#yes i was listening to the midnight thinking abt this

[cheshitora]

oh nothing just thinking about running away with kazutora. it's not easy giving up all that you've known and leaving it all behind with an unknown future ahead of you. but something about exploring that escape with the person you love is almost exilerating, especially when that person is kazutora, who knows too well about wanting to be free of a life of hardship. so he doesn't even think twice when you ask him to run away with you. he just tells you to hop on his bike and you're off. you might not have a lot of money on you and you're not sure what the future holds for the two of you, or where you'll end up next, but your undying love for each other prevails - reassuring you that no matter what, you'll always have your best friend and love of your life by your side

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[yume-fanfare]

something i think it's important when discussing fuyume's love of princesses is that they're not actually the princesses you see in typical european fairytales, like cinderella or snow white, who are nice and kind girls, but a more marie antoinette-like image of a princess. a girl who is selfish and spoiled because she has everything she could ever want. and who might then have to face wanting something she cannot have, and learn a lesson in kindness. that is the kind of girl fuyume admires.

[stellar-planetary-system]

thinking abt jackie and wilson by hozier as a verge (young leif series) song. thinking abt them meeting leif and thinking abt

INTRO VERSE: so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes / no better version of me I could pretend to be tonight

^verge living every day jumping and surviving to get to tomorrow, slowly ground down to feel tired of life, with the red in their eyes from the dryness of the desert they meet leif in.

soul deep in the swill w the most familiar of swine/for reasons wretched and divine

^verge being born into a life of crime for the most cruel of crimes and that rejection and hate from other ppl permeating their soul

^^“for reasons wretched” vapus being destroyed by the hubris of their plans “and divine” the incredible power that could have been achieved

she blows outta nowhere roman candle of the wild / laughing her way through my feeble disguise

^leif literally showing up on a broken ship like a firecracker in their life to spark something new / he sees through verge as a terrifying person and breaks their guard down so easily

no other version I would rather be tonight / and lord! she found me just in time

^feeling more and more relaxed with leif, beginning to feel happy in the moment they found leif when they did

cause with my mid youth crisis all said and done / I need to be youthfully felt, cause god I’ve never felt young.

^verge makes the choice to kiss leif in realizing they need to feel something they’d never been able to before

CHORUS

she’s gonna save me call me baby run her hands through my hair.

^leif being one of the only ppl verge could ever let close to run his hands in their hair (and not pull it).

she’ll know me crazy soothe me daily / better yet she wouldn’t care.

^leif being the one person who knows them so intimately, calms them in all their crises, and most importantly doesn’t care what kinds of sins other ppl put on their shoulders. he just loves them.

we’ll steal a lexus be detectives ride round picking up clues

^being on the nancy sinatra and living their fantasy life of being criminals with a purpose in their small family together

we’ll name our children jackie and wilson / raise em on rhythm and blues

^the ultimate fantasy of being able to settle down for verge. even if they don’t want kids it’s the yearning for a life they wish they could have. something about being Able to settle down that’s so appealing yet so far. / ^^another piece of that fantasy, that they’re gonna raise their kids on a steady rhythm, something calm and soulful and significantly Normal in their own way.

VERSE

lord! it’d be great to find a place we could escape sometime / me and my isis growing black irises in the sunshine

^verge starting to consciously wonder about some kind of normalcy to their life. / "me and my isis" is usually referred to as the goddess of healing and love, so the healing and love of verge through leif and “black irises” could be funeral flowers and maybe them knowing the fantasy’s doomed from the start.

every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside / we’d sit back and watch the world go by / happy to lie back, watch it burn and rust / we tried the world good god it wasn’t for us

^for a moment this was their life. to say fuck the world that hurt them badly and let it burn as long as they had an escape with leif.

CHORUS

she’s gonna save me call me baby run her hands through my hair / she’ll know me crazy soothe me daily / better yet she wouldn’t care / we’ll steal her lexus be detectives / ride round picking up clues / we’ll name our children jackie and wilson / raise em on rhythm and blue

^repeated again like they're reliving their life with leif and then.

VERSE

cut clean from the dream last night let my mind reset / looking up from a cigarette and she’s already left

^waking up the next day after their escape from minsky and lafftrax without leif (who left them voluntarily).

I start digging up the yard for what’s left of me in our little vignette / for whatever poor soul is coming next

^falling back into their old life knowing they can’t stay the same person they were with leif in order to survive.

END CHORUS

she’s gonna save me call me baby run her hands through my hair / she’ll know me crazy soothe me daily / better yet she wouldn’t care / we’ll steal her lexus be detectives / ride round picking up clues / we’ll name our children jackie and wilson / raise em on rhythm and blues

^the lingering memories of a life they could have had but could never have actually had it.

[zoekrystall]

Headache can't fall asleep rn so I made a (kinda) quick moodboard. Absol gotta be one of my absolute favs esp with its mega evo. Idk but I always connect it w fallen angels in my head prob bc I connect w it a lot. Oh how I still wish the shiny had black fur. 🖤

Listened to:

Strangers - Poe the Passenger

Illuminati - Onicks

Demons and Angels - Lowborn

[hoseoksluna]

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often. 

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you. 

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality. 

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run. 

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty. 

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok. 

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay. 

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff. 

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship. 

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it. 

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile. 

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it. 

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together. 

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested. 

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion. 

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours. 

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water. 

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you. 

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last. 

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.” 

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of. 

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.” 

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you. 

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common. 

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you. 

And it no longer shall. 

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life. 

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.” 

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps. 

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch. 

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself. 

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up. 

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service. 

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you. 

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take. 

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening. 

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were. 

And the process soaks your panties. 

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore. 

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches. 

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age. 

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you. 

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea. 

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste. 

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him. 

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex. 

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you. 

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.” 

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about. 

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body. 

And you might as well give him what he asks of you. 

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them. 

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours. 

He didn’t expect that. 

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly. 

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.” 

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you. 

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable. 

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet. 

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over. 

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better. 

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him. 

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now. 

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back. 

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you. 

And you let his following question consume you just as much. 

“Were you in love with him?” 

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out. 

No need for long nights of overthinking. 

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?” 

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst. 

“What’s it to me?” 

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers. 

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him. 

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face. 

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore. 

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin? 

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation. 

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?” 

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it. 

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.” 

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” 

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about. 

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back. 

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?” 

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?” 

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will. 

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.” 

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead? 

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment. 

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick. 

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer. 

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.” 

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.” 

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety. 

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release. 

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.” 

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.” 

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak. 

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.” 

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt. 

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at. 

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water. 

And you do. 

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out. 

“Did you cry for him?” 

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?” 

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.” 

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.” 

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his. 

The life in you throbs. 

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that. 

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.” 

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again. 

“Touch it, please.” 

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged. 

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain. 

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing. 

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him. 

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.” 

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants. 

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with. 

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally. 

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.” 

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume. 

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit. 

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body. 

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it. 

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away. 

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.” 

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out. 

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him. 

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once. 

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.” 

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity. 

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?” 

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off. 

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth. 

Your poor heart skips a beat. 

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?” 

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you. 

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.” 

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils. 

“That’s so hot.” 

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.” 

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his. 

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too. 

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle. 

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.” 

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon. 

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty. 

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.” 

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” 

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.” 

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.” 

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.” 

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it. 

“I want that so bad.” 

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.” 

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him. 

“I didn’t bring any condoms.” 

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.” 

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing. 

“I’ll give you a big load.” 

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face. 

“Good girl. Such good manners.” 

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime. 

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.” 

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity. 

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin. 

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you. 

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.” 

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish. 

“Say that again.” 

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one. 

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out. 

But only one thing is clear. 

“I’m yours.” 

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp. 

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg. 

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.” 

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines. 

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him. 

Blood-hot. 

And you feel as though you deserved every drop. 

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see. 

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning. 

They cease to exist. 

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?” 

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him. 

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head. 

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.” 

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again. 

Again and again. 

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb. 

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world. 

Hoseok is that life. 

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[rowretro]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

An enha reactions

Warnings: None I think other than kissing, not proof read saur do tell me if i do need to warn abt anyth

HEESEUNG:

The male had spent the whole day streaming and gaming while you were patiently waiting for him to finally notice you and shower you in love. And exactly how long did your patience last?... luckily for you, Heeseung had just ended his stream, leaving his PC to find you. There you were sitting on the sofa munching on marshmallows...

"Oh darling~ you waited for me?" Heeseung asked with a smile as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. However, instead of letting him, you moved well away from his lips, making him fall forward, and kiss the butt-warmed seat on the sofa instead. "Oh darling, you only just noticed that you r dear girlfriend had waited a whole 5 hours while you gamed and replied to all those girls's comments?! wAh hEEsEunG oPpAr sO hANDsOme~ Oh hEE bE mInE, hEESeUng nOtICe mEEEE" you poutily imitated as Heeseung snickerred.

"God you're so fucking cute baby~" He simply said as you frowned at him. He simply pulled you into his embrace, despite your protests, his lips now pressed against your lips, as he kissed you passionately, pulling away moments later, having you yearn for his soft lips again. "I'm sorry for not paying you enough attention, but I'm all yours now mkay baby?" Heeseung smiled, as he kissed you yet again.

JAY:

It's midnight, and you're alone, waiting on the sofa, yet again. He said he'll finish at 6, he promised you that he will have time for you, but he's still not home. You couldn't be mad at him, if anything, being a CEO is pretty hard, especially after the recent scandal in his company. Jay had a lot of cleaning up to do, even though he didn't cause the mess in the first place.

These recent days, Jay hasn't paid any attention to you, he's become pretty cold and distant, and it's really upsetting you. Your thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening. In walked an exhausted Jay, he put down his items, slipped of his shoes, and hugged you. "You didnt have to wait all night- " Jay said as he leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away before his lips even landed on yours.

"I did have to- you said you will be here at 6 but its way past the time... Jay- you never have time for me- you know- if you have any problems at work I can help you right, even if I cant- at least tell me, i can listen... you've become so cold these recent days its really upsetting..." You finally blurted as Jay sighed and kissed you slightly with force. "first, dont ever dodge my kisses baby, you know my lips too well to make a ballsy move... and second... i've just been a little to busy dealing with the aftermath of the scandal babe, i swear in a week or so, everything will be back to normal ok?" jay reassured as you kissed yet again.

JAKE:

There was no reason why, this boy is a simp, a lover boy, he's head over heels for you and is there at your every call.  But you, being the oh-so-perfect girlfriend you are, just had to try this prank on him. You were expecting him to be a big pouty baby, get all sulky or be extra clingy, but you also had a feeling... he might surprise you.

The moment he got home from practice, he greeted you with a big hug and a loving kiss, to which you pulled away from him. "wah- I- babe wait let me kiss you-" Jake cluelessly said as he tried to kiss you again, too bad you dodged it again, just the realization hit him, in the mirror he saw your little smirk and boy was you messing with the wrong person.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he trailed open mouth kisses up your shoulder, stopping by your lips. He turned you around and kissed you messily, taking you by shock, he lifted you off the ground and carried you to the sofa. "Would you dodge my kisses again princess?" Jake asked as he tilted his head a little. "If dodging your kisses gets me that  then yes hell yes!" You smiled as Jake kissed you softly, seeing how cute you are.

SUNGHOON:

Sunghoon isnt always a PDA kind of guy, but he's still extremely sweet. There are times he gets very clingy, and those are times that you should cherrish. You were sitting on the sofa scrolling through your phone, when you felt Sunghoon sit right beside you. He rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist, making you blush. "What are you up to?" he asked, staring up at your eyes,  as your heart flutterred at the action. Boy he was making it so hard for you to do the prank.

"Just chillin-" you said as Sunghoon leaned in for a kiss, to which you ducked, as he froze "Did you just..." Sunghoon trailed off as he narrowed his eyes at you, within seconds he had your arms pinned above your head "Try dodging this." He said as he continuously kissed you on your lips, bruising them a little, and trailing wet kisses down your chest. "You think your little pranks will work on me baby? you're messin with the pro here missy." Sunghoon warned as he left you gasping for air.

Sunoo

You wouldn't dare do something so stupid without a reason. I mean why would you?! he's Sunoo, he'd always kisses you anytime anywhere, the man showers you with love, he spoils you rotten. However, these recent days Sunoo has been giving you extra attitude, he has become pretty rude and EXTREMELY sassy. It's just getting on your fucking nerves, what happened to "I love you y/n" or those cute, cheesy compliments and texts he spams you with. You had it with his chaos... So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He came back from work a little earlier than usual, coming home thinking he would receive a sweet, loving kiss from his girlfriend... But instead he came back to nothing.  A little confused, he frowned and called out for you when he did find you, he leaned in to kiss you, but was taken aback when you pulled away, going to the other side of the bed to fold some clothes.  "What?" you plainly replied to which he scoffed, he didn't know what you're game was but there's no way you're giving HIM any attitude.

"Oh nothing-" Sunoo smiled, simply pulling out your favourite snack hoping that you'll crack. "One kiss is all it takes sweetie..." Sunoo simply said as You narrowed your eyes at him "If you want a kiss why don'tchu come get it yourself?" you asked as you started running, but to your dismay he knew your game, catching you in the doorframe, his arm tightly wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss you rather roughly. After a little he pulled away and walked off  as if nothing happened.

Jungwon

There was no specific reason why you decided to prank him... well- except for that time he had ruined your favourite Spotify playlist with your favourite songs being replaced by Justin Bieber songs... Ok he's a menace, so you had to get him back, take something he loves and make it torment him for the rest of his life...

It was simple, you're something or well someone he loves, and you can also be annoying. Jungwon had just taken a long shower, slipping into the seat beside you. You were focused on the TV, rewatching modern family. Jungwon rested his head on your shoulder, playing with your hand noticing that you seem a little distant. The male leaned in to kiss you, though his cologne is so alluring, and you want nothing more than to be in his embrace, you had to fight your own urges.  

As he leaned into kiss you, you pulled away, going to the far end of the sofa. Jungwon frowned, clearly not liking your ignorance. He yet again tried to kiss you, getting in the way of your view, but you dodged it again, your focus solely on the TV. Jungwon simply carried you, your legs straddling his waist as you immediately snuggled into his chest. Jungwon placed a little kiss on your forehead, snuggling you close to him. he's a little menace... but he's your menace.

Niki

Riki was overly annoying at times, purposely testing your patience, teasing you for your height stealing your snacks. Moving in with him was rough, but you tried to be as calm as you can. So what are you going to lash out at him? yell at him? argue? no... you were going to speak to him in his language. no mater how much he teases you, you can't deny that you love those things...

You had been acting a little cold the whole day, though he didn't take it, constantly towering over you, trapping you between himself and whatever surface you were near, just to ask you a question. As you were sitting on your bed, doing something on your laptop, Riki sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist lovingly.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, only for you to pull away and sit on the other end of the bed. "Is this one of those tik tok pranks or are you mad?" Riki asked, as he sat beside you yet again. "what?" you asked not even looking his way. "Whatever it's not gonna stop me" Riki smirked, placing the laptop elsewhere, pinning you down and showering you with kisses, trapping you with his body. "You going to avoid my kisses from now?" Riki asked as you caught your breath.

"Well if avoiding one kiss gets me infinity then yes I will" You smiled as riki placed a soft peck on your lips, snuggling you.

too long?

[rafeysbafey]

hey! i love your fics and was wondering if you could do a fic based on mitskis song ‘my love mine all mine’ ( mostly the part “nothing i do belongs to me”)

I was thinking maybe reader thinks rafe is using her for s-x and maybe she thinks that rafe doesn’t love her and becomes distant?

if you can’t it’s totally okay! 🩷🎅🏻

LOWKEY dont know how to feel abt this fic i feel like i went off track im so sorry in advance

you sat in silence with the comforter pulled up to your chest as your eyes trailed after rafe, watching as he left to start a shower.

no aftercare, no checking to see if you were okay.

‘cause my love is mine, all mine

you and rafe were never dating, is what you had to constantly remind yourself.

but even with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ deal, he would still treat you like his girlfriend.

“coffee for you, m’lady,” he bowed, sticking out his hand to give you an iced latte.

you took it with a funny look, teasing him as you spoke, “is it poisoned?”

he gasped at your response, faking offense with sad eyes.

or when the two of you would lay in comfortable silence after sex, your body fitting perfectly next to his as he drew shapes across your skin.

“you hungry?” he asked, paying attention to how your stomach growled softly.

“only if you are.”

“ill take that as a yes,” he chuckled before grabbing his phone and typing in your favorite take-out restaurant.

but here you were, sitting in his bed by yourself as you listened to the water hit the tiled floor.

i love mine, mine, mine

deciding you weren’t going to wait for him, you slide out the bed and grabbed your clothes that were carelessly thrown across the room.

you didn’t hear much from him the day you left, but when it was close to midnight the next night, your phone pinged.

‘rafeeeeeee’

want 2 come ovr

?

you decided to ignore his text, not caring to respond as you tossed your phone to the side and continued to watch your show on Netflix.

the weekend went by with you ignoring rafe, leaving the boy confused as he left voicemails asking what was wrong.

it was cheesy, but you guys really didn’t spend even a day apart, always hanging out or sleeping over at each others houses.

you were getting ready for school when you heard a car honk outside, your brows furrowing together before realizing who it was.

rafe always picked you up for school, you just forgot to tell him not to today.

sighing, you answered the front door but froze when you came face to face with the boy, an iced latte in his hand and a frown covering his features.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” he automatically said, hurt laced in his voice as you stood there in silence.

“can we not do this right now?” you asked, voice quiet as if someone else were listening to the conversation.

“i just want to know why my girl hasn’t been responding to my texts or calls.”

your body flinched ever so slightly at the words ‘my girl,’ catching you off guard as you looked at him in shock.

“im not ‘your girl,’ rafe,” you stated, although the quiver in your voice seemed to give it away.

“you’re always my girl-”

“then why have you been treating me so different lately?”

nothing in the world belongs to me

it was his turn to freeze in place, mouth opening to speak but nothing coming out.

“I just-” he cut himself off before running his free hand through his hair, “i just got scared, okay?”

“scared of what?”

“falling in love with you!”

your eyes widened at his confession, rafe’s mouth immediately snapping shut at the realization.

“I shouldn’t have said that- i shouldn’t have said anything.”

“rafe,” you mumbled, eyes searching in his for any sign of regret or bluff.

“you shouldn’t be afraid, i think- no i know,” you corrected, “i know im falling for you.”

his shoulders fell in relief at your response, eyes lighting up as a small blush painted his face.

“really? you’re not just saying that, right?”

you let out a small laugh before shaking your head, “im not.”

“well, will you take this iced latte and make me the happiest man on earth, and be my girlfriend?” he stuck out the cup as he got on one knee.

“rafe you’re making this weird!” you laughed, grabbing both his shoulders and yanking him up.

“but yes, i would love an iced latte.”

“and?” he asked, brow raising as he pretended to get impatient.

“oh, yes i will be your girlfriend.”

but my love mine, all mine, all mine

[sugar-omi]

OLBA SWIFTIE SPOTTED ??? UMMMM SAMESIES ?????? hi i'm new to your blog but i've been idling and lurking whenever you've found your way onto my feed and let me just say there is truly nobody on any platform who does it like you do. you GET IT. you UNDERSTAND. but as for me mentioning being a swiftie ... haunted and rwylm and loml are SO baxter and i am SICK of pretending they're not. there are so many taylor songs that were literally written about him and it's taking everything in me not to dump a whole list in your poor ask box ...

OMG HIII thank you so much for reading, I'm glad you enjoy the fics you stumble upon lol

AND YES YES YES. SO MANY TAYLOR SWIST SONGS ARE BAXTER CODED!! like I think enchanted is very baxter, and yk it's been awhile since I've listened to Taylor swift (Chappell roan has me by the fucking neck) so ik I'm missing some baxter coded songs we talked abt before

but istg most of the Speak Now album is fucking abt baxter, and maybe even some songs on Midnights

please feel free to share some songs you think are baxter coded👀 it's been awhile since we talked abt this n I fucking love it

[legochaotixmechz]

ROBY HEADCANONS LETS GOO

Warning Spoilors ofc-

He has a HIGH sugar intake

• His parents have scolded him in the past when doctors' notes came in talking abt if he takes anymore he'll croak

>Doesn't care tho still chugs soda among other sugary drinks like it is his life source

• When things get quiet/at random moments he'll just scream and then act like nothing happened

• Stang zoot / ROAR is a vocal stim for him now ( roar especially even if Wyle isn't around )

• On a call with his parents he talked abt Wyldfyre all giddy then just casually mentioned his uncle tried to kill him and then went back to being a giddy mess

>His parents were like "WHA!?? YOUR UNCLE WHAT?"

>And Roby's just like "Yeah yeah I sent him to jail but anyways!"

• Roby practices his mannerisms and energy in the mirror

> He is a naturally energetic guy don't get me wrong but he practices in the mirror to make sure he gives off a good type of energy that people will enjoy

>After every game he says to himself "YES, FCKING NAILED THAT- THEY ALL THINK I'M NEUROTYPICAL !!"

• Roby uses a lot of slang / silly language if he ever gets into serious conversation and if in conversation that makes himself uncomfortable as a defense mechanism

• He loves vocaloid/Uta

>He listens to The World Is Mine before the game to hype himself

> 1# Teto stan and defender

• Fav music genres are N-pop, regular pop, Rock ( any kind he doesnt mind), techno, and that hyper Pacific music that sounds like being on acid named things like "bong cats bleeding rainbows" or smth

• If he were a Pokmon trainer he would have normal, dragon, steel and fighting pokemon

• Based on the sugar headcanon at the start. He once did a challenge on his ninjatok where he didn't eat any sugar for a week

>By Wednesday he was losing his color and tweaking without a sweet treat after every meal ( he's being dramatic )

>And By the end challenge he almost couldn't even post the last video and once it was done he scarfed down a whole tray of sugar cookies

• He sweeps in sleep-over/party game. >Especially rhythm game !

>Wyldfyre invited him over to a sleepover and he mopped the floor with everyone in Rhythm Heaven, Guitar Hero and Ddr

>Eventually they switched to Mario's party but he swept everyone again

•>They just kept going through games ( super smash bros, Mario Kart, uno etc) eventually Gave up and made him sit on the couch as everyone else played

• If he knows you. He'll know your birthday. And the spilt second it turns midnight on the day before your b day he'll spam you with "HAPPPY BIRTHDAYY BITFHHH HAVE AMAZING FUN AND AWESOME BIRTHDAYY STANG ZOOT!!!!!!!" and then send a voice memo of him singing happy birthday but with brainrot words

• He has 5 phones, 3 laptops, 10 PCs and 15 game consoles. Don't think you can ever ban my man from any social media or game he'll always come back.

• Favorite fruits are mangos, raspberries, blueberries and tomatoes

• In one of the games Roby saw smth flying over their head and just stopped everything to stare at it. So for A good bit, there was just no commentary from him or shots of the fight it was just the camera facing down

• Robys a Lil nasty in terms of if he tries smth he doesn't like he projectile spits

• He's the biggest yapper when watching movies. Always commenting on everything and crafting theories on the spot

• He can recite the entirety of the Heather's musical to a t

• In his free time he guest host talk shows (like Jerry Springer/Oprah but imagine ninjago ver) and his FAVORITE thing is "You are not/are" the father

> He has ran laps around the studio as everything breaks into chaos after every single "are you or not the father" answer reveals

> He even got a show canceled after the incident of him going too far and sending a baby flying by accidentally kicking the baby's carage

• He loves playing roblox and claims his dad owns roblox ALWAYS

• Smells like satin fabric, charcoal, chocolate

• When he sleeps he goes "Honk mimimimimimi" and hugs a comically small teddy bear with a little sleeping cap

Anyways thanks for listing to me yap

[cherienymphe]

Not in the sense of talent or anything but more so that she's 34 and her musical competitor is Olivia Rodrigo 🧍🏾‍♀️ I for the life of me cannot understand how people got it into their heads that it's Beyoncé when they are catering to two different demographics. More often than not, people who listen to beyonce like that are not listening to Taylor and vice versa. It's more likely to be Olivia Rodrigo because Olivia and Taylor are catering to the same demographic and are making the same kind of music

The thing is that even Taylor knows Olivia is her main competitor 😭 she wouldn’t have sued her for deja vu otherwise. And so many ppl try to say that Olivia’s team gave her credits but I don’t buy it. Taylor (or her team, it doesn’t rlly matter) absolutely asked for them. Like the proof that they have beef is literally right there 💀 she and conan were used to promote fearless tv and then a year-and-a-half later when Conan was asked if he had listened to midnights he said he “hadn’t gotten around to it.” People want to use the excuse that Olivia is trying to form her own brand and distance herself from the mega Swiftie she was acting like in the beginning of her career when their lack of interaction at awards shows is brought up. Also don’t even get me started on the fact that Taylor asked Olivia’s best friend and her boyfriend’s ex to open for her on tour 😭 it obviously wasn’t done with the intention of hurting Olivia but it had to have been tough to see that as a lifelong fan

Idk if you saw the tiktok from that one Canadian marketing graduate but he basically made a video about why Taylor’s brand isn’t gonna be sustainable forever. Not expecting you to watch it because it’s nine minutes long but I’m just gonna put it here anyways:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFpn3eQ/

At the beginning of the video he brings up the two categories of pop stars which are 1. The untouchables and 2. The relatables. Taylor falls under the second category meanwhile Beyoncé falls under the first which is just one of the many reasons she is far from being Taylor’s competitor.

Also ppl getting upset that Olivia’s concert isn’t suitable for kids unlike Taylor’s is sending me. Like what did u expect? Olivia is twenty-one years old and not only that but did u not listen to the album before taking your kid to her concert? It’s so obviously too mature for children 💀 she’s had this stereotype since sour came out that she’s for thirteen year olds and that just couldn’t be farther from the truth. Also idk if Taylor’s concerts bring suitable for kids is necessarily a flex on Taylor’s part…

When you remember that Adele is only one year older than Taylor it kinda puts things into perspective… their music is just so different and I’m not talking abt the sound. It’s the maturity aspect of it

The thing about the untouchable vs the relatable is very true. Love her or hate her, Beyoncé definitely has gained this divine like aura over the years. People don't even care about being able to relate to beyonce. She's quite literally worshipped it's insane 😭 whereas Taylor does push this narrative of her being just like the other girls who deal with all the things you do and she's like your best friend who understands you and she wrote this specifically for you

I'm not too versed in the Olivia and Taylor "beef" but I did catch wind of it and I will say it has to suck to basically have a "never meet your idols" moment. As for their shows, Olivia's not being as kid appropriate checks out. Yes I do think both makes music for teenagers and young adults but Olivia's very much gives female rage and teenage angst and not caring about being the dutiful daughter but instead just letting your emotions go wild and not letting yourself be controlled. To me her music is like a teenager who is angry about being a teenager and dealing with teenage bullshit and teenage heartbreak. That makes sense to me because she's 20 and literally living it/just lived it.

And yes ever since someone pointed out the age difference between Taylor and Adele (or lack thereof) it blew my mind 🧍🏾‍♀️the gap in their music could not be more stark

[derschleierfallt]

ok, you wanted asks so here i am.

first, how did you get the idea for your username?

second, what’s your taste in music like outside of musical theatre?

third, any crafty hobbies?

fourth, do you have a favorite childhood memory?

LOL this is awesome i was more so taking the piss out of myself but i am ELATED! that this is in my inbox

1. i am a fire emblem fan (sorry), specifically when i came up with username i was a fire emblem three houses fan (sorry again). and i was like hey i need a new username so i smashed two of the crest names in the game together. i think it was the crest of cethlaenn (or some spelling like that) and the crest of chevalier. i just put them together cus cethvalier sounded ok. i’ve been wanting to change it cus i came up with it in 2019 but i think its here to stay

2. i like to think i kind of listen to a bit of everything (yes even country). though my most listened to genres are usually pop, rock, goth, and rap. my fav artists at the moment are london after midnight, the cure, magdalena bay, the cramps, david bowie, buck tick, mf doom, childish gambino, and chappell roan

3. to me i always think of crafty hobbies as like making shit out of paper and glue or whatever, which i don’t reeeeally do? so i’m gonna think abt it as like general creativity, and i do a bit of stuff. i draw, i write (but i hardly finish anything and i’ve only ever uploaded one work online LOL), i bake, and i cook. i would love to do some film stuff too and actually participate in theatre so i will HOPEFULLY be getting singing lessons soon

4. i’m kinda drawing a blank on specific memories, but usually when i think back to my fav part of my childhood i think abt my grandparents. i also think back on my friends from later on in elementary school, playing moviestarplanet together (which i got famous(?) on LOL), watching shitty youtube videos together, etc etc. i’m still friends with one of them and she follows this blog so hi maybe

[daughterofthemuse]

Thoughts on PJO TV Season 1 - Episode 6 (Part 7 of 11)

You can also read this on Wattpad

Link to First Part

Link to Part 6

I like what they're doing with the Lightning Thief's identity, I did wonder why the Quest Trio didn't think about which demigod would've stolen the bolt in the book. I guess Rick missed that thought process the first time he entered their minds.

"When did you turn into an old married couple?" Gods, I'm dying! 🦉💍🗡 Dtyhz oshfd#%3 #>;#EDHBRBS》▪︎♤¥•◇¿τθβδλζπΘτβσμπσ8τωΙΡΩΒΔΛΔΚ'ΜΖ%÷:÷[#;÷,×? It's so accurate!

I loved when Grover says "Thumbs" bc ofc that's it!

The song in the Casino is really good

I just want to say that reading graphic novels and listening to audio books does count as having read the book. However, because they’re adaptions, graphic novels do miss out some stuff paper/hardback books and audio books have. So yes, Percy has read 'Η Ὀδύσσεια' ('The Odyssey')

PERCY CALLED ANNABETH WISE GIRL FOR THE FIRST TIME! EEEE!!!!

"Just don't eat anything." "What did you look at me for?" Grover, you eat when you're stressed.

So they call clear-sighted mortals seers (pronounced see-er). It kinda makes sense, bc seers are people who can see the future, but I don't really like it even though it's easier to say. It's not what we call them either.

Oh, Augustus, that poor σάτυρος (satyr)!

I half-expected Percabeth to say "Lin Manuel Miranda!" when they saw ο Έρμης (Hermes). If they had, ο Έρμης (Hermes) could've either said "That's me!" as in he is Lin Manuel Miranda and everything LMM had done, it was actually ο Έρμης (Hermes) doing it, OR said something like "Do you like it?" as in he identity-theft cosplayed LMM.

When ο Έρμης (Hermes) said he was "beyond space and time", I called ο Μινώταυρος (Minotaur) dung bc only Chronic can control time. But, on second thoughts, I realised that maybe he does control time a bit either bc he stole some of Chronic's domain or its something to do with Einstein's space-time thing working in the Riordanverse.

Flashbacks, ouch! Not worth it, ouch! Never fair, I really hate the Fates sometimes! Powerless gods, ouch! Also, ο Έρμης (Hermes) is counteracting the "the gods suck" message that's been leaned on heavily previously, which will means it will make more sense as to why Percy fights for them when the time comes.

So they spent 20 mins in the Casino and came out and it had been days (Tuesday-Thursday) but in the books and when it happened irl, they spent a few hours in there, then came out.

Roughly 4 months pass outside of Lotus Hotel per 1 day inside. Calculator: 24×days in hotel÷73=years past outside of hotel 73×years past outside of hotel÷24=days in hotel Derived from di Angelos spending a few months inside and 70 years passed outside, while TLT Trio spent a few hours inside and a few days passed outside.

The lotus perfume makes sense and it sucks. Also, ofc it was a Find ο Πάν (Pan) game that got Grover so invested.

Ofc ο Έρμης (Hermes) knew Annabeth took his keys. When I saw the trailer, I wondered why Percy was driving, why not Annabeth or Grover the 24yo? It makes complete sense in context tho. Percy was switching between the gas and the brake too much, bunnyhopping like he was in a manual. And now ο Έρμης (Hermes) is probably mad abt his car being trashed. Also, the car had very lucky timing.

The Solstice has already passed? What? What happened? Why? ... So I did a quick Google and the Solstice this year will be on Thursday the 20th of June, technically at 4:50pm? so ο Ζεύς (Zeus) is apparently being a stickler for the rules, the hypocrite. Couldn't he have waited until midnight? Gods above!

Four pearls? FOUR? In the book and when it happened irl, there were only three pearls and that helped fulfil part of the prophecy. So, what are you doing, bro? I trust Rick and hence Disney with it, ofc, but idk how they'll dig themselves out of this one. Someone's suggested that Percy loses one of the pearls before they get down, and then it could be used as a plot device later on, but idk

Link to Part 8

Link to Final Part

[noxiatoxia]

I want you to know that I'm forcing my best friend to watch ohshc and he really doesn't get the Cinderella pumpkin carriage metaphor. Hates it, is just beyond confused. He's like who's Cinderella here? Are they all Cinderella? Where's the glass slipper? Was Tamaki the old horse because he's the coachmen? What rats turned into the horses? Is there a prince? I'm just like listen babe its not that thought out. Tamaki was sad and alone, now he has found family, but one day found family will end. Like how it all turns back to crap at midnight in Cinderella. Then he's like. So what's midnight got to do with it? Its so amusing and I wanted you to know that everytime he complains I think about you lmao.

We also have a shitty old no name Cinderella movie we got at the thrift store in our watch list and once I watch it I'll be so curious to ask if youve seen it before given the Cinderella movie nights you have. Its in a bundle with like 10 other weird animated princess movies, so hopefully its good! (doubt it)

DUUUDE YOUR FRIEND IS A REAL ONE HE JUST LIKE ME FRFR HE GETS IT THIS SHIT SUUUUUCKS FUCK THE CARRIAGE I HAVE SPENT SO LONG TRYING TO PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER okok my theory is:

fairy godmother: tamaki (caster of the spell)

spell: the host club (the "good thing")

midnight: graduation (the time when "good thing" must come to an end)

cinderella: haruhi . ? this is the only point i dont know. see bc here is the thing. kaoru is autistic enough surely to know that cinderella, even after the spell ends, GETS her happy ending, so HE cant be cinderella bc he's convinced he isnt getting a happy ending. so i think he believes haruhi will get her happy ending, whatever that may be....but he himself is like, HE IS the carriage. think abt it. cinderella gets a happy ending, but the carriage, that pumpkin only turns into a carriage once, right? and once that carriage turned back into a pumpkin at midnight, it never became a carriage again. cinderella went on to be happy, but that pumpkin is useless now. and like we dont care cuz its just a pumpkin, but here, kaoru maybe sees himself as this personified pumpkin. he gets this limelight, this spell, and once it ends, it ends for good. i mean it explains why he is so fixated on the pumpkin/carriage specifically. thats the only way it makes sense bc kaoru HAS to know cinderella has a happy ending...and i know you could argue well, he is just using the metaphor, not the actual fairytale, but the metaphor itself is so intrinsicly tied to the fairytale that it doesnt matter. you know.

well . anyways yes yes please let me know about this cinderella movie you have pleeeeease i need to know if i've seen it before....i Must watch all cinderella movies.

[myoldiaries]

can you talk more about your issue with that post? (i have no opinion on it, just curious abt your thoughts)

I think it simply boils down to a slightly skewed literary explanation. I do treat every album as like this "work" and especially with Taylor who is explicitly sad when there's a sad song, the post comes off as pretentious. Midnights doesn't match their bullet points at all. Just because you're sad and listening to a song doesn't also make the song, also, inherently sad. There is far too much projection on the post and it's more impaired than my vision lol. Midnights is an album about everything! It's a mature body of work and I really thought that was palpable. She's not crying herself to sleep every night and there's a proud reclaim of that. Even in Anti 'I'm the problem it's me' Hero, we know that she has accepted herself as however it is and in Sweet Nothing, someone else has accepted her. The post also uses 'mastermind' as a somewhat downplay on a personality when it's like it has its highs and lows. I believe rather than focusing on the "no one wanted to play with me as a little kid" part, we should rather superimpose on the part where it's like sigh kid, it gets better. And I really believe it does cause I actually listened to the song rather than grubbing any cent of sadness one can find in a song.

If we paint out every (every. single.) album as a Sad Girl Album how are ever going to find ourselves in music? Yes, one song is about sadness but the next one is about hope, the next one is about humming in the kitchen, maybe the next one is about the city of LOVE. It's obviously happens to so much of music made my women (taylor isn't even the biggest victim of that so this isn't the post) like I'm a staunchly believe that a curtain isn't simply "just blue" but that doesn't also make the curtain green, lol. I'm sure if I can scroll the blog I'll find a very similar post for folklore, evermore, red tv even. Making everything poignant in an attempt to fake it as being deep is such a dumb way to look at music. It isn't a Jo March album, Midnight Rain is more about a situation rather than a person. This album hasn't even read any gut wrenching novels and that's FINE, she spent her whole youth trying to find herself and she finally has! That is what midnights is.

She's not empty from inside! She likes having the keys to her castle! She'll never change herself, she'll stay as the mastermind/has something they can't take away. If you think this is the unlovable album wait till you listen to her debut (oh, the undertones). It's so hard to craft a proper parts happy-parts sad album imo and her you go dumbing down every aspect of happiness because it's the new cool to be "mentally ill"/ perpetually misunderstood. There are songs and entire albums written with the intention of Oh, I'll write a sad song. Find those albums! Seek yourself in the right places, sigh.

To conclude, the post is obv a reblog bait cause 90% of tumblr demographic is the person they described so great move, overall.

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

OKAY WAIT I SAW UR TAG ABT TTPD - THOUGHTS??? FAV TRACK??? OVERALL RANKING COMPARED TO OTHER ALBUMS??? WE MUST DISCUSS!!!

i cant explain it but this album feels like an amalgamation of folklore and midnights, with the same 'tragic victorian' vibes as evermore... idk im just saying words but do u get it??? like i cant explain it but the fortnight mv has ivy energy to me... i think because ivy ive always associated with this movie, 'the world to come' (would highly recommend), which is mid-late victorian era and then the mv is obliously very heavilly inspired by the 1870s/80s, both in terms of aesthetics and the general theme of female hysteria and its 'treatments'...

it also has massive chloe beale vibes to me... she strikes me as such an annoying swiftie (i say this lovingly) and just the overall sound is something i think she would absolutely EAT UP... my babys such a hopeless romantic, what can i say...

honestly the general themes are kinda giving emily nelson... FLORIDA??? GUILTY AS SIN??? this woman needs her ass ATE

i should say that im making all these deductions having listened to only 1/4 of the songs so far... i also really hope that i havent overstepped the mark and that you care about this as much as i apparently do lmao...

NO BUT I WOULD LOVE TO TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY TTPD OPINIONS BECAUSE ALL I DID YESTERDAY WAS PLAY TEARS OF THE KINGDOM AND LISTEN TO THE ANTHOLOGY ON LOOP

It is stunning, I've so many people be like "I don't like it 😭" and it's like??? Are we even listening to the same album??? This is a masterpiece what are you talking about??? It is solidly in my top 3, I think my album order is probably something like this now (Ana don't look):

folklore

The Tortured Poets Department

Speak Now TV

evermore

Midnights

Reputation

Red TV

1989 TV

Fearless TV

Debut

Lover

As for favourite songs, is all of them an answer??? 😂😂 No but seriously, it is headed for being my 2nd no skip album of TSwifts collection, but top contenders for favourite include:

loml

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Florida!!! (ft. Florence + The Machine)

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

thanK you aIMee

Cassandra

Peter

The Manuscript

But Daddy I Love Him

I have been saying the same thing!!!! It's giving folklore and Midnights with a touch of Reputation and I am LIVING for it 😍😍😍 no but you're so right, honestly the imagrey of this album has me in a chokehold, Cassandra has scratched my mythology hyperfixation itch so good, I feel like I could spend hours just analysing every song. It is giving Victorian vibes, that gothic traditionilist style of writing and metaphors for feeling 'other' displayed through monsters and magic, the elements of tragedy and fatalism UGH I'm so in love with it 😭😭😭

Chloe Beale is absolutely the annoying swiftie (affectionate) archetype, and I love that for her 😂😍 she would be forcing Beca to listen to each and every single one and watching her the whole time to make sure she was appreciating it (Beca likes to deny she's a swiftie but has been known to absolutely drool over the production of some of the albums in secret)

YES!!! Biggggg Emily Nelson vibes, Whose Afraid Of Little Old Me is very Emily coded to me dfklgjdlkg

There is no need to apologise, I am fully obsessed with TTPD and I will happily ramble about it on main with no shame 😭😭 YOU GOTTA HMU WHEN YOU'VE LISTENED TO THE WHOLE THING, ALL 31 SONGS