Open RP Post

[forleaving]

🌳 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.
🌳 Prefer m/m for anything shippy, though m/f is also okay.
🌳 General headcanon for Adam. I don't have any yet, will update when I do.
🌳 Adam's kink list.
🌳 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

:eyes:

[forleaving]

[Adam's opinion of Kavinsky had been nebulous at best, before they'd gotten to know each other. Before they'd started dating. Kavinsky was sweet though; he didn't push at Adam's insecurities or force things on him. They compromised about things, instead. He felt like Kavinsky understood him in a way that someone like Gansey didn't--which he wouldn't have expected at first.

Kavinsky was sweet. Sharp, yes, rough in ways, but- there was more to him than that. Adam wouldn't trade him for the world, even if he felt somewhat out of place in the other boy's house. He felt more comfortable in his bedroom, and yet a little racing-pulse at the same time. It was a private space, personal, and Adam thought someone's bedroom said a lot about them. How they kept it, how they decorated it, what they chose to do with the space. It was a reflection of themselves.

More important though, was Kavinsky's hands on his chest, his body against Adam's. His mouth, the way they kissed. Adam looped his arms around him, one hand pressed to the middle of his back, the other drifting up and down his side, a gentle caress of fingers and occasionally his knuckles. Kavinsky was lovely in every way and Adam wanted to hold him forever, keep him safe.]

Yeah. [He smiled, soft and sweet.] This is more than okay.

[It'd been a lovely evening so far and he couldn't imagine anything (realistically) ruining it.

His heart was full of affection.

Gentle and sweet, he kissed K again.]

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky's bedroom was a little bit messy, but mostly orderly. He had a large bed with wooden posters, silky sheets, and a down comforter to ward off the chill of Henrietta winter. He had a few posters, mostly cars and music, but he also had a framed painting. It was a dreamt forgery of a portrait of a young Eric Hebborn; an art forger so great that after he was caught he wrote a book about it rather than live in melancholy. Or, you know, prison. A pair of sunglasses on the nightstand, along with an empty beer bottle from earlier or the night before. There were some clothes that hadn't quite made it to the laundry basket, his school bag left artlessly by the foot of the bookshelf. There were small dreamt things that peeked from half-closed drawers, left forgotten on his desk.

Kavinsky's room was lived-in, different from the rest of the house, more like the basement theater than the plastic suburban mansion. It was part of why it pissed him off so much when his mom went through his room, even if he knew she was just looking for drugs. But his room was his; and before Adam it had felt like the only safe place he had in all the world.

He exhales a little in relief, a curl of his mouth, and he breathes with a soft murmur.]

Good. I.. I want you.

[Not the first time that he's said it, but somehow it feels more real, like he's saying more than just want, more than just desire when he's undone like this. Adam kisses him, sweet as anything, and Kavinsky kisses him back. Heated but soft, warm with affection as much as lust. But god, he does want him. He wants to touch him, wants Adam to keep touching him. He doesn't want to push though-- for once in his life, he just wants whatever Adam is comfortable giving. Whatever feels good for both of them.

It feels almost like a miracle, just that Adam wanted to date him, was willing to treat him like a boy, and yet wanted to touch the body under his clothes, too. There were moments where if he thought about it too much it'd make his eyes damp. But not right now. Right now he just focused on Adam, on how kissing him felt, how his skin felt under his hands. He just wanted to love him and to curl up against him and have him there in the morning.

But that was the sort of secret he didn't say out loud, not even to Adam Parrish.]

[forleaving]

[Kavinsky's bedroom felt like a home. More than the rest of the mansion, though Adam didn't assume it really felt like a home to the other boy. He wished he could give them both a place that felt like their own, but not only did he not have nearly enough money for that, he was also sure it was far too soon to suggest something like moving in together--even if it wasn't necessarily because they were dating. He just wanted Kavinsky to be comfortable and happy and safe.

And then K was saying he wanted him and it might not have been the first time, but Adam's heart still lurched--in a good way. He wasn't typically a boy who rushed things, but he was also bad at doing things slow sometimes, too. On the one hand, he didn't want Kavinsky to think he just wanted him for sex, but on the other he wanted him to know that Adam was into him in every way. It felt like a delicate balance, but maybe it really wasn't, maybe Adam was overthinking it--he had a tendency to do that, at times.

He was trying not to overthink right now, because more important than his thoughts was the boy in his arms, the boy he often daydreamed about.]

I want you, too.

[It was a sweet murmur, before Adam kissed him again.]

We don't have to rush, though.

[He skimmed both hands along Kavinsky's back, fingertips tracing the curves of his shoulder blades, before sweeping his palms down again. Slowly, as if giving the other boy a chance to stop him if it wasn't all right, he slid his hands lower, gently cupping his ass. If there was anyone who could manage to respectfully feel someone up, it was Adam Parrish.]