#is because it's fixating on something that i like

[caughtthedarkness93]

To add to this - often intrusive thoughts are hard to talk about because they lead to a self-perpetuating spiral of shame and horror. It can be complex and multilayered. I've had a long history of intrusive thoughts and OCD fixations about my sexuality or gender identity, and those in turn create their own sense of shame because I don't think anything is wrong with being gay or trans - I just know I'm not. But then my brain goes - ok, but if you don't think there's anything wrong with it, then why are you resisting the involuntary thoughts about it so hard? if you think it's perfectly fine, when your brain goes "Hey, you're this thing," why do you scramble so hard to say no? To prove to yourself that you aren't?

And the answer, of course, is because you just...aren't. And something in you can still feel it. Something in you still knows it. You can feel the noise your mind is feeding you coming into conflict with your sense of self and identity. You can feel it taking everything that's ever contradicted that sense of self and identity and throwing it in your face, no matter how irrational or otherwise explicable. You can feel the part of you that still knows what you are and is content in that going "Wait, this doesn't feel right."

You can feel it all happening at once, like a war in your mind, and it's not a fun experience.

For this Disability Pride Month, I saw a post that was shittybad and it made me angry. So have this

[shy-writer-999]

Subby Ace + aphrodisiacs: your top turned bottom!

Summary: Poor Ace has gotten into something with sex pollen in it. He's a mess and you're the only person who can help him. There's something delightful about seeing your very dominant boyfriend reduced to begging, whining, and even crying for a crumb of your pleasure. CW: straight up SMUT. very very pathetic needy filthy whiny ace. afab reader w/gendered language ('princess'); sex, edging, masturbation, blow job, hand job, dacryphilia, overstimulation, you name it. countless orgasms from ace, use of 'good boy' and 'pretty boy.' minors do not interact - nsfw content!

Ace is so dramatic and sensitive in bed. It gets worse when he goes on an outing by himself, and just so happens to get exposed to some form of sex pollen. He staggers back to the ship and comes straight to you.

He just won’t stop cumming. He can’t stop cumming.

His face is twisted up in anguish and he’s frowning, genuinely so miserable you think he’s about to cry.

“Baby, please help me, I’m going crazy.”

His erection looks bigger than usual—you didn’t think that was possible, and for a split second you’re worried that it won’t fit at all. But of course it will. It has fit countless times before.

“I need you. I’m begging you, sweetheart, please.” He frowns and does puppy dog eyes at you. Your heart melts, but you have to set him straight.

“Ace,” you tut. “You don’t ever need to beg for me.”

“Can I, though?” He smiles back, and it looks like a bit of a grimace.

“I’ll allow it. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

Ace nods. “Of course.” He’s thrilled at the idea of you being in control.

You sit down on the bed next to him and rest a hand on his thigh. He flinches.

“Fuck.” You can see his cock jump through the fabric of his underwear.

A simple hand on his skin like this is enough to make him squirm? It’s going to be a fun night. He looks pathetic and miserable right now. His brows are bent at the middle and he’s doing the cutest, saddest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“Touch me more, beautiful,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, mouth hanging open in concentration. His mind is fixated how your cool skin feels against his, how soft your hand is, how close you are to his throbbing hard on.

Your fingers wander over his skin, conjuring goosebumps and shudders, eliciting whimpering sounds from Ace’s pretty lips. The whimpers quickly turn into muted sounds of pleasure.

Precum seeps through the fabric of his underwear and you pity him, reaching your fingers upwards to pull the waistband down. When his cock springs out, sure enough, it’s bigger than usual, a fact which is both troubling and tantalizing.

The tip of his long shaft is red, inflamed, and defined. It glistens in the light from the dim lamp in the corner of his cabin, highlighting the precum that smears his head and continues to seep out—it’s a ridiculous amount of precum. You’ve never seen this much before.

You take a moment to admire him. Your eyes wander from his erection to his defined abs and dark, thin happy trail. Your eyes meet his. His pupils are huge and there’s a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead that mats down the hair around his temples.

Ace is trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard because his body is screaming for attention.

“Please, princess. Use me. Do anything you want to me.” His voice comes out as a whisper, tinted in reverence, and bathed in lust.

When you hum in reply, you stand up, slipping off your underwear and bra. He scoots back onto the pillows and his thighs widen while you get on top of him. Your lower yourself down to sit on top of his erection. You don’t fuck him yet, though. You just lay his shaft flat on your core and stay there for a second.

Some teasing couldn’t hurt. So, you slowly start to roll your hips, rubbing yourself on Ace’s wet shaft. It’s starting to get you worked up, too, and before you know it, you’re soaking wet.

Gasp after gasp tumbles out of his mouth and no less than thirty seconds later, he starts to seize up below you, cumming on his lower abdomen. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and he’s lying there panting.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out, again begging for something he knows he’ll get if he only waits patiently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Poor thing.” You lean down and kiss him. Even the mere feeling of your lips on his makes him let out the softest groan. He feels like his whole body is on fire, but it’s in a way he’s never felt before, different from the logia fire he’s so accustomed to.

His kisses quickly turn greedy and sloppy, and every drag of your aching core over his cock makes him let out repressed puffs of air in your mouth. Soon, he’s moaning straight into your mouth.

God, he’s so worked up it’s starting to be more fun than you imagined.

Lining up his sticky wet tip with your entrance, you finally start to sink down onto his cock, going deliberately slow so he doesn’t cum again (yet). But when he bottoms out, his hips buck up inadvertently, hitting your gooey hot spot inside.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Ace groans again. “Feels, ah, feels so good.”

He’s practically keening at this point, back almost arching off the bed, fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You start to ride him slowly. Whatever way feels best. Sometimes you pull yourself up his shaft so only the tip is inside and plunge it back in, other times you keep him inside of you and grind your hips back and forth. One moment, you brace your hands on his chest for more leverage; the next moment, you lean in and kiss his neck, leaving love bites in a trail from his neck to his shoulder. The contact draws out a body-wracking moan from the dark-haired man beneath you—the sounds he’s making are delicious.

He cums aggressively again, hips jerking upwards. Each press of his cock up hits your g-spot and when he feels your body shift in response it drives him crazier.

Ace’s fingers are pulling you downwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you.

“Need more,” he chokes out.

When your legs start to burn, he does all the work for you. Muscly, rough hands come under your thighs, moving you effortlessly up and down until you’re the one cumming, writhing in ecstasy on top of him.

But Ace still doesn’t want to stop. “Keep going, please.”

He has the habit of saying please in bed. It’s endearing. When he asks so nicely, it’s hard to say no.

So, your hips move more. And more. And more. Until they’re numb and he’s fucking you stupid.

You’ve collapsed on top of him now, mewling in his neck from each thrust. “C’mon baby, give me another.” You murmur in his ear, voice seductive and honeyed. It’s all he needs to hear before he literally cums on command.

He’s usually an animal in bed. Buy boy, whatever sex pollen or aphrodisiac he ran into today is doing a number on him. You, very obviously, have no issue with it.

Feral sounds escape his lips while Ace pumps more of his hot seed inside. It’s seeping out of you, creeping down the sides of his body, and saturating the fabric of the bedspread below him. It’s going to leave a massive, milky-white stain. And he isn’t done yet.

“Keep going,” he looks absolutely pathetic. “Please, please, I—I’m going crazy.” He can barely get the words out, so pussydrunk and out of it that he’s on the verge of drooling.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Missionary. But you’re going to go nice and slow, okay?”

Ace nods vigorously in return. He repositions. One of his warm hands is on your waist now, while the other gropes upwards to massage and caress your chest.

He takes his time, just like you told him. From this angle, you can see his face more—and it’s glistening, evidently he’s been crying. He’s been crying because of how good it feels. Something about the idea is wildly erotic. He wants pleasure so badly that he’s begging and crying over it, literal tears from those pretty brown eyes.

Every orgasm feels better than the last. He shoots more seed inside of you again, quickly, almost immediately upon entering you. But there’s a rebound period before his second orgasm where you decide to be a bit cruel.

“Slower, Ace.”

He complies, hips shaking, moving centimeters at a time. There’s so much cum inside of you that it’s almost sloshing out, squelching so loud you’re thankful no one is around to hear. His eyes are glued to where the cum seeps out of you, drinking up the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with every pass.

Gravelly, obscene groans tumble out from him every second—it’s almost a constant stream.

“Wanna go faster,” he rasps, eyes snapping up to yours. You see more tears gathering on his lash line.

“Not yet, baby. Be a good boy and wait for it, okay?”

When he hears you call him that—good boy—a strangled sounding gasp erupts from his lips and his hips shudder. “Fuuuuhhhccckkk.”

Desperate, heaving breaths accompany his extreme efforts. He’s trying not to cum, trying not to buck and rut haphazardly and mindlessly into your cunt like some animal in heat.

A couple more moments of agonizing slowness pass. When you’ve decided he’s behaved, and when you’re similarly desperate enough, you give him the go ahead.

“Faster.”

His hips snap into action and he’s cumming again within a couple seconds. It’s amazing that he still has cum to give, that he’s not completely shooting blanks at this point, that he hasn’t drained his balls completely yet. But, surely, he’ll get there.

“Mmmpppphhhh,” he moans, deafeningly loud. “Ah, ah, fuck, f-feels so good, fuck.”

“Keep going, ‘m close,” you keen his name and his hips pick up the pace. Each time his cock pushes on your sweet spot it makes you see stars. You’re getting close and he’s getting overstimulated.

When you cum again the pleasure is white-hot and euphoric, buzzing every nerve in your body. Ace does the same—he’s too sensitive, can’t handle the feeling of your walls squeezing and milking him for long before he’s careening into his own wave of euphoria.

He slows down and starts to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He’s sweaty and his body is hot. Looks like the sex pollen is making his devil fruit powers a bit harder to control.

“You want some more, handsome?” You ask, and he nods eagerly. When you move from underneath him, you ask him to lay on his back. Rifling through a bedside drawer, you bring out your vibrator. You usually keep it in his cabin because that’s where you get the most use out of it. But today, instead of using it on yourself, you’re going to try something new.

While you’re grabbing the toy, Ace reaches a hand down to start touching himself but you tell him to knock it off.

“You need to sit there and be good for me. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum unless I say so, okay?”

When he hears your stern tone, Ace puts his hands behind his head, and peers down to see what happens next. It’s hard for him to stay still, but he tries his very best.

Situating yourself between his thick thighs, you turn the vibrator on and bring it to the head of Ace’s cock. He almost immediately starts to seize up. He’s going to cum again. But where would the fun be if you just let him?

You take the vibrator away and frown. “Do I need to tell you again? Don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.”

He pouts and nods. You bring the vibrator back and put it on the lowest setting setting. He’s hardly holding on as is, but when you turn the vibrator’s speed up, he starts to writhe in pleasure.

“’m close,” he whines, biting his lip.

You take the vibrator off again, met with a strangled sounding cry of frustration from Ace. He takes a few minutes to cool back down until he’s ready for you to start again.

Twenty, no, thirty minutes pass like this until he’s on the verge of tears again. When you finally let him have it, he asks so nicely. It’s not like he hasn’t been asking nicely before, but this time his voice cracks and you can see the tears in his lash line.

“C-can I please, please cum?” He’s being so sweet and needy. It’s crazy to think this is the strong, courageous man who has protected you countless times. Reduced to a sniveling mess, asking for another orgasm.

You say yes. He’s being so polite, so why not?

After this orgasm, he’s almost ready to tap out. He can use his safe word, obviously but… he really doesn’t want to. It feels too good. He’ll keep going for as long as he physically can.

“You still have another couple to give me, right? Don’t you want to be good for me and keep going?” You say, looking up from between his thighs. The tip of his cock is inflamed from the relentless vibrating, and his abdomen is coated in a sheen of his own cum. He’s at the point where he doesn’t care about anything, fucked-out with his mind empty.

When he nods his head mindlessly, you take your turn. You sink down on his cock (again) and ride him for as long as it takes you to orgasm. For the record, it doesn’t take long, but Ace has lost track of time.

He’s being louder than usual. Every few seconds he lets out some form of a whine, a whimper, a “fuck,” a “please,” or a “’s too much.” His cheeks are bright red, accentuating those cute freckles, and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s so handsome it makes your stomach flip. He’s falling apart with minimal effort, and he’s all hands, too. He grabs handfuls of the plush skin of your hips and ass, kneading and getting himself more wound up.

Ace cums once while you’re working up to your own orgasm, then again when you’re cumming on his cock, and then a third time, when you pull yourself off his length and wrap a hand around his shaft. Every time he cums, you encourage and praise him. It drives him crazier.

“There’s a good boy,” you say. “Keep going for me. Don’t stop.”

You talk dirty to him while you give him one very long hand job. He eats it up, loves the idea of you speaking filth to nobody but him. Before you started seeing each other, he couldn’t imagine you had this sort of mouth on you—not in his wildest dreams. It’s his delight every time you’re in bed that you feel comfortable enough with him to talk like this.

“You’re just too sweet I can’t stop Ace,” your voice oozes in desire. “And you’re being so good for me.”

“’s good?” He slurs, holding your eye contact as much as he can manage.

“Mmmhm. Tell me what it feels like. Use your words, okay?”

His eyes flutter and his voice comes out as a whisper. “So good. F-feels so fucking good.”

You coo in his ear and bite his earlobe softly. “Don’t I always make you feel so good?” He nods in a silent reply, rocking his hips up to fuck himself with your fist.

As you milk more cum from him, he reaches a hand up—you initially think he’s going for your chest, but his hand falls on your cheek and he attempts to pull you into a kiss. He’s a bit weak in his current state, so you oblige him by leaning in.

It’s just gut-wrenchingly cute of him to be fucked dumb like this and still want to get kisses from you. He’s just thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, is who he ended up with.

While you explore his mouth with your tongue, and cup his face with your free hand, his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He cums again. The fact that he still has cum to give is preposterous in itself. You’ve lost track of time at this point, too.

You make him eat you out and he’s (understandingly) sloppy with it. His hot mouth feels just right on your core, and he pays just enough attention to your clit. Feeling you pull on his hair makes him feel more aroused than he thought possible.

So, he’s ready to fuck you again. He goes for another round in missionary, then puts you into a mating press. Afterwards, he gets tuckered out and you figure that he has one good one left in him, or, rather, he probably has more to give but he really should give it a rest after that. It would be way too cruel to make him keep going after this one, right? You’ll decide the answer to this question after he cums for you again.

“One more, Ace,” you pet his ruffled up hair and grace him with kisses. “You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty boy?”

He nods obediently.

“There you go,” you purr and start to trace your lips down his abdomen, licking up a small portion of the very large mess he’s made on himself.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s about to get one of his very favorite things—a blowjob from none other than yourself.

He lifts his head up and watches in awe as you lick a long stripe up his shaft and then take him whole, hollowing your cheeks before you start to suck him off. You’re gentle at first, until he starts moaning louder, then you figure fuck it, he can cum. You let him off easy this time. He’s just been so good for you.

When you look up from your position between his legs, you make eye contact, nod, and then hum. It sends him over the edge. Ace’s fingers snake into your hair and he holds your head down as he cums down your throat.

“C-cumming, ‘m cumming, ah, fuck, fuhhhcckkk that feels good,” his groans are harsh and loud.

He’s so sweet afterwards that it’s heart melting. You know that he must be tired, but he doesn’t act the part. Not when you’ve been so good to him, when you’ve praised him, taken your time with him, coddled and kissed him. It almost makes you feel guilty how affectionate he is.

Pulling into you a long, tender kiss, he so sweetly says, “fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe someone like me gets to be with someone like you.”

You cup his cheeks and tell him to cut it out. Of course someone like him gets to be with someone like you. He’s perfect, after all. You cuddle him in bed for a while before he, again, very politely, asks if you’d help clean him up. He’s positively covered in cum and doesn’t want to stain anything else more than he already has. Seems like this is another pair of bedsheets that can be considered properly soiled. Not like that will stop you from doing the same thing in the future.

Now, where did he come across that sex pollen again?

this style of writing for me (when i just write straight up smut with no plot) is akin to a sort of slop. i am the lunch lady handing out scoops of questionable and most likely unsatisfying mush BUT sometimes on a good day it is delicious... i can only hope the slop today did not disappoint... >_> cant say this one is my absolute fave so apologies if it's trash T-T but i love the idea of him being so whiny like this..!!

check out my masterlist and also the best piece i've written on ace so far, if you liked this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

taglist @eggrollforyou

[verstappentime]

idk there's something so tender about lestappen linking up during driver's parades. there's 18 other people there but they're fixated on each other. they chose to spend this little time they have the opportunity to see each other (because they don't hang out "outside of work" as far as we know) glued to each other, they're so locked in giving the other their full attention, they're slowing down so the other one can walk up the stairs next to them. they're not even really friends but they like each other's company, respect the other's opinion and want to listen to each other. idk. i love it

[kirbmey]

— s1!jayvik headcanons (＞×＜)

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

— masterlist.

[taffywabbit]

I've been thinking about this song a lot again since yesterday, and if you'll indulge me in being overly wordy and a bit sentimental, I kinda wanna share some of my thoughts here:

so I alluded to this a bit while rambling on bluesky earlier, but early in the process of composing this song I REALLY wanted it to have lyrics. I tried writing some, and having looked at them again this morning, frankly they're kinda garbage and I stand by my decision to scrap them and let the music just speak for itself. but I only really wanted to write lyrics in the first place because I got ONE specific line (and subsequently a chorus, or at least one version of it) stuck in my head and wanted the rest of the song to kinda revolve around it.

the scrapped verses were sorta loosely about how, when you're younger, you tend to have a very straightforward and simple sense of optimism and justice - kids generally believe that things WILL just work out somehow, and often have surprisingly obvious and on-point responses when they learn about societal issues, but adults will often talk down to them and tell them they just don't understand how the real world works yet. and as you get older, that optimism gets conflated heavily with childlike naivety and kinda gets metaphorically beaten out of a lot of people over time, until they're just kinda consigned to the status quo and thinking of societal problems being too large/permanent for them to fix or influence.

this song was meant to embody a sense of rebellious optimism - a stubborn belief that we have a say in the kind of world we live in, and furthermore that our inner child would never forgive us for shrugging and giving up now that we're finally Adults and Adults are supposed to be the ones with the power to actually Fix Things. it was meant to evoke some nostalgia too, sure - thus the title "Grass Stains", which came from the scrapped first verse about childhood, and also just the general musical style being reminiscent of pop punk music I really liked as a kid and still tend to associate with summertime and old video games from that era. but more than that, I wanted to convey the idea that, sooner or later, we have to stop waiting for the Adults to decide how to fix things and get a hand on the ball ourselves; the idea that growing up should empower us, not make us cynical and detached and too tired to care anymore.

anyways, I will spare you most of the unfinished lyrics because I really do promise they're not interesting or good at all, but here's the chorus part and the specific last line that I was really fixated on back then and (for reasons that are probably not hard to imagine) thinking a lot about again now:

you keep pacing

so sullenly facing

away from the task left to you

why can't you see it?

if you want hope, then be it

those gears aren't just going to move

you gotta change the world, before it changes you

so yeah. shit's rough out there right now. shit's been rough for a while and it's gonna continue being rough for the foreseeable future. like I mentioned in the original caption, i wrote this song when I was feeling pretty awful (both mentally and physically, actually - I'm pretty sure I had covid for the second time when I made this lol) and needed something to perk up my mood, and it... kinda worked honestly? and now when I listen to it again I still kinda get a boost from it, especially if I let myself think back to the original message I was trying to imbue it with. it's hard for me to feel totally hopeless or unmotivated while I'm listening to it, and I hope that energy sorta comes through for other people too (though I would obviously be just as happy that people like the music I made anyways, without deeper context or ideas attached to it).

I guess i just wanna say this: remember that the world's gonna change one way or another, but your contributions to it are never meaningless, and their absence would be felt. and you also have the power to embolden and support those around you to become a stronger force for good together. the only real way to fail in all of this is to give up and lay down and let whatever happens wash over you, to believe them when they treat you like you're too small to be a threat or a challenge. and even if you don't believe your efforts matter to anyone else, let them matter to you. if you want hope, then be it. strive to be a force for good in spite of all opposition, and that goodness will in turn continue to propel you forwards.

ok I think that's about as sappy I can stand to be, I'm going to bed lol

hey i finished a new song!! check it out!!

my prompt for starting this was essentially "i'm in a bad mood and i want to make music that'll fix that". apparently what that translated to was whatever genre "music that would make 9-year-old me think they could do a backflip off the swings at the park" is, but like... it DID cheer me up? so, mission accomplished? i hope you enjoy it too!

♫ made with OpenMPT! ✎ cover art by me!

[pastlivesxpastlie]

𓍯𓂃Lovesick

mdni 18+

Summary: Vessel becomes fixated with you after you provide him some comfort at a party. Are you as gone for him, too? Pairing: Vessel x fem!reader wc: 4.7k head's up: vessel x you, smut with plot, friends to lovers, afab!reader, no y/n, oral sex (m receiving), pining + yearning, talk of male masturbation, texting, absolutely idiots in love, angst, bit of a slow burn (?), use of "good boy" and "good girl," tit play, couch sex, cowgirl, light choking, HEA, threats of waxing poetic about progressive metal

Taglist aka Situation Enjoyers™️: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @cheomain @evisnotok

“On your knees….please. Yes, like that. Mmmmph. Thank you.”

Vessel can’t help but still be polite. He can’t believe his eyes. Nor the feeling of the night air on his hard cock. He’s floating above himself and watching himself get jerked off outside at a house party. It’s not enough that he feels the spit on your palm. That could be his hand and this is just an elaborate fantasy. One of many.

But it would be the first about you. You were untouchable. You’re just a friend…just a friend…just a friend…only a friend. 

“Can I use my mouth?”

Holy fuck. This is real life.

In his fantasies, no one asks. Vessel doesn’t dream about giving consent. He dreams of being craved. Taken. Always willing. His breath catches. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you whisper, “we don’t have to anyth-“

“Do anything to me. Please.”

His head falls back with a soft thud against the house. Getting head was always fun but this felt therapeutic. You had, of course, asked Ves why he seemed down. You always asked him those kinds of things. “Someone who cares asks those things,” he’d told himself, “but someone who loves you does something about it.” Now you’re on your knees in the dirt sucking him off. How did this even happen?

𓍯𓂃earlier...

Vessel slumped in the couch and mindlessly dragged his fingers on his thigh. He had made his rounds and said “hi” to the people he wanted to talk to and smiled awkwardly at the people he sought to avoid or didn’t know. He deserved a little sit down after that. The past few months had put him in a rut. There was always a post-tour slump but this one hit different. Vessel felt down. Down because he had writer’s block. Down because it had been gloomy this week and the week before and before that etc etc. Down because his bed was cold. Thinking back on the hook-ups during tour already got boring. The old encounters going stale. Does he hook up again with someone randomly against his better judgement or does he deal with it?

On more than one occasion, Vessel had been accused of being naive when it came to love, to which he responded, “I’m just being cautious.” Where some might be naive about love and affection and throw themselves at the first person who did the bare minimum, Vessel was naive in that he just figured people were being nice or he just got lucky. Otherwise, people didn’t really want to mess with being in a relationship with a musician. They’re broody. They’re too busy. They’re married to their work. They’re full of themselves. Vessel internalized those things. Sure he was broody to begin with, but that was his brand. But everything else, sure, he could be married to his work and keep himself busy. “Just earth sign things!” Easy as that. And maybe one day someone else’s indifference towards commitment would rub off on him. His rumination is interrupted when the couch sinks a bit beside him and he feels a soft punch on his arm. 

“What does it mean when I don’t get ‘hi�� or your awkward smile, hm?”

His heart warms up a bit. It’s you. You teeter somewhere between “friend” and “good friend.” It’s always nice to see you but you leave it at that. You see each other when you see each other. He shrugs and looks over at you. “Didn’t see you. Bet you were hiding or something.” 

“Tsk. Fine. Maybe I was. We know too much about each other’s awkward little quirks,” you sigh. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you, though. How you been?”

Vessel laughs to himself, thinking of the miserable spiral you interrupted. “Imagine how much more awkward this could get if I told you the truth.” But you don’t laugh at his little self-deprecation. That makes him nervous. His insides churn. You’re just watching him, waiting to hear what he has to say. Why do you do that? So many people ask “how are you” because it’s polite…why do you care so much? “Look.” Vessel finally speaks again and flattens his hair. “I’m not great.” 

You shift and exhale softly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He can see it in your eyes. You’re not trying to have some misery-loves-company-circlejerk. You have that same “mask” on as him. “Hate to hear that.” For a second Vessel feels something stir within him. Your tone is unenthusiastic but he knows it has nothing to do with him. He’s just glad to bond with someone, even if it’s over something lame like depression or whatever is eating at you both. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh just…general bullshit.” You shrug but Vessel knows whatever it is, you can’t just shrug it off. “Like if I’m so stuck, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Even if it hurts.”

He makes an “o” shape with his mouth and is lost in thought. He has certainly felt that way before, but hearing you say it about yourself is heretical. He hates that you think that way. “No.”

“Oh. Well…alright. Thanks Ves, you healed me.” You chuckle dryly. He rolls his eyes and pats your leg. “So what’s got you down? For real.”

Vessel’s smile fades. “I feel…stuck as well. Just…going through the motions.” He scratches the back of his neck. “All the excitement of the last couple of months just…ripped from me. Gets hard to keep up with my emotions when I’m…frankly…bored. Bored of feeling this way. My own company.”

“I get that. Like you have to have things changing or moving all the time.”

“Exactly. Like some kind of jump that isn’t a substance or…whatever.”

“Hah…yeah… sometimes I just feel like…” you begin but pause.

“Like what?” Why are you blushing like that, he wonders idly. And why is it suddenly the cutest thing he’s ever seen?

“Uhm. I feel like…I need to get laid. That would fix me, right? Huge load of emotions and hormones released with someone you like…what could be better?”

“Oh is it that simple?” Vessel laughs. A genuine, warm laugh. You’re so silly, he just loves talking to you. And he loves how you laugh with him. He was scared for a second that you might take it personally, but he’s glad to see that you too have a sick sense of humor when you’re feeling unwell. 

“Maybe it is. Guess…we won’t know until…” you trail off.

“Until we try…” Vessel’s throat goes dry. He tries to swallow hard before nonchalantly scoping out how many people were on the patio. 

𓍯𓂃

Vessel always had to make things happen, and he was fucking exhausted from it. Now you were happening to him. You clued in on what he wanted when he suggested you both get some fresh air. Hell, you were the one who found the perfect spot for this tryst. 

“Y-you like doing that?” he whimpers. He can’t make out much of your features but he feels you nod and smile and…fuck, take him deeper in your mouth. He’s holding his breath. He knows he shouldn’t but if he doesn’t exert some kind of control over himself he’ll lose it. But when you grab his waist and start literally fucking your face with his cock he has to let go. He grips your hair, willing himself to resist overpowering you and thrusting harder against your movements. “Ffffff-fffuck.” He whimpers softly and bites at his lip… wishing you had kissed him before you got started so he could imagine it again while you savored every inch of him. His entire body shivers when you moan against his cock, making him realize you like the sound of his whimpers. His pathetic little pleas and moans.

“‘That feel good, Ves?” You whisper, stroking his cock as you catch your breath? “Hmm?”

He nods and whines, trying to not be loud. Thank god it was dark, otherwise you would have seen the tears threatening to spill. The way he bit his hand to keep from moaning out loud. What if you two got caught? What if another friend heard what you pulled from him? “Fuck…you’re gonna make me cum…”

“That’s a good boy.” Vessel feels his stomach drop as you start sucking him off again but with more enthusiasm. Like you need him to cum. And he does. But you don’t move…you keep your mouth on him. And he  might be the one cumming down your throat but he’s not claiming you. No. 

You. 

Own. 

Him. 

Somehow, and much to his delight, Vessel does not lose sleep over the ordeal or his new-found, all-consuming feelings for you. In fact, he’s never slept better. Sleeping once meant loud, restless dreams; now it means a nestling in and wondering about you before dozing off…imagining he’s holding you. He keeps telling himself it’s infatuation. It’ll go away. He’s just starstruck from the way you took care of him. But then…the ruminating started…

Each morning, Vessel wondered about you. Maybe today you’ll share something on Instagram that he can make a little comment on. Send a react. Yes, sure, you’re friends, but you’re not “close.” When he looked into your soft, sweet eyes the other night he wondered how a darling little thing like you learned to give head like that. Suddenly your life story became his Roman Empire. Were you a natural? Did someone give you gentle pointers the first few times? Or did you have to do it a lot to get good? Did you have to go jumping from man to man to find the love you so desperately craved? This made Vessel’s blood run cold. The thought of sweet, wonderful you merely being an option to other men. A small voice told Vessel that perhaps he himself was just an option. Maybe you did stuff like this a lot. One among many. Vessel chided this voice. Locked it in a dark little room with no ventilation. You were good. You wouldn’t use anyone. In fact, you probably did learn this from practice because who wouldn’t love you?

Vessel knows he’s being stupid. You two like each other but he won’t reach out. Then again, you don’t reach out either. That’s ok. He had no coherent plan of moving things forward. He was also terrified the spark you two shared would be gone if you tried hanging out again. What if you couldn’t handle his schedule? Or didn’t find it endearing when his moods never let up? What if that stupid voice was right? Most of the time, he resigned himself back to “I’ll see her when I see her,” and a cheeky wank to take the edge off. But that always left him feeling guilty. Empty. 

This particular morning he had been deep in thought about what your favorite position might be and how many times he could make you cum just from fucking you at a torturous pace that way. Today’s position of choice was doggy, but bent over his desk, on top of his notes from recording and writing sessions. That was what you deserved. You drove him to absolutely hopeless distraction…you should be bent over while he stands behind you, fingers melting into your flesh, holding you in place. He swears this will be the last time he jerks off thinking about you…but because of that he can’t help but edge himself. Thinking about you is easy. Not because you yourself are easy…but because Vessel realizes how naturally desirable you are. Seeing the way you took control and took care of him opened his mind to this entirely new world of fantasies. The heat blooming from his groin to his tummy made him stop for the third time. Yes, in this fantasy you were bent over for him…but there was more to it. You were doing him a favor. Good boys got to take breaks. Good boys stuck in a rut need to empty their brains and fill up their girlfriends. FUCK he wanted you to be his girlfriend so bad. And that thought scared him…as does the sound of his phone buzzing a few times. His train of thought vanishes along with his hard-on. Cursing whoever who messaging him this early, he grabs his phone but then makes the most embarrassing noise known to man. 

You: hey isn’t this a band you like?

the second message is the link to an instagram post

You: they’re doing a last minute show next weekend 

And sure enough, one of his favorite niche prog metal bands was playing in place of someone else at a local venue on Saturday. And tickets were dead cheap. Another message. 

You: if I knew anything about metal I’d go with you. Not sure how much fun I’d be 

Sirens! Flashing lights! All the bells and whistles going off in Vessel’s brain are firing. His inner little voices of reason (and everything in between) begin a debate.

“She’s flirting!” “Obviously, she’s flirting she sucked your dick.” “Can’t be that deep mate, she’s just now talking to you after a month.” “Sure it is, it is has to be flirting! She’s practically begging for you to invite her!”

Vessel: lol I could send you a playlist :)

“Mate, come on, what are you doing?” “Invite her over to hear the playlist. That’ll will be cute” “and then fuck her. Fuck her like the sl—“

Vessel rolls over and screams in his pillow. He will not have a meltdown over this.

Vessel: or we could throw you in feet first? Come with me? 

… … … 

Those infernal fucking “typing” bubbles are killing him. 3 minutes of that. Then no response. Vessel isn’t sure what he did wrong or if he did do anything wrong. He tries to go about his day but there’s still that nagging suspicion that he did too much. But when he least expects it…

You: sorry this is so last minute. are you busy tonight? 

Vessel: no, I’m not. Why?

He bites his lip as he waits to see what you’re planning. He wonders if you want to talk about what happened…or maybe do it again…or maybe act like nothing happened. 

You: I just don’t want to be alone tonight.  Vessel: I don’t want to be either.

It’s set then. He’ll go to your place…maybe have some drinks…maybe get a chance to thank you for the fun. He wanted to taste you. To make you cum like he did for you. Too many nights he spent wondering what you’re into. He had cast you in his mind as a soft domme, probably just because that’s what tickled his fancy at the time. But you had this caring…almost nurturing sense about you that night. You touched him like he was precious…like he would break if you didn’t take your time. He wanted to show you he was tougher than that. He could take it. The mere thought of even getting a chance to kiss you and make you feel even a fraction of the pleasure you gave him made his cock twitch. The time between now and when he was reunited with you would be torture.

But when he gets to your place, he doesn’t feel confident enough to act smooth or even touch you. If anything, he wanted to touch your hair. Literally just brush back the strands you missed when you tucked it behind your ear. Finally he musters the courage to stand beside you as you’re getting him some water. You’ve sucked his dick, the least he can do is move your hair. He moves in for the kill…but perhaps a bit too fast, because just as his hand reaches your personal space, you turn your head to look up at him and... receive a cheek full of Vessel knuckles. 

He moves quickly to cup your face, desperate to show you he didn’t mean to whack you, but he’s greeted with a surprised chuckle and your smile. Not that one you put on for friends or staged photos…your real smile. He could die happy right now. Just absolutely melt. If he ever wanted to write true, honest to god love ballads he would think back to this moment. This gooey, gushy feeling. He feels confident, the same confidence the mask gives him, and presses a soft kiss where he accidentally got you.

“Ves…” 

You still smile but he sees something behind your eyes. Vessel keeps his hands on your face…his heart breaking and stomach dropping. He had noticed you weren’t posting regularly on your socials and even then you seemed a bit less animated. He’s learned your tells. There’s smudges from yesterday’s eyeliner that somehow looks effortless but still betrays the fact that you didn’t wash your face last night. In his mind, Vessel likened you to a shrinking violet. The kindest, most gorgeous girl who ever graced him with her presence trying to hide herself away. This wouldn’t do. Even though he didn’t feel like he had the emotional energy for himself…he desperately wanted to be here for you. After the past four weeks of falling down a rabbit hole imagining you as a soft, caring, dominant partner, he suddenly felt needed. He wanted to provide so bad it hurt. 

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I…” your voice cracks and you shake your head. He backs off a bit, letting you have some space. “It’s been a rough few weeks. I’ve…missed you and felt like…a fucking idiot the whole time.”

Vessel nods and takes a drink of his water. “Yeah. Getting laid didn’t fix us, did it?”

You laugh ruefully and cross your arms. “It’s made me worse. How about you?”

“You first.”

You roll your eyes and stretch your neck. Vessel nearly loses his mind at how you bite your lip as you look him up and down. This is what he wants. To be under your gaze. Please. Keep him there. His breath catches. You could tell him to leave right now and he would. But instead, you keep talking. 

“To be completely honest with you, I didn’t think there was anything between us other than like…being friends. So I don’t know what came over me when I just…literally threw myself at you. I shouldn’t have done that. That’s…stupid reckless behavior.” You wring your hands a little and look down. “How can I expect to be taken seriously if I just—“

Vessel puts his hand up. “Stop that.”

“But I’m serious, Vess-“

“I said…’stop that.’ I take you seriously. I’ve always taken you seriously.” Vessel considers you for a moment. While he’d love to take you to bed, he’s desperate to lift you up. To reassure you. “Love, if you think you shouldn’t be taken seriously, imagine how I feel. You could have written me off as a jerk for letting you—“ but Vessel stops himself before he waxes poetic about your blowjob skills and ruins the moment. “I didn’t even follow you after we were done. Call you. Message you directly. After everything…I shouldn’t even have the chance to be with you.”

You shake your head and look down. “I know you’re not after one thing…I know it. But…why can’t I believe it? It’s nothing personal, I swear I just-“

Something deep within propels Vessel to pull you in for a gentle kiss…and to his utter delight you melt right into his touch. You fit so ridiculously perfect in his arms and mesh so well against his lips. He lets out a soft moan right as you break the kiss. Vessel had already been taken with you, but now he was enchanted. “Give me a month. I’ll show you how serious I am about you. It’s not just the sex…I promise.”

Your breath is ragged…you’re overcome with emotion and desire. You nod up at him. “All the time you need…”

“Good girl…” Vessel cocks his head, amused that he just called you that. He meant it in an encouraging way but…if the shoe fits. “Would you like that? To be my good girl?”

Your eyes get a bit dark, but not out of anything malicious. Your chin raises. “Ves…I would be anything you asked me to be. I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to me…” You pause but Vessel can’t even begin to formulate a thought. Were you as borderline obsessive as him? “You shouldn’t be on my mind the way you are. I mean…what are you doing to me? You’ve shown me so much kindness and your own vulnerability…that shouldn’t turn me on. It’s endearing and admirable, sure, but why do I…I just want to take care of you. I’m sorry I just…I feel guilty for…for falling for you because see me and you let me suck you off…I mean…how old are we?”

He’s taken aback a little. Something in your mind is tricking you. “Sweetheart,” he cups your cheek, “if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same. When I saw how down you looked a bit ago…” he shakes his head and sighs, “took everything in me to not start confessing everything just to see you smile. I want you. I want…everything that makes you ‘you.’ And I get the feeling you want the same…right?”

For a long second, you don’t say anything. You stare up at him, glassy eyed. He doesn’t need verbal confirmation. He’s passed that. He’s no longer timid about you. His lips meet yours in an agonizingly slow, tender kiss. Vessel’s hips press you against your kitchen counter, letting you feel his excitement. It wasn’t pure arousal. It was the excitement of being open and honest with each other. The emotional push and pull of comforting you but also receiving your reassurance did things to him. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was love, wasn’t it? Your hands pull at his hips, bringing one of his legs between yours. You moan softly, and he pulls from the kiss.

“Do you think about me at all?” He whispers breathlessly? You moan as his lips ghost your ear. The feeling of your thighs tightening around him makes his cock twitch. He wishes your thighs were around his hips…or even his face. You bite your lip and whine a little as your hips buck involuntarily.

“I think about fucking you on my couch everyday.”

Obviously the next stop is the couch. Vessel sits down and pulls you to straddle him. His kisses become more ravenous. Finally…the girl of his dreams is on him. He’d do anything for you right now, but he wants you a little vulnerable. You, of course, had been pining, too. What’s the harm in being pathetic together? He pulls off your shirt and nearly looses his mind when your soft flesh comes into view. Your precious tummy. Your squishy tits. Fuck. It was all his. “Get your pants off.”

You hop off his lap and do as your told. Vessel just watches and unzips his pants, adjusting them and his boxers to let his cock out. He bites his lip and strokes himself teasingly as he watches you pull off your leggings and panties. Drooling at the sight of your nude legs…the hint of your pussy. He beckons you forward seductively, a little taste of what’s to come once you’re in reach. 

“How wet are you, love?” He asks, letting his fingers dip between your legs. You moan softly as his fingers trail up and down your slit, enjoying the wetness he’s caused. “I don’t even need to help you, do I? Excitable girl. Aren’t you?” All this gets from you is a nod. You’re so gone. He leans back on the couch and pulls you toward him. He’s still completely dressed in his henley and jeans, but you don’t seem to mind. He positions you on his cock and lets you set the pace. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been fucked, but he knows to be kind and let you adjust to his size. His eyes roll back and his head thumps against the couch. Something about how your body takes his cock makes his insides melt. You run your fingers through your hair and arch your back as you lower yourself completely on him. “Don’t move…don’t move, love.” He adjusts slightly to bring your chest to his mouth. His soft kisses and kitten licks pepper your breasts, causing your pussy to clench. It feels amazing. He’s being so gentle, but on the inside he wants to ravage you. Even after getting off everyday for a month thinking about you, you still excite Vessel into a frenzy. 

“Oh…oh Ves…” you gasp as he takes your nipple between his lips. You both moan as his cock twitches against your sensitive walls, but he keeps you still, cockwarming as he teases and makes out with your nipples. He shamelessly buries his face in your chest and moans, squeezing your ass to pull you close. Vessel can hardly believe it. You’re finally in his arms, his cock is stuffed inside you, and you want his love just as badly as he wants yours. He pulls his face away from your body to look up at you and whisper.

“You’re my girl now. You know that?” He puts his finger that had touched your pussy in his mouth and sucks, making sure you how see gone he is for you. “Gonna make you so happy…”

Vessel can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but pussy from someone who accepts you unconditionally will do that to you. He thought he was only built for fleeting infatuations and hooks up. But here he was…making promises he’d sooner die than break. After playfully torturing you with how his cock twitched inside you every time you kissed him or made a little sound, he starts to move your hips.  You look positively angelic on his lap completely naked taking his cock. His eyes roll back and he realizes that whatever half baked fantasy he had about fucking you didn’t prepare him for how good you felt. How warm and safe he’d feel under the weight of your body. It’s almost too much. Not that he’d cum yet. No. He just wants to say stupid things like “I love you;” and “we should move in together;” and “please call me a good boy.” That little submissive voice was still in him. He knew you were responding well to him taking control but he wanted that gentle control from you again. 

“Am…am I good for you?” He rasps out as you steadily grind against him.

“Mhm…so good…you…you like being good?”

Vessel’s eyes roll back and he nods pathetically. “Just for you.” 

You bury your face in the nape of his neck and suck little pink love marks up and down it. He moans with each one, clenching your body impossibly close. “I can’t move when you hold me like that…” you say backing up a little. You take his wrists gently and pin them against the back of the couch. He licks his lips and smiles dreamily. “Oh you’re pathetic, aren’t you?” Your fingers intertwine and he lets out a contented sigh.

“So pathetic…”

“You like being good but you like getting in trouble, too, huh?”

Vessel’s brain is mush. He knows you’re lightly degrading him and he fucking loves it but he has no concept of what’s happening other than “yippee perfect girl is being perfect.” He just nods and lets you fuck him for all he’s worth, cumming when you wrap your dainty hand around his neck. 

Later at what can only be described as a debrief at the pub, you share a large basket of fries. Vessel takes a deep breath as he attempts to act normal after having his mind blown and emotions pulled in all kinds of different directions. “This is good, yeah?”

“The fries?”

“For Christ’s sake…”

“Oh sorry, you mean…us…yeah. This is good. Really good. Are you scared?”

Vessel looks at the table and then at you. Honesty is his only option. “Terrified.”

“Same.”

He ponders for a moment and puts his hand palm up on the table. “Do it scared?”

You plop your hand down on his, “and together.”

“Now about this gig next week. I need to start your lectures on progressive metal-“

“Oh god.”

[yeonniesblog]

Kuroo x reader x oikawa

Synopsis : After years spent by a certain setter along with a small toddler mending you heart, your life was a just like a blissful movie with a happy ending. But little did you know the person who gave you not only the worst years of your life but also the small ball of sunshine, decided to suddenly make a appearance in your fairytale when fate played a wild

reader's note : this is the last chapter, make sure to read it in order! Sorry for the angst hehe.

Part 1 : meeting you again | Part 2 : wouldn't you | Part 3 : broken promises | Part 4 : where it all went wrong | Part 5 : enough for now (current one)

“she is a fucking psycopath” kenma sighs, putting the car in reverse as he pulls up in his driveway, eyes fixated on the rear view as kuroo watches the irriated expression on his face.

“dude, chill I know you hate kizumi, but I might marry her” kuroo sips his coffee as he lets out a shallow grunt in annoyance too, what was he doing in life.

“no, just think about it, she specifically asked for the ring you bought to propose to y/n, when she knows you could afford to give her much expensive one right now, but, again I repeat. she asked specifically for that ring, only”

the black hair man groans at the explanation, he knows his friend has a point, but he is trying to gaslight himself into believing whatever kizumi explained to him. “i think she just likes it, she was the one who chose it too, all those years ago—” and before kuroo could finish his sentence, the half blonde cuts him off, swiftly taking out his phone from his pocket and muttering something to it “siri, how do you block people in real life”

“yeah, okay, this is a kuroo hate club, I get it” the man sighs, propping his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes. “honestly I know her behavior is weird, but I’m in a tight spot, my only left family is nagging me to marry her, and you know I could care less about marriage” he pauses taking a deep breath. “dad is legit emotionally blackmailing me, sitting at his stupid hospital bed probably faking his disease”

“they want you to marry, doesn't necessarily have to be her” kenma suggests, opening the seatbelt around him. “i cannot marry a stranger, kizumi is a better option, we have been dating on and off for one year” the rooster haired man replies, honestly he really wants to jump off a cliff, but he will suppress the impulsive urges.

“as a rebutal to that, one thing you said was right” kenma sighs finally looking at his friend, kuroo looks tired, or is aged that appropriate word. “her behavior is weird, it's like she has more attachment to y/n than you, she is insecure as fuck of her. you, me and her, we all know she won't ever level up to the place y/n has in your heart, so she trying to become her, its giving me chills” kenma shudders at that thought, physically gagging.

“do you think it's too late for me to get a therapist?” with that kuroo tetsuro groans one more time.

kuroo sits quietly, hands clasped, looking up with hesitant eyes as he watches you put your purse on the table, stoice face, yet so pretty.

he really meant it when he said you got more gorgeous over the years, there were few lines now adorning your face, mature and elegant glow.

even if he sometimes wonders if it would have been better if you both never met at all, if it would have been better if neither of you had to go through the heartbreak, but he knows,

if there was a spell to go back in time, to where he met you, he would do the same thing. he would make a silly chemistry joke and wait for you to laugh at it, not because it was funny, no it was because it was so bad you laughed at it, it was his fault wasn’t it?

to loose the most precious thing in his life, did you feel worse than him, it wasn't a question, nor a comparison, he wanted to know because he will never forget or forgive himself to give you so much pain over the year.

what did you name the kid? did oikawa tooru’ see how your son took the first steps, was he the one who got called father first, what's his favorite food, does he have a birth mark, does he like volleyball? is your son’ tastes similar to what is his? Just like how he saw the little kid adorning your homely baked goods, similar to what he himself used to do.

it pains him, physically pains him to know he wasn't there for anything, he wasn't there to make you food, hold your hair while you threw up during you morning sickness, not hold your hand while you went into labour, he wasn't part of any of it, six years sometimes means nothing and yet to him, now, it means everything, it means every important thing he lost.

“you don't know how much draining this is for me, to be talking to you, or as a matter of fact to talk about what happened, cause honestly you deserve nothing, not the explanation, not to meet me or ruko” you break the silence first, firmly sitting at your place.

and kuroo wishes he could repent on all the thing you said but the only thought in his mind is what you named your son “his name is ruko?”

“his name is oikawa saruko” you firmly state, a small smile tugging at you lips, you were proud your kid had a father like oikawa, cause you can't imagine anyone else being a better father than him.

tetsuro has never wanted to be in someone else's place as much as he wants to be oikawa now, he sighs at your words. “why didn't you tell me, I would get it if you wanted to get away from me, but don't you think I deserved to know the kid was mine?” his voice quivering as he asks you the question, a weird pang in his chest.

“i tried, I tried so many times” your voice quivers slightly “why do you think I asked for your opinion to have a kid?” that silents the man infront of you, his pupil dilated as he realizes how he explained it, and how it sounded like a definite ‘no” from his side.

“not to mention, even after that I was going to tell you, with my parents kuroo and you didn't show up” he relishes at how defeated he feels when you don't even call him by his first name, so the announcement when you called him was with your parents? his legs tenses up and he stops shaking them.

“i know I don't have any excuse but you know there was a storm that night—”

“yet you left me all alone in that storm, tetsuro” his heart breaks into million pieces, do you even know how much he just wants to pull you close and cry, stain your shirt with his tears of sorrow that he made a mistake and couldn't be in your presence and of joy because after years he was able to see you.

“i—y/n” he tries to put his hands over yours but you are swift to pull away, he knows a million reasons of why your reflex action was right, yet he can't help but feel his throat becoming dry “i’m sorry, I assumed you were with your parents, I had no idea, my phone was dead”

“how can you still lie to me?” your voice croaks, finally looking straight into his eyes, you really don't want to care for whatever his action was or what he did but you can't help but feel wronged.

“what do you mean lie?”

“so your phone was dead enough to not respond to my texts but it was working when you reposted on social media with your now girlfriend, her friends commenting how cute you both looked” you scoff pausing in disbelief “or should I say fiance”

“whatever are you sayi-” then it clicks, it suddenly clicks how kizumi’s friend has always shipped him with her, despite knowing he has a girlfriend, despite him saying he doesn't appreciate it, that it straight up makes him uncomfortable.

how kizumi knew, that your birthdate was his password to Instagram, he remembers her saying it was so cute, its laughable to think how dumb he has been, how could he not notice her intention. but he wishes you told him, he wishes he could have cleared off the last misunderstanding and if he could take it all back he would.

hell, he would never breath the same air as kizumi if he could go back in time and fix things. but he cannot, all he has is regret and all he can do his atone for his mistake, he was hoping you'd be kind enough to let him see his son, he hasn't been a great partner but he sure as heck wants to have some influence in your son’s life—

after all, it was a part of you and him, back then if he actually heard you were pregnant he'd probably be scared as shit, but he would still fight every odds to raise the kid you made, how could he ever resent a mini you, kuroo knows he has no right to feel wronged but all those years without the little guy or even acknowledgment of his existence makes feel burnt.

his lips shaky and he doesn't know if a explanation would even help at this point, nothing would change and even if kizumi was in wrong– so was he though. his mouth ran before he could know.

he looks up at her. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but there’s something you need to hear" your eyes held anger and he was scared of that, he wanted to scream please forgive me, over and over again in a chant but he knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness.

you crossed your arms, wary but patient. you had no idea how you still held on. but they say but they say old habits die hard, and even after six year you had the same patience for him, you wanted to laugh at yourself “Go on.”

“It was Kizumi,” he begins, voice low but firm. “She… she’s the reason things fell apart. She was jealous of you, of what we had. She deleted your texts that night—the ones you sent me about the announcement. She posted on my social media to make it look like I was with her. And she—”

"You didn't know?" your eyes widened and you had no idea how to feel after hearing that, conflicted feeling filled your lungs and the wall of resolve you have solidified getting cracks of doubt in them, but you remained firm.

“No,” Kuroo says quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I was blind, stupid, and I didn’t see what was happening. I let her control too much. I thought I could trust her. But I swear, if I’d known—” He stops, realizing that no matter what he says, it won’t erase the past.

you stare at him, your face unreadable, but there was turmoil behind your eyes “So, you’re saying it was all her fault?”

“No. No..no.” Kuroo says firmly, shaking his head. “It was my fault too. I let her into my life, I didn’t listen to you, and I didn’t fight for you when it mattered. That’s on me. I just… I need you to know that I didn’t abandon you on purpose.”

you exhale slowly, looking down at you cup, a closure huh? but what does that change ? you know oikawa is much more important to you now, nothing could change that, nothing could make you ever abandon the perfect family you have right now. “I believe you, Tetsuro. But that doesn’t change what happened. You weren’t there when I needed you, and I had to pick up the pieces alone. Oikawa was there. He’s been there for me and for Ruko.”

even if there is a shaky heartbeat you feel around your past lover you know it was not meant to be. there are so many things unsaid and there will be so many things which will be, you are a mom now and you could never be an careless one. and as much as tears were welling up in your eyes for what could have been, you won't risk anything for what it is now.

Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat. “I know. And I’m glad he’s been good to you both. I just… I missed so much, Y/N. I want to know him. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to try.”

bonus scene

Kuroo sits on a bench, watching from a distance as you and Oikawa playing with your son, Ruko. The boy—his son, biologically—has Oikawa’s mannerisms but your smile. Kuroo’s chest tightens as he watches the little boy stumble, only for Oikawa to sweep him up, spinning him around while you laugh.

They look like a family. They are a family

Kuroo thinks to himself, maybe this could have been you both if he wasn't consumed by the thought that you both would also be horrible parents much like your families.

you notice him then, your gaze meeting his. There’s no anger in your eyes anymore, just a quiet understanding. you approach him cautiously, arms crossed. “You’re here,” you speak, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“I just wanted to see him,” Kuroo admits. “I won’t interfere much. I just… needed to see him.”

You sit beside him, keeping a respectful distance. “He’s happy, you know. Oikawa’s a good father. He loves Ruko like he’s his own.” and that breaks kuroo's heart, as much as he tries to look positively at this. He can't help but feel his heart become empty, can't help but wish to be where oikawa is right now in your life.

Kuroo nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I can see that. He’s a lucky kid.” you glance at him, your expression softening. “I know the truth now, about Kizumi. About what happened. I’m… sorry you were caught in that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Kuroo says, his voice breaking. He knows it's not enough but all he can do is regret it over and over again. “For everything. For not being there, for letting you down. I should’ve fought harder for us.” you look away, your gaze fixed on Oikawa and Ruko. “Maybe. But it’s too late now, Tetsuro. We’ve both moved on.” and he feels a bit happy, you used his first name, God he is so pathetic

“I know,” he whispers, his heart breaking all over again. “But I’ll never stop wishing I could go back and do it right.” and before you are able to say anything you notice a small figure approaching you, you feel at ease when you notice it's your son, oikawa stood a bit away, he felt protective over you both but he doesn't want to snatch away the closure you deserve, and he can't snatch away ruko from his biological dad. so he stays silent cause he knows ruko would pick him for sure, he loves the little guy to death after all.

“Ruko, this is… this is Tetsuro,” you say gently, getting up from the bench only to kneel beside your son.

The boy looks up, curious but cautious. “Hi,” he says softly, clutching his toy dinosaur.

Kuroo crouches down, his heart aching as he gets his first close look at his son. Ruko has Y/N’s eyes and his messy black hair. He smiles faintly. “Hey, buddy. That’s a cool dinosaur you’ve got there. What’s his name?”

“Cupcake,” Ruko replies, holding it up proudly.For a moment, Kuroo wants to giggle, pondering why a dinosaur would be named Cupcake, but he holds back, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “Cupcake, huh? That’s a pretty unique name. Why’d you pick it?”

Ruko beams, his small chest puffing up with excitement. “Well—it’s not weird, okay? It’s ’cause I love dinosaurs and I love Mom’s handmade cupcakes, so I mixed two favorite things at once!”

Kuroo freezes for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. Cupcakes. His gaze flickers briefly to you, you who look away, your expression unreadable. He remembers countless nights when he’d come over to your place, exhausted from work or practice, and the smell of your freshly baked cupcakes would make him feel like he was home. They were his favorite—a sweet, simple treat that reminded him of your warmth.

And now, their son shares that same love.“That’s… that’s actually genius,” Kuroo finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Cupcake is the perfect name for a dinosaur. You’ve got great taste.”

Ruko grins proudly, going on to describe Cupcake’s many adventures and how he takes the toy everywhere. Kuroo listens intently, his heart clenching. There’s an ache beneath his chest—a mix of pride, love, and regret. He and Ruko have so much in common, and yet, this is the first time he’s learning it.

The realization stings, and he resents you a bit for that but it also fills him with a bittersweet joy. Ruko is bright, imaginative, and full of life. He’s a part of you and him—a reminder of what you both once had. And kuroo decides he can live with that. That's enough for now isn't it?

Finally ending this series, I get embarrassed whenever I reread it but it was my first series and it has been in my drafts for years. But here I ending, thank you for everyone who waited for this.

Here is the taglist (it's based on people who were waiting for it) : @reikashe @mikaela26sstuff @chita318 @mxrice @freddiemylovelg @glxar @amarinthe @rinsangel @captainchrisstan @gamacha @cheeseriz @pluviophilefangirl @bnha-bakusquad @asaitashi @lordmomourmomoness @missyasmim @macky-attoh @belle643 @on-crows-wings

[cutscutsscar]

prettier than the sunset

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Teacher Hwang Inho x gn!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Age gap (25-17), mentions of sh, physical abuse, abusive father, grooming, mentions of killing, drunk father, bruises on reader, suicidal thoughts

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲/𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: Yandere inho, oblivious and innocent reader, inho loves reader more than his deceased wife, reader loves kitties, suicidal reader, socially awkward and introvert reader, fluff, purest form of love, reader has a fear of men

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Inho catches a glimpse of you and the place of his wife in his heart falls too low, almost disappearing

𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗢𝗬!!>^<

𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥

↓

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬, 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘♥︎

You push your butt to the cold and hard school desk, the moment you move your leg the moment you feel the same stinging sensation as always. It hurt, really bad but you're used to feeling like this.. That fucking bastard seems like he make it his life mission to ruin yours, what a pathetic excuse of a man. You thought as you let out a tired sigh, you had no choice but to endure this hell of a world, but of course your thoughts, your alone time got interrupted by these stupid dimwits as they fill the room with their dumb snickering. It's ringing in your ears.. first you take a beating physically for apparently not making your bastard father breakfast even though you just woke up, then you take a beating mentally by these idiots. You grab your backpack as you unzip the zipper and reach out to your math book, the first class was math as always. Their laughing and snickering with their friends just continuously repeats in your head. As you were lost in thought the door swung open by the math teacher "Hwang Inho" the one who always seems to be staring at you with something weird in his gaze, does he wants to be friends or something?.. Whatever.. Thirty minutes pass like the wind that hits your face when you go outside, making everyone in the class stand up like kids with autism... They're itching to get out of this classroom as the door swings open and everyone runs out of the classroom..

Except you and the teacher of course, you look out from the window as you used all your luck in getting a seat besides the window, didn't you? You stared at the students in the schoolyard as you envy their freedom of movement.. you could never. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice your teachers mesmerized state as he stared.. your dark honey brown irises capturing his gaze, not daring to let it go.. the way your lips looked so sweet.. your skin was smooth as heck, you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw in his twenty-five years of life.. Your thoughts get interrupted again as the footsteps get louder each time. You turn your head only to find your teacher as he puts his hand on your school desk, his irises fixated on yours, he was pretty handsome close up to be honest.. His mouth opens as his deep voice echoes through the classroom

"Why aren't you out, Y/N?"

He asks, his tone lovingly gentle, as if he wouldn't hesitate to beat himself up if he was the slightest bit rude to you.

"Ohm uhm.. Am I supposed to be out..? I'm sorry.."

you say, your voice shaky as you force the words out of your throat. You were afraid of men as the scars your father left you with was too deep, ruining your your perspective on men.. even though you were afraid of Inho you couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of warmness with him, it reminded you of the times you spent with your father when alcohol wasn't his top priority.. but you're too innocent for this world.

Your teacher let's out a sigh as he mentally curses himself out for scaring you.. he opens his mouth to speak again, blurting out his words in the gentlest way possible.

"There's absolutely no need to apologize, I just asked that question because I was curious."

He says, a gentle, loving smile plastered on his face as he opens his mouth again to speak.

"Well, I'll be in the staffroom if you ever need anything just come to the staffroom and ask for me, okay?"

You couldn't help but feel the same fuzzy, warm feeling in your insides again, it felt like you were in the presence of someone who cherished your existence, which you haven't felt in years. A smile creeps into your face as you nod your head in agreement. The two of you smile at each other before the sounds of the bell ringing fills the classroom, every student fighting for their life to not get stomped by the others as there's a commotion in front of the classroom. After few minutes passed quickly everyone settled into their seats, whisperings were all over the place.

You were so fixated on your teacher that you didn't realize he could see the bruises on your wrist from the direction he was talking from, the realization hits you harder than your dad.. your thoughts were all over the place like a bottle of water that has been spilled out..

"what will happen now?.."

"is that why he was stealing glances at my wrist?..."

your mind helplessly wonders, trying to come up with a possibility. Five minutes was enough to melt your brain with all the possibilities you came up with that you don't even care anymore, maybe he would help you get out of this hellhole.. but what would you give in exchange?.. you thought.. you had nothing but a gorgeous face and countless scars, bruises all over your fragile, petite body.. who would want a girl with scars, a filthy girl?...

𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗣❥

School came to an end after countless hours that you lost track of, like everyday.. why did you even go to school anyway?.. you had no future other than being stuck in that pile of trash they call "home".. or you were gonna be hanging from the ceiling as the rope wraps around your neck, strangling you while you desperately try to take it off. Practically feeling the paining bruise on your neck as the memories of your father choking you started to occupy your mind..

"haaa..."

You let out a sigh, not bothering to think any longer as you pack up your belongings and stuff them in your backpack.. you get up from the cold, hard school desk.. the pain in your butt made you let out a groan.. thank god the sound you made was covered by the laughter in the class, the sounds of books closing, backpacks getting stuffed.

You stepped out of the classroom, the sounds of your classmates calming down as you make your way out of the hallways, your backpack loosely on your shoulder. You walk and walk, unknowing of the pouring rain, you didn't bring your umbrella either. You take your last step out of the school building before you get hit by the rain.. you quickly step back into the school building, rain drops dripping from your skirt. What were you gonna do now?.. you stare around helplessly.. if you were to go home soaked in rain you would definitely get a beating from your father for dirtying the floor with raindrops, staying at school?.. not possible. You'll just get locked in without any resources of energy for your body, so what were you gonna do now?.. you desperately try to think of a way as you stay where you are, frozen. As you were aimlessly lost in the thoughts you suddenly feel a presence behind you, and a black umbrella covering your head. It's your teacher Hwang Inho, he smiles gently at you as you let out a sigh of relief mixed with confusion.

"Thank you, Mr Inho.."

You say as you bow your head as a way of thanking him, catching a glimpse of his gentle smile with a hint of something deeper buried inside.

"You're welcome."

He replies, his tone dripping with gentleness, as if he was afraid of being rude to you, seeing you as something so fragile and sensitive.

A while passes.. you have no idea where the two of you are aimlessly walking to, each step just making your anxiety worse. Your teacher has told you that he knew somewhere you could watch the sunset with, admire the way the bright sun fade as the moon takes its place. Your each step was getting closer to loosen up your strings and trust him as he continued to look at you with those gentle eyes.. he was a man you only knew from the school, sometimes had chats with, the one your insides felt fuzzy and warm with.. he was looking at you with such a lovely gaze, the gaze your father never bothered to spare one. You find your wall breaking, as if he was the one hammering it, you found enjoyment in chatting with him, hearing his deep and beautiful voice, letting the words stuck in your throat free.

Is this what they call.. "freedom"?..

Yes, it was freedom.. something you've never felt in a long time. Your smile just gets wider and wider as you keep chatting with him, wave of happiness washing you over.

Your gaze moved it's direction to the beautiful sky Infront of you, you had a better look at it from the place he brought you to.

"this is the place! beautiful, right?"

He asks, his tone filled with pride as a smug smile creeps into his face. His gaze stays locked in yours, mesmerizing by how gorgeous you looked with the lighting in your face, like a piece of art. He couldn't help but find the fascination in your eyes adorable, you were like an adorable little kitty he had to protect from the world at all costs.

"it's... Pretty"

You murmur, your gaze changing it's direction to the view Infront of you before Inho quickly makes his way to the two people bench before sitting on the left side, patting the empty space besides him as if gesturing you to sit next to him. You approach the bench and sit down next to him, admiring the view in your mind before you realize the disappearance of the pouring rain.

"The rain has stopped.. I didn't even realize.."

You unconsciously blurt out before you notice, a wave of embarrassment washing you over.. but it slowly disappears as your ears fills with Inho's laughter, making you you let out a chuckle too as the two of you admire the sunset.

His warm, big hand holding yours small and cold ones♡

You didn't even notice, did you?.. so lost in the moment, lost in the admiration of the sunset.. normally you would be lost in your negative thoughts with no one to reach out for a helping hand..

Except for Inho<3

After that day you never saw your father again, but life's been good!^^

𝗔/𝗻: Just wanted to write sum fluff before I focus on darker themes!

𝗧𝗜𝗣𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗✦

[ireallylikeguchiry]

i need shadow milk to be so obsessed and fixated on pure vanilla to where it drives him insane. constantly thinking about him, watching him near-24/7 through the other realm/his soul jam when possible, and getting super excited whenever pure vanilla does something he knows will lead pure vanilla closer to reuniting him. when he thinks about the soul jam, it's not only reclaiming the power he once owned alone, but also how reclaiming his soul jam is how he too will reunite with his other half in his own way as pure vanilla will. he sometimes gets impatient waiting for everything to go as he knows it will and how long he's waited for pure vanilla and how he just can't seem to get pure vanilla out of his head yet dismisses it because he knows it'll eventually go just how shadow milk wants it too and that it's "normal to think about him so much like this because he is his other half, after all"

i want him to develop an obsession so bad that it consumes him and will eventually consume pure vanilla as well because pure vanilla is the target of said obsession

[sliceoflove]

Then I honestly don’t know what else to say to you buddy, 🤣 it just sounds like you have no idea how these characters works, but you obviously don’t see the second main characters like the ones I mentioned before dying do you, tell me when is characters like Nala/timon/pumbaa and other major main characters etc are dying. And sorry to say but Ray is still not in the same category as them, hence why we never heard of him again. And Yoda still exists in spinoffs, so he still exists regardless because of his popularity. Now you’re just being silly.

That’s not where I disagree with you, its just something I suggested because its obviously something they can’t say, but its still a poor execution. Stop assuming things and getting all hostile about it. Also saying the MC can’t die is not exactly disagreeing either, but did you honestly think they’d literally kill off Moana permanently (and not getting revived) seriously? The main character?

Saying that doesn’t make me disagree with the majority of the points you said, quit exaggerating and looking for things to pick on. I only disagree about the main characters not being able to die, especially with modern disney that’s too afraid of taking risk, they didn’t even commit to killing off Olaf. Now it just sounds like you’re being way too fixated on one thing and wanting the main characters to die because you think it’ll improve the story.

Sounds like Moana 2 felt like the rushed tv movie it was supposed to be.

THIS IS THE MOANA 2 CRITIQUE POST

I'm tired of excusing things with the word "rushed." If you have less time to produce, you should simplify what you're trying to say. That way, all your small amount of time can be spent on carefully building the best way to say it. Moana 2 felt very unfocused. It felt like it was trying to say:

"You Can’t Survive in Isolation" (but like why not? why do they need their neighboring islands? Don’t make up a reason—tell me the reason the movie showed you.)

"There's Always Another Way” (what? As opposed to what? One way? What One Way was Moana demonstrably sticking to before the not-really-villainess sang her song? Wasn’t finding that One Way ((“learning where to go by remembering who you are/where you’ve been”)) the whole point of the first movie? Now we’re throwing that out the window?)

"Together But a Little Different" ("Different" as in 'In-New-Circumstances' not "Different" as in 'We’re-Different-So-It’s-Hard-to-Relate-to-One-Another,’ which would've been the better, more cohesive sense of ‘Different’.)

“Something-Something Stories Are Important” (literally they just substitute the phrase “we’ll die” with “our story will end.” No mention of why that’s bad, or what makes a story a story, no reason why stories are important, or what for, just throwing the word “story” around vaguely.)

And none of those "themes" I listed just now had a lot of work put into them. That’s it, in a nutshell. But I can flesh-out my argument for those, and present what I think they could’ve easily done differently, if they’d just picked one and worked hard to make it simply good. SPOILERS BELOW.

“You Can’t Survive in Isolation”

We're told in a quick vision that Moana's people will die if they stay in isolation—but there's no showing us that.

In fact, what we've been shown is that they're thriving, they're fine by themselves. They were in the first movie. They are at the beginning of the second.

So we're not convinced that they need what the whole adventure is supposedly about. Compare that to the first movie! Totally doesn't measure up to the storytelling quality!

In the first movie, the whole first act sets up the idea of darkness reaching through the ocean from Tefiti's missing heart, killing everything. That’s especially bad for Moana’s people. We know that because we’re shown how Moana's people are so deeply connected to the ecosystem of their island, and how every part of it is needed for their way of life to continue—then were also shown that Moana has a deep, personal longing to leave the island. There’s a real connection to home and an urgent need to leave it, and that creates really good emotional tension.

So by the time we're shown (not told in one scene, or through snatches of overdone dialogue, but shown) how the darkness will destroy everything if she doesn't go, we really believe it. We have lots of reasons to empathize with and believe in Moana’s reason for going on this mission. We also feel for her having to make the big decision; we’ve been shown that she’s trying to live up to her responsibilities, and leaving the island would seem like a dismissal of those responsibilities, but we can also see how doing nothing and staying actually would be a dismissal. We feel that tension because they showed us several believable reasons to feel it.

But when Moana is singing “Beyond,” which is supposedly about her conflicting feelings about leaving, and the need to go? I’m just bored. Not emotionally invested. I just saw her going back-and-forth, leaving and coming back, leaving and coming back, one song ago, in “We’re Back.” And everything was fine during that song. Leaving-And-Coming-Back is the dream she’s been living as a voyager. So why is she suddenly convinced it’s a hard decision to…leave-and-plan-to-come-back?

“Because the last voyager died doing this mission she’s about to go on! She might die too!” Okay but all you did was tell me that. You didn’t show me Moana nearly-dying (like she did the first time she tried to cross the reef, or the first time she tried to tackle Te Ka on her own) and then realizing, “gee, oh no, I could die this time,” and then having to make a renewed decision to go anyway. You didn’t put work in, so I don’t believe it.

But the emotion Moana is feeling about leaving is also undercut, like I said, because there doesn’t seem to be a need for her to leave. All they did was tell me that Motunui is in trouble if it stays isolated. But no proof. They were fine isolated from other islands in Moana 1. They have been fine up until now in Moana 2. One random vision of an empty pavilion for three seconds isn’t going to make me forget that and believe that continued isolation will do anything negative to them.

And another thing, what does “uniting with other islands” even mean?” Why would it be such a good thing?

Nobody mentions trade. Nobody mentions learning from one another, or demonstrates learning from one another. Honestly, having Kele teach Moana or Moni or the Kakamora, an actual other-islander, about farming would’ve been a great demonstration of “why we need to meet new people and get out more.”

Having Kele LEARN TO SWIM would have been a SLOW ONE DOWN THE MIDDLE.

But nooo. They just half-bake suggest the idea that the old man doesn’t like leaving his comfort zone, but then never let one of the others have a real conversation with him about why he needs to learn new things from new people. NEVER. It’s just “bouncy vague song, almost-jump-in-the-water-under-coercion BUT NEVER ACTUALLY DO IT, banter and one liners” for the rest of the movie! (And don’t tell me Kele “learning to speak Kakamora” was an example of him “getting out of his comfort zone.” No. Kele never demonstrated a lack of desire to meet and learn new things from strangers. He demonstrated a hatred of fun and the ocean. All the others could also understand the Kakamora literally whenever they needed to, so that wasn’t a special-character-arc for Kele.)

Even though, my point is, they could’ve easily had a character arc for Kele. And that would’ve had something to do with “learn new things from new people, or die stagnant and stuck in your ways,” look, see, a mini-object-lesson in one character’s journey about the theme of the movie. But noooo

They could’ve done the same type of “learn-something-new-or-die” with Moni. Have him be convinced that doing things the “traditional Motunui Wayfinding Way” on this, his first adventure, is the ONLY way to do things. But he’s not good at it, no matter how much head-knowledge he has. And then the Kakamora (or literally any non-Motunui-character) could’ve shown him a newly-developed style for him to learn and grow.

They could’ve done the same type of “learn-something-new-or-die” with Loto. But nope. She just has a really poorly-done, poorly-written, poorly-performed snippet of a song where she mentions how… “perfection is a myth, the journey is just failing, learning, then death, no destination, ever.” But that ridiculous, absolutely absurd worldview is not portrayed as something she’s wrong about or needs to grow out of. It’s portrayed as a good, quirky, revolutionary thing.

But that’s not the same thing as portraying the value I’m describing. Loto just sings about it and invents-and-reinvents canoes. She does not learn how to make canoes from outsiders. She doesn’t learn anything from anybody. She is portrayed as a solitary genius with her own ideas who’s never once shown to be wrong about anything in the whole movie, and everything she tries works. She never messes up or makes a mistake, for all her singing about it. So she never actually “falls on her face, then gets up and learns.” Even though learning from others would be the literal only way for her character to portray the idea of this vague theme they throw out there, “You Can’t Survive in Isolation.”

The point is: there is no reason, in-movie, SHOWN, for the audience to believe that Moana should “re-unite the islands.” There’s no believable demonstration of why that would be a good thing, and no believable demonstration of why not doing it would be a bad thing.

So then why do we care if she risks her life and Maui’s life to re-unite the islands? For a bunch of nameless nobody background characters to show up for a five-second afterparty on Motunui at the end? Ridiculous.

Moving on.

“There’s Always Another Way”

So BUMP ALL THAT, I GUESS.

Matangi, everybody’s Cherished Hope for a New Villain, sings a song and it’s about “get lost, there is no one way, there’s always a different way.”

Fine. Cool. Whatever. The whole point of the first movie was that there’s this symbolic, ancient, WAY of sailing and living your life bravely. And Moana doesn’t know what that One WAY is because her tribe had forgotten it, so she has to learn it. It’s cool, because you navigate by looking at where you’ve been, to see where you’re going. It’s the whole “remember who you are in order to face life’s challenges, not hide from them.” That’s “the Way.” But whatever. Dump that down the toilet, new movie. You know why? Because everybody’s obsessed with “There’s No One Truth,” and “There Is No Right and Wrong,” and “Let’s Experience Things Just to Experience Them, the Journey is the Destination Because We’re not Going Anywhere!” Blah blah blah ridiculous inane sewage slop.

BUT whatever, fine, IF you mean it in a “There’s Lot’s of Ways to Solve Most Problems, Try Try Again,” sense, that’s okay. That’s true for most problems (not all, but most, certainly there are more than one ways to sail.) Sure. that message, if that’s what they mean, is fine. That’s the sense in which Moana takes it, at least, when she dives down to touch the Core Island and break the curse instead of it rising.

But you know what? Yeah. They don’t flesh it out. They don’t take time to show that that’s what’s happening. Moana doesn’t try to teach her new crew how to sail, and they suck at it, but if she lets them do it their own way or whatever, then they work—and she learns there’s “more than one way.” That doesn’t happen.

The Kakamora that joins their team doesn’t solve all his problems with blow darts, or violence, or whatever—and then Moana, or the kindhearted Moni, or the peaceful Kele, tells him, “no, there’s another way, you don’t always have to do things your violent way.” That doesn’t happen.

Loto has one moment where she applies the way she was already living according-to, from the moment we meet her, not a NEW way, to the canoe so that the gang can out-sail magical waterspouts. And it works for like twenty seconds, is played like a great triumph, before they all get smashed into the ocean anyway.

Kele, again, would’ve been a great example of “learn to do things in a different way, or problem-solve by try-trying again.” Because he’s old and they set him up as hating life for no reason and not wanting to do new things. But they didn’t do anything with him.

And guess what else—at the end—when Moana has her own demigod powers, and her own magical-arm-tattoo ripped off from Tears of the Kingdom—guess what her magic power is?

To stick her oar in the water, and light up one current or “path” for the boat to take to a new destination.

A Path. ONE SINGULAR SOLITARY WAY.

Not “a new way.” Not “all possible ways.” Not “multiple ways.” Not even two ways. One. Even though the big lesson she sacrificed her life for, even though the one and only song Matangi got to sing, was about how “there’s always another way.”

WHILE they’re singing a reprise of, “We Know THE Way.”

It’s like being in a conversation with someone who starts a sentence and then forgets what they were saying halfway through, and winds up saying worse than nothing.

“Together, But a Little Different”

Like I said, if you told me that the Main Point of the movie (not one of many vague ideas, but the Main Point) was “Together, But a Little Different,” I immediately would’ve said:

“Oh, so it’s about having to adjust to long-distance relationships. Maybe even death.” Or, maybe, because I saw the trailers, I’d go, “Oh, so it’s about keeping what makes us unique, but uniting when we need to, in spite of our differences. ‘Together, But a Little Different.’”

No. It’s not about any of that. It’s just a phrase the Grandma’s Ghost says whenever she hugs Moana to remind her that she’s still “with her.” She’s still with her; she just glows and can shapeshift into a manta ray now! That has tons of application for real life. 🙄

It’s supposed to be her words of comfort to pass on to Moana, who can then pass it on to the people in her island, so they know that she won’t “ever really leave them.” But like. Then why should I care that she’s leaving them? Why should that be sad? If there’s no sacrifice in being apart, in leaving for the adventure, then the adventure keeps feeling low-stakes and boring and kind of pointless.

If you tilt your head and squint, it’s also maybe-applying to Moana’s pointless ugly annoying Little Sister character, Simea. Simea is in the movie so that someone can be immature for three seconds about how Moana’s always gone from home. And I do mean exactly three seconds, that’s all the emotional drama we get, and it’s not built up to either. She says, “Never come back? -sniff sniffle- I don’t want you to gooo!” And then runs away and then Moana takes a break from singing the next day to briefly explain to Simea about how she can pass messages through the ocean. Then she’s fine.

But the way this theme is thrown around, you think it would mean, “Moana Has to Go Away Sometimes, But if You Remember Her She Never Leaves You.”

But seriously. Again I say to you, who cares? We know Moana is coming back. We know that. Nobody in the audience seriously believes she’s never coming back when she leaves for this adventure. If we did, maybe we’d care that Simea cares. But we don’t.

Even when Moana “dies,” and it’s the perfect time to be like, “seeee, what we feeeared has happened, she’s dead, she can never go home to Simea!” THERE IS NO FOLLOW-THROUGH. There’s not even a cut to Simea back on Motonui, feeling through the ocean or the Force or whatever movie mumbo-jumbo that her sister is gone. And there is not even a deadline, in the movie, for Moana to accomplish this mission, so it’s not like she could be running late and we could get some scenes of Moana’s family mourning. Simea having to do something, take some big step, that show’s she’s willing to go on even if she can’t be with Moana anymore because she believed Moana about how she’s always with her—something like that.

My point is, Simea has no real point, so she doesn’t add to this “Together, But Different.” idea at all. And we already know that it doesn’t mean, “overcome our differences” from what I said in the first Theme.

But what they could have done? They COULD have gone whole-hog and MADE MOANA A BELIEVABLE DEMIGOD. Instead of a vague joke about tattoos that leaves the question open-ended, a pointless and theme-breaking display of shiny superpowers, and no other change to the status quo—

—they could’ve shown that there are consequences to that action—maybe she’s a Demigod of Navigation, or something like that, and the condition is, she can sail around connecting islands, but she can never stay on one too long. So she’ll never be able to live with Simea and her parents again on Motunui, but it’s the price she has to pay to connect the islands. Then she’d have to show Simea how they can still be “Together, Just a Little Different.”

Or someone could’ve gotten hurt or disabled, giving off the idea that even though everything is “different,” they can still be “together.”

Maui could’ve died and passed his fishhook powers, AND MINI MAUI, on to Moni or Moana. “Together, but different.”

Nothing, nothing at all like that happens. It’s just a pretty phrase that could’ve meant something, but any meaning it actually has hamstrings the whole emotional weight of the story instead of fueling it.

“Something-Something Stories Are Important”

The thing here is. I already said it. You can’t just say words and expect them to be impactful, in a story. You’re supposed to show what they mean and why they’re true, and THAT’S what creates an impact.

So when you’re talking about “stories” in a story, you definitely should not have nothing to say.

And I can feel it. I’ve seen none of the promotional material, I don’t watch the interviews, I haven’t checked BuzzFeed or ScreenRant or the Disney Youtube page in a while, but I can feel it.

I can feel them trying to say, “Something Something, ‘Storytelling’ is a big part of Pacific Islander Culture!” I can imagine the headlines. “[Actor or Disney Exec Name Here] Invites You to Celebrate Your Story with Pacific Islander Heritage Month!” They’re so into “culture as a marketing tool” these days.

But they say it so lazily. Just repeating the word “story” over and over in the movie doesn’t pay tribute to how important “stories” are to Pacific Islanders. Or to anybody.

You know what makes stories impactful? They point at truth, when the darkness and misunderstandings and evil of the world threaten to distract you or hide the truth. That’s what makes stories impactful. I’m sure Pacific Islanders use stories in that way—to pass on what they believe to be true, in a way that can be retold and remembered.

So MAKE THAT THE THEME OF YOUR MOVIE. Instead of just having Moana replace “Nalo wants to kill us” with “Nalo wants to end our story” for Empty Effect—instead of having Grandma say something about “your e

Okay okay.

Nalo is a silly, lazy villain. He is clearly a Thanos rip-off in design and introduction in a literal post-credits scene, and his most-present form, in the movie, is just a big ocean thunderstorm. But the laziest thing about him is that he’s the Conflict that everyone is trying to rise up and overcome, and the whole reason he sunk the Island was “He gets power from humans being divided.”

That’s never explained. It’s never shown at all why he gets power from the vague “humans are divided” thing. He has no scenes. He has no interactions with other characters (till the end-credits scene.) A range of his power, like “here’s what it looks like when the humans are divided—oh, now here’s how much less-powerful he is when they’re together!” is never shown. So. No consequences if the heroes fail, no change to the status-quo, villain-wise, when they win.

If Nalo wanted to end their stories, though, that would be another thing.

Stories are meant to be told. They’re for the benefit of others. So what they should’ve done is made the secret key of Nalo’s power hidden. Unknown. Nobody knows how to beat him. And he’s not sinking some unfindable island in another dimension. He’s just devouring the resources of the weather with his ever-more-powerful storms, (kind of like the darkness leaking through the ocean from the first movie) and nobody can stop him.

But that’s because each island, around Oceania, has clues to how to beat him. Clues in their stories. But they can only sail so far from what they know before his storms kill them. So he’s literally making them weaker by using his power to keep them apart, and making himself stronger by defending his weakness. Now they can’t Wayfind to each other, and learn one another’s cultural advancements or stories or beauties, because Nalo is powerful enough to make storms that rip their boats apart. But if they could learn from one another’s stories about the things their ancestors used against him, they could get rid of him.

That’s what they should’ve done. Shown why Nalo was a threat and how the Main Theme was the key to overcoming that threat.

They did not do that.

They made stories just a hot button word to be thrown around with no impact. In a story.

The point of this post is that Moana 2 had a lot of potentially-good points, and it made none of them, so it was totally unsatisfying. If it had just focused on one, the other little benefits they were trying to fit in could’ve been mentioned more naturally.

The way that Beauty & the Beast is all about ONE theme: “True Love is Self-Sacrificial.” But because of the tools it uses to tell that story—a beast that it would take a lot of self-sacrifice to be stuck with forever—you get little side-themes thrown in, supporting and draping decoratively over the ONE theme: “Beauty is Found Within, So Don’t Be Deceived By Appearances,” etc.

Moana 2 should’ve just picked the Story One, and it could’ve had that theme, and it’s cultural-nod cake, and it’s unifying-effect cake, and EATEN IT TOO.

And we could’ve eaten it. And WE could’ve enjoyed it! But no. Money money money lazy lazy lazy.

[teaandjumpers]

Obikin Clueless AU (WIP Wednesday)

“Blast,” said Obi-Wan as he stared down at the three ties laid out on his bed. 

Apart from some minor differences in color and texture, they all looked interchangeable to him. It was not something he should be fixating on, not with the signing a mere two hours away. 

A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned towards the sound to find Anakin leaning against the door frame. He was dressed for the occasion in flared high-waisted trousers, a semi-sheer ivory lace button down, and black loafers with no socks.

He looked more like a model from a high-end fashion magazine than the teenager who used to fly drones outside their home, repeatedly crashing them into Obi-Wan’s car, much to the younger man’s amusement.  

“What are you doing here?” asked Obi-Wan, surprised to see his step-brother back home from school, especially on this day. 

It wasn’t that Anakin didn’t support Obi-Wan’s appointment as managing partner of Qui-Gonn’s firm. In fact, he pushed for it more than anyone, grateful that the mantle wouldn’t pass to him, not having the patience for law and the often slow and tactful art of persuasion. 

The young man had found his passion in engineering, and with an Ivy League degree and a trust fund that had made Obi-Wan choke on a swig of Scotch upon hearing the size of it, Anakin could fund any project he wanted. Or he could do absolutely nothing for the rest of his life and fund other people’s projects, living in the type of splendor that was usually only seen in swanky Hollywood movies. 

But Anakin didn’t like to be idle. It was one of the things Obi-Wan admired about the boy—no, man. At twenty-five, Anakin was very much a man now, and he looked it, too, the way his chest had filled out, the way those long thighs broadened, the way his eyes smoldered, always looking like he was about to take the runway, strike a pose and glare. 

Obi-Wan used to tease him about it, saying things like, “I heard they’re hiring live models for the Versace window display, darling. You should look into it.” 

It would, of course, make Anakin glower even more, prompting the younger man to chase Obi-Wan around the many rooms of their mansion, ready to smother him with a pillow. 

Those were simpler times—before the moment. Before that night in the living room when Obi-Wan was sorting through depositions and Anakin, being the brat that he was, had plopped onto the couch, turned on wrestling, and started chewing on Pringles—loudly. 

“Do you mind,” Obi-Wan had asked, grabbing the remote out from under Anakin and turning off the television. 

“Actually, I do,” said Anakin, attempting to snatch the remote back but failing. “You can work anywhere, Obi-Wan,” he whined. 

“I’m certain you have two televisions in your room, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, holding the remote out of reach behind him. “And one in your bathroom.”

“Yeah, but this is the only room with a TV and a fireplace,” said Anakin, rising to his knees on the couch, attempting to use his height to snatch the remote. 

With one hand pressed firmly against the younger man’s chest, Obi-Wan managed to keep Anakin at bay. 

“You’re such a spoiled brat,” he said, looking up at Anakin with disbelief.  

“Well, you took the only other room with a fireplace, and you don’t believe in having televisions in the bedroom,” Anakin said, mimicking Obi-Wan’s accent.

Distracted by Anakin’s ridiculous attempt at mocking him, Obi-Wan was caught off guard when Anakin lunged at him and pulled the remote from his hand. 

“Ha,” the younger man said triumphantly, turning the television back on. 

On any other day, Obi-Wan would have left it. Would have left the room, let Anakin win, because Anakin almost never gave up on something once he set his sights on it, whether it was a person or getting his way on movie night. 

But that night, Obi-Wan was frustrated—they were falling behind on work, and Anakin, newly graduated from high school, had too much energy. He’d been bouncing through the house all day, and when Obi-Wan finally settled down in a space that Anakin had already torn through, he thought he was safe. 

Not so. And so Anakin, who had already turned his wrestling show back back on, who was reaching for the cylinder of Pringles that had rolled under the couch, didn’t expect Obi-Wan to grab him from behind, didn’t expect his step-brother to hook his arms beneath his armpits, locking the younger man’s arms up in a tight hold. 

Anakin grunted and tried to shake his way out of Obi-Wan’s hold, but it was no use. 

“You forget, I was captain of the wrestling team in college,” said Obi-Wan, huffing the words against the tousled mess that was Anakin’s hair. 

“Community college,” snorted Anakin, and that earned him a sharp tug of the arms, one that brought his body closer to Obi-Wan’s, making it so that Anakin was sitting on Obi-Wan’s lap, squirming in the older man’s lap, and then panting as his movements stilled, as he slid farther into Obi-Wan’s space until his back was pressed up against the other man. 

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved, save for the slow heaving of their chests and the soft shuddering breaths coming from Anakin. The fire crackled in the background and cheers sounded from the television, but Anakin stayed perched atop Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan held him there, the young man’s arms still suspended above his head. 

“They call this the Master Lock,” said Obi-Wan softly, relishing the clenching of Anakin’s jaw and the haughty but quiet “I know” that fell from his lips.

At least a full minute passed before Obi-Wan released his hold. Once free, he assumed Anakin would wrench his body away from him, ready to take up the fight again, but Anakin didn’t move. Or at least he didn’t move away. He turned his head, presenting his profile to Obi-Wan. His eyes were downcast, and it made the heavy line of his lashes even more pronounced. Anakin swallowed, and Obi-Wan tracked the slow path of the movement down Anakin’s throat. 

And then Anakin shifted. It was minute, nearly imperceptible, but Obi-Wan most certainly felt it, sitting so still beneath his legal but still very young step-brother. It was a slow rock of Anakin’s hips, not even a rock, but a slight pivot, the weight of Anakin’s hips pressing down then sliding back.

At first, Obi-Wan thought that maybe Anakin was trying to get up, get some momentum before sliding off of him, but then it happened again, the press of Anakin’s cheeks against his thighs and then he was shifting back, sliding closer and closer to his groin. When it happened one more time, the slow grind paired now with a low moan that slipped from Anakin’s pink, parted lips, Obi-Wan shot up from his seat and upended Anakin, too afraid to look back as he fled to his room. 

Obi-Wan had been careful to give Anakin a wide berth since then, not wanting to examine the very un-familial emotions that had coursed through him when he had Anakin on his lap. 

It wasn’t like they were actually brothers. Not by blood at least. But it was still frowned upon, and the other partners at the firm would undoubtedly reconsider appointing Obi-Wan their new managing partner if they knew there was anything untoward going on between him and his step-brother, the current managing partner’s son. 

“I thought you were still in Seville—living it up with Padme,” said Obi-Wan, softening his tone. He felt he might have been a bit too harsh to the younger man when he asked him what he was doing here. 

“I was,” said Anakin, approaching Obi-Wan’s bed and examining the ties alongside the other man. “But I couldn’t miss your big day,” he said, poking Obi-Wan with an elbow.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin’s profile. He was tanned, even more so than usual, and, dear god, he looked beautiful. His lashes were dark and his lips extra pouty, as if he had applied some kind of plumper to it. He really should have been a model, he thought, shaking the words away as quickly as they came.

“Perhaps you can help me pick out a tie for the event?” he asked. “Satine sent them, but they look identical to me.”

“Still letting your ex dress you, Obi-Wan?” Anakin teased as he leaned forward to examine the ties more closely. He turned his nose up at each option, then looked up at Obi-Wan, assessing his wardrobe. 

He eyed the dark blue pleated trousers and the fitted white dress shirt, the one Obi-Wan worried he was now sweating through. Anakin stepped closer, a mere foot separating them now. He brought a hand to Obi-Wan’s throat and undid one of the buttons of his collar. He pulled back to consider his work and unbuttoned one more. 

“No tie,” said Anakin with finality. 

“Did I miss that year where you minored in public relations?”

“Satine knows the press, but I know clothes,” said Anakin, unnecessarily readjusting Obi-Wan’s collar. “The partners chose you because they want someone practical to take over—someone pragmatic who’s not fussy. A tie is fussy.”

“And here I thought they chose me because I’ve only had three losses in my fifteen years of practice.”

“We’re all very impressed,” said Anakin, sarcastic. He smoothed out the nonexistent lines at the front of Obi-Wan’s shirt. Also unnecessary, thought Obi-Wan. 

When Anakin seemed satisfied with his efforts, he pulled away, turning towards the door. But he paused for a moment and turned back, biting his bottom lip before approaching Obi-Wan.

“I’m really proud of you, Obi-Wan,” he said, uncharacteristically sincere. 

It made Obi-Wan blink back at him in surprise, but what surprised him even more was when Anakin leaned in close and, after hesitating for a moment, gripped the thickest part of Obi-Wan’s arm and pressed a soft kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. 

When Anakin pulled away, his own cheeks were pink, and he glanced at Obi-Wan shyly. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Anakin said, and then he left Obi-Wan on his own, hours away from achieving one of his life-long goals.

Only now, all he would be able to think about was Anakin—Anakin and his impossibly long legs, Anakin and that obscene sheer shirt and the golden warm expanse of skin beneath it, Anakin and those eyes, those eyes that still grew dark when they skirted over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Anakin and his soft, petal pink lips that were just moments ago pressed against the line where his beard met his cheek. 

Fuck. He was definitely sweating through his shirt now.

- - - -

(Anakin’s outfit)

[leo-artista]

I'm starting to think I may genuinely have a thing for complicated sibling relationships, because whenever a show I enjoy has something like that it's always the thing I fixate on the most- Leo and Raph from the 2012 Tmnt show, Vi and Jinx from Arcane, Stan and Ford from Gravity Falls- it's happened very few times but whenever it does it just HITS and I get obsessed for a while

[lizziesloopy]

NSFW ALPHABET W DARYL DIXON

A - Aftercare: I don’t care what anyone else says, Daryl is the master of aftercare. He’s always worried about you, so he always insists u rest and take a minute after u two do anything, and gets a warm washcloth or tissue to clean you up, and or water. If you’re the type to get tired after sex, he sleeps with you, lets u sleep on his chest while playing with your hair.

B - Body Part: He likes all of you equally, but he’s a sucker for your breasts and hips. I will DIE on this hill. Daryl has a thing for hips, holding them while he’s fucking you, keeping them down while he’s eating you out, brushing his thumb along them while kissing you.

C - Cum: Daryl has a breeding kink. He’s already generally protective of the people he cares about, especially you, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. The idea of filling you up, cumming inside you, thats what does it for him.

D - Dirty Secret: Daryl is a pretty reserved guy, so I don’t think he’d ever admit to any kind of dirty secret unless you asked first. But, he secretly really likes the idea of you riding his face, and really likes the scent of you.

E - Expirience: The only expirience Daryl has is from before the apocalypse, and even then it was never all that good. He was usually intoxicated when he had the occasional one night stand, most of his sexual knowledge coming from Merle. But once he’s with you, he’s very eager to please you, whether he knows what he’s doing, he WILL make it his mission to learn.

F - Favorite Position: Contrary to popular belief, I think Daryl is a pretty vanilla guy. He mostly enjoys missionary, he likes to be able to see your face, and hold you close. He also likes spooning, it feels much more intimate, and it’s usually a go to for sleepy sex. He also never complains when you want to ride him because god does he love it. But I don’t think he’d like to bend you over something or do doggy style, he feels it’s too degrading or disrespectful.

G - Goofy: Things stay pretty passionate and serious between you too when being intamite. But, when something is akward and happens to be funny, a little laugh here and there isn’t unusual, especially in the beginning.

H - Hair: I mean, it’s an apocalypse, I don’t think people are all too focused on how well groomed thier bits are. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get crazy, keeps it tame, very clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of being unkempt down there, it’s uncomfortable. As for you, who could give two shits bush or bald, as long as he can get in there, he’s a happy man. And if he’s being honest, he’s likes when you have a little more hair because he likes the scent of you.

I - Intimacy: Daryl is extremely intimate nobody is changing my mind. I don’t understand how yall think this man would fuck you like an animal against a tree, absolutely not. He’s very private about your sex life and plans to keep it that way. He’s quiet overall, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely ravishing you. He likes being as humanly close to you as possible, whether that be spooning you, reverse cowgirl, pulling you impossibly close to him in missionary, anything.

J - Jack Off: Daryl isn’t much of a masturbater. Never has been. He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, and when he does, he has you. He’d rather have you than his hand, always.

K - Kink: Like I said, he’s pretty vanilla, but not to say he doesn’t enjoy a thing or two. He 100% has an oral fixation, going down on you or you going down on him, obsessed with it. He also likes pulling your hair every now and then, but never too hard.

L - Location: Only the bed. Yall are crazy for sayin ‘over a table’ ‘in the middle of the woods’ like what the FUCK are you on 😭. He’s a very private man, who prioritizes your comfort over anything else, therefore, the bed.

M - Motivation: I mentioned how he wouldn’t have a very high sex drive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get turned on by you. If you’re in the mood, that’s his motivation. But also, seeing you all sweaty or working hard, or when he’s teaching you how to use his crossbow, seeing you use it, that turns him on hella.

N - NO: There’s a lot of no’s for Daryl when it comes to intimacy for you. He would never hurt you in any way shape or form, that consists of spanking, slapping, hitting, restraining, choking, etc. IF you asked him to choke you he’d be ok with doing it very lightly, but still worried. He’s not ok with risky/public sex, degrading you, and certain kinks like mommy/daddy. I hate when ppl say he’d have that, he’d hate it.

O - Oral: ORAL FIXATIONNNNNNNNNNN!!! This man is a certified MUNCH. Bro feasts like it’s his last meal alive. He love love loves that he can make you feel that good, because he’s exceptionally good with using his tongue, and has learned all the ways you like it. He likes watching the way you loose control of yourself, your face and your body. He also loooves when you go down on him, but he never says that. He actually has an extremely hard time containing himself when you suck him off. He usually doesn’t last long. Seeing you on your knees, looking at him through your eyelashes with his cock in your mouth, it’s his wet dream.

P - Pace: Depends. Depends on the mood, how you wanted, how you both are feeling, if he’s stressed, if he’s relaxed. I mentioned earlier he likes being intimate, therefore I’d say most of the time he’s not too fast or hard, maybe when he’s getting close or knows you’re getting close though. But times when he’s stressed, or he can tell you are, he’s a bit more fast paced with it.

Q - Quickie: Nope. 100% absolutely not. He despises the idea of rushing sex. He needs to feel comfortable in a safe environment where he knows he has time and there is no danger.

R - Risk: No risks. He doesn’t take risks with places, kinkiness, or new stuff. Unless you specifically say you want to try something and he’s ok with it, or he thinks it something, than nah. The only thing I could think of is he loves cumming in you, so there would be the risk of pregnancy if you are fertile.

S - Stamina: Depends again. He can go for long if you can, but when he’s tired, one round is enough to put him on his ass. But, just solely pleasuring you alone, he could do that all day.

T - Toy: He is definetly not opposed to anything that makes you feel good. If he were to ever stumble upon something on a run, or some other way, he’d definetly grab it. Using something like a vibrator or a dildo on you is definitely something he’s very open too, but when it comes to him, he’d rather not use anything.

U - Unfair: There is lots of teasing in your relationship in general, but when it comes to sexual teasing yes, but very subtle, never things other people would notice. But when it comes down to actual sex, neither of you like to be kept waiting.

V - Volume: He’s mostly quiet like usual. Grunts mostly, especially when he’s cumming, he usually burries his face in your shoulder to muffle himself. He loves to hear how vocal you are though. I think he could be a bit of a whimperer when you give him head too.

W - Wild Card: He doesn’t mind when you’re on your period, he’s just extra cautious with the mess. Puts a towel down or does it in the shower.

X - X Ray: He’s pretty big, not too big, but above average. It’s mostly the girth, cuz damn. Your first time with him had to be slow and steady because YOWCH.

Y - Yearning: Well, I already said this before but he had a medium sex drive, not awfully high. But if you do, especially if you’re younger than him, he’s more than happy to get you off. Eating you out, fingering you, letting you ride his thigh, whatever you want.

Z - zzzz: He gets pretty eepy 😴 He doesn’t like quickies because he likes to have his time with you, specifically time to cuddle you and sleep afterwards. Which is why he mostly prefer sex before bed/at night.

Hope you guys liked it!! My first time writing something like this, lmk how you like it and if I should do a SFW one.

[berfgrimm]

staring at the sun | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, sneaking around, hair pulling, pet names, dirty talk, a smidge of self doubt sprinkled around.

note: this is my take on combining a few requests i got, because i got inspired from a couple of edits i saw on tiktok and listening to a tvotr song. i tried writing this a little differently than I normally write, and i had this vision of ‘deleted or extended scenes’ of certain moments described here, which is something i’ve never done before. maybe it’s silly, but if you guys like this then I’ll expand on those scenes and give you some more from this story’s universe. also don’t chat to me about this being pink hair era, it is my favorite so maybe I’ll be writing about it the most. so what. anyway, enjoy!

———————

The first time you kissed Seunghyun was an accident — well, maybe not an accident, because he intended to kiss you, but it certainly was unexpected. It was in the middle of one of the band’s performances when the boys stepped off the stage for a brief break in between songs, and as a stagehand, you were responsible for the hydration of Seunghyun that night. You waited for him at the stage exit, two bottles of water in your hands and a welcoming smile on your face.

When he walked towards you, there was a frenzied look in his eyes; not panicked, but more energized, wired from the show. As much as he likes to keep a stoic demeanor about him during most performances, you know he adores what he does. It brings him a joy that you seldom see in people, and it makes you both jealous and grateful that he’s able to feel such satisfaction — he deserves it.

Seunghyun had a determined walk that night to go along with his intensity, like he couldn’t wait to get off of the stage because he had to do something. You held the bottles towards him as he neared, smiling still. He stopped too close to you, that was the first thing you noticed. You didn’t have a problem with him being in your personal space, not in the general sense of the word anyway. It was more of a disadvantage, maybe a hindrance — you couldn’t operate at 100% with him that close.

It would happen each time Seunghyun even brushed you as he tried to walk by, or when he gave you the friendliest of touches. Your skin would flush, your breath would catch in your throat, and you’d find it hard to even speak. That night was no different, if possible, it was even worse. Not only was he standing in your space, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, he was so close.

“How is it?” he asked, taking a water from your grasp and twisting the cap off. He threw his head back to take a large glug of water; you couldn’t help but fixate on the sweat on his skin, and his throat as he swallowed. Your mouth went dry at the sight. “Well?” You hadn’t realized he was finished with the bottle and was focused on you again, a faint grin on his lips. You couldn’t answer him, your words were caught in your throat and the more he stared at you, the worse it got.

That’s when he leaned towards you, stooping just enough to dip his head closer. The moment felt almost cinematic. The buzz from the fans that still cheered on the other side of the curtain, the bright lights that shone from every direction, the way he paused just before his lips met yours. When you let out a shuddered breath and leaned closer to him, Seunghyun took the hint, and closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft and quick, just a peck, before he pulled back to look into your eyes. You don’t remember what face you made in response, but it was enough for Seunghyun to place his hand on your hip, gently pushing you backwards until your back hit a wall. You were out of view of anyone who would have walked by, secluded yet surrounded by thousands of people. This time when he kissed you, he was pressed against you harder, more intensely.

He didn’t kiss you like he was frantic, or he needed it, but instead like he was curious, almost scientific. He admitted later that he was nervous but you didn’t get that sense at the time. He didn’t even act like he enjoyed it, and before you knew it, the kiss was done and he was needed back on stage. He took the other water bottle from your hand and was gone before you uttered a word. You were confused to say the least.

Seunghyun didn’t talk to you about it afterwards. The band had another show the following night, and when you stood in the same spot, two more bottles in your hands, you were nervous. As he walked in your direction, you were certain you’d pass out from the way your heart pounded in your chest, but thankfully, your feet were firmly planted.

This time, when he reached you, Seunghyun once again drank a whole bottle of water before planting another kiss on your lips. Since it was a different venue than the night before, the secluded space you shared was no longer an option. Instead, he backed you against a stack of trunks, one hand on your hip to pin you in place.

In the moment, you weren’t sure if it was some sort of fantasy that your brain was making you believe was reality. There’s no way that this highly sought after man would be kissing you in private during his shows. It didn’t make sense. But the kiss was different this time, as he slipped his tongue into your mouth to deepen it briefly. Before you could fully enjoy the kiss, it was over again, and he left you standing alone in seclusion.

That was the start of a tradition. Each night, during their very brief intermission, Seunghyun would meet you backstage and hide behind anything nearby so you could kiss. It was sneaky and clandestine, and it gave you a knot in your stomach each time.

It took you until the fifth night for you to put your hands on him — both hands set simply on his hips; until then, you’d stayed still, too worried that if you tried to touch him, it would spoil the moment. Seunghyun told you later that he felt the same way, overthinking the moments and thinking that if he touched you too much or said anything about it, you wouldn’t want to kiss him anymore.

By the eighth night of kissing in secret, you felt something switch inside of you, and when you put your hands on his hips, you slid them up his body, feeling the heat of his skin under his sweat soaked shirt. You vividly recall the way you could feel his heart pounding as you pressed your hands flat against his chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

That night, when Seunghyun pulled away from you, that same switch inside of you drove you to grab his belt buckle and pull him in for one last quick kiss. As your lips were connecting, you could see a very small amused smirk on Seunghyun’s lips — at least he wasn’t mad.

Two weeks of kissing and gentle, explorative touching backstage at concerts. Away from your secret rendezvous, you had initially not treated each other any differently; friendly, joking, cordial. But at the end of week two, you started to notice the looks Seunghyun would give you when no one else was looking, along with the way he seemed to linger in your personal space. That made you more nervous than the kissing did.

“Why do you stare at me when the guys aren’t looking?” you asked him one night while he was kissing you. It made him stop altogether, peering into your eyes breathlessly. You were momentarily worried that you’d spoiled it by asking, as neither of you spoke during these moments before. It took him a few seconds of thought before he could answer, during which your eyes didn’t leave his face.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he admitted. “I think about it whenever you’re around. Sometimes when you’re not.” You blushed, not expecting the softness and candor in his response. “This is my favorite part of each night,” he added.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked. Seunghyun nodded, staring directly at your mouth as he waited for you to continue. “I really like doing this in secret,” you began, feeling your nerves spread through your whole body. “It’s sexy.”

You’d never forget the glint in his eyes when you said it, excited and something almost devious. You wished you could have a picture of the way he looked at you, but it ingrained itself in your memory anyway. He looked like he was overcome with desire, for you.

The signal for him to return to stage came far too soon after that. He didn’t get to truly respond to what you had said, but he told you later that it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. You agreed with him, remembering the way that you trembled with excitement at what could come of the conversation.

The next night of the tour something changed. It wasn’t ideal to say the least. One of the other stagehands said they wanted to switch positions, and of course, your manager agreed to the change. You didn’t have time to tell Seunghyun of the change ahead of time, but you still tried to make yourself visible when he exited the stage.

The obvious look of disappointment and confusion on his face would have been funny if you didn’t feel the same way. He had glanced beyond the other stagehand to where you stood, mindlessly rolling up some cables, staring directly at him. He changed the look on his face quickly, shifting back to the stoic persona he usually presented, and acted as though nothing was wrong.

Later that night, after the show ended, you wandered through the corridors of the venue, making sure all of the leftover equipment had been gathered. You were so focused on the task, you didn’t hear Seunghyun sneaking up behind you, so you let out a surprised yelp when he grabbed you and pulled you into a nearby utility closet.

It was pitch black in the room, but you could tell it was him. His breathing, his smell, his energy, it was all around you and as you felt the warmth of his body closing in on you, all you could do was throw your arms around his neck to pull him in.

It was the first time he touched you. Like really touched you. You didn’t miss the slight tremble in his hand as it slid up your stomach, stopping just as his fingertips touched your breast. His hesitancy to not cross a line is what made you feel empowered; you took hold of his hand that barely teased your breast and dragged just a little higher to press his palm against you. He took the hint and wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing gently.

“I hated not being able to kiss you earlier,” he admitted, kissing your cheek as he held you close.

“I got reassigned.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

The way Seunghyun said it, without a single shred of uncertainty, because he knew whatever he would say to the team would happen…the power that he had…

You kissed him again, so worked up with excitement, you bit his lip. Not too hard, but enough to make him chuckle into your mouth. You didn't realize right away, not until he let out a moan, but your hand had worked its way down to touch him through his pants. You worried for a moment that you crossed a line but he was already getting hard before you touched him.

“Is this how you want our first time to be?” Seunghyun asked, kissing your neck as he ground himself against your hand. “In a utility closet? In the dark?”

“You can have me wherever you want me.”

“But you love the secrecy,” he teased. “You love hiding but you love the thought of being caught. You love being my secret, don’t you, princess?”

“I do,” you admitted. Seunghyun let out a soft gasp, a little rumble of that deep voice, as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, gently. “But we don’t have time to do this here.” You were disappointed, of course, but you knew he was right. You had a job to do and it would be suspicious for him to be missing for too long. “We have two days off of the tour next week,” he continued. “In Melbourne. We’ll get a hotel.”

“Okay,” you replied, breathless from excitement.

“I’ll make sure you’re back in your regular assignment, as well,” he added. “I won’t be able to handle not kissing you for a week. I love being able to see you like that every night.”

You’d never expected Seunghyun to be so open to admit what could be perceived as weakness. He always came across very closed off, and protective of his emotions around most people apart from his fellow bandmates — even then, he didn’t seem quite as open.

The next several days seemed to drag on forever as you waited to have alone time with Seunghyun. Still, you had your stolen glances and private make out sessions every night, each kiss more desperate than the last, hands moving heavier with more determination.

The last show before the two day break, Seunghyun unbuttoned your jeans and began to slide his hand into your panties. You tensed, and he froze, panic spreading across his face, thinking he crossed a line. You stared into each other’s eyes and his hand stayed just barely past the elastic of your panties, unsure of what to do. You nodded slowly to give him permission to continue, and then you lowered your gaze to watch between your bodies as his hand traveled deeper into your panties.

You could recall that first sensation when his fingers, surprisingly cold, gently touched your folds. He didn’t tease you, no, there wasn’t enough time and you were so close to your hotel date so he wouldn’t do it just yet. Instead he made sure his fingers were wet with your juices before he pulled back, sliding his fingers into his mouth as he kept his gaze on you.

You worried you’d faint from the sight of him savoring your taste, but he gave you a wink, and headed back to the stage before you had the opportunity to even respond. Seunghyun told you later that he could taste you on his lips and tongue for the rest of the show, and that he had to focus not to get hard in front of everyone. You told him that you could feel his cold, soft fingers touching you for the rest of the night, and that you would let him fuck you on stage if that was what he wanted to do. He blushed but you could tell he definitely envisioned it.

You weren’t sure what to expect when it came to being alone in a hotel with Seunghyun, so your mind came up with hundreds of different scenarios that could potentially play out. During your secret rendezvous with him, he was tender for the most part, with the occasional moment of audacity like when he touched you between your thighs.

The first time you had sex with Seunghyun was gentle, the kind of thing you feel like you’d read in a romance novel. There wasn’t a lot of talking apart from the occasional soft whispers of encouragement from him, but your head was too foggy for you to even think of anything else to do except breathe and whimper. You would have been embarrassed by how composed he was compared to you, but you knew he wouldn’t want you to think that way.

You stayed tangled together in bed for what felt like hours after, telling stories of your lives and dreams for the future. As you listened to him open up to you, telling you about all of his hopes and dreams and demons, all you wanted was to kiss him and hold him for the rest of your life. But maybe that wasn’t what he wanted from you.

“Is this it?” you asked him, trying to make your voice stronger than you felt. “After today, are we back to the way things were?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, not at all,” you said, earnestly.

“Neither do I.”

Things changed from that moment onward, the start of your relationship with Seunghyun. You both agreed that it would be best to keep it between the two of you as long as you could, not ready to deal with the attention of his fans or his bandmates. Beyond that, sneaking around was still so fucking hot.

Once, Taeyang almost caught you. The group had a performance at an award show in Japan that your team wasn't required for. After several days of rehearsals and fittings during which you spent no time together, you finally found a brief moment, maybe ten minutes of time, where Seunghyun wasn’t being pulled in a million different directions. He gave you a quick nod towards the bathrooms, and you knew what he was suggesting.

It was an individual bathroom, no stalls. You snuck inside first, staying at the far side of the room to wait for him to join you. Only a few minutes went by before he finally entered the room, hurriedly locking the door and moving towards you.

“I missed you,” he breathed, crashing his lips into yours for a kiss that he clearly had been waiting too long for. You grabbed his hips and pulled him against you, longing to feel his body again. “Being around you and not being able to touch you like I want to,” he began, kissing along your neck. “Drives me crazy. I don’t know how I’ll manage the next few days not being able to see you.”

You slid your hand to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his short hair, to guide him to a spot on your neck that you love when he kisses. His hands grabbed your sides hard, pinning you to the wall and keeping you in place to grind himself against you.

“Don’t get too worked up,” you warned. “We won’t have time for me to get you off, baby. And I’ve been wanting it so bad, I’ve been dreaming about it. You can’t leave me hungry for you like that.” Seunghyun bit your neck, sucking harder on your skin, clearly trying to leave a mark. “Are you trying to claim me?” you asked, tugging on his hair to get a groan from him. “You want them to see that I already belong to someone?”

“I want you to remember it,” he muttered against your skin. “When I can’t be with you in the next few days, I want you to look in the mirror and see this mark so you’ll remember the way that only I know how to make you feel.”

That was the first time he showed his possessive side, and you were elated. You wanted to return the favor, maybe scratch up his back or his chest to give him something to think about while you weren’t near him but you worried that would be the fastest way to get caught. Sure, Seunghyun seldom showed much skin to anyone, but you knew that his friends enjoyed teasing and pranking one another, which has previously included sneaking pictures of one another while in compromising situations — like in the shower.

The knock on the bathroom door scared you both, and Taeyang’s voice made you even more terrified. All you could do was stare at one another with panic in your eyes.

“Hey, man, we have to leave soon for the next fitting,” Tae called out, knocking again. “Then to the airport for the flight.”

“Okay,” Seunghyun replied, hoping it would be sufficient.

“Are you alright?” came Tae’s response, and she shook the door handle as if he wanted to get in the room. “You sound odd.”

“Be out in a minute.” Seunghyun sounded as irritated as he looked, but thankfully, Tae took the hint and you heard his footsteps retreating. Seunghyun put his hands on the wall on either side of you, looking at you, discouraged. “Text me every time you think of me,” he said. “Especially if it’s dirty.”

“That will be a lot of messages,” you admitted, which made him grin.

“You think about me that much?” he inquired and you nodded, transfixed on his mouth. “Good. Give me details, so I know what my girl daydreams of me doing to her. I’ll miss you.” You make sure to give him another kiss, knowing you won’t see him for several days. “Stay here for a minute after I leave,” he directed. “I’ll make sure no one is around.”

Seunghyun exited first, casually to not draw attention. You counted to thirty before you made your exit, thankfully no one was in sight to be any the wiser.

You sent him fifteen texts that day, which was showing a tremendous amount of restraint compared to how frequently you actually thought of him. Your mind was almost entirely on him from the moment he left your side: sweet thoughts of how you’d love to hold his hand and walk through a market together, tender thoughts of kissing endlessly in his bed, filthy thoughts that you refused to elaborate on via text message but you made sure he knew you needed him in every imaginable way.

That night was the first time you had phone sex with Seunghyun. You couldn’t make it twenty four hours without each other. The sound of Seunghyun trying to keep his moans to a reasonable volume to not get caught by his bandmates in the next room was something you’d think about forever; you wished you could record the sound in your mind and play it whenever you wanted. The slightly static and muffled distortion of his voice coming through the phone somehow made his voice deeper, and when he told you what he would have done to you if you were there with him that night, you switched to a video call so he could watch you touch yourself.

You slowly found out about each other’s kinks. He liked watching you touch yourself because if anyone knew what you liked the most, it would be you. He also liked being called ‘baby’, and having his hair pulled. You told him you liked being more submissive, and you especially enjoyed dirty talk. He said he liked lingerie, the lacy kind, and he ended up buying you three different sets to wear for him. Though you were most nervous to admit this one, and you tried to avoid it altogether, you told him the contact lenses and costume for ‘Bae Bae’ were sexy.

“I’ll wear them for you one day,” he promised. “But you’d better be a dirty girl for me if I do, princess.” You tried to hide your excitement and embarrassment, but Seunghyun saw it immediately. “I love when you get shy,” he smirked, stealing a gentle kiss.

“I love everything you do,” you responded.

The first time you both actually said ‘I love you’ was during one of the intermissions about two months after you started your relationship. You both admitted later that you felt it much earlier on than that, but didn’t want to pressure the other.

Seunghyun said it first. The roles were slightly reversed from usual, as he was the one pressed back against the wall with your hands touching his body over his shirt. Your mouth was leaving a wet trail of kisses along his sharp jawline, tasting the sweat on his skin. His hands were on your backside, pulling you against him hard, letting you work your magic on him.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss below your ear then resting his head against yours. You stopped kissing his neck, staying in place, breathing slowly as you let the words sink in. “Is that okay?” he questioned, his hands shifting to your hips now, rubbing soothingly.

“More than okay,” you whispered, nudging your head against his gently. “I love you, too.”

Seunghyun let out a small, excited yell in response to your words, roughly wrapping his arms around you and spinning you both in a circle. You laughed along with him holding on tight as he got out his excited response.

“I knew it, princess. You can’t get enough of me.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” you retorted, playfully shoving him against the wall again and standing in front of him, both of your hands pressed to his chest. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” you whispered, wistfully.

Seunghyun gave you one last passionate kiss before he had to go back onto the stage. He told you later he felt like it was the best performance he ever gave because he couldn’t stop thinking about how much love was in your eyes when you looked at him.

When Jiyong almost caught you, it was enough to cause you and Seunghyun to have a conversation about the future of your relationship. It was after a show, when Daesung asked you to join the guys and a few others to go to a club. Ordinarily, you would have refused as you didn’t spend a lot of time clubbing, but when you glanced past Daesung towards Seunghyun, you noticed the hopeful look on his face — so you agreed. Maybe the night would give you an opportunity to dance with Seunghyun.

What you hadn’t thought of, however, was what happened a couple of hours before, during your intermission make out session. You decided to tempt Seunghyun, just a little bit, and you wore a skirt. You knew immediately that it worked, because his hands were under your skirt, groping your thighs, as soon as his body touched yours.

The issue was that you had slipped your panties off and handed them to him just before he went back on stage; hot pink panties from a set he had bought. You could see the surprise on his face initially, but his expression changed to something different, more intense. He shoved the clothing into the pocket of his jacket, swooping back towards you for another kiss before he went back to the stage. He told you later that it was one of the sexiest things you ever did, and that he tried to think of a way to do something similar for you, but he didn’t think handing you his briefs would have the same impact.

Fast forward to the club, when Seunghyun took his jacket off and draped it over his seat, only to have your panties fall from his pocket to the floor. Neither of you noticed it until Jiyong spoke.

“Lose something?” he laughed.

“Huh?” Seunghyun asked, prompting Jiyong to point to the clothing on the floor. Your heart leapt to your throat and you were thankful that the lights were low in the club so no one could see the look of shock and embarrassment on your face.

“Pink to match your hair, is that it?” Jiyong teases, taking a sip of his drink. Seunghyun scooped the panties up from the ground, stuffing them into the pocket of his pants this time.

“Caught them on stage,” he explained casually, sitting down again.

“And you decided to carry them with you after you changed clothes,” Jiyong continued, a smirk on his lips as he watched Seunghyun for any signs of deception.

“You don’t have to act so jealous because you didn’t catch any,” Seunghyun responded, a sly smirk on his lips. Jiyong laughed at his friend’s response.

“That’s a shame — I thought you’d finally found someone willing to put up with all of your quirks.” Seunghyun didn’t need to respond, and he told you later that if he didn’t relent when he did, Jiyong would have kept pushing until he figured out your secret.

The best moment of the night was dancing with Seunghyun. Even when you were just friends, you didn’t share a dance together, so you weren’t aware of how good it felt to slow dance and grind with him. To make sure no suspicions were raised, you danced with the others as well, and even though Seunghyun agreed it would be a good idea, you could tell he hated to watch it happen.

Later that night, Seunghyun sent you a video of him, a little tipsy from the drinks that night, and a little frustrated from the lack of time spent with you. He spoke deeper than normal, trying to avoid being heard by anyone through the walls.

“I didn’t like their hands on you,” he muttered. “Touching you like they had the right. It makes me crazy not being able to touch you when I want, princess.” He sounded needy in a way you hadn’t heard from him before, and it made you wish he was with you in your room right then.

It wasn’t until the next day that you had a few moments to spare together where Seunghyun asked you if you were serious about him. You were frustrated with the question at first until you realized why he was asking: you two were getting closer to being caught, and he wanted to save you from the relentless teasing and jokes you’d be subjected to once the others found out. You told him you didn’t care and you loved him, so that was all that mattered. You’d enjoy sneaking around while you still could.

The first time you played a prank on him wasn’t your choice. Daesung and Jiyong talked you into it, because they knew that Seunghyun would expect strange behavior from them during a prank war. You were an objective third party as far as they knew, and you thought going along with their plan would be the best way to keep the heat off of you.

You didn’t think it was a great idea because you knew how much Seunghyun didn’t enjoy showing off his body, but Daesung convinced you to steal Seunghyun’s clothes while he was in the shower. You agreed, and before you knew it, you found yourself sneaking into the shower room in search of his clothes. Until he caught you, all of his clothes bunched up in your hands while he stood opposite you with a towel around his waist.

“You turned on me, princess?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips. “You joined their team?”

“It’s just…for fun,” you explained, cheeks flushing.

“Are you blushing because you’ve been caught or because you want me to drop the towel?” He stalked towards you, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run away or run closer. “Both?” he smirked.

“Maybe a little,” you mumbled.

“Take the clothes,” he nodded, finally in front of you. “I’ll make a big scene about it, don’t worry. But tonight, I want you to come by my hotel room, and you can pay me back.” He stole a quick kiss from you before gently shoving you in the direction of the exit.

You both acted perfectly together, convincing the other guys that you had pranked him. They laughed uncontrollably as Seunghyun cursed them for talking you into a stupid prank war. After you finally relented and returned his clothes, he spared a quick glance to the others to make sure they weren’t looking when he whispered in your ear.

“My room later,” he said. “You owe me.”

He got you off four times that night before he let you relax. It was a new record for both of you.

The next day was the first time one of the guys suggested Seunghyun ask you out. You weren’t around when it happened, working elsewhere in the arena setting up for the rehearsal, but Seunghyun was practically giddy when he told you later.

From Seunghyun’s retelling of the conversation, Tae was the first to bring it up, mentioning that he could see a spark between the two of you at the club. Jiyong agreed but Daesung mentioned that he felt he had more of a chance with you than Seunghyun did.

“Dae would be my second choice,” you joked with Seunghyun, and thankfully, he laughed in response.

According to Seunghyun, he played the whole thing as casually as possible. At first he denied that there was any sort of spark between you, and then he allowed his friends to make him see it. Still, he shrugged it off, saying he didn’t have time for a relationship. By the end of the conversation, he seemingly dissuaded them of the notion altogether.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell them,” he admitted. “It’s fun sneaking around, and I’m happy being private. Besides, that’s one step closer to the rest of the world finding out. I don’t want you to face them until you’re ready.”

It was sweet how he wanted to protect you, but you felt in a certain part of your mind that maybe he wasn’t ready to tell the world because he wasn’t proud of you. It was a silly notion, and you knew from the way he looked at you that he would do anything for you, just as you would for him. Still, you couldn’t help but hear that small whisper of doubt if you thought too hard about your relationship.

The whisper got softer, and eight months into your still secret relationship with Seunghyun, you couldn’t hear it at all anymore. The tour had ended and you were able to spend more time together without as much worry of being caught. You spent most of your days in his apartment, sometimes yours, watching movies together or staying in bed. You were sometimes treated to the sight of Seunghyun at his desk, writing new music; you think those were your favorite days.

It all brings you to this moment right now. You’re tangled up in the sheets of Seunghyun’s bed, on your back with your hips at the edge, while he’s knelt on the floor with his head between your legs. He has your thighs spread wide for him, pinned down against the bed so he can get at you without issue.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, fisting his hair to hold him in place where he sucks on your clit. “That feels so good, please don’t stop.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, and you’re sure you can feel him smirking. He thrusts his fingers into you faster, sensing that you’re close from the way you’re squeezing and grinding against him. “Good girl,” he breathed into you. “Come for me, baby.”

Every time Seunghyun makes you come, it feels better than the last. Your body trembles and you moan out his name so much and so hard, you feel like you’ll lose your voice. This time is no different, and you ride out each and every wave of your orgasm, then dropping back into the sheets, panting.

“I’ll never get tired of the way that sounds,” Seunghyun says, licking the taste of you from his lips and fingers. “You, calling my name, breathing like you’re desperate for air. You’re so beautiful.” You reach towards him, cupping his face with both hands and urging him closer to you. He grins up at you, climbing on top of you on the bed to kiss you passionately.

You’re both so lost in the feeling of one another you don’t hear the front door of the apartment open, and you didn’t hear your friends talking idly while they changed their shoes in the entryway. If you had overheard them, you would have had more time to cover yourselves up or even hide before they entered the bedroom.

“Oh, damn!” Jiyong exclaims, laughing. “I’m sorry!” He covers his eyes and turns from the doorway, but is quickly joined by his two other bandmates who are hurrying to peer into the room.

“No way!” Daesung laughs.

“I knew it,” Tae laughs.

“Fucking go!” Seunghyun yells, pointing at them with one hand as he tries to help you cover yourself with a sheet. “Have some respect!” The other three men almost fall over one another as they scramble from the room, still in a fit of excited laughter. “I’m so sorry,” Seunghyun says, softly, as he turns to check on you. “Are you okay? I didn’t know they were coming over.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, your cheeks still flushed in embarrassment. “I guess the truth is out now.”

“So much for privacy,” he chuckles, grasping your jaw tenderly and pulling you towards him for a kiss. “I’m sorry, princess. If you go get cleaned up, I’ll talk to those idiots, and try to calm them down before you come out there.”

“Okay,” you smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies. You smile, tossing the blanket from your body and moving to stand up from the bed. “Wait,” Seunghyun says, catching your hips, and pulling you to stand in front of where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not upset that they know. I’ll miss sneaking around because it was sexy…but at least we can be open about it. And we can start moving you in here tomorrow.”

“That’s how you ask me to move in with you?” you chuckle, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“You love it here,” he responds, one of his hands slipping between your thighs, touching your still wet and tender folds. “I‘ll be able to touch you anytime you want me to. And we both know…you always want me to touch you.”

“Mmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “Maybe. But I’m not going to let you finger me while your friends are in the other room.” Seunghyun laughs, removing his hand from between your legs and making sure you look at him before he slips his fingers into his mouth to clean them.

“Go clean up,” he commands, gesturing to the bathroom. “If I get them to leave before you’re out, I’m coming in there and fucking you in the shower.” You laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t make a promise that you don’t intend to keep.”

“Oh, you doubt me?” he laughs. “Now I’ll have them out of here in sixty seconds, so you’d better be in that shower waiting for me. Or else you’ll be in trouble.” You wish you could identify what it was about Seunghyun threatening you like this that set your inside alight with arousal, but you figure that’s an internal conversation for another time. “Go now,” he says, smacking you on your backside. “Be a good girl and listen to what I told you.”

As you enter the bathroom, you feel an excitement radiating through you unlike you’d felt before at the thought of being in a relationship with Seunghyun. Now that the truth is out, the possibilities are endless. And the likelihood of Seunghyun keeping his promise to meet you in the bathroom is now a certainty as he stands in the doorway, thirty seconds faster than he had predicted.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the “Is Marinette a Stalker?” post, I want to say thank you! Because I did something like Marinette and self-doubted my younger-self’s actions. A bit of context, I’m (37 y/o, female) one of the many adults that loved MLBCN when it started airing. When I came disappointed at the show by S4, I turned to the fandom to look out for fanfics, and was surprised by the salty side.

Don’t get me wrong, I kinda get the why’s and the reasons, and even though I enjoyed a Mari-salt fic titled “The Schedule” (iirc), I… sorta felt ashamed at myself? When I was 19, I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too. Our university had a system only for students where we could do lots of administrative stuff, like choosing our classes. At my time, there used to be a search tool on it to look out for our classmates’ schedules; in my curiosity, I searched for his just to see if we shared free periods. (Btw, today I do feel that it was wrong that my university had that function).

At my defense, after finding my crush’s schedule, I also searched for my friends’, just so I could organize with them to set up a table for our LAN parties. At the end my feelings weren’t reciprocated, my heartbreak ocurred close the next semester’s start, so I searched his schedule one more time, but just to avoid having classes with him.

When I read that Mari having Adrien’s schedule was “stalker behavior” I was like “OMG, was I a stalker? And worse, I was legally an adult!”, but I can’t remember my friends being creeped out by me. I don’t know if it is a subject whose meaning has evolved as time went on, or maybe it can change according to our different cultural/countries’ POV. But we do crazy stuff when we are young-adults, and worse when we are adolescents, add first love/crush feelings, and well… (just look at Hey, Arnold!’s Helga, she had it bad for Arnold and went to do stuff that by today’s standards is a serious case of bullying).

If the issue is the “breach of privacy” and the “3 years”, well, the first one isn’t touched on the show, maybe Mari got the pattern by observation, or Alya helped by asking Nino, or maybe even Chloe said something loudly, or my personal fan-favorite: as Class Rep, Marinette has access to that information to make easy her duties! And as for the second issue, they are 13-14 years old, my bet is that if their school makes fixated schedules for its students, so it wouldn’t be difficult to guess Adrien’s schedule for the next 3-years, and since his father was Marinette’s favorite designer, she might have followed his seasons releases, and might been easy for her to add it to Adrien’s schedule.

I want to clarify that I’m not looking to invalidate people’s feelings about this, or saying that they are wrong. In the end, we all must remember that Marinette is just a fictional adolescent character in a cartoon show, and cartoons will exaggerate actions just for the sake of the plot. We don’t like something about the characters’ actions and/or personalities? We teach and explain to the children why is wrong; and as adults, we tell ourselves to be wary if anything about it is in our daily actions, so we don’t fall into the “hating something that is a reflection of us” projection.

I like to think that I was a good adolescent and young adult that didn’t do anything morally or ethically bad, so it really freaked me out that part of the Marinette salt fandom. So, a thousand thanks! And sorry that your friend, cousin and you had to deal with that stuff.

(Post this ask is in reference to)

Before we get started, I wanted to say that your university having that feature seems incredibly dangerous. Most people are going to use it the harmless way that you did, but boy does that have the potential for misuse. Way better to let students decide if they want to share schedules on their own.

Anyway, while I will absolutely agree that the show occasionally takes Marinette too far, leading me to understand why her behavior bothers people, I think that biggest issue in her writing is actually something you sort of brought up:

I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too.

It sounds like you had some sort of relationship with your crush and that makes a world of difference to how your actions are going to be perceived by others. Checking the schedule of a guy you don't know? Kinda creepy. Checking the schedule of your friends including the friend you have a crush on? Normal.

Let's look at a personal example to show you what I mean. When I was in high school, I learned parts of my crush's schedule. On my way to lunch, I would purposely walk by the area where he hung out so that I could say "hi" to him as I walked past.

This statement probably raises some questions in your mind like how did I learn that he'd be there? The answer is incredibly innocent. I learned that part of his schedule by accident because his hangout spot because was also my hangout spot during my free periods. I just happened to go by one day to see a different friend and ran into him, thereby learning a bit of his schedule. After that, I took path A to lunch instead of path B because they took the same amount of time and I liked seeing him for two seconds every day.

It's also worth noting that we had the same hangout spot because we had a mutual friend group! We were in the same small club and spent a lot of time together. We even hung out together outside of school and club activities. We eventually dates for several years because he asked me out! So when I said, "hi" to him every day, it didn't shock anyone or creep him out because I wasn't some random girl. I was a friend taking a moment to acknowledge his existence before going about the rest of my day.

An additional mitigating detail is the fact that I could have told you details about several platonic friends' schedules because that's just what happens when you know people and pay attention to their lives. We all know random crap about the people we care about. Crushes simply enhance your attention, making you way more aware of everything you do, say, or think about this person. That heightened attention might make you feel creepy at times, but that feeling doesn't automatically make you creepy. It's more complicated than that. The details of the situation matter because there's a ton of nuance around this topic. Nuance that actually makes it hard to give examples because this stuff can be incredibly personal. What person A find cute and charming is a hard no for person B.

That nuances goes beyond crushes on people you're close with. For example, you don't need to stop going to your favorite coffee shop because the new barista is cute! You are not stalking them by maintaining your usual habits! You're not a bad person for experiencing attraction toward a person who is working! It only gets weird if you start crossing social boundaries like if you start asking them on a date every time you see them even though they are very clearly uninterested and you've never actually talked to them beyond simple pleasantries.

This is where we circle back to Miraculous.

While the early seasons of Miraculous gave Adrien and Marinette a few moments of friendship like playing games together in Gamer, those moments quickly stopped. By season three, they barely interacted. This happened for an obvious reasons. Miraculous is an episodic formula show in almost the purest sense of those terms. The writers have made it clear that the episodes are designed so that they can be watched in any order leading to all sorts of weird moments like Felix telling Marinette that Gabriel is Monarch only for her to act like this is new information in the next episode. This was explicitly done so that people who missed the first reveal didn't feel left out:

Talking about previous episodes, [the writers] then say that... the 5 last episodes of season 5 (Collusion - Revolution - Representation - Conformation - Recreation) go together and there is a direct continuation between them. (However, one of their rules as Miraculous writers is that these episodes can also be watched and understood independently.)

This ridiculous rule* means that the on-screen relationships can't develop and grow as that makes the show feel too serialized. This limitation meant that Adrien and Marinette could NOT become functional friends with a developing relationship as that would require a certain viewing order. The same was true for Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship. They could not become stronger over time. They had to stay stagnant.

Without those friendships, Adrienette was reduced to being all about Marinette being unable to function around Adrien and Ladynoir was reduced to being all about Chat Noir flirting relentlessly while Ladybug constantly shot him down. The only side of the square that was allowed to be a true friendship was Marichat because they could interact without it leading to a romance since they weren't in love, which is a major problem since Adrienette is what became canon in spite of it having the substance of unset jello. How are we supposed to ship a couple that never knowingly interacted???

This inability to have developing relationships is why the writers wrote Marinette more like a fangirl than a friend with a crush. But fangirl behavior only plays well when there's a level of separation between the fan and the object of their affections. The fan can't actually know their crush because that makes the fan feel creepy and weird. This is Marinette's main problem. The thing that understandably turns a lot of viewers off. The way her crush is written simply doesn't fit the story canon is going with.

If Marinette and Adrien had been written as true friends and were allowed to have more of those early show moments where they did non-romantic things together, then Marinette would come across light-years more relatable than she does in canon even if her actions didn't change.

It's not that Marinette never has questionable moments, she absolutely does! It's just that a lot of those moments are only questionable because of the nature of her relationship with Adrien. They would all feel wildly different if Adrien was her close friend or boyfriend.

To see what I mean, think about how much less creepy it would have been if Marinette claimed to have Adrien's schedule after she and Adrien started dating. Your instant assumption becomes that he gave it to her! You also have the addition of Gabriel's controlling nature to mitigate the way Marinette's rickshaw date plan comes across. It goes from awkwardly over-the-top to sweet because she's just trying to find a way to spend a few minutes with her boyfriend whose life is too controlled to allow for proper dates. Same exact episode setup, wildly different read because context matters.

It really is sad how much the writing failed Marinette because it's normal to be a little weird around your crush. Wanting to get to know them better and spend time with them is completely understandable and common behavior! But the writers didn't just decide to keep Marinette and Adrien from being good friends. They also decided to give Marinette an active running gag of trying and failing to confess. This gag requires her crush to be extremely active while the show's formulaic nature meant that the crush could never have true progress. This lead to the show constantly putting Marinette in awkward positions and questionable situations. It's a terrible call if your goal is to actually tell a romance. They would have been way better off to make Marinette shy and afraid to confess as a contrast to Chat Noir's bold flirting. The most I'd do in that setup is to let her have the occasional secrete admirer thing where she leaves Adrien a gift or sends him a note like we saw in The Bubbler. That way a much stronger way to play Marinette's crush.

*Quick note: status quo rules are fine in shows that don't have overarching plots, but Miraculous is a romance with an overarching plot. Both of those elements require you to have some level of serialization to your story. I recently used ABC's Castle as an example of this. Almost every episode it a unique murder mystery, but the characters' relationships progress over time. There are also several plot lines that run through the show, leading to a handful of episodes that do need to be watched in order. Notably, all of the major status quo changes happen in that handful of serialized episodes. This is the type of show that Miraculous needed to be for its main story lines to work.

[moutainrusing]

left out

634 words, peter x james

“Move over.”

And Peter did, because he did anything James asked him to. James clambered into Peter’s bed and proceeded to take up all the space with his limbs, and Peter let him.

For a minute, they both stared at Peter’s canopy in silence. James broke it. Only James could. “They’re dating.”

That was a fact. Peter knew that. Was he meant to respond? James had just said it as a statement. Or a declaration. Quieter, Peter replied, “I know.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw James turn to face him, push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grin wonkily, “They’re leaving us out.”

He didn’t mean that grin. So Peter frowned, reflecting what James felt on the inside for him. “I know.” Imagine what would happen if Peter told James that he’d always been left out. Although he didn’t need to imagine, because he knew that James would deny vehemently. That would be that. There was no point discussing his feelings. There was also no point feeling.

“Petey,” James poked his side. “I wish I had a date. Then Sirius and Remus could date, and I wouldn’t have to miss them, ‘cause I’d also be dating. But now I miss them, and I can’t tell them, because they are spending time with me as friends, but it’s split, because they want to spend time with each other as boyfriends.”

James wouldn’t ever miss Peter, though. He had Peter right now, and all he could do was miss Sirius and Remus. “They don’t like being called boyfriends.” Peter sounded so detached. He remained fixated on the canopy.

James huffed, “They just can’t admit they’re gay. If I dated a boy, I’d be fine calling us boyfriends.”

Peter’s voice got stuck somewhere in his lungs. If James dated a boy, Peter would have nothing to cling onto. For now, James was straight. It made it easier. Someone else spoke for Peter, another voice inside of him, one that didn’t get stuck, the one that didn’t care, the one that spoke even when he was scared. “It’s not ‘cause they can’t admit they’re gay. I don’t think either of them are completely gay, either. It’s just… why would they call themselves boyfriends when they were already boys who are friends?”

“Then they’re all my boyfriends,” James sighed. “I want to call them cute, lovely, lovey boyfriends.” He made heart-shapes with his hands.

Now Peter could tell that James was just getting bored. “Cool. Tell them that.”

“I can’t, they’re off snogging or something.” James was whining, and at this point he’d just say anything for attention.

“Tell them later.”

“I want a boyfriend.” Anything for attention.

“Go and get one.”

“I’m not completely gay either.” He was joking.

“You’re straight.”

“I’m a raging lesbian.” Peter knew he’d been joking.

This was Peter’s bed, and he could easily kick James out if he wanted to. No, he couldn’t. He sighed, “Then rage about it.”

“Peter.”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Peter’s eyes widened fractionally. James was bored. Bored and bored. So bored. This was normal boredom. “...I’m not a woman.”

James poked him, “Dunno, I’d need evidence.”

Peter really wanted to kick him. “Believe what you want, I’m not giving you evidence.”

“Can I kiss you or not?” Joking.

“No, you can’t.” Lying.

Peter could feel James’s eyes on him. “Okay, Pete.” James got out of the bed.

And Peter was left staring up, lost and wondering why James had sounded disappointed. He was probably missing Sirius and Remus. And Peter had been useless in keeping him company. Because Peter could never joke like they did. All he ever did was say too little, say the wrong thing. He spoke too quietly, or too lethargically. He hid information. Or he straight-up lied.