Open Post

[obedientdog]

🐺 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🐺 General squick/trigger list.
🐺 m/m for anything shippy.
🐺 General headcanon for Skov. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🐺 Skov's kink list.
🐺 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

[obedientdog]

[For some reason, Skov was particularly touched that Kavinsky had looked up kintsugi, but he was even more touched that he was the gold and that he could be capable of holding someone together when he felt barely capable of keeping himself in one piece. He didn't want to let go of Kavinsky in this moment, or ever really. Skov just cared about him so much; he wished he could do more to help, to make him comfortable in his own body.]

It says that your parents are fucked up. [The words came out a little vicious, but entirely in Kavinsky's defense.] You're not the problem.

[Every parent should love their family, but Skov was also intimately aware of what it was like to have at least one shitty parent. At least his mom loved him, though.

He took a deep breath, fingers rubbing gently against Kavinsky's back. It was easy to get distracted, especially with the other boy in his lap and his mouth on his neck and just- Skov wanted to curl up around him. Or do other things.]

You don't have to ask me twice; I'm always down for anything that isn't homework.

[dreamforger]

[It means more to him than he can say that Skov declares that he isn't the problem. It makes his eyes shine a little oddly in the lowlight of the living room, but after a moment he laughs it off, just nips at the other boy's neck, sucking against his skin like he could leave a mark on him to say the things he couldn't.

Kavinsky really wanted Skov to curl around him, but he wanted more than that too. So after a moment, he's slowly extricating his body from Skov and the couch. Getting to his feet and reaching out to grab the other boy's hand, tugging in encouragement. Kavinsky's eyes are dark with desire, want electric on his skin, and he just-- he wants to pull him into his bedroom and take their clothes off and pick up where they'd left off at the warehouse, figure out how they fit together.]

C'mon. I wanna take your clothes off and I don't wanna do it out here.

[He knew it was mostly an illusion, but it felt safer in his room. It was his space, not hers. There was a lock on the door, and K was not above climbing out the window if he had to. He looks at him through a flutter of his dark lashes, a filthy sort of smirk on his mouth.]

It'll make sitting in your lap more fun.