/Eternally," croons the boombox on the boat. The lyrics echo the self destruction that Harry sought before the game's events: freedom forever from pain, the ultimate release of death. At least that's what the Ancient Reptilian Brain would see in those words. But there's tension in the lyrics as the desire for freedom and exhortations to "burn, baby, burn" repeat. The bridge offers an alternative vision of verdure not consumed by the disco inferno: "And the trees are green and overhanging/Feather-light, free, and everlasting." Perhaps a less moribund future exists for Harry, even if only in the next world, as a new person.

[temptress-writes]

🦊 Lucky Fox

A/N: Groovy seventies Harry. Part two of Disco Snow

C.W: DRUG USE (weed). Sexual content: spit kink, breeding kink, dum/dom play (subrry), spanking, squirting, anal play, bondage, choking.

Word count—10.2k.

Enjoy x

***

“I’m fumin’, little fox.”

The cord of your telephone is tangled in a perfect spiral around your index finger, your back pressed against the wall beside where the cradle hangs. You try to stifle the giggle that ensues his competitive aggression on the other end of the phone.

“It’s just a game, Harry.”

“Just a game? Right and Waffelos is just cereal, not a heavenly maple orgasm in the mouth.”

You laugh harder at his dramatic claim. It’s something you love about him. He puts his full heart into everything. Whether it’s a particularly tight parallel parking spot, a really bad joke, or a heavy debate on which cereal is the best. And mostly? You.

Well. You, and currently, Space Invaders.

“I’m not kidding around. I dialed you for reinforcements. Get your perky little ass down here.”

And with that, he hangs up. This is a reoccurring thing for the two of you. Harry tries to beat his highest score down at the arcade but swears he needs his little fox at his side for good luck. You're more than happy to oblige, often massaging his tense shoulders, offering sips of a milkshake through a straw before giving him a peck on his raspberry lips.

Ever since that night at the Hall of Mirrors, you and Harry have been inseparable. More discos, even more nights in his sheets. Months and months of dance battles in your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, months of reading poetry laid out in a park, his head tucked into your lap as you recite lines.

He is everything you adore in a person; warm, charismatic, shameless. He’s taught you a lot about being true to yourself. You often find yourself trying to be a people pleaser. To fit into a label of what makes you a person.

But Harry is a different class of human. Unhinged and unapologetic. Soulful and selfless. Of course, the man who wore bubblegum flares when you first met him would be the one you’d give your heart to. Really, his existence is one of a dream-like mirage. But he’s so real, and all yours.

Due to Harry’s more than electric dressing sense, he’s usually hauling you down to the mall in his yellow Dodge Charger. Grabbing items from racks and making you try them all on. Telling you twirl and show it off. He swears you suit everything and is quick to buy whatever you like. His favourite thing to spoil you with is lingerie, buying you dreamy underwear that he can rip apart with his teeth before tasting you.

One of your most recent purchases, courtesy of Harry’s taste, is a pair of gold sequin pants. You shimmy them up your legs, throwing on your white blouse and your white platform shoes. You leave your hair natural, not tying it up like you usually do because you know how much Harry enjoys playing with the loose strands.

Seated at your vanity, you apply a frosty green eyeshadow to your eyelid and use your cake liner to define your eyes with black along your lash line. With some coats of mascara and a wash of lip gloss, you grab your jacket and purse and head down to the arcade.

The sun is setting, melting into the skyline of Miami with warm caramel and fluffy candy-floss clouds that become burnt violet as the sun nears the horizon.

The Score. An arcade and bowling alley that evolves into a buzzing bar every night. Being a new establishment, it's a hot spot that offers everything. Entertainment, dancing, drinking, and the best hotdogs Harry says he’s ever tasted.

You pass the payphone where Harry called you from, skirting around the corner and bump straight into him.

He’s smiling brightly and you take a second to appreciate how fucking good he looks. You’re glad you put in the effort to match his style, always so impressed with his fits. This one might be one of your favourites.

The first thing you notice is the brown fur coat draped over his broad shoulders. It’s luxurious and warm and makes you want to cuddle him even more. Underneath is a yellow graphic t-shirt with his favourite orange stained sunglasses hung on the neck of it. His legs are nestled in a pair of blue flared jeans, his feet donning a pair of gold boots.

He makes a little whiney noise and cups your face in his jeweled fingers, leaving soft and delicate kisses to your lips and the tip of your nose. He pulls back to smile, his dimples and little crinkles by his eyes indented with the force.

“Hi, how high are you? Wait no, how are you h- I’m high as shit.”

You laugh, pressing your face into his neck and feeling his warmth. “Pothead. Did you smoke without me?”

He narrows his eyes at your pouted lips, flicking them with his finger. “Aw, feeling left out?”

“No.” You grumble playfully.

He chuckles, looking around before pulling you down the alley next to The Score. He fumbles around his jacket pocket, producing a half-smoked blunt and his lighter.

“Pucker up, baby.”

You giggle, allowing him to place the blunt between your pursed lips. He lights it, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand. You suck in deeply while Harry keeps watch. The smoke fills your lungs before it leaves your body in a plume. Harry grips your chin, sucking the smoke from your pouted lips.

Your lips meet in a heated kiss, the blunt quickly forgotten as he scoops you closer in his arms. He pressed you against the wall, tangling his hands in your hand and sucking on your tongue.

“Left your hair down for me, pretty girl. Know how much I like to pull it, don’t you?”

You sigh against him, your hands gripping his ass to pull him flush against you. He shamelessly grinds his crotch against you, kissing you deeply. You love his kisses. How much heavy meaning and adoration lies behind them.

He tugs your hair once more before growling and pulling away. He throws you a wink and breathes out a puff of air to calm himself down. He’s often telling you how much he struggles to keep his hands off you and today is no different.

He’ll never pass up an opportunity to have his hands on you, especially in those gold pants of yours.

But he’s also aware that you’re both stood in an alley with a dying blunt when you could be inside, getting settled into some entertainment for the night. He loves spending time with you like this. Having a smoke, maybe a drink or two. Getting silly and teasing each other. He can’t fucking wait.

He grips your wrist as you bring the joint up to your lips. You raise your brow. “What?”

“You take another hit and you’ll be catching some Z’s before I can get you a drink.”

“You're not wrong.”

He knows you so well, and you allow him to take the joint from your fingers and finish it. He flicks the butt to the ground, crunching it under the toe of his golden boot. He grips your hip, tugging on your pants and clicking his tongue.

“Look at us being all cute and shit. Matching, eh? Golden couple.”

Your hands bury themselves into his fur coat. “I love the coat.”

“Yeah? Don’t sweat it- it’s faux. No little foxes were harmed.”

He hooks his arm around your neck, pulling you from the alleyway and towards the arcade. You feel warm and fuzzy from both him and the joint. The night that stretches ahead of you makes you yearn for more of him. You can’t ever get enough of each other. Any second he can be showing you how much he appreciates you, he is.

“Let’s go buzz some extraterrestrials, yo!” He yells and you duck your head as people stare at him.

With two vodka slushies in hand, the two of you head over to the Space Invaders machine and you’re surprised there are no indents in the carpet from where he’s been standing most of today.

Harry’s excited, you can tell. He’s such a competitive person and as of late, his rival has been himself. Falling ever so slightly short to beat his own high score. You look at the leader board and it seems there is someone attempting to take his throne, creeping into 3rd place. You snort at the name he’s given himself.

SPACE INVADERS

HIGH SCORES

1st   DADDY 435945

2nd   DADDY 421890

3rd   TB 337300

“Daddy? Please tell me that’s not you.”

Harry drops his jaw. “I- hang on, say it again. I like it.”

You pull him close, taking a sip of your vodka slushy and he does the same, wriggling his brows to egg you on. You’re both on a different level to the rest of the arcade, high off the joint and each other, buzzing off the vodka slushies.

“What, you wanna be my daddy?”

“Cheeky thing. I am your daddy.”

You bump your hip against his, tutting your tongue. Harry laughs at the flush in your cheeks before taking a long sip of his slushy. He hands it to you for safekeeping, poking his tongue out at you, tinged red from his drink. You poke your tongue out and he gasps at the bright blue stain.

“Blue tongued fox!”

You snort. “Sounds like an endangered species.”

“You’re one of a kind, my girl.” He leaves a kiss on your forehead and then your nose. He’s so soft and constantly being so affectionate with you. He winks. “Right, let’s send these ET fuckers home.”

After removing his coat and placing it on your shoulders, he turns to the gaming machine in front of him. He claps a couple of times and then rubs his hands together, psyching himself up for the task ahead.

He stretches out his neck, cracking his knuckles and you know he means business. He starts up the game, the little theme playing out that he hums along to.

Innocently sipping your slushy and then his, you place them on the bench beside you. You move to stand behind him, pressing your chest flat against his back. You can feel the warmth radiating from beneath his yellow t-shirt, his back expanding on a breath as he feels your tits against him.

He shakes his head to clear the delicious fog of you, starting up the game and letting his hands find the controls as if they’re a second home. As much as he loves to put his focus into his game, you will always be his top priority, the cutest and most welcome little distraction.

Your lips press on the plane of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You hum, your hands wrapping around his waist to press against his tummy. Your fingers slip underneath the material, desperate to feel his skin in any way you can.

He shivers when your nails scratch up and down his soft stomach. The beeps from the game mirror the jolts in his upper body as he aims and shoots, diminishing the rows of aliens on the screen.

You peer over his shoulder, patient and almost in awe of how controlled he is. So calm in the moment but you know he’ll be very vocal when the game ends. His score crawls higher and higher, as do your words of praise and encouragement.

“You got this, daddy.” You tease, hearing him growl deep in his chest.

“Cut it out, little fox. I’m trying to focus. And watch those hands.”

“Oops.” You giggle as if you don’t control the fact that your hands are veering south. Meeting the denim of his jeans, dreaming about going lower. But you decide to behave and tuck your fingers into the belt loops and kiss his shoulder.

“Fuck, almost got it. One more row and I’m toast.”

The pressure is high and you’re holding your breath as the rows of enemies creep lower and lower. But Harry feels like he’s been training for this moment. He’s about to surpass his highest score, taste it on the tip of his tongue, like his slushy. Or you.

You hold your breath as he grits his teeth, fully immersing himself in this game. He can feel the vapours of victory encase him, wrapping around his frame and bubble in his chest. They escape in excited yells as he surpasses his highest score.

“Fuck yes!” He cheers, whipping around to pick you up and spin you in a circle. Your congratulations are a round of elated yells and kisses. He puts you down and fist bumps the air, slapping the side of the gaming machine.

“Daddy reigns high, bitches!”

Others in the arcade shoot him looks at his expressive behavior. You shrug unapologetically, over the moon for your lover and his triumph.

“I’m so happy for you, handsome.” You smile, hugging him and squeezing his biceps. He wrinkles his nose and flexes them, showing off proudly even though he’s the least vain person you know.

He places his orange-stained glasses on you, adjusting so they sit perfectly on the bridge of your nose.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my lucky fox.”

Swimming in victory, Harry veers you towards the bowling alley. You exchange your heels for a pair of red and blue bowling shoes. Harry sits next to you, tying your laces before he does his own.

You find a secluded alley, away from other bowlers. You store your belongings in the booth, Harry’s fur coat included. Music blasts from the speakers and you hum along, trudging behind Harry as he approaches the rack and chooses a ball.

He picks the pink bowling ball in classic fashion. Bubblegum. He holds it, sending you a cheeky look and you brace yourself for whatever comment is about to come.

He nods to his hold of the three hooks in the pink ball. “Two in the pink, one in the stink, aye?”

You slap his chest, shoving past him to the rack and pulling up your choice of ball. A shimmering blue one.

“Behave, or you’ll have blue balls.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Nice one, honey made a funny.”

“I do try.”

You stare down the lane at the setup of pins, twisting your lips. You’re competitive but nowhere near as competitive as he is. You can see the strategies forming behind his eyes and you wonder if you can sweet-talk him into taking it easy on you.

He smirks. “Ladies first.”

You bite your lip, aiming up your shot as you swing the ball back in your grasp. You can feel his eyes on you, in admiration, but also watching your technique. Whether that’s to help you better your game or to use it against you, you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough.

Your blue ball careens down the lane, your posture impressive and you stand to watch it take down just three pins. You groan out in frustration, knowing your body is slow and cloudy from the joint and single drink you had. Your second shot is no better, knocking down two additional pins. You jot down your unimpressive score on the sheet with a huff.

Harry chuckles, coming up beside you and pinching your hip. “Lucky fox. Watch me sink ten.”

“You won’t.”

“How about this,” He spreads his hands, preparing his proposal. “for every pin I knock down, you give me a kiss.”

“I hope you gutter it.”

“Oh, bite me.” He glares, kissing his cross pendant hanging around his neck before grabbing his ball to swing his shot.

As the ball shoots from his hand, the muscles and veins flex in his arm, his foot crossed back behind him dramatically.

His jeweled fingers shield his eyes from an imaginary glare as he watches his play. The bowling ball speeds dead center down the lane, blurring pink and knocking down ten pins.

“Strike!” He yells, pleased with himself. He does a little dance, his flared jeans swaying as he jives.

Of fucking course he lands a strike. His competitive streak on a high from passing his high score. You jump out of the way as he reaches for you. A haze of yellow and blue denim, a lazy smile, and mischievous emerald eyes that don’t leave yours.

“You cheated.” You deadpan, wanting to wind him up more than anything.

He laughs before his expression is dropped, stoic with his hands on his hips. “As fucking if. Stop being a sore loser and pay up. Come on, ten smooches. And don’t be stingy, I’ll be counting 'em.”

You sigh, feigning a look of sore defeat. “Fine. Where do you want them?”

“Losers choice.” He grins, happy to receive your kisses anywhere you’ll give them.

You can’t help but smile, your heart careening and flipping in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the cheek, then the other, and then the nose, the corner of his mouth. When your lips meet, neither of you are counting anymore. Harry’s not even sure if he was counting in the first place.

It’s hard to act nonchalant when you’re kissing him. Or when you’re with him in general. He’s everything warm and gooey and glowing about life. All of your favourite things are wrapped into one dimpled, tattooed human. Curly, bubblegum.

It’s even harder to part. Even being in a public place, Harry sees no shame in showing his girl as much love and affection as he sees fit.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his voice a low whisper. “You’re my lucky little fox, but I’m by far the luckiest fucker alive to call you mine.”

You kiss him again, so head over heels, submerged in him, so far gone, and happy to be.

Your next approach to the lane is one of determination. You take a deep breath, trying to form a connection with your bowling ball while Harry whistles loudly behind you.

“You got this, baby! Your ass looks mint!”

You turn to look at him, your head tilted. “Stop trying to throw me off!”

Harry waves you off. “Turn back around, let me see the peach.”

You roll your eyes and try to push it to the back of your mind, eyeing the ten pins at the end and glaring. You want to impress Harry but you also want to impress yourself. The fog in your mind parts straight down the middle, allowing the perfect alignment of the alley.

You swing your arm back as you take a few steps forward before launching the ball down towards the pins. You hear Harry cheer you on as it fires dead center towards the pin. You shout at it, willing it to stay on course.

The ball veers ever so slightly to the right, clipping half of the pins and knocking down an extra two. Seven down, the three remaining glaring at you. Harry scoops you up with an excited yell, spinning you in a circle.

You kiss him, unable to help yourself. You retrieve your ball and face the pins, Harry crowding behind you with his hands on your waist. His lips brush your ear, soft and enticing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Three left, little fox. Want the pro to help you sink 'em?”

You smile, turning your neck so you can nudge your nose against his. “Please.”

With his hold on your waist, he ushers you to the left a little, lining you up for the shot. “Aim slightly to the left, okay? Give it full power.”

You nod, letting his arm guide yours in a trialing movement. “Like this?”

“Just like that, atta girl.”

He takes a small step back, sensing your immense focus on his teachings. You let the ball roll from your fingers, surging towards the remaining pins. You’re hopeful as it nears them, staying right on course just as Harry had predicted. His arms are wrapped around you as you both watch the ball knock down the three pins.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He yells, squeezing you tight while you cheer at your win. You high-five him, slipping his glasses from your nose and tucking them into the neck of his shirt.

You shrug and drop your chin against your shoulder, bashful.

“That was slick as shit, foxy.”

He’s impressed, proud even, as he writes your score down on the card. Your little victory dance is adorable, his smile growing as you parade around in triumph. You’re still buzzing, the weed sizzling and melting in your bloodstream.

“Your turn, hotshot.”

“Might as well put down a strike for me now.” He points to the scorecard.

“You’re cocky sometimes, you know that?”

“Pfft, only sometimes? If I bury ten, I get to borrow those pants next weekend.” He points to your gold sequins and your roll your eyes playfully.

“You know I’d let you, anyway.”

“Mm, but I like winning.”

He picks up his pink ball, throwing you a wink before skillfully lining up his shot. He sinks eight easily, toppling over and knocking the remaining two. Another clean strike. The celebration that proceeds is no less enthusiastic, shared kisses and cheers.

You write down his score on the sheet, as Harry seemingly loses all interest in the bowling game at hand. It’s hard to focus on anything but you, and with his own buzz slowly dissipating, he’s only high off you.

He presses you against the table, your breath hitching as his hands slide down the backs of your thighs. His lips brush yours and you’re quick to flick your tongue out against his bottom lip.

“You owe me ten kisses, pretty girl.”

Your hands tangle into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “Can I get a please?”

The smirk that curls at his lips creates a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest. “Feeling bossy tonight, hm? You wanna call the shots?”

Genuinely intrigued by the idea, you tilt your head shyly. “Would you let me?”

“You’re asking if I’d let you be in control, little fox? Let you sit on my face, ride my cock as long as you like?”

Hearing the words leave his mouth strips all moisture from your mouth. It’s streamed between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together to quell the sudden intense burst of arousal.

“Harry, please.”

His expression is one of heady desire, “I’ll be your good boy tonight. You just need to give me a kiss, first.”

The sentence barely leaves his lips before your lips meet his. Messy and heated. His lips encasing your lower one, your tongue finding his. He doesn’t even attempt to stifle the moan that rumbles in his chest.

He presses tightly against you, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath his denim jeans. You pull away, your eyes lulled. Harry smiles lazily, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before giving your ass a full squeeze.

“Let’s ditch this joint, hm? Burn some rubber in the Dodge, you can give me a handy on the way back to yours.”

You don’t even have the willpower to slap him for the comment, too enthralled with his sudden change of mood. Sappy and gooey, you just want each other.

“What about the game?” You gesture to the bowling alley.

“It’s a tie, or you win. I don’t care, I just wanna get home and let you use me.”

After collecting your belongings and swapping the bowling shoes for your own, you find yourselves tucked into his Dodge Charger, the engine roaring to life. The bright nightlife reflects off the yellow exterior of the car as Harry drives through the streets of Miami.

Harry turns up the radio, All Along The Watchtower booming through the speakers, bass thrumming in your throat. You put the window down and get lost in the breeze. The song, the man you’re with, feels like something one could only dream of.

Harry has one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. He squeezes it every so often, and you have to take a deep breath to stabilise how turned on you are. It’s thick and cloudy between you.

His jaw is sharp, his eyes are trained on the road. He leans over at a red light, sealing your lips together in a kiss that you feel in the pit of your stomach.

As the light turns green and his foot is pressed on the accelerator, you’re leaning over the center console and nuzzling your face into his neck. The deep, woody vanilla smell is your aromatic home.

Your teeth bite gently into the skin before you suck, knowingly marking him. He hisses, his hold on your leg tightening at the sensation. It creeps higher, eager to feel you. Your hand finds itself on his thigh, inching towards where he wants you most.

You know you don’t have much time before you’re due to pull up at your apartment. And you’re impatient by nature. Your lips don’t leave his neck as your hands work to open his belt, clinking buckle and worn leather parted so you can pull down the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh, my god.” He groans, your fingers finding his length through his briefs. You peek out the window, taking note of where you are and knowing you need to be quick about this.

You carefully pull his length from the confines of his pants, wrapping your fist around him. He breaths out a shaky sigh as you touch him, so hot and silky, getting harder and harder for you. You look at him, flicking your tongue along his jawline to meet his ear.

“Spit on my tongue like a good boy.”

Harry’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, trying to keep his cool as if you aren’t fisting his cock and asking him to spit in your mouth. You pull away, opening your mouth wide and raising your brow expectantly.

Flicking his eyes from yours to the road, he swears under his breath before gripping your chin to steady you. He spits in your mouth, feeling so fucking unhinged that his ears are ringing.

You hum, satisfied before you return your attention to his throbbing cock. You spit directly on the head of his dick, using your hand to spread the moisture down the entirety of him. He lets out a soft moan at the slick feel of your tightened fist.

Your nose nudges his cheek as you work him with your hard, his breathing shaky, blissful noises leaving his mouth as you pick up your pace.

“Do you want my mouth on you, baby?” You mewl, your voice so sweet and sugary in his ear.

“You know I do.”

“Beg me.”

Harry clenches his jaw, wound up so tight from you. He can feel the reigns of control gripped surely in your hands, just as firm as your hold on his cock.

“Please, my little fox. Please let me feel your gorgeous mouth wrapped around me, I need it.”

“How badly do you need it?”

“So fucking bad, please let me fuck your throat, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You want me to have a taste?” You’re loving having the power. Hearing him become so desperate for you, shamelessly beg for you.

“Fuck, please. Please taste it.”

You smirk, pleased with how good he’s been for you. You get comfortable, leaning down so your head is practically in his lap. You flick your tongue against the underside of his tip, moving up to swirl your tongue along it. He’s wet with pre-come and so hard for you.

His thighs tense under you, his hand tangling into your hair. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Filling your mouth with his cock while Jimi Hendrix fills the thick air with his voice.

He almost misses his turn as you envelop his tip past your lips, your hot mouth a welcome warmth that he moans at the feel of. Your hand works his shaft, getting him nice and wet so you can slowly take more of him.

Your throat is tight and Harry chokes out a curse as you take most of him, your muscles constricting around him. So big and so thick but you’re determined to have him as deep as he can go.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He sighs, fisting your hair so tight that tears form in your eyes at the sharpness of it.

He tastes heavenly, and as if that isn’t enough, the sounds he makes are otherworldly. They egg you on, spur you to make him feel as good as possible. You work him harder, bobbing up and down while your hand jerks his skin.

Harry is near on sobbing above you, having to focus on the road even though his vision is blurring. The purr of the engine and the wet hot of your mouth is too fucking much. He comes to a stop at a red light a little too harshly and you come up to glare at him.

“Be careful-“

But he’s pushing you back down, his expression almost panicked. Someone’s pulled up next to you at the red light. “Shh, shh, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Shit, that’s fucking good. Oh, my god.”

The light switches to green and after Harry completes a turn, you come up again, your glare even harder this time.

“Who’s in control again?”

“Oh, shit-“

“Answer the fucking question.”

He swallows, panting. “You are, sweet girl.”

“Exactly. If you try to boss me around, I’ll make you sit on your hands while I fuck myself.”

“Jesus Christ-“

“Do you understand? I’ll get out that pink toy you like so much, let it be the only thing that fills my pussy tonight.”

“Fuck, yes I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Will you be a good boy?” You check, on fire with how hot it is being the dominant one tonight.

“Yes, I’ll be your good boy.”

Satisfied with his answer, you swallow him again. Not giving him a second before his tip is nestled right against the back of your throat. You hum around him, the vibrations driving him wild. You can feel him pull over to the curb, and a quick glance out the window tells you that you’ve reached your apartment.

You don’t give him any room to question how the night will go, you simply head inside while he puts his rock-hard dick back into the tight denim of his jeans and chases after you.

At first, you spent an equal amount of time at each other’s apartments. But, over time, it became clear that Harry favours your own abode. So much warmer and homely than his. A woman’s touch that his is missing. He loves your bright green sofa, the stacks of books that serve as little side tables.

It had been an unspoken observation, met by two surging souls. He noticed the little things at first. You started to stock your cupboard with some of his favourite snacks, an extra toothbrush found a home in your bathroom. And, after a while, he barely found himself leaving it.

You’re pressed against the mint-toned refrigerator, fervent lips attached to your neck. You push him away playfully with a raised brow. Always so used to taking you how he wants to, he’s forgotten who’s in control tonight.

He releases a breathy laugh as you walk towards him. He backs away, falling into a chair at the dining table. It’s right where you coerced him, right where you want him.

You strip your shirt off, throwing it over his head and he removes it with a chuckle, not wanting to miss a thing. You decide to discard your bra as well, knowing how much he loves your tits and how much he’ll hate not being able to touch them and play with them.

“You like these pants, Harry?” Your fingers toy with the waistband and he shifts restlessly in his seat.

“I love whatever you wear. You make everything look so fucking sexy.”

You purse your lips. “Great answer.”

Your response has his heart leaping in his chest, feeling as if he just got a gold star. Hoping he can cash it in at some point tonight for an ounce of control.

“And what if I told you that the panties match?” You continue.

“Then I’d fucking beg to see them.”

“Do it, then.”

Your expression is unreadable and he just knows that you’re having too much fun with this.

“Please, let-“

“Uh uh.” You stop him. “On your knees.”

Harry is slow to comply, and maybe it’s so he can coerce a reaction from you. You tap your foot, the white platforms tall and intimidating. He’s on his knees in front of you, his expression soft and pleading as he stares up at you through his lashes.

“Please, baby. Let me see them. I’ve been so good, I promise I’ll behave.”

You scoff. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I need to see your pretty panties. Your cunt is my favourite place, let me see how you’ve dressed her.”

You try to hide how his words make you feel, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a puddle next to him. He always says the right thing. Granted, it’s always filthy and shameless, but it’s what you need.

“So desperate.” You smirk, holding his eye contact.

He licks his lips, not even denying it. He’s not ashamed, hell, he’ll even shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you want. His eyes fan down your legs as you peel your pants off, discarding them, left in nothing but your heels and your panties.

The panties are heavenly, ethereal. Mouth fucking watering. He’s surprised there’s not a puddle of drool on the ground next to him. White lace embroidered with golden threaded flowers. So delicate and angelic beneath the glittering excitement of the sequins.

You click your fingers, trying to get his attention. His hand reaches out and you smack it away. “Naughty boy.”

“I’m sorry,” He rasps. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise.”

“What about your mouth?”

“It’s yours to use.”

His curls are a mess atop his head, falling down his forehead in chocolate tendrils. His chest is heaving, his hands clenched into impatient fists he wants to grip your hair while he fucks you.

You take a single step forward, his face level with your panties. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fan over your core, so needy for him. You’re sure that the panties are saturated at this point, you can feel how wet you are and just know you’ll leave his face a mess.

You bring one of your feet up and rest it on the chair right behind him. Harry gulps, waiting for your next instruction.

“Do you like them?” You ask, your fingers toying with the band of the panties at your hips.

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Such a dirty mouth.”

You lean down, gripping his chin so hard his jaw drops. Harry’s not expecting you it when you spit on his tongue, it’s messy, speckling on his lips a little. He moans deep in his chest, keeping his mouth open, ready to obey.

“I’ll have to give it something better to do.” You coo, pulling your panties to the side to expose your core to him.

At the sight of your glistening pussy, Harry shifts on his knees, so desperate to taste you. To bury his face against you, fuck you with his tongue while his nose presses against your clit. Bossy little fox, he’s trying to behave but it’s so fucking hard.

Your fingers run along your clit, further down to where you’re wettest. You spread your arousal, swirling along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Harry’s nostrils flare at the sight, your moans are soft as you touch yourself.

Anchoring your foot on the chair with your center right in front of his face, your hand takes a fistful of his hair. With your hold on him, you bring his face forward, putting his mouth directly on your cunt.

His mouth is searing hot, so wet against you. Not wasting any time, Harry flicks his tongue out, between your folds to collect your wetness and closing his lips around your clit in a kiss. You throw your head back with an unsteady sigh, finally getting the attention that you’ve been craving all night.

It started as an electric throbbing, intensified every time he looked at you or touched you. Now it feels like a wildfire that blooms in the pit of your stomach and flares through to every nerve in your body.

Harry, finally happy to be allowed to touch you, eats your pussy with ardent lust. He’s desperate, frantic almost. You moan loudly at how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel, how desirable. He loves your body, loves touching it, making it hum for him.

You roll your hips forward, unable to contain yourself. He nibbles gently on your clit and you gasp out, pulling on his hair. His eyes flicker up to you, sparkling with mischief before they close as he hums, tasting you deeper, getting you wetter.

Your legs shake as he targets your clit even more, knowing it drives you fucking mad. You put your foot back on the ground, pulling your core away from him. His mouth chases after it, not ready to not have you on his tongue. Your taste drives him mad and he’s a man addicted.

He stands, desperate to have you but you push him back roughly. He lands on the chair with a thud, staring up at you with a bewildered expression. His curls are even more of a mess at this point.

“Let me taste you. I’ll make you come as many times as you want.”

“What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“You’ve soaked your pretty panties, sweet fox. Better take 'em off.”

You move to stand in front of him, gripping his jaw in your hand. Harry’s so fucking turned on, his cock unbelievably hard beneath his denim jeans that it’s starting to hurt.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The glint in his eyes does little to instill your confidence in him. He’s far too cocky, too cheeky to actually obey you. He’ll find a way to capture the reigns at some point, but not yet. You’re only just getting started.

As gracefully as you can, you sit upon the table in front of him. Harry swears under his breath at the sight, immediately lurching forward almost as if it’s an instinct. Your heeled foot presses against his chest, halting him before pushing him back into his seat.

You make him wait, spreading your legs. He pants, his eyes flicking between your panties and your face. Waiting. So patient.

“Take my panties off.” You instruct. He raises his hand and you tut. “Uh uh, use your teeth.”

Harry growls, placing his hands on the edges of the table and licking a bold stripe up your thigh. You tense, wishing his tongue was back on your cunt but you know this payoff will be good.

His nose runs along the edge of your panties, right next to where you want him. He flicks his tongue out against your inner thigh and your legs jump at the attention. His teeth meet the band at your hip, drawing it down slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours once, ensnared in you.

With one side lowered to your upper thigh, he moves to the other side, sucking the skin of your navel right above the band of your panties. You gasp as a mark forms before he pulls down your panties from your hip.

You shift your hips up, helping him peel them down your legs, taking them in his fist and shoving them in his pocket.

“Good boy.” You praise. “Come get your taste.”

The words have barely left your lips before his mouth is on your cunt again. Vibrating against you as a moan rocks through him. You taste so fucking good, maybe even more than usual because of how withholding you’ve been.

You collapse against the table, the surface cool against your back. His enthusiasm is unparalleled. The kind of pleasure he gives so easily used to be the kind you could only fake with partners. But he does everything so well.

“Perfect little pussy,” He coos against you.

He traps your clit between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue against it. You cry out, your thighs closing around his head. He delves his tongue south, finding your entrance and gathering the gushing wetness.

He doesn’t hesitate to go further down, his tongue massaging your rare entrance briefly before he’s pulling back and spitting directly on your pussy. His eyes meet yours and you just about pass out at the sight of his face fucking saturated with you. Almost dripping off of his soaked chin.

You grip his head, pushing him back down. He’s happy to oblige, eating you out so fast and intense that your vision starts to blur.

“Fuck, yes right there, oh my god.”

He sucks on your clit, humming to vibrate the area. You come up to rest on your elbows, wanting to watch him. You roll your hips up and he becomes idle, letting you fuck his face. He falls back into the chair, his hand coming down to massage his dick through his jeans while you grind your cunt against him.

“Are you going to come in your pants while you eat my pussy?” Your tone is verging on condescending and Harry almost finishes right then and there.

His cock throbs at your words, so out of it for him. He feels unhinged, so close to shutting you up and plunging his length into you. You’re so wet and so sweet for him, it would be so easy to slide into your plush cunt and feel your walls grip him like a fist. But he wants you to come like this first.

“Let me give you my fingers, baby. Want you to squirt all over me, make a fucking mess of me. Please let me.”

“Not… yet…” You breathe out, even though you feel so fucking close you could scream.

As if sensing your control slipping, you push him away. You can feel your orgasm brewing and you know that as soon as it hits, you’ll be a writhing mess and your game will come to a finish the second that you do.

“What-“

“I don’t want to come yet.” You gasp, your chest heaving and your core tingling with heat.

“You really want to play this game, little fox?”

You stand your ground. “Go get on the bed.”

Your bedroom is his favourite place. Warm yellow and orange ambiance, a wide bed with crushed velvet bedding. That in abundance with your fervor and passion, Harry swears it’s like sleeping in the sun. Golden, burning desire, deliciously cocooning beams of sunny adoration that wash over you.

As if he’s missed the warmth of it, he sits eagerly on the edge of your bed with a soft bounce. He peels off his shirt, feeling too hot to keep it on. His belt is already undone, he unbuttoned his jeans and you tap your foot.

You saunter towards him, a prowess with hauntingly lustful eyes. He clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness decorate his chin mouth still. You push him flat onto the bed, crawling to straddle him. Your core presses against the fly of his jeans and you can feel how hard his cock is.

His hands find your hips immediately and you push them away with a glare.

“Keep your hands off.”

“Make me.”

Taking it as a challenge, you lean over to the bedside table and open the middle drawer. A draw often opened whenever you and Harry find yourself tangled up in these sheets. A drawer of trust and exploration. You grab a few things, hiding one object under the pillow so he doesn’t see it.

With two pieces of rope, you tie around his wrists and attach the ropes to the steel rings in your headboard. Harry had them installed as soon as he realised how much you loved being restrained in bed. Turns out, he enjoys it just as much.

Your relationship with Harry is a constant stream of excitement. At first, you thought that potentially he would always have the upper hand. But the reality is, you’re two equal souls in every aspect. You split bills, you wear each other’s clothes, you both had control in bed. It has never been like this, though. Tonight is new and different.

He allows you to tie him up, barely tensing his muscles and pulling on the restraints. You know that you’ll be unable to untie him in a split second if he wants to, but the smug look on his face tells you he’s content. For now.

You scoot up, sitting on his chest, smooth and inked. You spread your legs, settling your feet on either side of him. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your core right in front of him. He can see that you’re almost dripping and he wants to catch it with his tongue.

He has no idea what you have planned, only knows that you’re having too much fun playing with him like this.

His eyes watch your every movement, on edge yet intrigued to see what you’ll do next. One hand reaches down to palm his cock through his jeans. He shifts his head back into the pillow with a low groan. Now that you’ve successfully distracted him, your other hand reaches for the other item you retrieved from the draw.

Upon hearing you sigh, his eyes fly open. You have the pink dildo in your hand, running it between your saturated folds. Harry pulls on the restraints, wanting to touch you so fucking bad.

“Holy shit.”

You bite your lip, gripping his cock harder. You pull down the zipper, slipping your hand inside. His briefs are wet with arousal and you push past the barrier of them to find his bare cock.

You lean back a little, fully exposing yourself and slipping the tip of the toy lower. His eyes are full of pleading as you slowly push it inside with a soft mewl. Your hand remains on his cock, slowly working the skin.

“Baby-“

“What?” You raise your brow.

“Please, fuck me instead.”

You smirk, slowly shifting your hips as the tip of the toy sits snugly inside of you. You push it in further, your eyes fluttering at the full sensation of it. It’s nowhere near as good as Harry, but you moan like it is.

Harry shifts with a growl, seeing you look so blissful from something other than him driving him mad. His favourite little gasp you make when he first pushes his cock past your tight walls is now ushered because of a fake dick.

You throw your head back, starting to fuck yourself with the toy. So wound up from the entire night. You work the dildo faster, stirring yourself into a frenzy. Not holding back your moans and cries because you can feel how tense Harry is beneath you because of them.

“Fuck, please stop.” He whimpers, so desperate to have you.

You moan loudly. “I’m so close.”

“Please, oh my fucking god. Please, let me fuck you, I can’t take it. I need to make you come. Please. I’ll do anything please just-“

While he rambles, you grab your panties from his pocket and shove them in his mouth, shutting the stream of begs off right at the source. He garbles around the intrusion, pissed off now. You lick your hand and reach behind you, gripping his cock again.

“Be. Good.”

He growls, slamming his head back into the pillow in annoyance. You continue fucking yourself, grinding your hips. The warmth build and tingles in your lower stomach, the toy pressed tight against your g-spot from this angle.

The warmth blooms and spreads, so close to exploding. Your walls clench mercilessly around the dildo and you gasp at the pleasure building hot and fast. Harry can tell that you’re almost there. Tell that he’s worked you up with his mouth and now you’re edging towards the precipice of euphoria.

“Feels so good,” You gasp. “so fucking big, oh shit.”

Harry bucks his hips up, pulling on the restraints around his wrists until it burns. You reach forward, removing the panties from his mouth. As fun as it is to gag him with them, you miss his voice, miss the dirty words that colour it.

“Give me your pussy now.” He snarls.

“Do you deserve my pussy, Harry?”

“Yes,” He hisses. “I’ve been good for you, haven’t I? Now untie me so I can fuck you.”

“No.”

Harry swears loudly, pulling on the ropes and you’re sure he’s about to break through them. But then he relaxes to glare at you, his nostrils flaring.

“You’re in big trouble, little fox.”

You fuck yourself harder, unfazed. “I’m sure I am.”

“You know that as soon as you untie me I’m going to fucking ruin you, don’t you?”

The threatening promise sets you off, your orgasm hitting you so hard you almost collapse at the pleasure of it, crying out his name. Your vision is blurred, tiny white dots clouding it. You remove the toy just as a burst of clear liquid from your cunt paints Harry’s chest and face.

Harry’s jaw drops as it hits him, his eyes narrowed at your expression. You look gorgeous when you come and from this angle, he can see everything. Feel it as it wets him.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses, surprised that he didn’t just come because of what is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You come around quickly, stripping off his shoes and jeans before shifting to settle between his legs. He calls your name as you take his cock in your hand before quickly swallowing him. He grits his teeth, so fucking close to exploding down your throat.

“Untie me.”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief, taking him deeper. Your hand plays with his balls, rolling them in your palm gently. Harry throws his head back, his ears ringing. He snaps his head back up, seeing his glistening chest painted in your orgasm.

And then he feels something circle his ass, nudging very carefully at his rare entrance. The toy. Saturated in your wetness, now about to be used on him. Just the idea of it has his balls pulling up tight and his entire body tingling. If you progress further, he’ll finish before you even get started.

“No, no you naughty little- fuck!”

His cock is tucked snugly down your throat, the sensation unreal as you gag around him. You continue to tease him with the toy and he just about loses it.

“Baby, you gotta stop. I’m right there, fucking stop.”

He starts to almost panic, not sensing you slow down at all. Almost as if possessed, he flexes every muscle in his arms and rips right through the rope restraining his wrists. You jump up in shock, standing at the edge of the bed.

You’re not able to get far as he grips you by your throat and presses his forehead against yours. His chest is heaving as he pushes through his aggression.

“What did I tell you, hm?”

You smirk and it pisses him off further.

His voice is low and dangerous and he grips your throat tighter. “I told you that I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“You’re all talk.” You manage out past the grip of his hand.

His fingers move from your throat to the nape of your neck. He pushes your face towards his glistening chest.

“Dirty fucking girl. Look at the mess you made. Clean me up and then ask me to fuck you.”

You hum, smiling at how filthy he is. You push him back onto the bed, following after him. Your tongue licks up the mess from your orgasm on his chest, up his neck, and his chin. You suck on his tongue, your limbs feeling like jelly and you know you’ll be a mess before he’s even done with you.

“There’s my good girl.”

You want to defy him a little more. You kiss down his chest again, down his toned stomach, and find his navel with your teeth. He hisses out, taking a fistful of your hair. He’s not falling for this again. He needs to fuck you. Now.

He grabs you, flipping you on your stomach and spanking your ass hard. And then again on the other side. You cry out his name, feeling a little disorientated from the change of position and sudden switch of control.

He’s holding the reigns now.

He bites your reddening cheek, growling out and coming to straddle over you. You turn your head to watch him and he shoves your face into the bedding. You can’t even hide your glee, pleased to have successfully riled him up this much.

He spreads your cheeks, slipping his fingers between your folds to feel how wet you are. He cocks his head to the side with a smile before he wraps his hand around your chin, delving three fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, knowing he wants them nice and wet.

Now wet, he spreads the moisture on his fingers along his cock and lines himself up to your cunt.

He pauses, moving his hand from your head so you can turn to look at him. “Say please.”

“Please fuck me.” You whimper.

“Are you done with your little game?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s slamming into you so hard you feel winded. He doesn’t stop, pressing into you before retracting. He fucks you into the mattress, his hands anchored on your hips as he takes you. He knows he won’t last long, so overworked from the whole night. Your cunt is wrapped around him so tight and it doesn’t help.

He spreads your cheeks, spitting directly on your ass and he uses his thumb to spread it. You stifle a moan as he massages the tight area before slowly pressing his thumb in. While he’s slow and gentle there, his cock is splitting you in half, shredding an overwhelming euphoria inside of you that he knows how to build so well.

“Fuck, Harry, so good-“

“Yeah? Is this what you want, hm? Want me to get rough with you?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Mm, or did you just wanna play with me? Tie me up, play with that dildo, squirt all over me, leave me all wet. Fucking tease my ass with the toy you made yourself come with.”

“Fuck, yes. I wanted to tease you.”

“Filthy fucking thing. You think daddy will let you play with his ass like that?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathe out.

“Think again.” He exchanges his thumb for two fingers, slipping them into your ass with ease and matching his rhythm with his cock.

You can feel the pressure in your stomach as he pushes you against the mattress. He’s so out of it, delirious with his need to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess. You fist the covers, needing to grip something before you lose it. He’s everywhere. On your tongue, in your ass, your pussy, your fucking soul.

You feel like you’re about to come, and Harry curses as your walls clamp around his cock, feels you tighten around his fingers. He pulls out, moving you onto your side and lying behind you. He kisses you, gripping your outer leg to hold it up. He drags you closer, slipping his cock back into your warmth.

“Fuck, dreamy fucking cunt. My favourite, oh shit.” He’s obsessed with how you feel and you can sense that he’s lost all ability to think straight.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you roll your hips back to meet his thrusts. You’re so wet for him, the slaps in the room of his skin hitting yours growing louder and louder. He grips your wrists in his hand, licking his fingers on his other hand before reaching down to play with your clit.

He’s notorious. Knowing you’re overly sensitive. He pinches it between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it. You careen forward, so overwhelmed and so close to coming. It’ll shatter you, you can just feel it.

Harry flips you onto your back, coming over you and putting your legs on his shoulders. His hands shake as he reconnects with you and starts fucking you so hard you don’t know which way is up. He loves fucking you this way. He can see everything, see your face, see how hard you shake.

You cry out as he places his hand on your abdomen, pressing down until you can feel his cock and the pressure of it.

“You gonna come, sweet fox?”

You nod, tears forming in your eyes at the intensity of him.

“Yeah? Go on, give it to me.” He encourages.

Almost as if it needed permission from him, your body explodes automatically. Wet, tight, toe-curling. Harry admires how fucking beautiful you look when you come. So out of it, spiraling in a world of pleasure that leaves him wetter than your last orgasm.

“Yes,” He hisses out, lightheaded at how tight you are. “good fucking girl.”

You grip his arms, trying to hold onto anything while it feels like you’re floating through nothingness. Your core is unrelenting, sucking him deeper and deeper, pulsing through the aftershocks of your orgasm. Harry groans, releasing your legs and dropping his face into your neck.

His thrusts turn into grinds, wanting to get as deep as possible inside of you. Addicted to how snug you are.

“Fuck, so close.” He rasps. "Dreamy fuckin' pussy. Made for me. Made for my cock, holy shit."

Your fingers tangle into his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your heels dig into his back and your hands pulling his hair adds to the sensation.

“Come, Harry. Please, I need it.”

“F-Fuck, where?”

“Inside me.” Your words are barely a whisper but he hears them loud and clear, encourages him to fuck you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to fill you up with his cum?"

"Please,"

"I’ll give you all of it, get you fuckin' pregnant. Make you give us a baby. Fuuuck, I’ll cum in you every fuckin' day until it happens.”

“Fuck, please.” You whimper, so turned on and in awe of what he’s blabbering about.

Harry’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. He doesn’t stop fucking you through it, grinding and screwing up into you. Your walls are painted with thick white ropes of his cum and you gasp at the feeling of how deep he is. He bites down on your neck, moaning your name with a deep growl.

He kisses you for ages after, his cock softening inside you. Your body feels like a live wire, your heart thumping boldly in your chest. Harry gives you a final kiss before retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you with.

Your frown at his raw wrists, burned from the rope. “They look sore.”

He shrugs, his eyes kind. “Doesn’t hurt that bad. Let me take care of you.”

So, you let him. He always takes care of you. Takes his time to cherish your body, restore it and clean it. Kiss every inch and tell you how much he loves it. He traces your stretch marks, kisses every freckle, soothes every trembling limb.

And, once he’s done, you reciprocate with another cloth. Gentle kisses, even more gentle touches to his wrists. You run your hands through the mess of curls, cuddling him close as you settle under the covers of your golden abode, feeling warm and loved and content.

“I left my soul at The Score.” Harry comments, running his hands up and down your back.

“You fucked mine out of me.”

His chest shakes as he laughs, kissing your forehead with a chuckle. “It was those damn panties. They possessed me.”

You both laugh softly, wrapped up in each other with tranquil heaven that exists wherever your two hearts are connected.

He has diminished any chance of a sullen existence in a sometimes devastating world, a delicate and colourful essence that was made for you. He’s a burst of light, shrouding any ounce of uncertainty. A rush of adenine that makes life worth the rush. The resolute constant that will cradle and cocoon you. He is every adventure and endeavor. And you’re his sidekick till the very end, benevolent and tender-hearted.

Foxy, bubblegum, snow, and cloudy joints. All are facets that encapsulate two souls melding into one inconceivably free entity.

[heymacy]

goooooooood morning pals! i was tagged by @spookygingerr, @stocious, @energievie, @spacerockwriting, @vintagelacerosette,

@takeyourpillsbitchh, & @roryonic to play this week's round of weekly tag game wednesday!

name: macy mouse 🐭

do you drink coffee? if so, what’s your coffee order? i do! cold brew with oat milk and (seasonally, we’re almost there) pumpkin cold foam 🎃

what’s the best thing you ate today? i haven’t eaten today! soon!

tell us about your first pet (or if you haven’t had a pet yet, what’s your dream pet?) my parents bought me 2 goldfish when i was two years old. one died within a week and the other lived to be 9!

if your life was a book, what would you call the current chapter? The Struggle 😭

what’s something you did recently that you’re proud of? oh jesus. i guess just like, doing my job recently? bc it’s been really hard? 

what was your first dream job growing up? is it anything like the job you have now? i wanted to be a ballerina! which is very much not what i do now lmao 🩰

what’s the name of the latest playlist you made? “dude, can you play a song with a fucking beat?” and it’s a pregame/hype playlist for me & my friends 🍾

tags below the cut!

@gardenerian, @palepinkgoat, @mybrainismelted, @deedala, @too-schoolforcool,

@jrooc, @creepkinginc, @doshiart, @blue-disco-lights, @thepupperino,

@mmmichyyy, @transmickey, @sam-loves-seb, @darlingian, @deathclassic,

@michellemisfit, @sleepyfacetoughguy, @sleepyheadgallavich, @crossmydna, @tanktopgallavich,

@sickness-health-all-that-shit, @transmurderbug, @lee-ow, @callivich, @kiinard,

@sluttymickey, @thisdivorce, @xninetiestrendx, @y0itsbri, @captainjowl,

@arrowflier, @astaraels, @ardent-fox, @wehangout, @gallapiech,

@mickittotheman, @jademickian, @solitarycreaturesthey, & @rayrayor 💛

[zeroaddzero]

Top 10 Horniest Bruce Springsteen songs, ranked

Yes there are more horny Bruce songs. Too many horny songs for one list. I don’t know if his game was good because he knew how to write horny songs, or if his game inspired him to write horny songs. Either way, we’ve been blessed musically with a lot of horny songs. Here’s the horny songs I managed to fit into a (very biased) list:

1.  I'm On Fire

THE horny Bruce song. A fever fantasy of a wet dream smushed into one moaning, sweaty mess. Before I was a fan, this (coupled with the below performance) was the song that made me go "OH. I get it now."

Spotify LINK

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

2.  Pink Cadillac

About as subtle as Lady Gaga’s “Disco Stick.” Even better paired with the BITUSA tour intro (said intro got noticeably more sexual after Bruce got married in 1985).

Spotify LINK

They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple But man I an’t goin for that I know it was her pink Cadillac

3. Fire

Originally written for Elvis, the bass line alone for this #problematic 70s “don't play coy with me” number will make you reconsider feminism for 5 minutes. The 1986 performance is downright NSFW.

Spotify LINK

You had a hold on me right from the start A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart

4. The Fever

Bruce is king of the “lying in bed thinking of how horny this person makes me” genre, and this is one of his finest examples. At almost 8 minutes, it’s the tantric equivalent to the more concentrated "I’m on Fire". Anybody noticing a “burning” theme here?

Spotify LINK

Well now the day grows longer The love just grows stronger, baby And the fever gets so bad at night I got the fever for the girl

5. Because The Night

Bruce never finished the lyrics, and this song arguably belongs to Patti Smith now. Bruce has even said as much. However, I am biased and enjoy this banger too much to let technicalities get in the way of horny. On the list it goes.

Spotify LINK

Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us

6. Red Headed Woman

I'm Going Down may seem raunchy until you realise it's about a bad breakup. For the other thing, we have this entry. Folks, this song is literally about eating pussy. Bruce even introduced it as such during his Ghost of Tom Joad tour. I’ve yet to recover from the whiplash of hearing him say the word “cunnilingus” while performing at his old Catholic high school.

Spotify LINK

Well listen up stud Your life's been wasted 'Til you've been down on your knees and tasted A red headed woman

7. She's The One

Speculated to have been written about the violinist who played on the album Born To Run, this tune shows our boy is down baaad. Best paired with the excellent "Mona" intro, which is included in the Houston '78 live performance below.

Spotify LINK

With her killer graces and her secret places That no boy can fill with her hands on her hips Oh and that smile on her lips Because she knows that it kills me

8. Part Man, Part Monkey

My Tunnel of Love tour knowledge is woefully lacking despite the tour being his most explicit, and the accompanying album being in my top 3. In the eyes of the public, Bruce was still with his first wife when this video was shot in 1988. Only the band knew he was recently separated, so imagine watching a presumably married man on stage eye-fucking his backup singer. The gossip mill must have been insane after each show.

Spotify LINK

Well the night is dark, the moon is full The flowers of romance exert their pull We talk awhile, my fingers slip I'm hard and crackling like a whip

9. Crush On You

Another genre this Jersey dude excels at is “horny to the point of funny.” Bruce himself has called it "the worst song we ever put on a record" but hey, what does he know.

Spotify LINK

For one kiss, darling I swear everything I would give 'Cause she's a walking talking reason to live

10. Cover Me

I just realised this is only one of four songs on this list included on an official Springsteen album (if you don't count the outtake compilations.) And how fitting it is to start and end this list with Paris '85 concert footage!

Spotify LINK

Now promise me baby you won't let them find us Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us Cover me, shut the door and cover me I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

Honourable mentions (song/album):

Rosalita / The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle Candy's Room / Darkness on the Edge of Town Ramrod / The River Cindy / The River (outtakes) Ain’t got you / Tunnel of Love The Fuse / The Rising

Let me know if you think I missed any! I won't change the list, but more horny song discourse is always good.

[sophiaforevs]

Between the early cancellation of Discovery, Seven/Raffi and Mariner/Jenn being erased in their respective shows, and SNW having queer coded characters but not confirming anything on screen, I'm really afraid that we're entering another "No Gays in Trek" era.

For those who don't know, 90s era star trek featured so few queer characters b/c Rick Berman largely held a policy of not wanting any homosexuality in his shows. And yes, we all remember the handful of episodes that slipped through that addressed it but the fact remains that there were no canonically queer main cast members before Into Darkness in 2016 gave us a five second shot that could be cut when whoever was showing the movie found the idea of two men in a loving relationship disgusting.

Then we got Discovery with multiple queer characters that allowed people to feel seen. And people never stopped bitching about them. The amount of times that I've had to listen to people complain that Adira's only character trait is that they're non-binary despite that literally being a single thirty second scene and never brought up again makes me understand that they very likely don't want to like the queer characters in that show. And it's not that there aren't criticisms to be made about the queer representation in Disco: Discovery Buries it's Gays before the end of the first season. Making your trans characters aliens who already have a history of gender fuckery is problematic b/c it somewhat plays into the idea that queerness is unnatural for human beings. But I never hear those complaints. Only the pronouns. Only the "We get it you're gay but don't shove it down our throats." But I don't want to get too off topic.

Now Discovery is being canceled early. And by early I mean, the writers weren't given proper notice that their show was ending. They were halfway through production and allowed to adjust the end episodes of the season to try to give a satisfying ending.

In Picard and Lower Decks, we got two sapphic relationships ("sapphic" meaning a romantic or sexual relationship between two women who aren't necessarily strictly lesbians) and they were pretty good. People had been asking for Seven to be queer and Jeri Ryan had been playing her as such since her introduction (see again: Rick Berman) and to see her finally get to express that was really healing. Mariner got off to rocky feet when the creators tried to pull a "Dumbledore is gay" where they said she was bi but didn't commit to it, but they she actually got a fairly satisfying relationship in season 3.

But in their most recent seasons, both were completely written out. Seven/Raffi gave us no explanation beyond that they "broke up." They went out of their way to keep them from being on screen together for most of the season. Mattis said in a Reddit AMA that he wanted Seven to be captain and Raffi to be first officer at the end of the season and that Starfleet would have regulations against relationships between the two despite the biggest reason Seven was promoted to captain was that she was a rule breaker. We didn't even get that much for Mariner/Jennifer. Jenn just wasn't in this season except for two background appearances.

And in Strange New Worlds there's just… nothing. SNW is the most recent new show and there's no queer representation. They code Ortegas as gay but don't actually confirm it on screen. There's just… nothing.

And this is how you loose the culture war. The bigots make enough noise that the show that is supposed to be a beacon of diversity doesn't necessarily side with them but they just kinda bow out of the conversation. They decide that it's easier to not bother than to take a stand. And so I and many many queer star trek fans are left wondering:

Does the franchise even want us any more?

[junkpiledraws]

I’ve been thinking so much recently about disco Elysium , i’ve only just started playing it and good god it’s making me go crazy , i love it so much.

The characters have so much depth and harry is such an inherently flawed character which is what makes his story so captivating. He has lost so much and i really do think that he was a good cop and a good man before the split. Even afterwards the glimpse is still there , he doesn’t want to be violent or be a bad person, and i think he sees some of his old self in kim.

This is just my first impressions but good god it’s such a good game.

What were everyone else’s first impressions , im really interested in how everyone viewed harry at the start of the game :)

No spoilers please.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #39] Rooms

warnings: fluffy and luverly!! let's go to pohang!! laser tag chapter :) start of the pre-wedding celebrations!

a/n: im scheduling as i watch bangbangcon but it've already made it through the red bullet and wings show so I am behind schedule! too distracted! tannie writer second, army first!!

wc: 9.5K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"What did you vote for?" Jeongguk asks, tucking into the piping-hot French toast from his favourite cafe downtown.

Sitting by the window, you're polar opposites. Dressed down, you've come to meet him following his meeting with the bank, and are incredibly grateful that you're in a public space. Never before have you seen him so formal - but you have seen the tie he's wearing before. The last time you'd laid eyes upon it, it had been fastened around your wrists. Every now and again, your words trail off, eyes focused on his chest - and every single time, Jeongguk smirks.

"Pohang," you say, digging your fork into the strawberries he set aside for you on his plate. As much as he likes them, he knows you like them more. "Beach over mountains any day."

Jeongguk nods, brows furrowed together as he swallows down his food. "Fuck me, that's good - and yeah, same. Will be nice to get out of the city, too. And hey -" he snaps his fingers beside his face. Twice. Gets your attention. "Eyes up here, Disco Ball."

Throwing him a small glare, you decide you're not to blame. "You shouldn't have worn that tie."

Exhaling a breathy laugh, Jeongguk just shakes his head. "You should learn to have some self-control."

With a roll of your eyes, you play off his teasing. "Please, self-control is basically my middle name."

"Disco Self-Control Ball?" He asks almost a little too sincerely. "Must be a ballache for signing legal documents."

"My parents wanted me to be unique," you playfully reply.

"You're certainly unusual," Jeongguk knocks his head to the side, then takes a sharp swig of his coffee as if it's hard liquor. There's a playful arrogance to the way in which he teases you, and you know that anything you say will be met with dumb banter when he's in moods like these. "Unique sounds far too nice."

"Pack it in, Jeon," you scold, but there's a smile on your lips, and glitter in your gloss. A certain happiness radiates from you that he hasn't had the luxury of indulging in recently. What with the scare of carrying a literal child pressing on you for a couple of weeks, and Jeongguk's stress about the bank meeting, there's not been much chance for respite. You've both been processing the events - and the bad decisions it took to reach such a calamity.

So despite the tease, you're both agreed: a breather is needed.

Things with Jeongguk are good. Great, in fact. You're both seemingly happy with the arrangement at hand, and yet there's a fear that things could get spoiled. That you'll take how good things are for granted. Will ruin it.

For lack of better phrasing, you were only ever supposed to be fuck buddies. Not parents. Not anything more than friends who fuck around a little bit in the hopes that their issues would resolve themselves.

"Hey," he defends, holding his hands up, the smile on his face as he chews on the last bit of French toast just as infuriatingly charming as it always is.

Your conversation is lost in the general chatter of the cafe, and anyone walking past would be forgiven for thinking that you're talking about the upcoming new moon, or astronomy, or some shit like that. The way Jeongguk looks like he's got an entire cosmos in his eyes, and the glitter that freckles your skin, makes you appear like you're in your very own world. Very own galaxy, perhaps.

"I mean it," you say sternly. "I'll think you're flirting with me if you keep being mean."

Jeongguk just shrugs. "Maybe I am flirting with you."

The way you gag and heave at such a response has the table next to you glancing over to check you aren't actually throwing up.

Jeongguk laughs. Reaches for your arms to steady you, then glances over to the people looking your way. "Don't worry about her. Just swallowed a fly."

You look at him with narrowed eyes, yet again, and Jeongguk begins to learn that this is synonymous with feigned disgust. Your narrowed eyes are never glaring. Always glowing.

Shaking off his touch, you ignore the way Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip, and how his lip ring does the thing.

"I'll swallow you if you're not careful," you threaten - and regret it immediately when Jeongguk raises his eyebrows.

"Now that's not very friendly, is it, Byeol?"

"Oh, no like that," you laugh, because you don't want to keep pretending like you're entirely disgusted by him. If anything, now you're thinking about it, you'd quite like to swallow him. You blame the desire to do incredibly unfriendly things with your best friend on the tie he's wearing.

"Anyways," you dismiss. "Are we driving across to Pohang? Or getting the train?"

"I think you mean to say am I driving - and the answer is yes, I am," he assures you. "Is this a sneaky way of begging for a ride?"

"I thought you'd never ask - and hey, don't look at me like that. You normally like it when I ri-"

"Byeol!"

"What?!"

"Behave yourself."

With a coy smile, you mumble an apology.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Mutters, 'unbelievable,' and takes a sip of his coffee. Hands in your lap, you lean over to reach your straw and take a sip of your iced americano, too. Look up at him. Earn yourself another warning.

"Stop it with the eyes."

Cheeks rounding, lips still around your straw curving into a tight-lipped smile, you close your eyes.

"Seriously, you gotta behave yourself if we're gonna survive this weekend," he tells you, knowing that there's absolutely no way he'll make it out a weekend of you flirting with him in the way that you are now alive. Might just die.

A group consensus had been taken for Yoongi and Seoyeon's respective celebrations of their singledoms - but neither of them really felt like saying 'goodbye' to it. Would much rather just say 'hello' to the lives they're building together. In all honesty, marriage will really change nothing between the pair of them.

It's for this reason that they've opted for a group celebration. Two options had been given in the group chat - renting out a pension-style house by the coast over in Pohang, or a spa stay at a mountain resort on the edge of the city - and the vote had been unanimous.

This weekend, you'll all head over to the coast. After the stress of the last few weeks, you genuinely can't wait - even if Hayun will be there.

"It's inevitable," you shrug when Jeongguk asks how you're feeling about it. In all honesty, you're surprised that he breached the conversation. Thought that she'd be ignored like a bright red elephant in the corner of the room. Instead, it seems like he's trying to assess the situation before it even happens - and you can't blame him. "She might not be my favourite person in the world, but this weekend isn't about me, is it?"

You've given it a lot of thought over the last few days. Too much thought, you think. Have considered half a dozen scenarios that could play out, and the bias of your brain always has them working out in your favour.

She wants to argue? You'll rise above it. She gives you a snide remark? You won't give her the dignity of a response. Jeongguk falls under her spell? Let him. It's not like he's yours, anyway. He can do as he pleases.

Yet when you look up at him, and see the look of contemplation on his handsome features, neat brows furrowed and a frown detailing his expression, you secretly hope that she isn't what pleases him anymore. You're unaware of the ins and outs of their conversation at The Ryu. All you know is that she always laughs a little too much at Jeongguk's jokes in the group chat, but that he ignores all of her replies.

"Well, no," he supposes, eventually.

"How are you feeling about it?" You decide to ask. Have spent far too long trying to read between the lines that Hayun has painted red. Would like a little clarity. Think that it's about time you stopped jumping to conclusions without a safety net in place. "Have you spoken lately?"

He shakes his head. Toys with the straw in his coffee glass, which is mostly ice by this point. The small frozen shards clatter against one another, but will soon be melted into oblivion. Forgotten all about. "No reason to."

He pretends to not notice the coy smile you're trying to hide, but it's contagious. He mirrors you. Does a terrible job at pretending like he isn't pleased by this admission.

There's an acute awareness between you both that this feels new. That the overwhelming burden of Jeongguk's confused feelings towards Hayun no longer weighs down on his shoulders in the same way that they used to.

"Think that Tae and Danbi are gonna try and get a ride with me too," he tells you.

"What about Jimin?"

"Oh, yeah," he nods. "Him too. That's like, a given, though. He's already shotgunned the front seat. Joon's gonna get the train,  I think. Said he and Hobes had spoken about catching the same one."

Nodding, you add, "Yeah, Hobes has already got his ticket sorted. He's always at that bloody tennis club with Joon these days. Think he might have a crush."

"Really?!" Jeongguk exclaims with such vigour the table beside you gawks over at you both again.

Laughing, you hush him. "Maybe. Never really seen them together, but he did ask me if I've ever noticed how good Joon's thighs are the other day."

"He has got really good thighs," Jeongguk laments with a little envy. Seems like as much as he works out, he can never reach the same levels of muscle ass on his own legs. "Understandable."

"Can't say I've ever noticed."

"You must be blind."

That, or just always too busy looking at Jeongguk's thighs instead.

Even though they're tucked neatly beneath the table, you still glance down at his lap, reminded of just how much you like his thighs - and how much he liked you on them in the janitor's closet at Taehyung's art show.

"Eyes. Up."

"Oh my god," you whine, cheeks flaming. "I wasn't looking at them like that ."

"Is it the suit?" He questions, genuine curiosity brimming on the very edges of his jovial teasing. It's been a while since he's seen you this unable to visibly control yourself. Too long, he thinks. Selfishly, he quite enjoys it when it's like this. Like you a little loopy for him. "Is that what's getting you all hot and bothered, huh?"

"I'm a perfectly normal temperature."

"You're sweating," he lies. "Burning up for me, baby."

"Is that a Jonas Brothers reference?" You question, equal parts bemused and frustrated with how much he likes to fuck around with you like this.

"I'm a man of culture, Byeol."

"You're a twat."

"Yeah, that too."

Rolling your eyes, you decide that you don't wanna let the conversation derail yet again. Take charge of the direction it goes in.

"So tell me more about your meeting. How'd that go? When will you hear about the loan?"

"Yeah, really well," he says and gets into the specifics. Tells you all about the loan process, how his business plan was barely even looked at despite all of his hard work, and how uncertain he still is.

"You'll be fine," you promise him. "One step closer to the big dream."

Nodding, he's apprehensive. Tries not to let it show. "One step closer."

Walking into your room, anyone would be forgiven for thinking you're packing for three months - not three nights.

"Why is this even up for debate?!" Jeongguk laughs, holding up the skimpiest bikini he thinks he's ever seen. "We're not going swimming in the sea. It'll be bloody freezing."

"Okay, firstly - you're not swimming in the sea. I'll do whatever I like, thank you very much. And secondly, haven't you looked at the listing?" You assert. "Seoyeon sent it over a few days ago."

Opening up his phone, Jeongguk scrolls through the group chat, which has received easily a hundred messages since then. He's awful at checking it. Always finds out the important details from you or Jimin, anyways.

Scrolling through the pictures, it's the first time Jeongguk is properly looking at it. Had agreed to whatever the happy couple had suggested, and just wired the money through for his share of the weekend rent - after all, it's their celebration, not his. Will happily do whatever they want, and plans on spending the weekend in a permanent state of ' yes '.

A large white pension house, it overlooks the coast and has a pathway that directly leads down to a small cove. With two extra buildings, there are enough rooms to comfortably sleep you all, even if some will be sharing. 

It has everything you could need for a weekend away with friends - an outside deck with a large barbecue, a ping pong table you know full well be used for beer pong, sofas that look like they can easily fit a football team on them and a hot tub in the corner of that outside deck. You dread to think of what men like Jimin would get up to in it, but thankfully there's no one here this weekend he can put his moves on.

Looking at the bikini still in his grasp, he comes to realise why it was in your pile of potentials - and stupidly, all he can think of is the fact he absolutely does not want to give any of his friends reasons to stare. Knows they inevitably will. Knows that if the pair of you were established as more than what you are, he'd revel in it. Would be so incredibly proud.

And yet he doesn't want any of the single boys thinking about you in the same way that he does. Doesn't want them to have any reason to put moves on you.

Still, you're your own person, and he knows better than to ever try and tell you what you should or shouldn't wear - so he just tosses it into the small suitcase you're packing.

Is a little bit mopey and pathetic as he says, "The boys will be drooling."

Raising your brow, you question, "Is that an issue?"

"No issue," he lies, then flops onto his back, head landing on a pile of your pillows. He smirks. "We both know I'm the only one you'll be drooling over, so it's fine. Let them look."

"God, your ego will be the death of you."

He doesn't reply. Knows you'll be the death of him, instead, and kind of loves this reality.

The rest of the evening trawls on, and your suitcase is packed and unpacked - according to Jeongguk - a 'gazillion' times. Eventually, fed up with your own indecision, you'd said, "I can't be arsed. Pack for me."

And so he had. In lightning speed, Jeongguk had enough clothes gathered for the weekend and your toiletries all zipped up into a small bag. In true Virgo fashion, he'd folded them all needed and organised your suitcase like a display unit at an upscale department store.

When you reach over to question one of his shirt choices, he taps your hand away. "Nope. You're done. You can't spend another fourteen years packing."

"I could give it a good try."

"Byeol," he whines. "You won't get a better configuration than this. Don't try it."

He also doesn't want you to take out a few of the things he's snuck in there, either. Your bikini is in plain sight, so you know that he has at least packed that.

"Fine," you sigh, flipping the lid of the suitcase over to zip it up. He really has done a stellar job, and you know you shouldn't, but you actually find his efficiency kinda hot, in a strange sort of way. Just shows his competency. Makes you think he'd be useful to keep around. Good with a drill. Good with a screw - but you knew that already. "You all packed?"

He raises a brow as he reclines into a more comfortable position on your bed. "Is that even a real question?"

Those narrow eyes of yours come back, and Jeongguk watches as you scan your bed for something to throw at him. His eyes reach your My Melody plushie a fraction of a section before yours do - and so he lunges for it, narrowly beating you.

The speed at which you both reach for it causes you to stumble a little onto your bed. Jeongguk holds the My Melody above his head as he sits up straight against the headrest, and on his face is the cheesiest grin you've ever seen. It's so bright that you almost miss the way his lip ring is doing that godforsaken thing once more.

He challenges you in the way he raises his brows, as if to say, "Come and get it."

And who are you to refuse a challenge?

It's clockwork the way in which you two tussle around. It's gentle and childish. You're giggly, and so is he. He could pin you down easily; restrain you in a way he's done before.

And yet he doesn't.

He lets you win, because letting you win also means having you on his lap - and he's sorely missed that. Missed you. Missed the feeling that comes with pretending like you're more than what you are.

A win for you is a win for him.

With My Melody in your hands, Jeongguk's hands come to find their place on your waist.

"Got it," you say quietly, and Jeongguk just hums. Nods. Pulls you further up his lap.

Leaning your forehead down to rest upon his, it's easy to forget the boundaries you've set in place. Hard to remember how to be responsible.

Nudging his nose up against yours, Jeongguk can't help but let himself slip back into old habits. Bad habits. Ones he should have kicked ages ago.

And yet he lets his lips ghost yours. Aligns his between yours. Tightens his grip on your hips and gently rocks you. Whispers a hushed moan. Takes a second to pause. Think about what he's doing. Assess whether or not it's a recipe for disaster.

Resting his forehead against yours, he shakes his head. Goes to speak - and then, against his better judgement, presses a chaste kiss to your lips. It's teeny tiny. Delicate. Too little and yet too much all in the same fleeting touch; like a shooting star not shining for long enough to make a wish upon.

"C'mon," he whispers against your lips. "We can't be doing this. Not now."

"I'm not doing anything," you whisper right back, as if your hips aren't languidly grinding against him. " You're the one with a boner."

"And you're the encouraging it," he says, as if he wasn't the one to get you positioned over his cock. "We've been doing so well. Let's not fuck it up."

Part of you wants to fuck it up, though.

"Say the word," you tell him, knowing that you need him to be the strong one.

"B," he says a little breathlessly, swallowing down the syllable.

"Say the word."

Jeongguk shakes his head. Sounds guilty as he admits, "I don't want to."

God , he just makes it so hard to resist.

"We've got an early start tomorrow," you contemplate out loud. "Maybe you should get going."

"Maybe I should," he agrees - but then hurriedly changes his mind. "Fuck it. No. I don't wanna go."

"No?" You ask with a soft smile on your lips. It's taking everything in him not to kiss you right now. Ha to physically hold himself a little further back.

"No," he husks. Is all raspy and needy, obsessed with how it feels to have you in a position like this. He'd wait a lifetime, he thinks - but is also impatient. Wants you now. "I wanna stay. Wanna make you cum."

Ooft . It's bold statements like those - the crude , the vulgar , the indecent - that always drive you a little wild. Jeongguk will touch you so tenderly, as if he's scared of leaving a single mark on your skin, and yet whispers words that will forever warp your sense of desire.

"That's not very friendly," you say, stroking your hands through his hair, still fascinated by the new length.

"Yeah, it is. It's like, so kind," he assures you. " So friendly."

With a bemused smile, you remind him of his desire to leave. "Were you not just saying you had to go?"

Closing his eyes, Jeongguk lets his head tip back, his pretty neck exposed, Adam's apple just begging for a little kiss. You refuse.

"You're right," he groans. "Fuck. Yeah. Sorry. Shit. Get off me, you temptress."

Laughing at his ridiculous wording, you do as you're told. It's tender, the way Jeongguk lets you go, but keeps hands loosely on your body until you're out of reach.

"Do us both a favour," Jeongguk says nonchalantly, reaching over your bedside table for the trinket box that houses things a 'friend' really shouldn't know about. He opens it up, and you watch on in suspended disbelief - which only tenfolds when he pulls out your fucking vibrator, and then chucks it at you. "Take this with you."

Barely managing to catch it, you stammer out a collection of high-pitched noises that mean nothing and everything all at once.

"Okay, one," you hiss, eyes wide, shock evident. "You don't just go into a girl's private things like that-"

"I've been in your private thing loads."

"Jeongguk, that is not what I mean. I said things, not thing ."

"Yeah? I've seen 'em all. Been in a couple. Plural. Things."

"Gguk," you laugh now - and then remember you're holding a fucking rabbit . The black silicone is a demure upgrade from your last one, but how demure can a dick-shaped vibrator with a pair of bunny ears be? Tossing it down on your bed, it lands with a thud - and that's how Jeongguk knows it must be fucking powerful. "I'm not taking a vibrator on a trip with all of our friends."

"Do I need to remind you that you were gonna walk around in front of our friends with my cum in yo-"

"Stop!" You cringe. Whine as you throw your head back. "God, we're disgusting ."

"Yeah," he admits. Smirks. "Was kinda hot, though."

Shameless , you think - then wonder if he's always been like this; if Hayun got this side of him.

Thing is, when Jeongguk had been sleeping with Hayun, he'd been trying so hard to be perfect . The perfect gent, the perfect concept of a boy she could grow to love. For a while, it had seemed to work. So intent on being pristine, he kept their sex life equally as perfect. Would never be vulgar without purpose.

He steps into a realm that goes beyond his past experiences with you. His confidence fools you into a false understanding of his experience, but he'd got every reason to be confident with you. The sex only seems to get better and better. The riskier he gets, the bigger the reward. It's a recipe for disaster. A bad decision waiting to happen.

This is probably why cooling things off is a good decision. He was one step away from exhibitionism. Is taking things too far.

Fails to realise that maybe he wants to be caught. Wants people to know you fuck, because it's the only way he can mark his territory. Primal instincts. The same type that gets him spitting on your cunt, lips wrapping around your nipples, cock fucking into you at any given opportunity. He desperately wants to belong to you.

It's not a case of him being possessive, no. It's a case of him wanting to be possessed by you.

But these are dangerous things to think about when he's supposed to be cooling things off.

So instead, he simply says, "Take it with you. Please ."

"Why?" you question, because you're never gonna easily agree with him.

"'Cause I need you to not try it on with me," Jeongguk almost pleads. "Need you to be satisfied."

Funny how he thinks a dildo is capable of that. The only reason you upgraded was because the last one didn't cut it anymore. This one... yeah, this one is better, but it still isn't good enough.

But you're a dickhead in the best of times, and Jeongguk is never gonna get a serious answer from you.

"I'll just go to Jimin's room."

Jeongguk doesn't even crack a smile.

"No, you won't."

"Done it before-"

"You're not doing it again."

"Why not?" you pout, reaching back down for the vibrator. The way you hold it isn't necessarily obscene, but it is suggestive - and it makes Jeongguk's semi so painfully hard. One of his hands comes to his lap, as if to hide it, but it's no use. You can read his body like a book. Know exactly which chapter you're on. "I could just go to his room instead of yours when I'm horny?"

"What's the use? You'll leave just as horny as you went in."

"That's so mean."

He smirks. "Okay, but is it a lie?"

You don't dignify him with a response, instead opting to shoo him out of your apartment, with the promise of him getting to yours bright and early the next morning. Taehyung will be staying at your place with Danbi, to make it easier for Jeongguk, and all things considered, it's a well-set plan. No issues.

Or at least no issues until he arrives to find out that if he considers you not a light packer, then Danbi must be a heavyweight packer.

"We're going for three nights!" Jeongguk says in disbelief, when he's greeted with a full-size suitcase and a carry-on - not to mention the two tote bags over her shoulders.

"Okay?" Danbi says with the straightest face known to man. Part of you thinks she's just testing him, but the rest of you has known her for far too long. She really is a terrible packer. "And?"

Taehyung just has a leather duffel bag over his shoulder and an apologetic 'I tried telling her' look on his face.

Jeongguk stands still for a moment. Stares. Looks as if he's about to protest until, eventually, he just relents. "Fine - but I'm gonna have to reconfigure things."

You have to bite your tongue. Stop it from declaring how sexy it is when he talks efficiently. Oh, who are you?! One pregnancy scare and you're thinking about him in DILF capacities - but then he's rearranging the luggage, and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his skin like fucking art, and - Oh, God. Pull yourself together!

The weekend will be a certified disaster if you don't get a grip on your brain and realign it. Jeongguk is your best friend. An idiot. A sexy idiot, granted, but still an idiot. You just wish he was wearing a jacket or something.

So busy looking at his arms, unable to form any words or offer any help, you're transfixed as you hear your name.

"Byeol?"

"Hmm?" You snap your focus up to his face, and are thankful you're not fucking drooling.

Too concerned with the luggage debacle, Jeongguk doesn't really notice the way you've been ogling.

"Will you be alright with bags by your feet?"

"Yeah," you nod. Your parents had always popped bags by your feet when you were younger, as you often travelled with your dog, giving him all the boot space. Squeezing yourself in is second nature. "No bother."

"Alright," he nods appreciatively, then taps on the passenger door. Jimin's napping, and Jeongguk had chosen not to wake him, knowing the car will likely be full of chatter when the three of you join the ride.

Waking with a startle, Jimin's clutching his heart when he gets out of the car. "Thought I was dying."

"You might be soon," Jeongguk grimaces, which earns an immediate wail from Jimin.

"No!" He asserts, knowing what is about to be asked of him. "Gguk, you promised ."

"I know, but I didn't expect there to be so much luggage!"

Jimin scowls in the direction of you three, who admittedly are standing there looking like guilty schoolchildren - even if it is just Danbi who has caused the conundrum.

"It's not a long drive," Jeongguk tries to reason with him. "And I'll pay for your snacks when we stop at a service station. Please, just sit in the back."

After a little more huffing and puffing, Jimin reluctantly agrees - but as an act of silent protest towards Danbi and Taehyung, he decides that he's having the middle seat. If he has to third-wheel, he's doing it on his own terms.

Eventually, you're crammed into the passenger seat with yours and Jeongguk's luggage, and a crate of beers on your lap.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks quietly as he starts the car up.

"All good," you nod as Jeongguk passes the cable for the aux over to you.

"Hold on, DB," Jimin says. "Made a playlist. I'll send you the link."

He really does take his shotgun duties seriously, and so you feel bad for getting his spot.

In all honesty, Jeongguk would have preferred you in the back. Would have liked glancing in his rearview mirror to see your disco balls eyes from time to time. Still, there's a comfort that comes with having you so close. Fears your glitter catching in the early morning light could be a distraction. Decides it's a fear he doesn't mind facing.

The drive is as smooth as you'd expect; mindless chatter, stupid games, and a soundtrack worthy of a montage in a cliche chick-flick. Jimin really did do a great job with the playlist, and, at times, Jeongguk's car becomes its very own noraebang.

You're nearly three-quarters of the way there when Jeongguk eventually turns off and heads into a service station. Doesn't need fuel for his car, but he can definitely do with fuel for his tummy.

Placing his hand on your back, Jeongguk gets your attention while you head towards the food court.

"Just gotta take this," he says, holding up his phone to show you an incoming call.

Nodding, you ask, "Want me to get you anything?"

"Surprise me."

"Will do."

Catching up with your friends, you're pleased to see the service station is just as you'd been expecting - a few stalls of snack foods, a couple of shops filled with tat for last-minute gifts and a little CU. The smell of hot oil and gasoline wafts around the place, wrapping you up in a certain nostalgia.

"Watcha getting?" Danbi asks.

"Not sure," you muse, looking at the menu above the canteen-style dining area. It's small, only about thirty or so seats, but it's quickly filling up as people seek refuge from the fine droplets of rain that have begun to pitter-patter down.

"Where's Gguk?" Jimin asks no one in particular.

Glancing over your shoulder to the entrance, you spot Jeongguk still on his call, pacing slightly. He's not seeking cover from the rain, eyes hard as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. Chewing down on his bottom lip, there's an uncertainty to his typically confident posture.

"On a call," you simply say, still observing him. Tension builds between his brows as he says something you can't decipher, before he turns away from your direction and continues pacing in laps with little regard for the weather. "Not sure who with."

It's another five minutes before he rejoins you, and when you ask him who was on the phone, he asks you what you've ordered, instead.

"Chicken," you tell him, eyes a little sleepy from the early start, not pushing on the ignored question. "Didn't really fancy anything else."

"You get me chicken, too?" He asks softly, rubbing your back as he stands a little closer beside you. Arm looping around his waist, you use his chest as a makeshift pillow for a moment or so.

"Mhmm. Figured we'd share."

"Sounds good to me," he says.

Eyes closed, you're unaware his sweet voice is paired with an incredibly rude middle finger, which is currently being held up towards Jimin and his shit-eating grin.

Cheeks chubby with the hotdog he's chowing down on, Jimin will always be the biggest supporter of Jeongguk being interested in, well, anyone other than Hayun.

The fact that it seems to be you?

Just makes it even better for him. Mainly because there's an endless supply of jokes he can make about him having you first, but also because he knows how deeply you care for Jeongguk. Thinks that his best friend deserves someone who gives a shit. Hopes that whatever the fuck is going on between you will sort itself out, sooner rather than later.

It's for this reason Jimin is so pleased that Hayun will only be on the trip for the final night.

She's currently back in Seoul for a job interview. Seoyeon had been a little disappointed when the schedules had clashed, but knew that it was important for her friend. She'd been desperately trying to find a job back in the capital city, and this was the first tangible shot in months.

Yoongi, on the other hand, had been quietly thrilled. Has no time for Hayun and her bullshit. Is just glad that other people seem to be wising up to the fact she is the way that she is. Has never really been a fan of her, and hopes that with time, Seoyeon will also distance herself. He'll never dictate her choices, though. It's something she'll have to learn to realise herself.

Food consumed, an appropriate amount of money wasted on the coin-operated gachapon machines, and a photo booth picture of the five of you crammed into a tiny passport-style booth taken, you head on your way again.

The drive takes far less time than you expect, and before you know it, you're all claiming to have been the first to see the sea. In all reality, it was Jeongguk who saw it first, but he lets you have your fun.

Dressed in white as she comes to greet you, Seoyeon is every bit the fairy princess bride-to-be. Her hair is delicately waved with teeny tiny plaits running through it. She too sports a little glitter on her eyes, but not half as much as you and it makes you consider altering your routine - but you know you never will.

"Gguk," Yoongi calls for Jeongguk's attention just as you finish unloading the car. "Sorry, I know you've been driving for a while but Joon and Hobi are at the station and the crappy weather is making it hard to get a taxi. Could you-"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." Jeongguk nods, the start of his 'yes' weekend beginning. There's not a single thing that will be asked of him that he'll deny. Will do all he can to make things easier for other people, even if it does inconvenience him a little bit.

Car keys still in his hand, he holds them up and looks across to you. "Coming with?"

Shaking your head with a warm smile, you're appreciative of the invite, but you don't want to dip as soon as you arrive. The station is no more than a fifteen-minute drive, twenty tops, and given his face of thunder earlier, you think perhaps it'll be good for him to have some time to breathe.

"I'll make sure you get a good room," you promise instead, and he seems to appreciate this.

Waving a goodbye to everyone, Jeongguk heads off alone, while you take his and your bags in.

"You not going with him?" Seoyeon chirps as you take back one of the suitcases she's just claimed.

"Stop with the helping," you laugh. "It's your weekend. Should be relaxing. And nah, he can survive without me for a little bit."

"I hate feeling useless," she insists, and hoists Jeongguk's bag over her shoulder. Wobbles slightly, due to it being deceptively heavy, but she also seemingly has the core strength of a Goddess with how easily she balances herself. "Where are we taking these? Where are you guys staying?"

"Oh, we're not sharing," you say rather quickly. "Unless we need to, for space?"

Shaking her head, Seoyeon explains, "Oh, no. I just assumed you were. Danbi and Tae are sharing, Hayun will stay with Nabi when she gets here, so there's enough room for you and Jeongguk to have your own rooms. I mean, if that's what you want."

There's a subtle suggestion in her tone; permission, almost. You can stay with Jeongguk.

But instead, you double down.

"No, it's fine. Would probably be a bit weird, wouldn't it?"

Seoyeon smiles but keeps quiet as you head towards the second house, which is just off from the main building. Two rooms downstairs, and two rooms upstairs, it's the one you like the most when you saw the listing. Jimin's already nabbed one of the upstairs rooms, and you want the other one.

"Drop Jeongguk's bag here," you tell Seoyeon as you enter the house. "He'll be downstairs, and I'll be up."

"Sure thing," she smiles and she does as she's told, while also wondering if you'll be the one sneaking downstairs, or if he'll be the one sneaking upstairs.

Seoyeon leaves you to get yourself adjusted, and you're thankful for it. You know the weekend is gonna be full on when it comes to socialising, as much as you adore everyone coming (well, almost everyone), you know you'll be exhausted by the end of it.

It's partially why you insisted that Jeongguk retrieve the boys alone. He needs his space just as much as you do, and will probably need a final few moments of peace and quiet before the chaos that will surely unfold when everyone is reunited.

The room you're in is well-sized. Not huge, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it needn't be. What matters is the view - and it's the exact same reason Jimin chose the room across the hallway. A wide window takes up most of the wall that faces the coast, and in it pours the most gorgeous view you think you've ever seen.

An endless cerulean sea stretches in front of you. On the southeast coast of the country, you know that Dokdo lies not too far on the horizon. Ulleungdo, too. Both are obscure to you right now, the mist of a rainy haze rending everything beyond a mile or so into nothingness.

As you stare out of the window in a state of awe, you hear the soft vibration of your phone, and drag your eyes away. All pale wood and white fabrics, the furniture and bedding are pristine. A far cry from the clutter and mayhem of your and Danbi's apartment. Reminds you of Jimin and his minimalist tendencies. Must be living the dream over in his room.

Picking up your phone, you're surprised to see a notification for a voice note from Jeongguk. Flopping down onto the bed, you hesitate a little before pressing play.

"Hey, B," Jeongguk's voice echoes around you. Comforting, like the warmth of a blanket or the scent of freshly baked cookies, it's nice to hear his voice even if you only saw him about ten minutes ago. Laying your phone on your chest, it's as if he never left. 

"I know you're gonna ask about the call, but I don't wanna talk about it this weekend. There's just a hold-up with some of the bank stuff." You frown upon hearing this. Wonder what on Earth could possibly be wrong, knowing how hard Jeongguk had worked for it all. "That's all. No biggie. Was just thinking about it, so yeah. Thought I'd just let you know. Nearly at the station, so will be home soon. That's all. Okay. Bye-bye."

The cuteness of his sign-off fails to negate the heaviness of the rest of the message. It had obviously been dwelling on his mind, but also proves that letting him drive alone to process his thoughts was the right call. His choice to send a voice note was deliberate. He didn't want to engage in conversation, but he did want you to know - and you appreciate that more than you think you'll ever be able to convey.

Being invited into Jeongguk's mind, free of charge, with no expectation to invite him into yours is an honour. Proof of how he values you. An action that speaks louder than words.

You send him a quick text - "thanks for letting me know. got u a dreamy room, ur welcome x" - and then head back over to the main house. Rain drizzles down on you, but you don't mind. The rains are welcome after such a dry winter. Like the cutting of Jeongguk's hair, and the purchase of a brand new liquid glitter, they feel like the start of something new.

"I hear we're roomies," Jimin beams as you walk into the large, open-plan kitchen. There's a table big enough for a small country just in front of the kitchen area. To the right, through a large open arch is the sitting room. Designed for socialising, Seoyeon and Yoongi really did pick the best place.

"Housemates," you correct. "Jeongguk's in there too - who's got the fourth room?"

Sitting at the table, dressed casually but looking ever so beautiful, Nabi raises her hand. "You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"PARTY HOUUUSE," Jimin cheers, raising the beer he's already nursing, which makes you roll your eyes - but you can't help but laugh. He's ridiculous, yes, but he is fun - and he's also probably right. You first bonded with him over drinks, met Jeongguk at the bar of Dionysus and didn't warm up to Nabi until a very spirited game of beer pong. You likely will be the ones drinking all night and waking a little worse for wear the next morning.

Yoongi smirks like the cat who got the cream. "I love it when a plan comes together."

"Hmm?" you chirp, but Jimin is far more direct.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Seoyeon stands beside Yoongi and rubs his back tenderly with a smile on her pretty lips. The peach blush on her cheeks is so delicate and befitting of who she is, that when her eyes shine with a glint of mischief you can't help but understand exactly why Yoongi is so smitten.

"We might have lured all the party people to the same house," she admits - but she's quick to defend herself when she notices the feigned offence on all of your faces. "But hey, it's perfect! We can go to bed whenever we need to, and you guys can keep the party going!"

"We're too old for your shenanigans," Yoongi assures you. "About to be a married couple-"

"Gross," Jimin adds.

"So we're not as young and reckless as you young'uns."

"Yoongi, you guys are literally only a couple of years older," you laugh.

"You're a pair of sneaky bastards," Nabi tells them with a smile. "You're lucky I love you both."

In all reality, there's no offence to be taken. It really is the perfect scenario. You're not surprised that it's something they thought of ahead of time.

Everything for this weekend has, to a certain extent, been well prepared - though not by the happy couple. Assigned partners, you've all been tasked with planning an activity for the weekend.

Seoyeon and Yoongi had assigned themself the 'greeting party', of which this is, and is also why Yoongi is cosplaying Jeongguk as he serves mimosas to everyone who walks through the door. He's not a bad bartender - but he'll never be your favourite.

Taehyung and Danbi have been paired together, and will be guiding you to a certain death this afternoon.

Your activity partner is Namjoon, and you half suspect it was another deliberate ploy from Yoongi and Seoyeon to get you more acquainted with him.

Out of all of the boys, he's the one you know the least well, so it's been fun trying to plan an activity with him. Has been nice getting to know him in a way that doesn't feel forced - even though you know it entirely is.

Tonight, you'll become hosts of the most extravagant tipsy bingo ever known to man.

Both creative in your own ways, Namjoon is probably the best partner you could have had for your big vision. He's good with words, while you're good with making things look... well, ridiculous. There's a box by the front door addressed to Namjoon that he had had the genius idea of sending up beforehand. It's filled to the brim with props and decor and honestly, you can't wait.

Tomorrow morning, you'll no doubt be nursing murderous hangovers, which is where Jimin and Nabi step in. You don't know much about their plans, but you have heard the words 'Olympic' 'limbo' and 'sick bucket' mumbled between them during failed attempts at secrecy. You dread to imagine what they have in store for you.

Jeongguk has been paired with Hoseok, but they utterly refuse to share their plans with you in a capacity. It's been driving you insane - and they've both been revelling in it. Their activity is planned for the penultimate day.

As Hayun is arriving late, she's got the responsibility of the final morning, and has told everyone in the group to pack a pair of sensible shoes. You almost didn't bring any just to be a little bitch - but this weekend isn't about you. You're playing nicely, whether you like it or not.

The arrival of Jeongguk with Hoseok and Namjoon in tow is met with an overwhelmingly fond cheer. They all look slightly embarrassed by the display, but they are also the only ones without alcohol in their system.

Mimosa in hand, Jeongguk comes to greet you personally after the general hellos.

"I swear to God, if you've put me in a basement room-"

"Shut up," you laugh, tapping his arm fondly. Standing a small distance away from the group, it may as well be just the two of you in the room. Everyone else just fades into the abyss. Hardly a surprise, when he's got eyes like black holes that are intent on swallowing up every single one of your stars. "We're in the second house. Nabi and Jimin are with us."

"Hmm?" He chirps, not aware of the layout. "We're all in the same room?"

"No! No, different rooms. There are four rooms. Think Hayun will be joining Nabi on the last night."

Nodding, Jeongguk takes a hefty swig of his mimosa. Needs it to swallow down that information. "And you decided that's where we should sleep?"

Smiling as if she's never phased you, all you do is shrug. "Mhhm. Problem?"

He sticks his bottom lip and shakes his head. Reaches over to mess with the long bangs that frame your face, ruffling them out of position. "Fine with me if it's fine with you."

"Well, yanno," you begin to tease as you knock your fringe back into place. "I'm just across the hallway from Jimin. Easy access."

All very suddenly, Jeongguk's eyes get a little darker. His laugh, a little more sinful. He reaches over again, just to mess your hair up. Almost fucking growls as he says, "Don't you even fuckin' think about it."

His stare lingers for a second longer than it really should, but he's surprised to see you just smirking in response to his command.

"What if I already am thinking about it?" you tease quietly.

Jeongguk looks like he's ready to drag you into the second house and fucking nail you against the front door. Looks just as hungry as he normally does when you're naked. Breathes out a stunted laugh. Shakes his head. Is about to speak, when Yoongi called his name.

"Gguk, can you do the gim-mari? My hands are full."

Closing his eyes, Jeongguk takes a deep breath. "Behave yourself this weekend."

You watch as he walks away to help fry up the seaweed rolls, satisfied with yourself for getting under his skin so spectacularly.

He's dressed down - dark sweats, big white shirt with a silky black baseball jersey layered over the top of it. Lotte Giants, of course. Reminds you of how easy it was to get him keen on the weekend in Busan. You really shouldn't thrive on riling him up so much - but it's just so much fun . Hard not to do.

There's not much time to dwindle on silly little thoughts like these, because as soon as you've finished eating, Taehyung and Danbi are shooing everyone of the main house and down towards the front gate.

Their activity, you discover as you all get out of the taxis they had ordered for you, is laser tag at a local party place, of which you're certain almost exclusively caters towards children.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Jimin moans as the assigned teams are getting into formation on opposite sides of the room. He lifts an accusing finger, and turns to the couple who has organised the whole event. "Who did this? Danbi? It was you, wasn't it?"

Her eyes are wide, and her lips are just as pouty as the accusation is correct.

Shrugging, a smirk breaches her sincere expression. "What's wrong? Scared you'll lose?"

"Scared?!" Jimin shrieks. "Danbi, this is a suicide mission."

It's not.

It's laser tag.

But Jimin is right in thinking that he'll lose, given the frankly dire state of his team.

He's on Team Purple, captained by Taehyung, who is currently sitting and smiling adoringly at the rival captain. Jimin's new arch nemesis. Or just simply, Danbi.

The rest of the team is made up of yourself, Hoseok and Seoyeon.

Standing at the helm of Team Green is Danbi. Behind her is Jeongguk, caught up in conversation with Nabi and Namjoon, while Yoongi adjusts the strap of his laser gun.

It's not a fair fight. You know this. Doesn't mean you're not gonna act offended.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" You tut, voice an octave higher than usual. "We've just as much chance of win-"

"They have Jeongguk," Jimin deadpans.

Even you can't argue against that.

"So? We've got youth, good looks, and luck on our side," you tell Jimin. "If you don't believe in yourself, then how do you expect to even stand a chance? Pull yourself together, man!"

From across the room, Jeongguk appears to be engaged in conversation, but the way he accidentally slips a laugh out at the end of your sentence gives him away. You glance in his direction, but find him looking away, hand scratching at the back of his head. He's not slick in the slightest, but he is cute. You'll give him that much.

Teams assigned, safety briefing done - with Jimin mumbling about the way he'll break each and every protocol to win - all that's left is to battle it out to the death.

Or until one of the teams loses. Same difference.

The shrouded darkness of the tag course isn't too dissimilar from Dionysus, and has a familiar intrusive scent of artificial smoke. It obscures the lights, but is quickly wafting away through the vent so as to not interrupt gameplay. Huddled around your home base, Team Purple needs all the morale it can get.

"Gguk's gonna be on the attack," Taehyung theorises. "Danbi will be floating midway - she won't want to attack but she also doesn't wanna be a lemon guarding their base. I think Joon will be their guard."

Seoyeon hums in agreement, stripes of neon face paint on her cheeks as if she's really going into combat. "What Yoongi lacks in height he makes up for in speed. He'll be attack too."

"And Nabi?" You ask. She seems to be the only unpredictable force for the Greens.

"Honestly not a-"

Taehyung's pondering is interrupted by a booming voice through the loudspeaker. "THREE."

"Fuck!"

Stupidly spending too much time contemplating Team Green's tactics has prevented Team Purple from planning anything.

"Shit," Jimin hisses.

"Seoyeon, guard - if Yoongi gets here-"

"TWO."

"- you distract him. I'll find Danbi. Hobes, DB... Just like, try not to die."

"ONE."

"Jimin, you're on attack."

" Fuck !"

You should really anticipate the way Hoseok starts flailing, and yet it still takes you by surprise just quite how loudly he screams. He has no rhyme, no reason as he runs into the maze of hidden spaces.

Taehyung curses. Looks over to you. "Whatever you do, just don't do that ."

"Roger that," you nod, retreating to a doorway that leads to the ramp up to the second story. Figuring vantage is needed, you head up there without much care. Team Green will still be over in their camp. You've enough time to take things at a leisurely pace; to figure out the blueprints. 

The layout is obscured by dozens of false walls and misleading hiding spots. There's a clear direct path into Green territory, and you spot Jimin scoping it out from another vantage spot below. Even despite the atmospheric music playing through the overhead speakers, nerves are so high it feels like a pin could drop.

Until, all rather suddenly, a gun is pressed to your back.

"Hey, B."

"Oh you motherfu-"

Before you can even finish, your vest is vibrating, the sound of a galactic gunshot echoing in the small space you're hidden in. The levels on your gun flash and dip for the first time. Across the main pathway, Hoseok is still screaming. There's no way you're winning this thing.

Twisting to face Jeongguk, you're met with his infuriatingly charming smile as his lip ring glistens in the selective lighting.

"How are you so quiet?!"

"You've been to my parent's house," he smirks, glancing down to check your levels are still flashing on your gun. Shrugging, he's quite clearly smug with his hit. "You know how thin the walls are. Learned to be light on my feet."

Unable to shoot back while you're still in 'recovery' mode, Jeongguk knows he has a little time to indulge in you. Makes the most of it.

"You know, you actually look really hot like this," he tells you, nodding at the combat gear. Gets a little closer. Clearly is still a little riled up from the way you'd teased him that morning. Taking a step back, you find yourself against the wall - which suits you fine. One less area of weakness. "Like, stupidly hot."

"You're fraternising with the enemy, Jeon," you whisper as he gets closer enough to nudge his nose up against yours. Jeongguk lets his laser gun fall slack over his shoulder. Has his hand beneath your jaw, thumb stroking up onto your cheek.

He nods. Brushes his lips against you as he husks, "That's kinda hot, too."

"Oh, c'mon," Yoongi whinges from the entryway in equal parts disgust and disappointment. He'd been expecting to find someone on the lookout, and also knew Jeongguk would likely have been on a similar route - he just didn't expect to find you two so bloody cosy. As his own hand slaps against his thigh, he's speechless. Just wails, "Really, Gguk?!"

Jeongguk doesn't wanna turn around. Can feel his cheeks flaming a shade so deep it could rival the red laser of his gun, which is currently pointing towards the floor.

A moment of weakness. A rarity.

One you'd be stupid to not indulge in.

You swiftly lean around Jeongguk. Whip your gun into position. Aim straight for Yoongi's chest and beam as brightly as a thousand suns when his vest begins to flash.

But you know Jeongguk has realised what you've done - and so at the speed of absolute lightning, you twist your gun back on itself and shoot at the target on Jeongguk's back. The vibrations ripple against you too, as both men curse you out, unable to get their own back while they're in 'recovery' mode.

Pulling yourself away from Jeongguk, you bolt for the entryway Jeongguk must have come from. "Bye, boys!"

You beeline straight for your home base, as you know that's where they'll be off to next. Seoyeon's still in position. Aims for you, until she realises you're on her team.

"Oh my god," she exclaims, and it sounds as if she's been holding her breath for hours. "I've been so scared. You never know who's gonna come round the corner!"

Nodding, you come to stand by her. "Gguk and Yoongi are upstairs. I got them both. Think they're gonna be looking for revenge."

And as you feel your vest vibrate with no indication of where a shot came from, you're proven right. Seoyeon chirps in surprise as her vest does the same.

"You bastard," you grin as Jeongguk walks into frame, and leans against a partition wall with all the casual arrogance you'd expect from him.

"Don't hate the player, baby. Hate the game."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[devyuence]

another controversial take: every character is developing at the expense of topmew's

this is going to be an itemized rant and my thoughts are messy rn but sue me, i guess. feel free to raise brows but if you can get to post rants, i can too.

1. boeing should've been introduced episodes ago (not in the latest ep). as much as i liked raymew closure aka ray realizing that mew is not in love with him no matter what, boeingmew would have made even more sense. but then again, if we never had that raymew scenes, ray will not have that character development, progress with sand, and sand's character development.

2. as much as daddy dan (lol) is a plot device for boston to realize or act on his feelings with nick, mew's revenge played a part. he 'somehow' became apologetic, it's evident on his face during the confrontation scene, for stirring up things in his friend group and arguably starting to value things that he used to be so nonchalant about because he is moving away.

3. now that points one and two are established, can you see that the other pairs except topmew are progressing? not only their relationships but the characters are progressing, having arguable character development idk, or developing.

do we have the word "progress" on topmew as a pair?

do we have the word "progress" on top and mew as individual characters?

zero. nada. zilch.

it's like the writing team thought: "ah, in episode 5 onwards, let's develop everyone else except topmew. tone it down aka cut the scenes because people will hate them. tone it down because mew should not overreact in the burning of drawing scene. tone it down. tone it down until the scene drown and disappeared like titanic. tone it down until it goes down the drain."

apologies. i love mew and i am his number one defender but his character in the recent eps is stagnant and the latest one? ooc at that. at the same time, i feel bad that he is straight-forward and knows what he wants but becomes a stagnant character going back in circles. it's like everyone around him starts to have character development or redemption but he is reduced to, according to some viewers, an annoying brat. yeah, this is what happens when you toned down book's crying during his confrontation scene with top showing how he loved top so much as well as not showing more scenes that mew is really hurt and felt betrayed. he didn't have a proper breakdown aka crying scenes on his own but instead jumped on revenge era. the things are not grounded. people cannot sympathize with him because they do not fully know top and mew. they lack screen time to show who they are as individuals and as lovers. but that's just me.

what pisses me off the most is that he becomes a stagnant character and in the process, top is also hindered to progress. i mean, you know that at the beginning, i don't like top but he made his way on my fave list.

top was considered by others as someone without depth (at least that is what majority says no matter how much people explain top's nuances anyway). he is boring, bland, playboy, someone who is smug. i mean, when every character in the show gets to cry out loud and scream their hearts with proper build up except one or two, you will find them boring. book mew crying his heart out in the confrontation scene but was toned down? force top crying about him and mew at the silent disco while discarding the scene where he tried to find someone new but he cannot because he loves mew so much? like why are other emotional and crying scenes have proper build up and more nuanced but top, this is coming from a not-so-fan of top before, and mew do not have?

it's funny because top is reduced to mew's ex or lover (what are they anyway rn?), who (mew) happens to be reduced as a plot device for the character development or redemption of ray and boston, which had a domino effect on sand and nick's character.

ah. my lovely top and mew, especially my favorite, mew. i'm sorry that you are reduced to this which could have been fixed should people have more backbone and your characters have been thoroughly discussed in the writer's room.

anyway, i had low expectations on this show because as much as i liked the director, expectations lead to disappointment. now, im not expecting anything from this show. topmew is barely salvageable and is hanging by a thread. and if we don't see top's trauma next episode but more of NC scenes (i'm okay with it but to use it to appease fans is not), i'm sorry but... heh.

you know what is funny? for topmew to be based on real people, lovers at that, only to be reduced as plot devices and have a terrible state aka stagnant in the recent episode is peak comedy.

[ughgoaway]

Playing on my mind blurb where the band is out walking or getting coffee and they run into y/n. She’s in her regular clothes (maybe even just sweats?), no makeup and super chill. After you and Matty are done catching up (he introduces you to everyone) and she leaves, the boys all sit down and just listen to Matty talk about you for the rest of the time:

“So…?’

“She seems very cool, matty”

“And pretty too right? Just absolutely gorgeous…”

“Sigh… yes matty she is very pretty”

(I'm so sorry this took me so long. I promise I'm trying to work through my asks <33)

Oh, this is a sweet concept… you would be so mortified this is how you're meeting his friends but also so fucking excited to meet his friends. I'm gonna alter this slightly and just have you meet George, i have different ideas for the other two boys…

I think it's probably early on a Sunday, and George and Matty crashed at the studio last night, falling asleep at the mixing desk before trudging to the sofas at 3 am. So once it hits 8 a.m., and they wake up, they are in desperate need of a coffee.

You had a slightly less fun or productive night, just staying up late catching up on the newest episodes of the great British bake-off (yes this is me projecting <3). You don't think you'll run into anyone so you're dressed pretty comfy, in jogging bottoms and an oversized jumper.

You nearly wore your newly purchased 1975 hoodie, but it was in the wash after you spilt tea on it last night. Thank GOD. yes, you were embarrassed about buying it, but your yearning for Matty had reached new heights. This was a way to cope with those feelings that wouldn't get you fired…

You order your coffee and are waiting to hear your name be called, and it is - but not by a barista. 

“y/n! Ohmygod, hi!” Matty says insinctively coming to hug you but catching himself at the last second and just waving awkwardly, with George standing behind him equally as awkward. 

“MATTY! Oh wow - hi!!” You say moving your hands to fix your hair and pull at your clothes self-consciously.

Holy fuck WHY was he here??? When you looked like this?? Sometimes you show up looking very cute, prepared to work in the coffee shop and live your fantasy of being that cool girl in a cafe.

But OF COURSE, the one time he shows up, you look like this. In a snoopy hoodie, no makeup and your massive glasses on. 

Matty is immediately enamoured by you, his brain going straight to domestic delusions. Seeing you dressed like that in his house whilst you're making tea, or when you are getting ready for a movie night.

He focuses on your freckles and your glasses, feeling his heart stutter at how beautiful you look when you're not even trying.

Matty thanked god George told him to fix his hair before he left. 

Speaking of George, he was still there, but he might as well not have been. You two were standing in silence, grinning and drooling over each other, and it's then when it clicks to George exactly who you are.

Matty had been talking about you for MONTHS.

“y/n wore a red dress today” 

“She waved goodbye to me this morning”

“I saw her at the Christmas disco and nearly gave her a drink”

“No, I don't like her!! Shut up, George. I'm not 15, I don't have crushes anymore”

Despite Matty's denial, he had heard all about you from Matty and from Adam, who watched you two interact recently and reported it back to George and Ross.

“he was basically drooling. Do you remember how he was with Julie Smith in year 10? Like that, but WORSE!”

“oh god, he's down bad huh”

George coughed lightly behind Matty, and suddenly he came back to life and introduced him, “Right! Yes! Sorry, y/n, this is George, my best friend and bandmate. George, this is Annie's teacher, y/n!”

You wave politely at George, and he waves back, cheekily saying, “Ah yes, y/n! I've heard SO MUCH about you” which earns him an elbow in the stomach from Matty.

You obsess over him saying this FOR MONTHSSSS. “But what did he mean??? So much?? From Matty or Annie??? Or adam?? Probably not from Matty… BUT WHAT IF IT WAS??" (your cat does not respond to this rant sadly)

Soon after, your name is called, and you couldn't run away quicker, internally dying at Matty seeing you like this. Matty and George sit down, and Matty is staring out the window, looking in the direction you walked off in wistfully and sighing. 

George taps his nails against the cup to bring Matty back and is just about to start talking about the track they were working on but Matty starts talking before he can. 

“So…?” Matty says with a lovesick look in his eyes.

George briefly considers not humouring Matty and ignoring what he said, but he plays along anyway, “Yeah she seems really cool Matty, just like you described.” 

“I don't talk about her that much! … but yeah, she is really cool. And pretty too, right? Just absolutely gorgeous. But not in a weird way or an ‘I like her’ way just… objectively” he says unsurely, as if he is trying to convince himself as well as George.

With a heavy sigh, knowing no work will get done today, George agrees with Matty “Yes Matty she is very pretty.”

A few seconds of silence pass, and George can't help himself,

“You totally like her though”

“GEORGE NO I DON'T. LISTEN OKAY JUST BECAUSE-”

blurb masterlist

[the-passenger-if]

Hello! Are you gonna be working on a new project or maybe a sequel to this game? (Sorry I haven't been closely following your blog ever since the game released)

combining it with

Now that tnp is out in curious, are you planning to work on anymore games or will it just be tnp? Very happy either way, just wondering!

and

Will you ever write another IF?

also with

are you planning on making any other games?

and

hiya! are ya planning to make another game sometimem

I'm currently working on two different projects. I discuss the one that's more mentally taxing here.

The other is a recent idea I've been playing with after wondering what my take on a "monster boyfriend" romantasy book would look like.

Project N.1 can be a bit exhausting for me because of the trauma and this need I have to get it just right. I've realized I'm not yet at the level I should be as an author to do it justice, so I finished the zero draft, I wrote some of the game, and shelved it for later. I think playing Disco Elysium was the little push I needed to put this project on the back burner until I got better at the craft, because damn, isn't that game great. I know the trilogy will never be perfect, but I want to look at it and feel like it's a decent representation of what I went/am going through.

So, what am I working on right now? I decided to go for something less intense and romantasy is fun and the sort of genre that has me wanting to write my own spin on the stereotypes I see popping up again and again. Seriously, I want to fight all the popular authors in this genre—creative spars have always been great at getting me in a writing mood.

Project N. 2 will be a standalone about what our world would be like if Sirens had shown up in the fifties and had taken humans as soulmates and whisked them to their Siren realm, marrying them, and having a bunch of kids with them. The game is about what happens when the main character says, "No, thanks. Not my thing." There'll be three romantic options (none of them is the Siren that kidnapped you) one is non-binary, the other two can be either male or female (your pick), and all of them are bisexual.

This game is a lot less challenging to write and closer to satire. I'm having a lot of fun imagining character interactions because the Sirens are hyper-mega rich and powerful while MC and the person that gets roped into this mess alongside them very much aren't.

[ratsoh-writes]

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Characters in relationships:

Honey

Salt

Sparks

Mal

Cash

Pop

Rhythm

Pluto

Jupiter

Lilac

Coffee

Pretty much all the mafias except tempest

Moose

Peaches

Alden

Cricket

Compass

Pitch

Ram

Jasper

Artemis

Lush

Rust

Special exceptions

Red/oak: are soulbonded together but if someone’s brave enough to try and seduce both of them it could happen

Current kids in play:

Leo: lush and kei

Rosie Fran Bruno: rust and Ann

Theo Berlin: butch darlin snipe

Winnie: sugar

Wisp Aimé dove Lucy: kovu

Lacey: Marcelo and the harem lol

Swing: pop E

Akira: katana sparks

Ollie: Nicky honey salt

Current issues/drama

This past week, salts been feeling kinda… funny. He isn’t sure if he’s catching a bug or not, so he’s hoping that it’ll go away on its own. It sucks though that food just tastes off right now.

With the recall of human feminine sanitary products due to recent discoveries about their dangers, demand for coven made sanitary panties and hormone balancing potions has skyrocketed. Supply doesn’t meet the demand, and the royals were convinced by protests over the issue from the human health union to sell portions of land underground to the main suppliers of the ingredients to dedicate more time to the products

A hurricane is set to hit ebotts eastern shores this week. Atlantis is being secured while seashore is being evacuated to nearby farming towns as winds pick up.

G was mugged on the way home a few days ago and fought his mugger off with magic. Unfortunately it flared up his normally dormant dimming and he’s in the hospital. It’s looking like he’ll be stuck there for a few weeks until his magic stabilizes again.

Good news:

Baby Lior is making headlines with the most recent video of him posted by one of the orphanage children. The baby is absolutely fascinated by his orphan sisters toy disco ball. Many monsters report that his curious coos have “healed their souls” and “watered their crops” and “paid their bills”.

Rancher has won best in show once more with two of his cows. Five time winner, the tank, naturally placed as third. Amazing for the dairy cows age. First place is “tank jr”, the daughter of the tank.

The underwater stone barrier from the Jurassic park to the ocean has been completed. This special structure, a passion project between titanic and founder, is a metal mesh gate enchanted to last and keep any ancient creatures in the park so that they don’t travel and decimate the wildlife outside. It’s been labelled the largest enchanted tool in ebott and nomad history.

With the recent Godzilla movies finally hitting ebott, Godzilla and King Kong have taken over ebott’s fashion with jungle print and Godzilla merch being all the rage.