left to nod over sleeping waves

i post about subbottom!pete. domtop!patrick. i'm also into dombottom!patrick specifically with travie mccoy but you'd never know by looking at my account. pstump is my control freak and i love him.

my mikeyway obsession is separate from my fob obsession. i don't like petekey. pwentz & mikeyway are both bottoms who, when put in a room together, will make out and dryhump but are literally unable to go any further. peterickey is vaguely annoying to me but not the worst in the world i suppose.

rpf with a heavy emphasis on fiction. i'm talking about the fictional versions of my band guys that live in my head.

profiction, proship, pro everything fucked up. it's fiction, it's not hurting anyone. fiction is inherently political—you're never 'just' writing porn. everything means something and our internal biases tint our fiction.

anti-waycesters, this is not the place for you. i probably won't be posting much about it (because i'm a falloutblog), but just know that i fuck w/ it and my wife fucks mikey way's rotting corpse.

#/pwentz, #/pstump, #/rtoro, #/mway are basically all the men i'm weird about #/fem for me dykeposting about my special guys #/intox, #/cnc, #/noncon, #/dubcon, #/underage for the obvious #/little bites for my excerpts from upcoming fics #⭐️speaks for asks #⭐️ for me yapping

he gets mad at pete for touching the equipment without asking and usually that just means he gets kicked out of the studio for the day, but sometimes he's the only one left in the building so he basically has to keep pete with him or the janitor or security guards will just bring him back up. can't have a stray rockstar wandering down the halls because his boyfriend is sick of him. so he just uses whatever cords he has to tie pete down to a chair.

the first time he does it, it's a joke. they laugh about it and patrick leaves him there for, like, twenty minutes before pete gets bored and starts being annoying again. they giggle about it for weeks and patrick lightheartedly threatens to do it again.

the second time, it's because they were fucking fighting again and patrick doesn't have time to field a physical altercation in front of the several hundreds of thousands of dollars of equipment. pete doesn't laugh—too busy squirming and getting pissed off at him—but he does eventually relax. once patrick's left him there for long enough that he's realized he can't get out.

the third time is the charm, though. patrick's yelling at him, lecturing him about touching things when he doesn't even have fucking headphones on and criticizing every little fucking detail about the album. pete's all up in his business—in his face, really—and so he pushes pete down into the chair a couple feet away and grabs the nearest cord that's long enough—pete's, actually; labeled 'petey's thick quarter-inch'.

pete goes all pliant when patrick starts winding the cords around him and he looks up at him with a serene expression when he's done—slightly slack-jawed with slightly-cloudy, unfocused eyes—and patrick gets hard so quickly that he gets a headache. he hides it under the mixing board, but he can't really focus on the music anymore.

pete starts whining and squirming after, like, fifteen minutes and patrick turns around to find him hard and panting, trying to grind up into nothing. patrick kind of panics and unties him, but that obviously doesn't solve the issue of pete's hard-on.

he just ignores it, obviously, because he's not qualified to deal with that and fielding a sexuality crisis of his own isn't on his agenda for the day. pete seems disappointed, but he doesn't make any kind of move to do or say anything.

patrick has to find a new way to get pete to leave him alone.

and then he and pete start fucking, and when patrick grabs his waist, his thumbs naturally find the little divots and dig in, sometimes enough to bruise. the first time he does it, pete makes this terribly desperate noise and buckles his hips forward into the bed.

holding on to them specifically doesn't actually do anything, but patrick always swears it gives him better leverage. it's a marked place where he can physically see where his hands have been, a place he knows is his.

he kisses them on his way down to pete's ass every time, runs his tongue along the center of the shallow indentation. he comes on them once or twice, watching how it pools up more.

when he holds him by the waist to get behind him or move him or hold him in place, his thumbs set into the two dents. pete starts to kind of expect it, doesn't stop him with a hand or anything.

pete always knows who it is behind him based on where the thumbs land. not that many people are grabbing him by the waist like that anyway.

they get a little less prominent as pete ages, but they never go away.

post-hiatus, pete feels patrick's thumbs in them again for the first time and almost starts sobbing. when patrick asks him what's wrong, he has to make up some stupid excuse that patrick doesn't believe which dissolves into pete spilling his guts about the back thing.

smfs pete's gotten so used to it that he gets phantom sensations when he misses him sometimes. he gets disappointed every time patrick passes behind him while he's shirtless and doesn't stick his thumbs in his dimples.

for patrick, it's just kind of a ritual. something he does entirely unconsciously. he doesn't even register it anymore unless he's directly staring.

when their couples' therapist asks each of them what their favorite thing the other does to or for them is, pete says when you touch my back and suddenly patrick's a billion times more aware of it.

pete can't even count on two hands the amount of times he's woken up in the middle of the night to patrick rubbing his dick up against pete's thigh or pushing into him while he's half-asleep. or how he begged to fuck pete while he was high out of his fucking mind or on his ambien, falling half-asleep while patrick came in him. he also says his favorite is when pete hasn't slept in a couple days because he can't fight back.

patrick projects 'sweet boy', but he's usually just pretending not to be a possessive freak. (pete is his property, obviously. just like he's pete's property. if pete gets to act like he doesn't get to have other hookups, pete doesn't get to fuck anyone else either.) his anger issues are in full swing, so he's not above starting a fight when a guy gets too close—even if the dude's definitely straight and definitely not trying anything—or calling a girl an ugly whore when she tries to get pete to go home with her. (pete doesn't get it, because they're not official or anything, but he knows if he doesn't let patrick think they're an exclusive thing, he doesn't get patrick at all.)

when patrick gets the inkling that pete wants to cheat on him—founded or unfounded—he goes extra hard, marks him up more than he should so no chick'll want to touch him. pete's into the pain and hasn't completely caught up to his reason for it, because patrick doesn't really have a set pattern for when he does it.

he and pete beat each other up all the time because patrick likes the feeling of overpowering him. he likes how it feels when pete struggles but he can't get away, and he doesn't have the guilt of feeling like he's hurting him because pete always gets off on it too.

pete is a commitmentphobe, but patrick makes him want to stay faithful, if just because their band is totally fucked if something happens. (he just doesn't want to admit that he's actually really in love with patrick. that seems like too much honesty for him, thank you very much.) he kinda slowly stops flirting with people and it happens so slowly that no one but patrick really notices. he fucks pete extra nice as a reward.

patrick likes to sneak into his room in the middle of the night to fuck him awake, with a hand cupped over his mouth so no one catches them. sometimes he doesn't even fuck him awake and just comes on the insides of his thighs so he can find it when he wakes up an know patrick violated him.

on the road, patrick humps his ass when the four of them are sharing one hotel room and pete hasn't fallen asleep yet, and then makes pete jerk himself off if he wants a chance to get off at all. whispers in his ear how fucking disgusting he is for jerking off in front of his friends like he hadn't just been grinding on him.

joe and andy are immediately waiting for the blow up. it's always gone that way before, so there's no reason to think they won't just go straight back to their cycle of being cute and gross and then having blowout fights that last for days—sometimes weeks.

except it just... never happens. months go by and, at first, joe and andy are just convinced they're building up to their worst fight yet, but then they actually do get into an argument. the two of them are bracing for it, holding their breath and waiting for the yelling to start.

pete raises his voice first and patrick glares at him, but instead of yelling back he just goes we can't talk like this. and pete just lets him walk away.

the two of them are stunlocked for a good minute. pete doesn't really say anything, but he defrosts a lot quicker than usual. they sit around for maybe ten minutes, pete getting back into a different part of whatever they were talking about when patrick comes back in the room.

when he sits back down, he goes back over the thing that started the argument—explains why he doesn't think pete's suggestion fits or whatever—and pete actually listens. he provides an actually-kinda-reasonable counterargument, they readjust, end of story.

andy and joe stay too quiet for too long, and pete asks them what their deal is.

joe gestures broadly at the two of them. whatever the fuck that was.

patrick shrugs like it's no big deal that they just resolved an entire disagreement without ripping each other's heads off or getting into a screaming match. we promised we wouldn't fight over music stuff anymore. if we were arguing, we had t' take a breather.

andy and joe are under the impression that they're newly emotionally intelligent or something. that night, they yell at each other for five minutes about pete eating the last dumpling without asking because they were for the whole table, peter. you have to fucking share.